‘What do you mean?’ I say.
I don’t think we’ve ever talked alone. He hardly ever looked me in the eye then, and he seems to be avoiding my gaze now.
‘I think she’s having an affair,’ he says. ‘She didn’t come home last night.’
‘She wouldn’t have an affair… that’s not like her.’
‘How would you know?’ He’s staring at the television. He looks so tired; there are shadows under his eyes. ‘You haven’t seen her for God knows how long. You wouldn’t know her at all, now. She’s not like she was back then.’
‘What makes you think she’s having an affair, though? What if she’s in trouble – she might’ve been in an accident.’
‘I’ve spent all night phoning the hospitals, even driving round them. Preston, Blackpool – even bloody Blackburn, on the remote chance she was unconscious and wasn’t able to give her name. I’ve rung round her friends and no one has seen her. She’s been acting weird since that new bloke started at work a few weeks ago… he’s moved on to your street, as it happens. You haven’t seen her hanging around there, have you?’
‘No. She came by yesterday, but I didn’t see her go into another house.’
‘She visited you? Out of the blue like that?’ he snaps. He leans forward, his hands on his knees as though ready to stand. ‘I bet she was covering her tracks.’
‘Did she say who it was that’d started at her work?’
He’s frowning, looking at the floor.
‘What?’ He shakes his head. ‘No… I didn’t pay much attention. She’s always yakking about something. Wish I’d listened now, though. Not that it would make any difference to you – you wouldn’t know him even if I gave you his full name, address and date of birth. Not up to mixing much, are you? What do you do there in your house all day? Why the hell stay round here when you get treated like shit by everyone? I’ve never understood that. It’s like you wanted it, like you felt you deserved to be treated like that. If it were my Jason, I’d have been long gone… and I wouldn’t have visited him in prison like you did. Fuck, no. Not if he were capable of those things.’
Jim used to be such a quiet, brooding man. This is the most I’ve heard him talk since their wedding night, when he’d drunk too much whisky.
‘I’ve got friends!’ I say, sharply. ‘You can’t possibly know anything about my life! And you don’t know how you’d react about things until it happens to your son.’
‘I can imagine. Look, I’m sorry, Erica. I didn’t want to be shouting at you. I’ve been up most of the night worrying… Maybe she’s not having an affair after all. You say you saw her yesterday?’
‘Yes, because she was worried about Jason – he was seen with that missing girl, Leanne Livesey.’
Jim stands and grabs the remote control from the side of the television and switches it off.
‘That bloody lad.’ He puts a hand through his hair. ‘He’s going to be the death of me. He’s been sent to prison three times. Three times! You’d think he’d learn. Can you imagine what that’s been like for me at work? Bloody shameful. I seriously thought of changing my name at one point. People don’t care about talking about it – even when you’re right there and they know you can hear them.’
‘I know.’
He sits down again.
‘Shit. Yeah, of course you know.’ He stands again and walks to the shelf in the right alcove. He takes a bottle of whisky from it and pours himself a glass. ‘Want one?’
‘No, thank you.’
He downs it in one, refills his glass and replaces the bottle on the shelf.
‘I remember when Jason and Craig were lads, I used to take them both fishing at the canal… nearly every Saturday.’ He sits back down. ‘Good memories. I think Jason might have preferred it being just him and me sometimes, but… you know.’ Jim glances at me. ‘I didn’t mind, Craig was a nice lad.’ He swirls the drink in his glass. ‘Denise thought Craig could do with a father figure… She worried about him more than Jason sometimes.’
‘Really?’
‘Did you ever tell Craig who his father is?’
My back stiffens. ‘Pardon?’
‘You heard me.’
‘No, I haven’t. What business is it of yours?’ I pull my coat around myself. ‘Anyway, it wouldn’t do him any good – if anything, it’d make him feel worse.’
‘Hasn’t he been curious?’
‘I said I didn’t know his name – that it was a one-night thing.’
‘Ah. So that means that the opposite is true, eh?’
I just nod. I owe him nothing – I don’t want to talk about Craig’s father any more.
‘You know,’ he says, ‘people thought it was me! As if I’d have had a chance with you.’
‘Enough! The subject’s closed.’
My face flushes. It feels uncomfortable sitting here with Jim talking like this; a dream, unreal.
He holds one hand up, the one not clinging to his large glass of whisky.
‘OK, OK. I didn’t mean any harm by it.’
I need to leave. I feel cold – the tablets must be starting to work and the fire’s not on in here.
‘Get us, eh?’ he says, obviously enjoying the sound of his own voice. ‘We’ve probably said about five words to each other in the past, and now we’re having a proper heart-to-heart. Who’d have thought it?’
I stand and do up the buttons on my coat.
‘Stay a while longer, love,’ he says. ‘We can have a right good catch-up.’ He steps closer to me and holds the top of my arm. ‘I’ve always liked you, Erica. You’ve kept your figure, too. Even though you hide under those middle-aged clothes.’
‘You’re drunk, Jim. And you’re trying to get back at Denise. What if something’s happened to her?’
‘She’ll be fine… she’s a tough one… can look after herself.’
He’s slurring his words and I can smell the whisky on his breath.
‘But something might be wrong. Can I have her mobile number?’
He’s still holding my arm. For a few moments I think he’s not going to let go, until he sighs and almost stomps into the hallway.
‘This is her card,’ he said, grabbing one from the pile on the window sill. ‘Her cleaning business on the side… she got a load printed.’ He grabs a pen and writes on the back. ‘I’ll give you my number, too. Let me know if you hear from her.’ He hands it to me. ‘And let me know if you change your mind,’ he says, winking at me.
So that’s where Jason gets it from.
‘Thanks,’ I say, not wanting to antagonise him.
I open the door myself and close it behind me, relieved to get out of there.
I carry Denise’s card in my hands all the way home. I can’t lose it. It’s not like Denise to be gone for the whole night. But Jim’s right: seventeen years is plenty of time to change.
When I step inside my hall, the telephone starts to ring. I almost dive on it.
‘Denise, is that you?’
‘No. It’s Luke from the—’
‘Oh, Luke. I can’t find Denise.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I’ve just been round to her house. Her husband said she didn’t come home last night – he’s checked all the hospitals.’
‘Do you think she might be with Jason somewhere?’
‘Maybe, but I didn’t think they went anywhere together these days. Not that I’d know much about that.’ I lean against the wall. I can’t think straight; there’s a nauseous feeling in my stomach that’s not going away, and I don’t think it’s my nerves. ‘Do you think she’ll be all right?’
‘I hope so.’
‘Why did you call?’ I say. I can’t stand here chatting all day.
‘I wanted to know if… Has Craig got a new car – a Renault Clio?’