My son. I’ve missed him; he’s all I’d wanted when I got in last night, the only thing in my life I still think I have a chance of getting right.
‘Hi, Mum!’ he says. He seems surprised that I’m there, and for a moment I think he’s going to ask me if I’m okay. I’m not sure what I’ll say if he does. Dylan stands behind him, and when I smile at him says, ‘Hi, Mrs Wilding.’
‘We might go upstairs?’ says Connor.
I force a smile. ‘Okay. Did you have fun?’
‘Yeah.’ He doesn’t elaborate.
‘Want anything to eat?’
‘No, thanks.’
‘Dylan?’
The other boy shakes his head and mumbles something. He’s even skinnier than I remember.
‘We had something earlier,’ says Connor. ‘Can we watch a DVD?’
‘Sure. Let me know if you want anything,’ I say as they disappear upstairs. I turn back to the kettle and make my drink.
I know what I have to do. I’ve been putting it off all morning. I sit down at the table and phone Lukas.
‘Morning, beautiful. I was just thinking about you, too.’
Normally that comment would thrill me, but today I barely notice it. I’m too wound up, too anxious. I’ve run out of energy. I’ve spent all night thinking about him and Paddy, about what he might’ve done. What I might have done. I’m exhausted.
‘Lukas. We need to talk.’
I sense him shift a gear. I imagine him lying in bed, then abruptly sitting upright. I try to picture it, but fail. I’ve never seen his bedroom, never seen his house. It’s nice, he’s told me, semi-detached, with three bedrooms. ‘Modern, but with some character.’ He’s always sounded proud of it, so why haven’t I been there?
I wonder if he keeps it tidy. A man, living alone; I wonder if he even makes his bed. Connor wouldn’t, if I didn’t insist.
‘What is it? Is everything okay?’
I feel a sudden rush. I want to shout, scream. I want to tell him, No, no, it isn’t!
I take a deep breath and try to calm myself.
‘Paddy was attacked.’
Even saying the words hurts. It reminds me too much of Kate.
‘Who?’
‘Paddy.’ I’m annoyed, and at the same time frightened. Has he forgotten? Or is this all part of some game? ‘The person I told you about. The friend I told you had kissed me.’ I hesitate. My voice wavers. ‘He’s been beaten up.’
‘Jesus …’ He sounds concerned. It’s genuine, I think, but how do I know? I don’t know anything. ‘Are you all right, Julia?’
I don’t want to ask the question, but it’s a weight, pressing down on me, and I have no choice. It’s the reason I called him, after all.
‘Did you have anything to do with it?’
There’s silence. Saying it out loud has made it seem real. The suspicion has become a certainty.
I picture him, shaking his head in disbelief. Every muscle in my body is tensed, then he speaks.
‘Me? What on earth—?’
I interrupt. I don’t want to, but I can’t help it. I say it again, louder this time. ‘Did you have anything to do with it?’
His reply comes more quickly this time. He’s rushing to his own defence.
‘No, of course I didn’t.’ I can’t decide whether he sounds angry or just emphatic. ‘Is he going to be all right?’
The words rush out, tumbling over each other. ‘It just seems a coincidence, that’s all. I mean, I tell you last week, and then this week—’
‘Listen. Calm down—’
‘—this week,’ I continue, ‘this week, this happens.’
I stop speaking. My body is suddenly alive. I can feel his hands on me, my skin sings with the rough urgency of the sex in the toilet cubicle, my wrists carry a dull ache where he’d gripped them. I think back to what he’d said.
‘You asked me if I wanted you to teach him a lesson.’
‘I know,’ he says. ‘And, if you remember, you said yes.’
I collapse inwards. I’m almost breathless, with panic, and rage.
‘I didn’t mean it, though! We were just messing around. It was play-acting!’
‘Was it?’ His voice has taken on an edge; he sounds different. Not like him at all. ‘You know,’ he says, ‘you have to be careful what you wish for, Julia. Very careful …’
Fear hits me. Terror. It’s real, physical. I’m on fire, my phone is alive, dangerous. I want to hurl it across the room. I wish I’d never met him. I don’t know who he is, this man, this person I’ve let into my life. I want everything to go back to how it was before.
‘Lukas!’ My voice is pleading, I’m almost shouting, only vaguely aware that Connor is upstairs. Right now I’d sacrifice anything to be certain that what happened to Paddy had nothing to do with Lukas. Almost anything. ‘Please …’
I stop. He’s making a noise; at first I can’t tell what it is, but then I realize. He’s laughing, almost to himself. I’m flooded with light, with air.
‘Lukas?’
‘Relax. I’m joking …’
‘Joking? What’s so funny?’
‘Julia, I think you need to calm down. Think about it. Aren’t you being a little paranoid here? I mean, you only told me about this guy last week. Do you think I marched straight round there and beat him up? How could I? You didn’t tell me where he lives. You didn’t even tell me his full name. For God’s sake, I only found out your real name yesterday.’
He’s right. It can’t have been him. But can it really be coincidence?
‘I don’t know. I’m sorry.’
‘I’m sorry, too. For laughing. For not taking it seriously.’ There’s a pause. He sounds contrite. ‘When did it happen?’
‘On Friday night, I think.’
‘I was in Cambridge on Friday. Out with a bunch of mates.’ He hesitates. ‘You can check on Facebook, if you like. Ade has put shitloads of pictures up.’
My computer’s in front of me. I open it up.
‘Julia, this man, you’re sure he’s going to be okay?’
‘Yes,’ I say. ‘I think so.’ I open Facebook and navigate to his timeline. Friday night. It’s true. There are photos of him.
I feel awful. Guilty. Filled with an overwhelming desire to make everything better. ‘I’ve been really stupid. I’m sorry.’
‘You do trust me, don’t you?’ His voice is calm, now. Kind. Soothing. The voice I’m used to. Yet from nowhere I flash on a vision. Him saying exactly the same thing, but to Kate.
‘Julia? Are you there?’
I realize I haven’t answered him.
‘Yes. I’m sorry. I just panicked, that’s all.’ Relief floods my veins as I realize the truth of what I’m saying. A brightness returns to the world, one I hadn’t noticed had disappeared. I go on. ‘I’m sorry. All this fantasy talk, I suppose I was worried …’
‘It’s okay …’
‘I should never have accused you.’ Pleasure floods my veins. The pleasure of tension released. ‘I don’t know what came over me.’
‘It’s okay. Calm down, Julia. It’s all going to be okay.’
Is it? I want it to be. I think of all the good times we’ve had, all the support he’s given me over Kate. I get the sense that if anyone can make it okay, then it’s him.
It’s his voice. He does that. He makes me feel better, calmer.
‘Listen,’ he says. ‘I might’ve found out something. About Kate.’
My heart surges. ‘What? What is it?’
His answer seems to take for ever.
‘I’m not sure.’
‘What? What is it?’
‘It’s probably nothing.’
‘What have you found?’
Again I hear him hesitate. He doesn’t want to raise my hopes.
‘There’s a site—’
‘What site?’
‘I don’t remember. But I found someone on there. She’s using the name Julia.’
‘Julia?’
‘Yes. It’s why I looked twice. There’s no photo, but she’s about twenty-eight or twenty-nine. She lives in Paris. And …’
‘And?’
‘Well, the thing is, she hasn’t logged on since the end of January.’
‘What’s the name of the site?’