‘Why?’
‘Because I want to try the login details that worked with encountrz. I want to know if it’s her.’
‘Why don’t you leave it to me?’
Because I want to know.
‘Please, Lukas. Just tell me what it’s called. I’ll take a look …’
He sighs, loudly. I can almost hear him try to decide what’s for the best.
‘I’m not sure it’s a good idea,’ he begins. ‘You’ll just get upset, and—’
‘Lukas!’
‘Hear me out. Here’s what I think we should do. I’ll send this person a message. If they reply we’ll know it’s not Kate.’
‘But they haven’t even logged on since January …’
‘Okay. Well, why don’t you give me Kate’s login details? I’ll try them for you.’
So this is it, I think. I have to decide now. Do I trust him, or not?
What choice do I have, really? I give him the password. Jasper1234.
‘It’s the name of our dog, growing up. Promise me you’ll try it.’
He calls me back an hour later. I haven’t been able to settle. I’ve just been pacing, sitting at my computer, trying to work, failing. When my phone rings I snatch at it.
‘Hello?’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘You didn’t get in.’
‘No—’
‘She might have used a different password—’
‘Julia, wait. This woman responded to my message. I asked her for a picture and she sent me one. It’s not Kate.’
‘Can I see the picture? It might be someone impersonating her …’
‘It’s not,’ he says. ‘This woman’s black.’
I feel utterly flat. It’s not worth it, this false raising of my hopes, when it leads only to crushing disappointment. Anything feels better. Even emptiness.
‘I’ll keep looking. If you want me to?’
I tell him. ‘I’m just disappointed.’
‘Try not to be. Will I see you next week? Tuesday?’
I hesitate. Everything is too bright, too intense. I want normality, stability. I think back to the visceral love I feel for my son, the way in which I missed him last night after finding out about Paddy’s attack. As if for the first time, I realize this love isn’t compatible with what I’m doing.
I remind myself why I chatted to Lukas in the first place, why I first met him. To find my sister’s killer, for the sake of Connor, for the family.
But that’s got me nowhere, and now Connor needs something else from me. A trip to the cinema. A burger. Mother and son. I make my decision.
‘I can’t. Not Tuesday. I’m busy.’
I have the sense of a grip suddenly relaxed. I’m relieved. It’s a good feeling. I’ve been selfish; now, I’m doing the right thing.
‘Busy?’
‘Yes. I’m sorry.’
I realize I’m holding my breath. Part of me wants him to argue, to protest, the rest hopes he’ll just suggest another day. I want to make sure I can last a week without seeing him.
Silence. I need an excuse. ‘It’s just that I have a friend. Anna. She wants me to help her look for a wedding dress.’
‘She can’t do a different day?’
‘No. I’m sorry …’
‘Okay.’ I want him to argue some more. I want him to try and persuade me, to ask me who’s more important, him or Anna.
But he doesn’t. He’s saying goodbye and a moment later the call is over.
Chapter Twenty
Tuesday comes. It’s Connor’s day, and I decide we’ll do whatever he wants. I owe it to him; he deserves it. He seems more cheerful, is talking more now, more like his old self.
At the weekend we went to see Paddy. Hugh’s idea. He didn’t look as bad as I was expecting. His eyes were swollen and bruised, there was a graze on his cheek. He couldn’t tell how many people had attacked him, or even if it was more than one. They took nothing, just knocked him out. He didn’t look at me once the whole time we were there.
I get up early. I haven’t slept well; last night I’d seen the figure again, outside my window. It looked more real this time, it had more substance. I even thought I saw the glow of a cigarette, but once again, once I’d looked away to talk to Hugh then gone back, he’d gone. If he’d ever been there at all.
I’m blurry eyed as I go downstairs. I find my phone and see I missed another call from Adrienne last night. I feel guilty. She’s been travelling; she wants to know if I got my present, a silver necklace I admired months ago when we were out shopping. ‘Just let me know,’ she’d said, in her last message. ‘And let’s meet up. I’m busy, as ever, but dying to see you! Call me back.’
I haven’t done so, and I’m not sure why. Maybe because she knows me too well; she’d see straight through me if I tried to hide anything from her. Plus, there’s the lie I told Hugh, about me falling on the escalator. I need to put a bit of distance between us. It’s easier to avoid her, just for a little while.
Connor and I have breakfast in front of the television. When we finish I ask him what he wants to do today, and he says maybe we could go and see a film. ‘Sure!’ I say. I tell him to choose one. ‘Whatever you like.’ He picks the new Planet of the Apes film. I’m disappointed, but I’m careful not to let it show.
We walk to the cinema, across Islington Green. I realize it’s been a long time since we did this, just the two of us. I’ve missed it, and wonder whether he has, too. From nowhere I’m filled with a deep sense of love, and of guilt. It hits me that now Kate’s gone Connor is the only blood relation I have, the only person with whom I share DNA. I realize Kate was the link, to all of us. Our mother and father, me, her, and now Connor. She was the centre of it all.
I have to say something. The need is overpowering. ‘You know I love you,’ I say. ‘Don’t you?’ He looks at me; his expression is inscrutable, as if he’s slightly embarrassed. For a moment I see the vulnerable little boy inside him, the one trying to cope with the adult world in which he’s finding himself more enmeshed with each passing day. But then it passes and something else flashes briefly on his face. It’s pain, I think, followed a moment later by the resolve to conquer it.
‘Connor? Is everything all right?’
He nods, raising his eyebrows as he does. It’s a familiar gesture, meant to be reassuring but now too automatic for it really to mean anything at all. ‘I’m good.’ We cross the road, then on the other side we stop, both at the same time, as if we’d rehearsed it. ‘Honestly.’
I put my arms on his shoulders; sometimes he doesn’t like to be hugged, and I guess that standing in the middle of Upper Street might be one of those times. ‘You can talk to me, Con.’ I remember how long it’s been since I used to call him that. Did he ask me to stop, or did it just fade away? Perhaps that’s what always happens between mothers and sons. ‘Please remember that. I’m here for you. Always.’
I feel guilty as I say it. Am I there for him? I haven’t been, recently.
‘I know.’
‘The last few weeks … months …’ I begin, but I don’t know where I’m going. I’m trying to build the connection between us, one that I should never have put in jeopardy. ‘… they’ve not been easy. I know that. For any of us.’ He looks at me. I want him to forgive me, to tell me I’ve been there for him, that he’s all right. ‘I know they’ve been really shit for you, too, Connor. I want you to know that. I do understand.’
He shrugs, as I knew he would. He’s silent, but he looks at me with an expression of gratitude, and something passes between us. Something good.
In the cinema Connor goes to the bathroom while I buy our tickets at the machine then queue for the popcorn I’ve promised him. When he returns we make our way to the screen. I’d thought it would be busy, but it’s less than half full. People are dotted around – mostly couples – and I suggest that we head for an almost empty row about halfway back. Connor agrees and we settle ourselves. The film hasn’t yet started and the room is filled with the symphony of bottles being opened, drinks being slurped through straws, bags of sweets or crisps being torn into. I pass our popcorn to Connor. ‘Have you got everything you want?’ I whisper, and he says he has. He’s checking his phone and looks up guiltily. A message from his girlfriend, I suppose. Evie. He mentions her occasionally; he’s said she wasn’t at Carla’s party, but he’s evasive, still at that age where discussing a girlfriend with his parents is embarrassing. Without thinking, and to reassure him it’s fine, I pick up my bag and check mine.