The Society Of Dirty Hearts (16 page)

“Enough? What the fuck does that mean?”

“I guess it means that some of us, no matter how much money we have, will never be happy.”

Jake spat in the fire. “Shit, you gotta be rich in the first place to talk like that.”

They sat in silence a moment, watching the flames shoot shadows up the walls. Jake drew a long breath suddenly, rubbing his hand over his chest as though there was a pain there. “It’s funny,” he said. “Mia used to reckon that if I hurt myself she felt it. She said it was ’cos the souls of twins are linked by ES…ES something.”

“ESP,” said Julian, thinking about his grandma.

“Yeah, that’s it.” Jake looked at Julian with a kind of appeal in his eyes. “Do you reckon that’s true?”

Julian felt a prickle at the back of his throat. Any suggestion of the supernatural put him on edge. He wanted to reply with a flat no, but couldn’t bring himself to – not in the face of the vulnerability Jake was exposing to him. He shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know.”

“If it is true, that means Mia can’t be dead. ’Cos if she was I’d have felt something, wouldn’t I?”

Julian said nothing. Jake nodded to himself as if reinforcing his belief in the possibility. He jumped up. “Where you going?” asked Julian.

“To look for Ginger. What’s your mobile number?” As Julian told him, Jake tapped it into his own phone. “I’ll call you when I find her.”

Jake headed for the doorway. He paused to look back at Julian, eyes narrow. “You sure you didn’t fuck my sister? ’Cos if I find out you’re lying…” He broke off and let the words hang between them.

“I could of, but I didn’t,” said Julian, holding Jake’s gaze, but cringing inwardly at the gruesome image the threat conjured up.

Chapter 14

When Julian got home, Wanda was gone and his dad was there, drinking whisky. There was a slight glaze over his pupils that told Julian he already had a few glasses under his belt. He stared at Julian for half-a-minute, not speaking, looking straight into his eyes, as if trying to see inside his skull. Then he said, “I thought you were coming back to the hospital.”

“I meant to, but I took Henry for a walk and, well, I guess I just kind of lost track of time.”

“You just kind of lost track of time,” Robert enunciated slowly, his voice loaded with reproach.

Julian felt heat rise to his face. “How’s Mum?”

“No change. If she has a good night, she can come home in the morning.”

“That’s good.” Julian blinked awkwardly from his dad’s alcohol-flushed face. “I’m going to head to bed.”

“Wait a moment, Julian,” said Robert, as his son started to turn away. “We need to talk.”

Julian’s heart sank at the prospect of getting into another row. “Can’t it wait? I’m totally whipped.”

Robert shook his head, motioning to the sofa. As Julian sat down, his dad pointed to the whisky bottle. “You want one?”

Surprised, Julian nodded. His dad had never offered to share his whisky with him before. Robert poured him a generous measure. He swallowed a mouthful and choked – he wasn’t used to drinking spirits straight.

Robert shook his head, almost smiling. “Easy. Just sip it or you’ll get sick.”

“I know that.” There was a slightly petulant twist to Julian’s lips.

Robert gave him another long, direct look. “Yes, I guess you do,” he said gravely. He finished his drink in a gulp, watching Julian over the rim of his glass. “Look, about what happened this morning, you were in the wrong taking my car, but I shouldn’t have reacted like that. I’m sorry.”

Julian sipped his drink, not quite sure how to respond. First the whisky, now an unheard-of apology, what next? An acceptance of his decision to leave university? “I know we’ve had our differences recently,” continued Robert, “but we’re going to be spending a lot of time around each other, so we might as well start trying to get along. For our sakes and your mum’s sake.”

A sardonic smile crossed Julian’s lips. “Why don’t you just say it straight, Dad? This isn’t about me and you at all. This is about Mum.”

“It’s about all of us. Sure, it’s about caring for your mum and keeping her alive. But it’s also about building a future for after she’s-” Robert couldn’t bring himself to say the word in his mind. He took another big mouthful of whisky, wincing as it went down. His eyes grew glassier.

Jesus, he’s going to cry, thought Julian. His dad wasn’t the type to cry in front of anyone. When Christine first got ill and it was touch and go whether she’d survive, he never broke down once in front of Julian. A week after she went into hospital, Julian had woken in the dead of night and thought he heard sobbing through the walls. But he hadn’t been sure. His sardonic smile evaporated. He wanted to reach out to his dad, put an arm around him, but he didn’t know how. When he’d turned thirteen and puberty hit, his dad had stopped hugging him. It was like an invisible barrier had sprung up between them. Julian had been confused and upset, but his mum told him,
it doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you, it just means you’re growing up into a young man. Do you understand?
He’d nodded, but he hadn’t understood. Not really. He just never questioned his mum at that age.

Robert gave a sharp sniff, sucking the tears back in before they could form. “You know, Julian, I want to believe you’re working at the factory because you really want to. Not simply because you’re bored with university and can’t think of anything else to do.”

“I’m there because that’s where I need to be,” Julian said, and it was the truth, nothing more or less. Looking at his dad’s worn down, used up face, he found himself seriously wondering if there’d even be a business for him to take over if he stuck it out at university. “Just give me a chance to prove it.”

Robert chewed over his appeal, brow creased, then said, “Okay, Julian. If you want a chance, you got it.” He managed a smile. “Truth be told, I’m glad you’re here.” He reached out to take Julian’s wrist and tugged at it. Just one brief, gentle tug, but, coupled with the words, it was enough to throw Julian completely off balance.

He glanced from his dad’s hand to his face, as if doubting his senses. “I’d better go to bed,” he said quietly.

Robert withdrew his hand. “Thanks for this chat, Julian. You’ve made me feel much better, much clearer in my mind.”

“Have I?”

Robert nodded. “Go and get a good night’s rest.”

With slow, uncertain movements, Julian rose and headed for his bedroom. Behind him there was the clink of glass on glass, the hollow gurgling sound of liquid being poured into a tumbler. He paused to look back at his dad. “I’m sorry, too, about this morning.”

“I know you are.”

Lying in the darkness of his bedroom, the whisky burning in his belly, Julian rubbed his arm where he could still feel his dad’s touch. Over and over, he ran through their conversation. He couldn’t work out what he’d said or done to change things between himself and his dad. But they had changed. And something must’ve been the catalyst. But what? Maybe his dad had simply come to the realisation that he couldn’t hold it all together alone anymore. Maybe he needed someone to share the weight. The thought settled on Julian heavily. An hour or so later, when his ear caught what sounded like a sob from the living-room, it grew so heavy that it felt like he had a brick in his chest.

At breakfast, Robert sat silent and distant, the strain of a long, sleepless night etched in his face. There was a strain in the air, too. Julian wondered if it was simply down to worry about his mum, or if there was more to it. There was something about his dad’s scrunch-shouldered posture, about the way he was careful to avoid looking too directly in Julian’s eyes, which hinted at embarrassment, sheepishness, perhaps even a slight degree of shame. He was relieved when Wanda arrived and noisily set about cleaning the kitchen. “Do you really need to do that now?” asked Robert, wincing a little at each clatter of pots and pans.

“You know how Christine likes a clean kitchen.”

“Christine might not even be coming home today.”

Wanda wagged a remonstrative finger. “Ah, come on now, think positive.”

Robert turned to Julian. “You coming to the hospital?” 

Julian nodded. The silence resumed when they set off, but he hardly noticed it now. All his thoughts were concentrated on his mum. When they arrived at the hospital, Christine was awake, but droopy-eyed. “How are my two favourite boys?” she asked, smiling, her voice mushy and drugged.

“We’re good,” answered Robert.

Christine looked at them meaningfully. “Really?”

“Really. Everything’s fine.” 

Julian smiled to reinforce his dad’s words. “So what’s the verdict?”

“I’m fine too,” said Christine. “Just waiting to be discharged.”

A short time later, Robert wheeled his wife to the car. Now that Julian knew his mum was okay, his thoughts returned to Mia. After helping his mum into the front passenger seat, he said, “I’ll see you later. I’ve got some stuff to do in town.” He found a taxi and told the driver to take him to The High Bridge.

There was a crowd of journalists and gawkers strung out along the bridge’s walkway, watching the police drag the river. A TV camera crew was setting up. Spotting Mike Hill, Julian approached him. “Have they found anything?”

“No. If Mia did jump, it could take days to find her. The currents here are strong and unpredictable.” Mike gestured with his chin and Julian followed him to a quieter spot. “So, any new developments?”

“There is something,” Julian began hesitantly. “But it’s nothing definite. So you’ve got to promise to keep it to yourself until I know for sure.”

“I only print the facts.”

“I’m not just talking about the newspaper, I’m talking about the police.”

“Whatever you say is between us alone.”

Reassured, Julian told Mike about his encounter with Jake. The journalist frowned when he mentioned The Outlaws. “It wouldn’t surprise me if they’re involved in this somehow. A lot of the bad stuff that happens around here’s to do with them. You know, Julian, you really should go to the police with this. These are dangerous people.”

Julian said nothing, but the look on his face made it clear he had no intention of doing as Mike suggested.

“You’re not still thinking the police might be involved in all this, are you?” asked Mike.

“I never said I thought they were,” Julian responded, a defensive edge to his voice. “I may be paranoid, but I’m not stupid.”

“I don’t think you’re paranoid or stupid, Julian. I think you’re way out of your depth, and I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“I don’t intend to get hurt. Look, if I find out this Ginger is the woman I saw in the Merc, I’ll go to the police. I just want to be sure first.”

“Well, it’s your choice, but consider this, if Mia is still alive, the longer you keep this information from the police, the more you’re putting her at risk.”

These words gave Julian a jolt. “You mean like someone could be holding her prisoner somewhere.”

“Anything’s possible, although that seems unlikely. I was thinking more along the lines of her being with people she shouldn’t be with, doing things she shouldn’t be doing.”

Julian stopped listening after the first few words, his gaze moving past Mike to the police divers plunging into the water, a picture forming in his mind of Mia bound and gagged in some basement. The thought of her suffering because of the choices he made caused the weight on his heart to grow even heavier. He fingered the phone in his pocket, thinking, for fuck’s sake, Jake, ring! For a second, he considered going in search of Tom Benson, but a nagging uncertainty held him back. He exhaled a long, helpless breath.

“Go home, Julian,” said Mike. “You shouldn’t be hanging around here. If my fellow journos catch on who you are, they’ll be all over you. I’ll call you if they find anything.”

With a final lingering glance at the river, Julian trudged away from the bridge. He walked all the way home, knowing that when he got there there’d be nothing to do but sit and wonder about Mia, and wait for Jake to call. He had a strong, almost desperate, desire to see Eleanor and pour his fears into her sympathetic ears, but he knew it wasn’t possible. Not while there was even the slightest chance of endangering her. He couldn’t have lived with himself if he’d done that. When he got home, Mia’s disappearance was on the news. “Do you know about this?” asked his mum, turning shocked eyes on him. “Another girl’s gone missing. Her name’s Mia Bradshaw. Apparently, she was good friends with Joanne Butcher. They think she might’ve jumped off the bridge.”

Julian nodded. “They’re talking about it all over town.” It wasn’t an outright lie – people almost certainly were talking about it all over town – but it wasn’t the truth either, and so it left an unpleasant aftertaste. He looked at the TV so as not to have to look at his mum. The screen showed footage of the police scouring the river. A diver surfaced holding something aloft, and suddenly Julian’s heart was beating like he’d snorted coke. Relief took over as the camera homed in to reveal a slimy, bulging black plastic bag. If Mia was dead and someone wanted it to look like suicide, they’d hardly have stuffed her body into a bin-liner.

“Fifteen,” said Christine, shaking her head. “What a waste, what a horrible, horrible waste of life.”

“How are you feeling?” asked Julian, changing the subject.

“A bit groggy. I think the sedatives the doctor gave me are still washing round in my system.”

“Where’s Dad?”

“He’s got a headache. I told him to have a lie down. He spends so much time worrying over me, he forgets to look after himself.”

“I think I’ll go for a lie down, too.”

“Okay, darling.”

As Julian headed for his bedroom, Robert poked his head into the hallway and beckoned him into his room. His hair looked as if he’d been running his fingers through it. There was a telltale moist sheen on his pupils. Robert shut the door and, his drinker’s eyes narrowing, asked, “What do you know about this missing girl?”

Julian’s nose wrinkled slightly at the sour smell of whisky on his dad’s breath. “She was friends with Joanne-”

“Yes, yes, I know that,” Robert interjected. “What I’m asking you is, do you think she’s really jumped?”