Her Last Secret. P Kane L
Katherine was Matt’s wife, right? And … and didn’t they have a little kid? A boy? That was the last thing he wanted, to be around someone else’s happy family. He shook his head but managed to thank his friend for the offer.
‘You could have some dinner there or something and—’
Jake held up his hand. ‘I’m good thanks. I’m still not really that hungry.’ The thought of that sandwich Matt had placed in front of him back at the café had turned his stomach, let alone a full meal.
‘I just don’t think you should be on your … Hey, where do you think you’re going?’ Jake stared back, unblinking, the passenger door open. ‘You’re definitely not driving, mate. I don’t want to be getting called to a traffic accident today as well.’
Jake thought back to the journey here again, his mind elsewhere – on anything but his driving – and his near miss. Maybe Matt had a point.
‘Let me take you somewhere, a hotel for the night. I assume you’ll be sticking around for a while?’
He just continued to stare at Matt. He hadn’t been thinking further ahead than identifying Jordan, if he was honest.
‘Okay, listen. I know a good place on the outskirts, quite reasonable. I’ll take you there.’
Jake locked up his car and then placed a hand on Matt’s arm. He knew above everything else what he needed the most right now. ‘Can … can we make a stop off along the way?’ he asked.
Matt nodded, a little reluctantly – almost as though he could hear what Jake was thinking. He’d slanted it that they were stopping off at the supermarket for a toothbrush, perhaps some pyjamas – he obviously hadn’t had time to pack anything – but Matt knew what the real agenda was here, and although he looked on disapprovingly when Jake returned with just the one thing in the bag, there was no way on earth he was going to blame his friend for buying what he had.
Jake took yet another swig from that very bottle he’d purchased, that he promised not to start until he got to his room … and he’d pretty much stuck to that promise, hadn’t he? Matt hadn’t said anything about not making another pitstop in the hotel bar beforehand, had he? Had simply urged him to get some food inside him first, even if it was just a bag of crisps or two from a vending machine inside.
But Jake’s appetite still hadn’t returned by the time Matt was called away, a summons from the station he’d had to answer straight away apparently. Maybe something to do with the case? He hadn’t been allowed to say, but told Jake he’d be in touch again tomorrow.
‘Now, are you sure you’ll be all right?’ he’d asked, then from the look on his face he’d realised it was relative, that phrase. All right. ‘I can get someone out to come and stay with you if you—’
‘I’ll be fine,’ Jake had told him, knowing exactly what Matt was worried about – that he might do something stupid, especially after a few drinks. Stupid … that was also relative; he might do a lot of stupid things, but not that stupid. And when they locked eyes one final time, Matt could see Jake was still Jake. That wasn’t his way, even when things were at their lowest ebb he hadn’t even thought about something like that. He wasn’t a quitter.
Oh yeah? You bailed on her, though, didn’t you? Gave up on your only daughter when she needed you the most …
‘I’ll be fine,’ he repeated again. ‘Just need to be alone for a while. I need sleep, need this day to be over.’
Matt nodded, gave him his card in case he needed to reach him, said goodbye and drove off, leaving Jake to check in (Matt had brought him to some generic ‘Lodge’ or another) and then hit the bar. He was two or three pints down, having enough sense to start with lagers first, ease his way into oblivion, when he remembered his phone. Remembered that he hadn’t let work know where he was or what he was doing, although they’d probably figured it out by now. Had probably been camped out here all day, doing reports.
He’d turned it on and immediately found several voicemails from colleagues, Alison, Phil, Howard – even Sarah. And Trev, his boss – the media studies graduate who looked about 12. All concerned about him, wanting to know if he was okay and if he needed anything. Jake had sighed. Yes, he needed for things to go back to the way they had been. Not yesterday, or the day before, but many years ago when they’d all been happy: a happy family. Could they possibly sort that out for him please? Or perhaps that weird time thing that was happening could wind itself back instead of playing around with the speed … do some editing of the movie.
Jake had turned the phone off again, not wanting to speak to anyone at the moment, but vowing to put them in the picture tomorrow.
He’d been well into his mission to drink the hotel bar dry of their house whiskey, however, putting double after double on his room tab, when the TV had been turned on in the corner and the local news had thrown back pictures of the market square, of presenters who looked like Sarah doing their piece to camera. On any other day, it would have been him pointing that camera, but not today. He’d squinted at the television set, then at the barman who was looking sideways at him, looking at him funny like he was making that connection with the drinking.
The thin man, whose uniform was hanging off him like washing on a line, looked like he was about to say something. It would have been the only thing he’d said in all this time, if he had, apart from ‘What’ll it be?’, with a kill-me-now expression on his face …
Kill me …
But he’d wandered off to serve a couple of other customers instead. People were starting to filter in, because it was early evening now, and Jake knew that it wouldn’t be long before the TV people who were camped out in Redmarket started to check into hotels themselves.
Light was giving way to darkness, and it was time to take this ‘party’ back to his room. Time to welcome in the dark to get rid of those bright memories of the daytime. So Jake had levered himself off the stool, gripping his carrier bag tightly, and begun his trek to the lifts, swaying slightly as he went. He’d stabbed at the button for his floor once he was inside, then waited for the lift doors to open again. He’d reached into the bag, opening up the full bottle he still had and ignoring the glances from people who were just on their way out to start their evening proper. He didn’t give a shit, just needed to get to the room. Needed to get to the bed, needed to start on this bottle now, bring on the real darkness.
Because this was no good; the dark in the room wasn’t chasing away those bright memoriesthe movie still playing out in front of him. Only the booze could do that. More and more of it, with Jake wondering if maybe he should have picked up a couple of bottles rather than just the one.
Especially when he started having those telepathic conversations, not with Julie, but with Jordan. The kind he’d play out mentally whenever she wasn’t listening to him or wasn’t even around. Asking those questions again:
‘Why were you out on a weeknight, and with that guy?’
Getting answers like: ‘That’s my business, it’s got nothing to do with you, Dad. You wouldn’t understand.’
‘Try me … I was young once.’
‘I love him!’
‘No, you just think you do. Like all the others that ended up causing so much trouble.’
‘What, like you thought you loved Mum? That why you left and never came back, why she had to turn to a guy like … like him.’
‘I left because she didn’t want me around. You didn’t want me around, remember? Christ!’
Some part of him knew it was his own mind filling in the blanks, but it was based on knowing her like he did. Based on previous arguments they’d had, which he could trot out word for word.
And finally, that last one which neither of them could ever answer: ‘How