Lorraine put her free hand on Brennan’s face; it felt cold as she spoke: ‘It’s okay. People say things they don’t mean all the time.’
Brennan felt the hurt welling in him again. ‘No. Andy meant it. I could tell. And do you know what I did? Nothing. I left it. I never said another word. I should have pulled him from that job with my bare hands but I let my ego get in the way.’
‘Rob…’
Brennan pushed Lorraine aside. He stood up. ‘I could have saved Andy, but I was too bloody pig-headed. I let him get killed.’
Lorraine stood up too; there were tears in her eyes. Brennan put his fingertips to her face, wiped a drop away. ‘That’s not going to help anyone.’
‘Why are you telling me this now, Rob?’
‘You asked.’
‘No. I mean, why now?’
Brennan watched her rise, take a tissue from a box on the shelving by the wall. She went to sit down again and he leaned over, picked up his jacket and removed the picture. ‘Maybe this is part of it.’
Lorraine froze for a moment, then snatched the picture, tore it in two.
‘You don’t get it, do you, Rob?’
He watched the two pieces of the image he’d carried around fall to the floor. Then turned his gaze to her. ‘Lorraine?’
Her shoulders shook as she cried into her hands. For a moment Brennan was confused, then something sparked in him as Lorraine raised her head and showed her flushed cheeks. ‘There is no baby.’
Brennan thought he’d misheard. ‘ What?’
She turned, screamed at him, ‘I printed it off! It’s just a picture!’
The words didn’t make sense to him. ‘Lorraine, what are you saying?’
She got up, turned away to face the wall. He watched her wipe her eyes with the sleeve of her cardigan. ‘I wanted to hurt you. You’d hurt me. I wanted to build up your hopes and then let you down, like you’d done to me.’
Brennan listened but couldn’t believe it — when it had sunk in he knew he couldn’t look at her again. He collected his jacket and walked for the door.
Lorraine chased after him. ‘Rob, I was wrong.’
He turned the latch, pulled. Lorraine stepped in front of him, blocking the door. ‘Rob, I was wrong. It was a mistake. I’m sorry.’
‘Get out of my way.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘So am I.’
‘Rob, I–I didn’t realise-’
He pulled her by the arm, flung her back into the hallway. ‘Neither did I.’
In the street Brennan felt the cold sting at his eyes. There was more moisture in the air now. As he got in the car he turned back to see Lorraine on her doorstep; she was still crying, wiping at her tears with her hands. He looked away, started the car.
The traffic was light. Brennan worked up to the speed limit and then felt his temperature rising; he touched his brow — he was sweating. His hands were clammy on the steering wheel and he felt a shortness of breath. He followed the row of cars he was in to the traffic lights, passed through them and took a left into a residential area he didn’t know. For a second or two he felt lost, but he didn’t care.
Brennan pulled over the car, killed the engine and got out.
He walked to the end of the street and turned down a darkened path that led to open playing fields. It was raining now. As he walked he could feel his warm brow cooling. His shirt front was wet. A woman with a West Highland terrier on a lead smiled at him as he reached an open grassed area. He looked away from her, headed for a bench under a street lamp. When he reached it he sat and tried to settle the mash of thoughts he now carried around; but he knew it was beyond him.
How? Why? He had no answers any more.
Brennan felt the wind cut into his arms; his shirt and hair were wet now, soaked through. He’d left his jacket behind in the car, hadn’t even taken the keys out of the ignition. He stood up, looked back towards the path and started walking again. It seemed easy enough to do, so he continued, kept going. As he went, his phone started to ring. He took it out, looked at the caller ID — it was Sophie.
‘Hello, love,’ he said. ‘I’m on my way home.’
