Jess is clearly horrified. ‘That’s disgusting, Mum. You should have told me. It must have freaked you out. What kind of person dreams up something like that? Could there be …’ She breaks off, fear in her eyes. ‘You don’t think there’s anyone who wants to hurt you, do you?’
Slowly I shake my head. ‘The police asked me that, too. But honestly, I can’t think of anyone.’
While I’m grateful for Jess’s company, it’s a Christmas I could do without, but I make an effort for her. We decorate a tree, buy nice food, while Jess tells me about a boy she’s met.
‘His name’s Rik – without a c. He’s really cool. He’s studying sports journalism – and he surfs, Mum. He’s going to teach me.’
I want to tell her to be careful. Not about surfing, but about Rik. When she barely knows him, how can she trust him?
She reads my mind. ‘He’s OK, Mum. I think you’d like him. He’s nice to me. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be with him.’
‘I’m really pleased for you, Jess.’ I force myself to sound enthusiastic, while the truth is I want to hold her close, tell her to keep her wits about her. To not make the same mistakes as I did. ‘Have you told your dad?’
‘No.’ The single word tells me all I need to know.
‘Have you seen him at all?’ I speak quietly. Dominic’s complete lack of responsibility is a controversial subject.
‘He came to Falmouth a while ago and took me out for dinner.’
‘That’s nice – that you had some time together.’
‘It was OK.’ Her face is tight. ‘But he doesn’t really know what’s going on in my life. He wouldn’t think to ask if I had a boyfriend.’ There’s hurt in her voice. ‘It’s like spending time with a distant uncle, rather than my dad.’ She shakes her head. ‘Mum? On one of my courses, we’ve been learning about where our behaviour comes from – like from parents, families, friends. I’ve wondered.’ Frowning, she shakes her head. ‘About your childhood. Only you don’t talk about my grandparents. I know they’re dead now, but what were they like?’
As I think of my parents, my insides feel knotted. ‘They were strict – and loving. They were a different generation. We didn’t talk the way you and I talk, but life was very different then. Then of course, my sister died.’ Swallowing, I break off, as a memory of her comes back to me. Hardly a day has passed that I haven’t missed her. ‘Your grandparents …’ Shaking my head, my voice wavers. ‘They were devastated.’
‘It must have been terrible, Mum.’ There are tears in Jess’s eyes.
‘It was.’ I break off, waiting for more questions, but they don’t come.
*
Over the days she’s home, Jess and I fall back into the way we used to be, before Matt moved in, watching movies and reality TV shows, Jess lying on the sofa with her feet up, dipping into the packet of crisps beside her. As I watch her, something niggles at me – about myself, because when Matt was here, all of this stopped and until now, I hadn’t noticed. Meanwhile, the other woman Matt was seeing obsesses me. Maybe she is the liar. Maybe she is deluded. Maybe Matt was trying to break it off with her, rather than me.
Far from the celebration I’d imagined, the arrival of Christmas only brings more pain. The house is too empty, heavy with the weight of Matt’s duplicity, the knowledge that if he hadn’t disappeared, he’d have been with her. I buy a tree that Jess and I decorate, fill the fridge with festive food, for the most part trying to hide my feelings from her – but unsurprisingly, she sees through it.
Wise beyond her years, she sits next to me, and takes my hand in hers. ‘It will get better, Mum. When something like this happens, it always does.’
At some point over the fortnight Jess is home, I know the police will want to talk to her. They arrive one rainy morning early in January. After showing them in, I pull on a coat and go to my workshop, leaving them to talk. It’s an hour later, after they’ve left, that Jess comes to find me. Huddled in one of my coats, her face is anxious. ‘They asked questions about Dad. You don’t think he would have done anything to hurt Matt, do you?’
I’d worried that talking to the police would stir up doubts, creating more questions there are no answers for. ‘No. I really don’t. I’ve told the police that, too. Don’t worry yourself. There are just questions they have to ask, to rule people out.’
She’s quiet for a moment. Then she frowns. ‘It was weird. When they asked me what I knew about Matt, apart from where he worked and how long he’s been with you, I realised something. He never really talked about his life before he met you, did he?’
Knowing Matt could be private about a number of things, I try to gloss over it. ‘Maybe not to you, honey. But he and I have talked about all sorts. I know about his past relationships and all that kind of stuff.’ But I’m not being entirely truthful. How many times did I dig beneath the surface, only for Matt to change the subject? I know only fragments of what came before. He talked about his previous relationship, a woman called Mandy, but that’s all. I keep my voice light. ‘Did you tell the police?’
‘I didn’t.’ Jess hesitates. ‘Do you think I should have?’
Hesitating, I shake my head. ‘It probably won’t make much difference to anything. But if you talk to them again, if it’s bothering you, maybe you should.’
But Jess is frowning again. ‘This Mandy … Maybe we should try and talk to her.’
Shaking my head, frustration fills me. ‘There’s no point. Whatever’s happened, Matt’s gone. Whoever we talk
