‘I hope they look after him,’ said Holly. ‘Luke, I mean. In hospital. I hope he gets the care he needs.’
And that was almost the most tragic thing of all, as far as Fleet was concerned. Yes, he had pulled Luke from the river, but what sort of life was waiting for him now? What sort of love?
Fleet shook his head, and tossed his cigarette into the gutter. He glanced Holly’s way, and smiled at her sadly.
‘We said we’d talk,’ he said. ‘About what happens now.’
Holly reached and took his hand. Her touch was warm and soft, and Fleet couldn’t begin to comprehend how much he would miss it.
‘I think I know what happens now,’ Holly said. ‘I think we both do.’
‘Listen, Holly,’ said Fleet. ‘I want you to know –’
‘Rob, please. There’s no need.’
‘Yes, there is. I want you to know that I didn’t come back here to try to justify the way I was feeling. About having children, I mean. It was the opposite. I came back because I thought it might help. I thought … I don’t know what I thought. That thing about confronting your demons.’ He thought of his mother, of the inscription on the bench. ‘And actually, if anything, it’s helped.’
There was a brief flash of hope in Holly’s eyes, and for Fleet it was like a dagger to his heart.
‘But it hasn’t healed, Sprig,’ he went on. ‘If that’s even the right word. I just … It wouldn’t be fair of me. To you, because you’d always be walking on a knife edge, worrying that you’d made me do something I didn’t want to. Any time anything went wrong, you’d think it was your fault.’
Holly was shaking her head, but Fleet could tell she knew he was right.
‘And it wouldn’t be fair to the kid, either,’ he went on. ‘Think about it, Holly. It wouldn’t. How could it be?’
Fleet tried to continue. What he wanted to say was that his reluctance to have children was nothing to do with being afraid of the responsibility. Responsibility he could handle. The thing he didn’t think he could – the thing that terrified him about having children most of all – was the sorrow, the anguish, the sheer bloody heartache that would come if he were to fail them. It would destroy him, Fleet knew. And in turn it would destroy him and Holly.
They sat in silence, still holding hands. Holly used a tissue from her pocket to dry her eyes.
‘You always said we sounded ridiculous,’ Fleet ventured, after a moment. ‘Robin and Holly. Like a cheesy Christmas card. Right? So maybe it’s a blessing in disguise.’
Holly gave a laugh that sounded like a sob.
She turned away.
‘You’re staying,’ she said, turning back. ‘Aren’t you?’ She moved her chin, loosely indicating the town.
‘Not forever,’ said Fleet. ‘But for a while, I think. I’ve got some bridges to build.’
Holly looked down at her lap. She freed her hand from Fleet’s. When she looked at him, her eyes were the colour of rain.
She rose, and it took all of Fleet’s willpower not to stand up beside her.
‘Look after yourself, Rob,’ she told him. ‘Please.’
And then Fleet could only watch, as slowly his wife walked away.
He got up eventually. Holly had turned left, towards the centre of town. Fleet went right – south – towards the harbour. He passed a litter bin and stopped beside it. He hesitated, but only for a second. He tossed away the packet of cigarettes and kept walking.
After a few moments he heard a car pull up behind him. He turned, and was only mildly surprised to see a marked squad car. The passenger-side window hummed down.
‘Need a lift?’ said Nicky.
‘Thanks,’ Fleet replied. ‘But I could use the exercise.’ He patted his stomach and Nicky smiled.
Fleet raised his chin. ‘Off anywhere exciting, or are you just hitching a ride?’
Nicky’s smile set harder. ‘We’re off to pay a visit to Stephen Payne. Social services are meeting us there.’
As part of their final interview with Mason, they’d asked about his relationship with his father. About how often Stephen Payne hit him. That was another thing that had made Mason cry, though this time Fleet had at least taken some comfort from the fact that the boy’s tears would ultimately offer him some release. Nicky, Fleet knew, would make sure of that.
‘Send Payne my regards, won’t you?’ Fleet said.
Nicky nodded. ‘Will do, boss. Enjoy your walk.’ She pressed the button to raise the window.
‘Oh, and Nicky …’
The window stopped moving.
‘You might want to check the contents of his wallet,’ Fleet said.
‘His wallet?’
‘Right. And if you find anything, I’d start by asking him about his friends. The local dealer, Nathan Murdoch, in particular.’ Lion, Fleet thought. ‘A man like Stephen Payne … he’d throw his mates under a bus if it meant dodging a charge for possession. Particularly given everything else he’s going to have to answer for.’
‘Gotcha,’ said Nicky, and she waved as the squad car drove off.
Fleet walked on.
He passed bait shops and greasy spoons and, on the corner where the road met the water, the Harvester where Sadie had worked since she’d turned fifteen. And ice cream vans. Half a dozen, at least. Seriously, came Cora’s voice. How many ice cream vans does one town need? Only one was open for business, and Fleet half considered buying a can of something, purely out of sympathy. There wasn’t another punter in sight, and he had his doubts there would be for months now. The weather
