I hadn’t thought about that night in years but it came back now - the burning shame of having Mrs Wheeler understand exactly why Dad hadn’t come to pick us up. She had made it ten times worse just by being there to witness it; I’d been so angry that she had seen him like that.
I remembered having been angry with her, but what about Dad? Had I been mad at him, or upset, or felt bitter resentment? I couldn’t remember.
Because that’s the thing, when someone dies. You forget all the bad things they did when they were alive.
It was impossible to be in Amy’s kitchen and not feel her presence. Walking in there, it was as if she had been there just a moment ago and had only stepped outside to grab something.
While Mike supervised from behind his laptop at the table, Lucas had taken over the cooking. He was wearing an apron and had laid out his ingredients along the counter-top, ready to add to a huge saucepan. A pie crust sat cooling on one side. The windows of the kitchen had steamed up, and it smelled like home.
‘I’m making baked bean pie.’ Lucas smiled as he drained the sauce from a tin of beans.
He started describing how he had made the pastry from scratch, and the different types of pies he could make in the future, and I found myself zoning out.
I thought back to Amy’s pastry phase – the day she’d discovered that it was nothing more than a combination of butter and flour, which had led to a period of experimentation of various pie, quiche, and tart fillings. Baked bean pie could feed two hungry girls for less than fifteen pence per meal, and had quickly become one of our favourites.
I was jolted from my memory by a scream from upstairs, followed by a thud and another scream. I jumped in alarm.
‘Not again,’ said Mike, holding his head in his hands.
Hannah burst into the room.
‘Betsy hit me!’ she wailed. ‘You have to tell her, Dad!’
‘What was it this time?’ Mike’s face was getting red. ‘No, forget that, I don’t even want to know. Betsy!’
Hannah sat beside me, rubbing the top of her arm and snivelling muffled little sobs. Betsy appeared in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest and lips pursed in defiance.
‘Hannah was hogging the tablet, even though it was my turn!’
‘I wasn’t, I was just finishing my homework—’
‘Enough!’ Mike slammed his fist down, making the four of us jump. ‘You all have to learn to share.’ He pointed at the three of them, his eyes wide. ‘And nobody hits anyone. Got that, Betsy?’
She started to bawl, and once more, I saw the little girl whose grief was spilling into an anger that she didn’t know what to do with. Lucas went tentatively back to his cooking, silent now, and Hannah became absorbed in her phone. Even I felt like I was in trouble.
We ate dinner shrouded in the sulky silence of the children. I tried several times to get a conversation going, but failed at every attempt, and eventually gave up.
The kids sloped off after dinner, leaving me and Mike to clean up alone. He hadn’t shaved again, and his grey stubble put years on him. The huge bags under his eyes told me he hadn’t been sleeping well. He took a beer from the fridge and sat down at the table.
‘You’re not looking too hot there, Mike.’
He took a long, deep breath. ‘Well my business isn’t doing great, my kids hate me and each other, and my wife just died, so yeah – things are a bit shit right now.’
I helped myself to a beer, too. It would take the edge off my hangover and tune me up just a little bit. I needed some Dutch courage right now.
‘Any more thoughts on who might have wanted to hurt Amy?’
Mike sighed. ‘We’ve already discussed this. Amy didn’t have enemies. What happened to her… however it looks, it was an accident.’
‘You have to admit though, with the drugs and this mysterious damage to the front wheel…’
‘I’m pretty sure there’s an explanation for both of those things. Just leave it to the police to investigate. You’re not helping here.’
Ouch.
‘But you guys were happy, right? I mean, are you sure there wasn’t anything going on that might have upset her…’
‘Like what, Izzy? You think she was so distraught over the money I’d lost that she wanted to kill herself?’
His anger was starting to flare up again. I was prodding a sleeping dragon.
‘Not that, I’m just thinking now about all the wild possibilities. We should explore every avenue, right? Like… Did you ever worry that Amy had a secret gambling problem? Or might have been unfaithful?’
He scoffed. ‘You think my wife was cheating on me?’
I shook my head, but he carried on.
‘Listen,’ he said, his voice softening. ‘Your sister was well-loved. She had no enemies or secrets. And I can promise you, Amy was not having an affair. We were happy. It was just a horrible accident.’ He started to cry.
My phone buzzed on the table – Jake again. He was persistent, I had to give him that. I fired off a message to him:
Sorry, I’m tied up with family stuff. Can I call you back tomorrow?
The reply came immediately:
It’s urgent. The police want to talk to you.
I tried to keep a straight face as I texted back:
When? Why??
Now, he replied. They’re on their way to your place.
Shit.
I started to write a reply, the phone trembling in my hand. I wanted Jake to come, but my pride wouldn’t let me ask him. As my fingers hovered over the screen, searching for the words, another message popped up:
I’ll be there.
