I blinked. “Still no news from Celine?”
She sighed, her breath escaping in a slow and steady stream. “No. Quite honestly I don’t think we’ll get any. I can’t see why Celine would ever forgive us. I know my dad beat us, too, but she was the youngest, and she took the brunt of it. It was our duty to help her, and we failed.”
“It wasn’t your fault. Anyway, I should—”
“I disagree, and we both feel responsible. Between us, I believe that’s Keenan’s real problem. He feels guilty and needs someone to blame because he can’t cope with the truth.”
“Maybe you can remind him it’s not Ash’s fault,” I muttered, and her face fell.
“I do, Maya, on a regular basis, I promise.” She smiled tightly. “I’d better get back to the motel. I went to tidy Dad’s grave because it’s his birthday. I’d like to say God rest his soul, although I’m not sure he had one, but I’m glad I ran into you. Don’t be a stranger, okay? Stop by sometime. And bring Ash.”
We said our goodbyes and I watched as she walked back up the hill, my stomach tightening as another person appeared at the top of the path. Dave. Shit. I watched for signs of them knowing each other, let out a sigh of relief when there weren’t any, but as I was about to walk on ahead, I saw Fiona turn. I raised my hand in a wave, but she was staring at Dave. I had no choice but to press on, stuffing my hand in my pockets, my fingers closing over the money I owed him for the benzos. I was supposed to have dropped it graveside already, tucked the neatly folded bills inside the crack on the left and gone for a walk—a long one because Dave was typically late—and pick up the goods on my way back. His one rule was money never exchanged hands directly, and I hoped I hadn’t blown it and he’d leave.
With a quick glance I made sure Fiona had really gone and nobody else was around. I deftly slipped the cash inside the broken headstone and walked away without a sideways glance. Five minutes later the exchange was done, and I headed back to my car, a little baggie of pills shoved inside my pocket.
When I got back to the house I sat in my car, examining the meds one by one to make sure they were all the same and Dave hadn’t slipped something else in there just to fuck with me. He’d given me fewer tablets than we’d agreed—again, typical Dave—and I decided, moving forward, I’d look for a reliable dealer, an oxymoron if I’d ever heard one.
I headed inside. Ash was still in the kitchen, and when I heard him whistling softly, I recognized the familiar tune of the Portsmouth Football Club chant immediately. Brad had been an avid supporter and had passed the love of his hometown soccer club down to Ash. “Play Up Pompey” was something the two of them sang on a regular basis if the team did well, and even when it didn’t, and they often watched games together, wearing matching shirts, something Mom and I shook our heads at. “It’s in the genes.” Brad had winked at Ash. “Isn’t it, mush?”
Ash looked up at me now, stopping midwhistle, and then he actually sang the entire chant. “I remembered my dad’s favorite soccer team.”
It took me less than a split second to decide which path I had to take on this. I didn’t want to lie to him, but I had to, and my plans had already been set in motion. Some of the little things I’d pretended I’d mentioned and insisted he’d forgotten were only the beginning. My work schedule, covering for Barbara—he’d seen those as tiny, seemingly innocent slipups, but it wouldn’t be enough. That’s why I’d told him the plumbing for the bathroom in the garage had been his and Brad’s work, when it had been Ash and mine. If or when he thought he remembered us working in there together, I’d insist he was mistaken. It would make him doubt himself, and the reliability of any recollection he had. Did I want to lie to him now about the love of soccer he shared with his dad? No, of course not, but I had no choice. I needed to make sure he’d believe me when I explained away any significant memory that resurfaced, and told him it was pure confabulation, something that had happened differently, or not at all. I had to be careful, make sure I only ever lied about something nobody else could contradict. It had to be done.
I let an empathetic look slide across my face, walked over to Ash and gave him a hug.
“What was that for?” he said, his body tensing under my touch, making my breath catch.
“Oh, Ash,” I said, holding him tighter still. “I’m so sorry, but Brad hated soccer.”
17
LILY
After I finished my lunch, had two coffees and worked up the courage, I got back in the car, plugged in the address for Drift and headed to the center of Newdale. My belly contracted as I thought about a possible encounter with Maya, almost hoped it wouldn’t happen so I’d have more time to prepare. I’d find a place to stay for the night and go back to the Cliff’s Head tomorrow, or the day after... No. This wasn’t the time to be a coward. Maya potentially held information about Jack. There was no way I’d return to Brookmount without seeing her face-to-face, and the sooner I could engineer a meeting, the better.
Drift was located on Main Street, and a large, polished wooden sign with
