Perhaps that was what he needed. Something to come along and smash his life to pieces. Go back to the village. Look after his father. Learn to be properly human again. A sort of spiritual thing.
His mother reappeared with a swish of curtain. “Sorry about that. I just caught him as he was leaving. Someone from work. David. He gave me a lift.”
“Dad’s asleep,” said Jamie, though that was pretty obvious from the snoring.
Were she and that man having sex? It was a day of revelations.
His mother sat down.
Jamie took a deep breath. “Dad said he had cancer.”
“Oh, yes, that,” said his mother.
“So he didn’t have cancer?”
“Not according to Dr. Barghoutian.”
“Right.”
Jamie wanted to tell her about the scissors. But when he formed the sentence in his head it seemed too bizarre to say out loud. A sick daydream he would regret sharing quite so eagerly.
His mother said, “I’m sorry, I should have told you before you got here.”
Once again, Jamie was not entirely sure what she was referring to.
She said, “Your father has not been terribly well recently.”
“I know.”
“We’re hoping it will sort itself out in time,” said his mother.
So she wasn’t running away with the man. Not in the immediate future.
Jamie said, “God. Everything happens at once, doesn’t it.”
“Meaning?” His mother had a worried look on her face.
Jamie said, “What with the wedding being off and everything.”
His mother’s expression changed from one kind of worried to a different kind of worried and Jamie realized, instantly, that she didn’t know about the wedding being off, and that he’d fucked things up, and Katie was going to kill him, and his mother wasn’t going to be very chuffed either, and he really should have returned Katie’s call straightaway.
“What do you mean, the wedding’s off?” asked his mother.
“Well…” Jamie trod carefully. “She mentioned something on the phone…She left a message…I haven’t spoken to her since she left it…It is possible that some wires got crossed.”
His mother shook her head sadly and let out a long sigh. “Well, I guess that’s one less thing we have to worry about.”
67
Katie and Ray came back via the nursery.
Jacob was unnaturally interested in why the two of them were picking him up together. He could sense that something wasn’t right. But she successfully distracted him by saying they’d seen a grand piano hanging from the ceiling (
When they got back home she checked the answerphone and heard a freakish voice saying that something dreadful had happened to her father. So freakish she assumed the father in question was someone else’s. Then the woman said she was going to ring Jamie, and Katie realized it was Mum and it scared the crap out of her. So she replayed the message. And it was the same second time around. And then she really started to panic.
But there was another message. From Jamie.
“I’ve just had this scary call from Mum. Ring me, OK? No. Don’t ring me. I’m going up to Peterborough. Actually, maybe you’re there already. I’ll talk to you later.”
Jamie didn’t say what was wrong with Dad, either.
Shit.
She told Ray she was taking the car. Ray said he’d drive her to Peterborough. She said he had to stay behind to look after Jacob. Ray said they’d take Jacob with them. Katie told him not to be ridiculous. Ray said he wasn’t going to let her drive while she was this upset.
Jacob heard the last part of this exchange.
Ray squatted down in front of him and said, “Grandpa’s ill. So, what do you say we have an adventure and drive up and see him to make sure he’s all right?”
“Will he want some chocolate?” asked Jacob.
“Possibly,” said Ray.
“He can have the rest of my chocolate buttons.”
“I’ll get the chocolate buttons,” said Ray. “You go and find your pajamas and toothbrush and some clean pants for tomorrow, all right?”
“All right.” Jacob pottered off upstairs.
Dad had tried to commit suicide. She could think of no other explanation.
Ray said, “Get your stuff together. I’ll do me and Jacob.”
What else could have happened to him stuck in that bedroom? Pills? Razor blades? Rope? She needed to know, if only to stop the pictures in her head.
Maybe he’d wandered out of the house and been hit by a car.
It was her fault. He’d asked for help and she’d passed the buck to Mum, knowing she was totally out of her depth.
Shit, shit, shit.
She grabbed a jumper from the drawer and the little rucksack from the wardrobe.
Was he even alive?
If only she’d talked to him for a bit longer. If only she’d cut work and spent the week with her parents. If only she’d pressed Mum a little harder. Christ, she didn’t even know whether he’d been to the doctor. For the last couple of days she hadn’t even thought about him. Not once.
It was a little easier in the car. And Ray was right. She’d have rammed someone by now. They struggled northward through the tail end of the rush hour, jam after jam, red light after red light, Ray and Jacob going through several thousand verses of “The Wheels on the Bus.”
By the time they reached Peterborough Jacob was asleep.
Ray pulled up outside the house and said, “Stay there,” and got out.
She wanted to protest. She wasn’t a child. And it was
Ray knocked on the door and waited for a long time. There was no answer. He went round the back.
At the end of the street, three kids were taking turns to ride a bike over a little ramp made of a plank and a wooden crate, like she and Juliet used to do when they were nine.
Ray was taking a very long time. She got out of the car and was halfway down the path beside the house when he reappeared.
He held up his hand. “No. Don’t go back there.”
“Why?”
“There’s no one in.”
“How do you know?” she asked.
“I broke in through a window at the back.” He turned her round and marched her toward the car.
“You what?”
“We’ll sort it out later on. I need to ring the hospital.”
“Why can’t I look inside the house?” asked Katie.
Ray took hold of both her shoulders and looked into her face. “Trust me.”
He opened the driver’s door, retrieved his mobile from the glove compartment and dialed.
