“I meant to, but I took Henry for a walk and, well, I guess I just kind of lost track of time.”
“You just kind of lost track of time,” Robert enunciated slowly, his voice loaded with reproach.
Julian felt heat rise to his face. “How’s Mum?”
“No change. If she has a good night, she can come home in the morning.”
“That’s good.” Julian blinked awkwardly from his dad’s alcohol-flushed face. “I’m going to head to bed.”
“Wait a moment, Julian,” said Robert, as his son started to turn away. “We need to talk.”
Julian’s heart sank at the prospect of getting into another row. “Can’t it wait? I’m totally whipped.”
Robert shook his head, motioning to the sofa. As Julian sat down, his dad pointed to the whisky bottle. “You want one?”
Surprised, Julian nodded. His dad had never offered to share his whisky with him before. Robert poured him a generous measure. He swallowed a mouthful and choked — he wasn’t used to drinking spirits straight.
Robert shook his head, almost smiling. “Easy. Just sip it or you’ll get sick.”
“I know that.” There was a slightly petulant twist to Julian’s lips.
Robert gave him another long, direct look. “Yes, I guess you do,” he said gravely. He finished his drink in a gulp, watching Julian over the rim of his glass. “Look, about what happened this morning, you were in the wrong taking my car, but I shouldn’t have reacted like that. I’m sorry.”
Julian sipped his drink, not quite sure how to respond. First the whisky, now an unheard-of apology, what next? An acceptance of his decision to leave university? “I know we’ve had our differences recently,” continued Robert, “but we’re going to be spending a lot of time around each other, so we might as well start trying to get along. For our sakes and your mum’s sake.”
A sardonic smile crossed Julian’s lips. “Why don’t you just say it straight, Dad? This isn’t about me and you at all. This is about Mum.”
“It’s about all of us. Sure, it’s about caring for your mum and keeping her alive. But it’s also about building a future for after she’s-” Robert couldn’t bring himself to say the word in his mind. He took another big mouthful of whisky, wincing as it went down. His eyes grew glassier.
Jesus, he’s going to cry, thought Julian. His dad wasn’t the type to cry in front of anyone. When Christine first got ill and it was touch and go whether she’d survive, he never broke down once in front of Julian. A week after she went into hospital, Julian had woken in the dead of night and thought he heard sobbing through the walls. But he hadn’t been sure. His sardonic smile evaporated. He wanted to reach out to his dad, put an arm around him, but he didn’t know how. When he’d turned thirteen and puberty hit, his dad had stopped hugging him. It was like an invisible barrier had sprung up between them. Julian had been confused and upset, but his mum told him, it doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you, it just means you’re growing up into a young man. Do you understand? He’d nodded, but he hadn’t understood. Not really. He just never questioned his mum at that age.
Robert gave a sharp sniff, sucking the tears back in before they could form. “You know, Julian, I want to believe you’re working at the factory because you really want to. Not simply because you’re bored with university and can’t think of anything else to do.”
“I’m there because that’s where I need to be,” Julian said, and it was the truth, nothing more or less. Looking at his dad’s worn down, used up face, he found himself seriously wondering if there’d even be a business for him to take over if he stuck it out at university. “Just give me a chance to prove it.”
Robert chewed over his appeal, brow creased, then said, “Okay, Julian. If you want a chance, you got it.” He managed a smile. “Truth be told, I’m glad you’re here.” He reached out to take Julian’s wrist and tugged at it. Just one brief, gentle tug, but, coupled with the words, it was enough to throw Julian completely off balance.
He glanced from his dad’s hand to his face, as if doubting his senses. “I’d better go to bed,” he said quietly.
Robert withdrew his hand. “Thanks for this chat, Julian. You’ve made me feel much better, much clearer in my mind.”
“Have I?”
Robert nodded. “Go and get a good night’s rest.”
With slow, uncertain movements, Julian rose and headed for his bedroom. Behind him there was the clink of glass on glass, the hollow gurgling sound of liquid being poured into a tumbler. He paused to look back at his dad. “I’m sorry, too, about this morning.”
“I know you are.”
Lying in the darkness of his bedroom, the whisky burning in his belly, Julian rubbed his arm where he could still feel his dad’s touch. Over and over, he ran through their conversation. He couldn’t work out what he’d said or done to change things between himself and his dad. But they had changed. And something must’ve been the catalyst. But what? Maybe his dad had simply come to the realisation that he couldn’t hold it all together alone anymore. Maybe he needed someone to share the weight. The thought settled on Julian heavily. An hour or so later, when his ear caught what sounded like a sob from the living-room, it grew so heavy that it felt like he had a brick in his chest.
At breakfast, Robert sat silent and distant, the strain of a long, sleepless night etched in his face. There was a strain in the air, too. Julian wondered if it was simply down to worry about his mum, or if there was more to it. There was something about his dad’s scrunch-shouldered posture, about the way he was careful to avoid looking too directly in Julian’s eyes, which hinted at embarrassment, sheepishness, perhaps even a slight degree of shame. He was relieved when Wanda arrived and noisily set about cleaning the kitchen. “Do you really need to do that now?” asked Robert, wincing a little at each clatter of pots and pans.
“You know how Christine likes a clean kitchen.”
“Christine might not even be coming home today.”
Wanda wagged a remonstrative finger. “Ah, come on now, think positive.”
Robert turned to Julian. “You coming to the hospital?”
Julian nodded. The silence resumed when they set off, but he hardly noticed it now. All his thoughts were concentrated on his mum. When they arrived at the hospital, Christine was awake, but droopy-eyed. “How are my two favourite boys?” she asked, smiling, her voice mushy and drugged.
“We’re good,” answered Robert.
Christine looked at them meaningfully. “Really?”
“Really. Everything’s fine.”
Julian smiled to reinforce his dad’s words. “So what’s the verdict?”
“I’m fine too,” said Christine. “Just waiting to be discharged.”
A short time later, Robert wheeled his wife to the car. Now that Julian knew his mum was okay, his thoughts returned to Mia. After helping his mum into the front passenger seat, he said, “I’ll see you later. I’ve got some stuff to do in town.” He found a taxi and told the driver to take him to The High Bridge.
There was a crowd of journalists and gawkers strung out along the bridge’s walkway, watching the police drag the river. A TV camera crew was setting up. Spotting Mike Hill, Julian approached him. “Have they found anything?”
“No. If Mia did jump, it could take days to find her. The currents here are strong and unpredictable.” Mike gestured with his chin and Julian followed him to a quieter spot. “So, any new developments?”
“There is something,” Julian began hesitantly. “But it’s nothing definite. So you’ve got to promise to keep it to yourself until I know for sure.”
“I only print the facts.”
“I’m not just talking about the newspaper, I’m talking about the police.”
“Whatever you say is between us alone.”
Reassured, Julian told Mike about his encounter with Jake. The journalist frowned when he mentioned The Outlaws. “It wouldn’t surprise me if they’re involved in this somehow. A lot of the bad stuff that happens around here’s to do with them. You know, Julian, you really should go to the police with this. These are dangerous people.”
Julian said nothing, but the look on his face made it clear he had no intention of doing as Mike suggested.
“You’re not still thinking the police might be involved in all this, are you?” asked Mike.
“I never said I thought they were,” Julian responded, a defensive edge to his voice. “I may be paranoid, but I’m not stupid.”
