‘That flat reeked. Bloody students.’
Apparently we’d finished. We dropped the tubby copper back at his car.
‘Hungry?’ Silver asked me tersely. I was too disappointed to care about food. ‘Guess so.’
‘There’s fish and chips somewhere this way, apparently.’
I didn’t bother to ask about the interviews; I could read the defeat in his posture. He seemed tired, grey beneath his suntan, as if he felt guilty for taking me on some wild goose chase. I felt his frustration almost as keenly as my own.
We headed out of Eastbourne on the coast road that climbed up from Meads village. As we wound across the gently billowing downs, past the ice-cream vans and the wedding-cake white cliffs of Beachy Head, we didn’t speak. A few skinny clouds wisped across the still-cobalt sky as dusk slowly descended, heavy with heat. Forlornly I stared at the evening walkers, families packing picnics up, couples with their bounding dogs. How could you tell if someone was simply admiring the view, or just about to jump? And why would you choose here to do it? I supposed if you decided to die, it might be only right to do it somewhere literally breath-taking.
The sun was setting dramatically as we pulled in at a small beach called Birling Gap. Silver went to buy us chips from the Seventies’ eyesore that called itself a café, and I wandered across to the rather bleak row of cottages that leant towards the sea. I had that strange sensation I’d felt on the drive down. I rested my elbows on the old wall, and stared at the houses until Silver appeared behind me. ‘All right?’
‘You know,’ I said slowly, taking my chips from him. ‘This place—I think I’ve been here before.’
‘Really? Recently?’
‘No. I think—I think we came here with my dad. On holiday. A long time ago.’
‘When?’
I deliberated for a moment. It was a hazy memory—necessarily so. ‘Dunno. Just before my dad went down for the last time.’ Getaway driver for a crap team in a clapped-out old Fiesta nicked from the station car park. Got away as far as the first corner from the bank before the police pulled them in. Although some of them had scarpered, my dad was well and truly nicked, of course. Couldn’t even do that right. ‘I guess I’d have been about—not sure. Nine?’
I felt him calculating. ‘Who came, Jess?’ Silver asked, and there was a new urgency to his tone. ‘The whole family?’
‘Yeah. The whole family.’
‘Your kid too?’
‘Robbie? Yes,’ I said, even more slowly. ‘Why?’
Silver thrust his phone into my hand. ‘Can you ring your sister and check? See if she remembers.’
Leigh took ages to answer. She was getting the girls’ tea, could she ring me back? I cut through her chatter. Leigh confirmed it crisply. Yes, Birling Gap, of course. How could I forget, she remonstrated. The place where it never stopped raining; where my mum kept crying. One of the very few family holidays. She brought the girls here sometimes, for the day. She was about to say something else but I saw Silver’s face, and said I’d call her later.
Silver strode off to make some calls. I stood there with my chips and counted the cottages again. There were four. I was sure we’d stayed in the one nearest the sea; I vaguely remembered it being an inappropriately cheerful colour, primrose-yellow perhaps. Now it was a sort of dirty beige, stained by years of sea and salt. I paced up and down the row until I realised the cottage that we’d rented all those years ago was no longer there. The cliff’s edge was crumbling, propped up by scaffolds. Our holiday hellhole must have slipped quietly into the water. I stared out at the stripy little lighthouse far out to sea.
‘Reminiscing?’ Silver returned, shoving his phone away as he bleeped the car doors unlocked.
‘Oh yeah.’ I turned away from the ramshackle little row; remembering my dad’s lies and my mum’s never-ending tears. ‘Top times we had down here.’ I drifted towards the car, clutching my chips. ‘You know what I remember most?’ Apart from all the fights. He shook his head. ‘That lighthouse.’ I pointed with a chip, then popped it in my mouth. The vinegar scraped my cut and made me wince. ‘When we were having our tea, the lights would come on. We thought it was well exciting. Like being in The Great Escape’
He looked puzzled. ‘I don’t follow,’ he said. ‘What do you mean?’
‘You know, like the Nazi searchlights. Sweeping through the room, searching out the escapees.’ Hiding under the table with Robbie during the interminable August rain, playing Daleks, while Leigh stuck her rattling old Walkman on and ignored us, read Jackie on a scratchy little sofa. We were hiding mostly from my parents’ pain, as much as playing a game. Sheltering from their screaming in the kitchen. I left out those bits.
‘It’s operational then?’ He was thoughtful, enlivened even.
‘I don’t know about now, but it definitely was back then. Robbie even wanted to be a lighthouse-keeper for a while.’ God, I wish he had followed that dream.
‘Wait here.’ He crunched across the car park to the Information Point. It was shut. He came back and tried the Coastguard’s office. All locked up. Cursing, he fished out his phone. I sat on the bonnet in the dying sun and finished off my chips, watched him talking, but couldn’t read his lips. I didn’t have the energy to get excited again. Too many false starts already today. Eventually, he gestured for me to get in the car.
‘How do you feel about staying down here tonight?’ he said, turning on the ignition. I had a feeling I didn’t have much choice.
Silver took me to a small hotel on the seafront, not as posh as the nearby Grand looked, but quite smart in an executive sort of way. Sitting in the empty, mute-toned bar, I watched him through the glass door of the private lounge, barking down the telephone. I ordered a vodka and tonic and rang home, spoke to Shirl; rang the hospital, spoke to Sister Kwame. Mickey had come round again, was sleeping peacefully now. They were pleased with his progress. Hanging up, I wondered why my husband seemed so very far from me now. So far in every way.
Some Technicolor police drama wobbled on to itself in the corner of the room, followed by an inane chat show where vacuous celebrities ran down huge jellylike stairs before patting each other lovingly on the back and telling jokes. I flicked through brochures for a local zoo, painfully imagined Louis’s face lighting up at the funny llamas. We hadn’t really started day-trips yet; the Tate had been the first, and—I ordered another vodka and knocked it back.
A while later, a pretty WPC turned up with a carrier-bag of toiletries.
‘I got you a spare pair of knickers too, hope they’re the right size,’ she murmured. She passed me the bag, but she was actually looking through the door at Silver. He glanced up and gave a cursory wave; she flushed, and I felt annoyed. Most irrational, I warned myself quite strictly.
‘Very fetching. Did Silver ask you to get these?’ I asked her dryly, pulling a large pair of sensible white pants from the bag.
She looked vaguely embarrassed. ‘Not sure who the order came from. Is there anything else you need?’
‘An explanation would be good, actually,’ I said, articulating most carefully. ‘Can you help at all?’ I was warmly slicked with vodka now; I felt like I hadn’t felt for ages. An odd kind of exhilaration mixed with nerves.
‘I can’t really, I’m afraid. I’m sure they’ll fill you in soon.’ She obviously knew little more than me. Silver suddenly swung through the door. I shoved the pants hastily back into the bag.
‘Thanks for that, WPC-?’ he said. She flushed puce again.
‘Martin.’
‘WPC Martin. Any idea what’s happened to your bloody boss? I’m still waiting for his call.’
‘He’s on the Doherty murder, out at Peacehaven. It was pretty full-on. I think he’ll be there till the early hours,’ she said shyly. There was a brief silence, then almost reluctantly she said, ‘Well, if that’s all for now?’ and he flashed her one of his brilliant smiles.
‘Yeah, cheers, kiddo. We’ll see you tomorrow.’ He turned away and head
ed towards the bar. For a moment she looked stranded and my heart went out to her.
‘Thanks so much for the stuff,’ I called after her departing back.
Silver came back to my sofa with something dark in a glass, and another vodka for me.
‘Shall we go outside? It’s stifling in here.’
I followed him out into the small walled garden that fell down to the sea. ‘Nice umbrellas. What’s that?’ I pointed at his glass as he settled at a table on the deserted terrace.
‘Coke,’ he took a sip. ‘Why?’
I shrugged. ‘Just wondered, you know.’ I looked out to sea for a second. There were tiny lights at random points, bobbing in the blackness. Fishing boats? ‘Why are you drinking Coke?’
‘I don’t drink alcohol.’
‘Oh. Sorry.’ I thought back. ‘Why not?’
‘Because I used to. Drink—too much. Much too much. And then,’ he fiddled with his gum-wrapper, ‘then I lost what really mattered because of it.’
‘You mean your wife?’
‘I mean my kids.’ He tossed the wrapper on the table. ‘So I don’t any more.’ In the darkness he looked almost saturnine. ‘And I’m nicer if I don’t. Much nicer.’ Then he pulled himself together. ‘So, no trying to get me pissed, all right, kiddo?’
Under the multicoloured bunting from some forgotten garden-party, I suddenly felt glad of the darkness. The little flags flapped lightly in the gentle breeze, and I changed the subject. ‘So, are you going to tell me what’s going on?’ The tonic fizzed into my drink.
‘Sorry,’ he said, loosening his tie. ‘God, it’s a relief to get this off sometimes. Especially in this bloody heat.’ He chucked it on the chair beside him. ‘It’s the lighthouse thing. I was trying to get out there tonight, but apparently the tide’s turned and the coastguards won’t approve it now. We’ll have to wait till morning.’
‘What lighthouse thing? Why d’you want to go there at all?’
‘It was what you said at the beach that made me think. The sweeping light. Do you remember on the video there was a strange flicking?’
I thought of the ghostly light. I nodded slowly.
‘It was something we just couldn’t quite work out—the forensic team kept looking at it; we guessed it was lights from some kind of club flashing outside, you know, through a window in the room. Like at General’s gaff. But the colours are wrong for his. When they went back and timed it on the tape earlier, they found it went round every two minutes. Just like a lighthouse beam, apparently.’ He looked at me triumphantly, and raised his drink. ‘And the nearest working lighthouse, as you so rightly pointed out, is out by Beachy Head.’
‘You mean,’ I stared at my glass as if it were some kind of crystal-ball, searching for comprehension. The ice had melted already in the dense night heat. ‘You mean, you think Louis could be in the lighthouse?’
‘Jess, like I’ve said before, it’s impossible to absolutely know anything. I’ve probably told you too much already. And I never want you to get too excited. But it’s a—a possibility, kiddo.’
I shoved my drink onto the table and stood. ‘Then why the hell are we sitting here? Why aren’t we out there looking for him?’
‘I’ve told you, there’s a dangerous rip-tide now, and we can only land in a very small boat. It’s not safe, apparently.’ He put a hand out to me. ‘Sit down, please. I’m as frustrated as you, honestly.’
‘I doubt it, Silver,’ I snapped. ‘For God’s sake, if it means getting my baby back, I’ll swim out there. Sod the bloody tide. Let’s go.’
He stood up too, came towards me. The stars behind him filled the cavernous sky above the treacle-black sea. The night went on forever.
‘We’ll go first thing, I promise you. At dawn. It’s all arranged. It’s not much longer to wait. Try to be patient, Jessica.’
‘How? Where the bloody hell do you suggest I find any more patience from?’ I took a slug of vodka, paced away onto the grass carpet, then back. The springy lawn thrust up soft and firm between my bare toes. ‘I’m so sick of waiting, Silver. I’ve done nothing but wait for over a week. I feel so—so useless. So absolutely redundant. I’m a mother who should have protected her son, but I didn’t. Instead, I let someone else take him and now, now I’m—look, I’m just sitting here sipping vodka with some—some silly flash policeman.’
‘Thanks very much.’ He seemed unperturbed. ‘Don’t be so hard on yourself.’
‘Well how do you expect me to be, for God’s sake? I mean, how would you be? Can you imagine how you’d feel if it was one of your kids?’ I challenged him. ‘You wouldn’t just be sitting around waiting, would you?’
He shook his head slowly. ‘No, I can’t imagine. I can only think it must be hell. I miss my kids like crazy, but at least I know where they are.’ He held me lightly by my shoulders. His face was in shadow, but I felt the compassion in his gaze. ‘Look, you’re doing brilliantly, kiddo. I know it’s horrible, frustrating. I understand how hard it is—but it will be over, Jessica, soon—I swear to you. We will find Louis.’
‘I’m starting to think—’ My voice cracked, I breathed hard and deep to retain my cool. ‘I’m starting to think I might never see him again.’
The words echoed emptily in the dark night air, smashed to the ground between us. His grip on my shoulders strengthened a little.
‘You will see him again, I’m sure. You have to believe that.’
‘I just feel so—so weird all the time. Like it’s not really me it’s happening to, like it’s a nightmare I’ll wake from, and Louis’ll be there beside me again, and someone will say I dreamed it all.’ I tried to get my breath. ‘And nothing prepares you—I mean, no one ever tells you what to do. What am I meant to do?’
He pushed my hair back out of my eyes and he didn’t remove his hand, and I didn’t want him to. Instead, he reached a thumb up and stroked the side of my face softly. I couldn’t bear to look at him; I couldn’t quite breathe. I looked down at my bare feet caught between his booted ones and I waited. Like I was on a cliff about to jump, I held my breath almost painfully; I curled my toes over, teetering on the edge.
‘You’re not alone,’ he said quietly. ‘I’m here, aren’t I? I’m not going anywhere.’
And then he tried to make me look at him, but I wouldn’t—I couldn’t. I mustn’t. You shouldn’t let this happen, a little voice kept saying inside my head, whatever ‘this’ was. You shouldn’t even want it. But there was something so safe about Silver, something that made me just want to fling myself into his arms forever and take refuge. I knew that if anyone could find Louis it would be him. And he made me feel so calm now-most of the time. None of the slamming up against each other like me and Mickey, the crashing in midair as we met, the violence of that lust. This was quite different. For one brief, glorious moment, I let myself forget it all, imagined melding into Silver, thought of nothing except the present. In the dark, starlit garden, only we existed now. I breathed him in, he was so near, and he smelt right somehow.
I thought I heard his breathing quicken a little and I felt myself start to fall headfirst into my own longing. My glass went slipping to the ground. And then—
And then I caught myself. Just in time I caught myself. What in hell’s name was I doing?
‘Not yet, you’re not,’ I said unsteadily, pushing away from him.
‘What?’ he said, and his accent seemed a little harsher, more pronounced than usual.
‘Not yet, you’re not going anywhere-but you will be. And I’ll have to deal with things on my own. That’s what I’m used to.’ I picked up the glass shakily so I didn’t have to look at him, and shoved it back onto the table. I moved back towards the hotel, away from him. I felt the hot, ugly plunge, the emptiness of unfulfilled lust. ‘And anyway, there’s Louis. I must just concentrate on Louis. We both must.’
‘Jessica—’ he started but I ran away. I ran from him and me, I ran inside. ‘Wake me in time to go, please,’ I whispered over my shoulder,
and I launched myself into the lift before he caught up with me, willing the doors to close. I glared at my tousled reflection in the yellow-lit mirror, my mouth all swollen still with General’s bruises, finally with some colour actually in my cheeks; I stared at myself and turned away. I went to bed and lay sleepless and terrified, sweating under my sheet for what seemed like hours.
Sometime soon after I lay down, Silver knocked gently on my door and called my name, but I put a pillow over my head and blocked up both my ears, like a little kid would do. Eventually he went away.
CHAPTER TWENTY
I am dreaming of Louis, my little Louis: a shirtless Silver is holding him aloft, but he keeps putting him down and I run to pick him up. Each time, Silver gets there first, mockingly moves him further on, so I never quite reach my son. Then my mum and dad are standing in the doorway of that tumbledown old cottage which is gone now, arm in arm they stand grinning inanely, like the wooden couple in a cuckoo clock who pop in and out, and it is that rainy summer from my childhood.
I woke up drenched in sweat, the sheet twisted around me like a shroud. Freeing myself, I scrabbled for my inhaler, trying to block that pathetic holiday from my whirring mind. The holiday that ended abruptly when my mother suddenly discovered my dad was due back in court the next day for sentencing. That he’d only been let out on bail because his cancer was malignant. The beginning of the proper end.
I realised someone was knocking on the door. Blearily, I blinked at the luminous alarm display. 5.32 a.m. The morning of the tenth day. The day we’d find my son…
‘Jessica, we need to go.’ It was Silver, and I was immediately anxious, and I felt like he was on the wrong side of the door, but also the right side, and I realised that however much I fought it and knew it was wrong, that I still wanted him to be near. I sank back into the bed for a hopeless moment.
‘I’ll be down in a second,’ I called brightly after a second, but there was no reply.
Lullaby Page 24
