Be Careful What You Hear (6 page)

***

‘You okay?’ I
asked James, as I stood at the front door. Grace was twisting and
turning to see what daddy was doing.

He was pumping
away at the back tyre. He paused and looked up. ‘It’s fine. Just
getting sorted for the long journey.’

I looked at the
base of the tyre. It actually did look flat against the ground.
James saw me looking and his face registered something which made
me suspicious. I stepped onto the driveway and peered around to the
other back tyre. That one was obviously completely flat. Last year
I had been driving when a nail had shredded one of my tyres,
leaving a gaping tear. The damage was so bad that the RAC couldn’t
repair it. This tyre looked flatter than on that occasion.

I checked the
front tyre. That appeared to be okay, but James had been out there
for a while, so he’d probably already pumped it back up.

James got to
his feet, wiping off the dirt from his hands with a rag. ‘They were
all like that,’ he revealed. ‘All completely flat.’

‘Really? Who
would do that?’

He shrugged.
‘Kids, probably.’ He made a show of glancing up and down the
deserted street, as if the guilty parties might have hung around.
‘I guess we’re on one of the main routes from town, and with it
being Friday night last night.’

I pulled Grace
closer. I didn’t like the idea of someone doing something malicious
to us like that. Even though in the grand scheme of things, it was
on the much lower end of the scale of antisocial behaviour. But
with that coming on top of the back garden prowler sighting, it was
certainly enough to unnerve me. I couldn’t help asking James the
question: ‘You’re not worried that it’s got something to do with
what Max saw?’

The thought
obviously hadn’t occurred to him. ‘You think so?’

‘I hope not.
But it’s two weird things in as many days.’

Make that
three…

James rubbed at
his stubble, looking at the car. He often went unshaven when we
were on holiday in the wild countryside, aiming for the rugged
look. I liked it for a change. ‘As I said, I think it’s just kids
messing around. I used to do that sort of thing when I was
young.’

‘You?’ I was
amused, as I’d never thought of James as being a trouble maker. He
was a stickler for the rules on most things.

‘Nothing
terrible. Things like knock and run, budding windows…’

‘Budding
windows?’

I was
embarrassing him now, but I genuinely didn’t know what he meant.
‘Throwing rose buds at windows. You know, you pull them off the
roses, throw them at the neighbours’ windows, and run off before
they see you.’

‘
James
Adams,’ I chided in jest. I bounced Grace up and down, and she
giggled with delight. ‘Grace, I don’t want you doing anything like
that when you grow up.’

‘She won’t,’
James replied, stroking one of her hands. ‘Because she’s not a
boy.’

‘Too right,’ I
smiled. Grace smiled too. Maybe she got the joke.

James touched
me lightly on the arm. ‘Seriously though, George, try not to worry
about the tyre thing. I know it’s unsettling, but I really don’t
think there’s anything terrible behind it.’

‘You weren’t
going to tell me about it, were you?’

‘No. Because I
knew you’d worry.’

‘Fair enough.
Have you checked the back garden yet?’

‘Yes, I did a
quick walk around before I noticed the tyres.’

‘And?’ I
brought Grace closer to my body, realising that it was a bit colder
than I’d thought. I would have to get Grace inside soon, as she
only had one layer on.

‘And nothing
had been taken. As you said, the shed was locked, nothing was out
of place. So maybe Max was seeing things.’

‘Did you ask
him? I saw him walking past before.’

‘He asked if
we’d decided to call the police. Seemed a little disappointed when
I said we hadn’t.’

‘You’ve decided
we shouldn’t?’

‘I don’t think
there’s much point,’ he replied. ‘There’s no evidence out there –
no footprints. Nothing taken. I can’t see what they would do.’

‘What about the
security light?’

‘I’ll look into
it some more when we get back from the weekend away. I’ve calmed
down now about it. We don’t want to overreact.’

James’ calmness
about the situation made me instantly relax. ‘I’ll let you get on
with the tyres,’ I said, ‘it’s colder out here than I thought for
Grace. And we’ve got quite a lot of packing to do.’

James nodded.
‘One piece of not so good news. I checked the weather app this
morning. Looks like that depression has changed course. Better make
sure we pack our waterproofs and a couple of umbrellas.’

7

Necessity is
the mother of invention, and the limited amount of time I had for
packing meant that I limited my time packing. Within two hours,
everything was packed and in the car. I can’t say that the morning
hadn’t been stressful, but it was liberating in some ways to be
forced to go against my normal preference of advance
preparation.

I had heeded
James’ warning and had packed all manner of waterproof clothing,
for us and Grace. Not that I was too keen on taking Grace out if it
was too wet. I didn’t really sign up to the old wives’ tale that
you would catch a cold through getting wet, but it didn’t seem
sensible to expose a baby to such harsh elements. The umbrellas I
thought would be downright dangerous – umbrellas, strong winds and
a cliff side location weren’t a good mix. But I’d packed them
anyway, in case we needed them en route.

‘We’re making
good time,’ James noted, as we cruised down the motorway at a
constant sixty five. The weather was still bright and dry, with the
wet and windy conditions only due to hit our destination during the
early hours. I still hoped the forecast might change again, giving
us a reprieve. Grace was asleep in the backward facing car seat,
and I was sitting next to her. She’d lasted just ten minutes before
closing her eyes – the roll of the car and noise of the engine was
much more effective at inducing sleep than our stories had ever
been. We’d actually resorted to taking Grace out at night for a
drive once or twice, when getting her to sleep the natural way had
proved impossible. But we’d resisted that becoming a routine, as it
did with some couples, as it was just storing trouble up for
later.

I looked at my
watch. ‘How long have we been travelling?’

‘Just over two
hours,’ he said, meeting my eye in the rear view mirror.

‘We’d better
stop soon. Grace will need her feed, and you could do with a rest.
We can grab some lunch there too.’

He nodded. ‘We
just passed a sign - there’s a services in ten miles. They’ve got a
Marks and Spencer.
We can stop there.’

‘Sounds
good.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he
said, meeting my eyes again in the mirror.

‘Sorry. For
what?’

‘For springing
this on you like that. I know you normally don’t like surprises,
and it wasn’t really fair of me to just go and book it at such
short notice.’ He glanced at me with concerned eyes.

‘It’s fine,’ I
said. ‘I’m really looking forward to it.’ Maybe he was worried that
I was hiding my true feelings; burying any anger I felt about the
last minute holiday until the weekend was over. But in truth, it
wasn’t like that at all. Yes, it wasn’t my normal way of doing
things. However, I could understand why he had done it. He’d been
stressed recently, I could tell. A large part of that was probably
the hangover from my problems, part was no doubt down to Margaret’s
illness, and maybe the rest was just life getting to him. Whatever,
this weekend away could surely only do us good.

Unless of
course what I’d heard on Thursday evening had been real. I shook
that thought off once again.

But as if
reading my mind and deliberately choosing to mess with my head,
James said. ‘It all ends this weekend.’

‘Excuse
me?’

‘Oh, it’s
okay,’ he said, indicating as we approached the services. ‘I was
just talking to myself really.’

But I couldn’t
let it go. Not those words. It was just too creepy to leave it
hanging like that. ‘I don’t understand what you mean. What ends
this weekend?’

Grace began to
stir, woken by hunger or possibly the tone of her mother’s voice as
I struggled to sound nonchalant in the face of my fears.

James was
concentrating on our approach to the service station, and didn’t
appear to have really heard me as he negotiated the slip road and
turned first right, then left, into the parking area. We pulled to
a stop, just as Grace opened her eyes and began to cry.

My question
hadn’t been answered.

We headed for
the main building, queued up at the buffet style restaurant for
some overpriced food, and I warmed Grace’s bottle.

‘You still
didn’t tell me what is ending this weekend.’ I waited until we had
almost finished the meal before raising the subject again – trying
my best to make it sound as relaxed as possible.

James finished
the last of his toasted bagel, before washing it down with his
coke. ‘The stress,’ he said. ‘And negativity. I was making a
promise to myself that it all ends this weekend. I want to get back
to how things were.’

I wasn’t sure I
was totally convinced by his explanation, but it sounded
reasonable. He had though given himself almost half an hour to come
up with that answer. I decided to probe a little more. ‘How things
were before what?’

His pause was
slightly unsettling, as was his serious expression. Maybe he just
hadn’t understood the question. ‘Before things went wrong,’ he
said, finally.

I think I
understood. I couldn’t help but look away. My eyes met those of an
older woman who was sitting at the next door table, pouring a cup
of tea.

James surprised
me by reaching out and taking my hand. ‘Don’t you dare blame
yourself – none of this is your fault.’

I looked back
at him, feeling a little uneasy that we were having this
conversation in a public place, and in front of Grace, who was
watching me from the high chair. I was sure that she could sense
tension, but she didn’t look upset yet. ‘I can’t help it, James,’ I
said, in as low a voice as I could. I glanced across at the older
lady. She had been joined by a man who was probably her husband,
and they were chatting. There was no one else within earshot. ‘I
know I’m not to blame, I know it was an illness, and I was a
victim. But you were a victim too, and Grace, and it was all just
so unfair on you both.’

‘Grace is
fine,’ James replied. ‘Just look at her. She’s a beautiful, happy,
thriving
little girl. Who do you think that’s down to?’
Grace smiled a big two front teeth smile at me, right on cue.

‘You, mostly,’
I said, taking Grace’s hand. ‘And Sophie.’

James shook his
head in frustration. ‘No, George, it’s mostly down to
you
.
Even in the worst of times, you refused to abandon her. You were
there for her, George, when a lot of people in your situation might
have crumbled.’

I shrugged.
‘There were times when I wanted to curl up and die.’

‘I know, but
you didn’t.’

‘Because of you
and Sophie. Without both your support, I might not be here now.’
I’d always been a strong person, but the illness had stolen that
from me. I really wasn’t sure what I would have done, if I had been
without those two.

‘You think too
much of me,’ he stated. Now it was his turn to look away.

‘How can you
say that?’

He ran a hand
across his face. And suddenly, he seemed the person in need of
support.

I thought he
was going to say something, but he seemed to stop himself. He made
to stand and I grabbed at his sleeve. ‘Let’s talk about this
properly.’

‘Not here,’ he
stated sadly.

I looked
around. He was right. This was not the place to have such
discussions, even if he had been the one to initiate it. Another
couple of tables near to us were now occupied, and I suspected that
the old lady had been taking an interest in our conversation during
the past few minutes, judging by the way she averted her eyes as
she met my gaze. ‘Then as soon as we get back to the car.’

‘Let’s just
enjoy this weekend,’ he said. ‘Please,’ he said, looking to where I
was still holding his sleeve. ‘I need to go to the toilet before we
set off again.’

I let go and he
gave a small, solemn nod of appreciation. I watched as he crossed
the floor, heading for the toilets. He had looked so sad. I
reflected on how good things had been in September on our first
trip to Devon. James and I had revelled in being happy again.
Everything was looking brighter. And yet now, it was as if we had
regressed; slipping back into the mire.

What had
happened to us to cause such a setback?

Maybe James had
been hiding his true feelings back then. It was plausible that he
could have been putting on a brave face for my benefit – desperate
for me to continue my recovery. In that way, the holiday happiness
would have been a sham. Except it had never felt like that. I
really didn’t think that James had been faking it.

So something
had changed between then and now. The question was, what? Maybe
Margaret’s cancer diagnosis had been the final straw.

And then, yet
again, the conversation over the baby monitor came back to haunt
me. The words that I thought I had heard weren’t that dissimilar to
the things that James had said to me over the past hour.

Certainly the
talk of things ending…

‘I’m getting
paranoid again,’ I said to Grace. She looked at my quizzically.
‘Your mummy is just being silly,’ I explained. ‘Tell her not to be
so silly.’

But then I had
a thought. I mused over it for a minute, then pulled out my
mobile.