Mindsight (23 page)

When he came out, he was shivering and hopping from foot to foot as he held a towel around him and dripped icy water. ‘I’m starving,’ he said.

‘Fish and chips then?’

He towelled his hair and more cold drops flew at me. ‘Yes, please.’

‘Shall we have them here or go to a café?’

‘Café, please. Then we can talk about the questions for those witnesses.’

We found a little place across the road from the beach and sat upstairs overlooking the crazy golf course and the boating pool where pedallos, in the shape of swans, sailed around. As we sat waiting for our plates of cod and chips, Tom pulled out his notes and handed them across to me, taking a huge gulp from his glass of cold milk as he did so. ‘Mark helped me with them,’ he said, rubbing his mouth with the back of his hand.

It was a set of bullet points, neatly printed:

• • As you approached the accident site did you see or hear any other vehicle (even if it was some distance away)?
  
• • Did you notice anything at all that you didn’t tell the police?
  
• • Did the police ask you to miss out any of your evidence?
  
• • Was there anything unusual about the way the other witness acted?
  
• • Can you remember anything else at all that might trigger Mrs Glazier’s memory?
  

I moved the paper to one side as the waitress brought our food. Tom cut a huge piece from his fish and forked it up with a pile of chips.

‘These are very good points,’ I said. ‘But the one asking about the other witness might be a bit awkward.’

He spoke with his mouth full, but this wasn’t the time to say anything about that. ‘I know, but we’ll only ask when we get them on their own.’

‘OK, it should be all right, unless we have to pass the questions to Jacob via Mr Hillier.’

He ate on steadily, his face flushing and I waited. Had I upset him again, I was so clumsy with him still. But then he looked up. ‘Yeah, we need to try to talk to Downes himself. Mark and me have searched for him on Facebook, Twitter, and everywhere else we can think of, but we haven’t found him yet.’

He put down his knife and fork and rubbed his palms on his T-shirt before pulling his bag onto his lap and fumbling in the side pocket. His face was very red. ‘I’ve written this for Mr Hillier.’

Dear Mr Hillier,

My name is Tom Glazier and it was my dad and brother (and my grandfather) who were killed in the accident. Now there’s only me and my mum (Clare Glazier) and we both want to know more about the accident so we can move on. Please, Mr Hillier, will you try to think of anything that might help Mrs Glazier get her memory back and please will you also speak to Jacob Downes for us and ask him if he’ll talk to her too.

I would be very grateful for your help with this.

Yours sincerely,

Tom Glazier

*

It seemed as if hours had gone by when I felt Tom’s hand tap mine. ‘Mum?’

His face was still red and he looked away as I raised my eyes to him. ‘Oh, Tom, this is wonderful.’

He picked up his fork and began poking at his chips. ‘Do you think it’s all right then?’

‘Of course. I would never have thought of anything like this.’

His smile was huge and he pushed another forkful of fish and chips into his mouth chewing as if he was still starving. ‘Good, we can send it right away then.’

I needed to think about it and I was glad he seemed satisfied with my silence. He pushed his plate away. ‘What shall we do now?’

‘Whatever you like. The aquarium, Smugglers’ Caves, amusement arcade.’

‘The arcade, and then maybe the funfair, if that’s OK. I brought some money.’

A clench from deep inside, ‘No, I want to treat you today.’

At the amusements I gave him a handful of coins and he dived straight into the bubbling turmoil of electric noises and flickering lights. I called, ‘Meet you at the door,’ as I lost sight of him. I knew there was no reason to be anxious, but the tinny music battering at my ears and the crowding bodies made me flinch into myself and I began to feel sick.

I pushed my way to the door and sat outside on the step, breathing deeply.

‘You can’t sit there, madam.’

I was on my feet, wrenching my back, before he’d finished speaking, so familiar was that tone from my time inside. It isn’t the pettiness of prison rules as much as the fact that, for some reason, you never know precisely what they are; never know how to avoid breaking them.

So I found myself looking at him with the kind of childish rebelliousness you relearn inside: the only way to assert some kind of individuality. I said nothing, of course, just stared at him until he slouched away, looking back at me to show he’d got my number. Oh yes, I could see him as a prison warder.

On the beach I’d imagined I was nearly back to thinking like a normal person,
what a fool.
I was damaged in so many ways that I wondered if I could ever really heal.

‘Mum? You OK?’

‘I’m fine. A bit hot that’s all.’

‘I won £4 on the horse race game.’

‘Great, well let’s go and see what you can spend it on.’

We walked to the little funfair, stopping en-route to spend Tom’s winnings on comics and a bag of sweets. At the fair he insisted we go on the Big Apple – surely the tiniest big dipper in the world. As we bounced along I laughed and clutched at my stomach and Tom patted my back. ‘It’s all right, Mum.’ My eyes misted as I gripped his arm, wanting to squeeze it so hard we would never be separated again.

He was content to go on the next few rides alone and bought a candyfloss as we walked away.

At the door to the flat I heard the phone ringing, but the answerphone cut in before I could get the key in the lock. The voice was very clear.

‘Hello, Clare, it’s Kieran. I’m not sure how we left it last night, but I just wanted you to know I’m thinking of you. I’ve had to come to Lancaster to be with my mum.
She’s been taken ill. I should be back soon and maybe we can talk then.’

Tom looked at me. ‘Kieran? Is that the man who brought me to your shop?’

I headed straight to the kitchen to avoid his gaze. ‘Yes, it’s my neighbour.’

‘He’s nice,’ he said. Then, ‘Can I turn on your laptop?’

I brought my coffee out and stood behind him as he whizzed around showing me that Jacob Downes was not on any of the normal social media sites.

He’d put his list of questions and the personal letter to Mr Hillier on the little table. I said, ‘We don’t want to push too hard yet, so I think I should write him a letter too and send it with yours. Keep the questions until they agree to talk to me.’

‘OK.’ I could see he was distracted, looking at the bookcase next to the desk. ‘What’s this?’ He held up the DVD of Emily’s wedding.

Damn,
I hadn’t thought to hide it. For a moment I considered lying to him, saying it belonged to a friend, but I couldn’t. ‘It’s Emily and Matt’s.’

‘Can I watch it?’

He was looking at me very hard and I felt my fingers curl as I resisted the urge to snatch the thing away.
Be careful
. ‘Come and sit down, will you?’

I moved to the sofa, praying he would follow me. He did, sitting in one corner, his fingers drumming lightly on the DVD case. He asked, ‘Have you seen it?’

‘Yes. I didn’t want to look at it, but I had to, in case it might jog my memory.’

‘And did it help?’ He still wasn’t looking at me and his voice was tight.

‘Not really, but you never know, it might take a while. Might have started something moving.’

‘Did you see yourself on it?’ He was making circles with his index finger on the DVD case, his eyes focused on the imaginary patterns.

My heart gave a huge thump. I could see where he was going with this and I’d promised to be honest with him. ‘Yes I did and at the end of the evening, just before we left, I do think there was something wrong with me.’

‘Did you look drugged?’

I laid my hand over his so that his finger stopped circling, but he wouldn’t look at me. His jaw and neck were flushed pink.

‘It did look like that,’ I said. ‘But there was nothing on the film to help me work out when it happened.’

He glanced quickly at me then away again. ‘If you let me see the DVD I might spot something you haven’t.’

I bit my lip,
what to say
? ‘Yes you might, but I really don’t think it would be good for you, Tom. Can you leave it for a bit and we’ll talk again later on?’

He was silent and I held my breath, expecting another outburst, but then, still without looking at me, he handed me the DVD. ‘All right.’

It was best to leave it now. I put the DVD back on the shelf and went towards the kitchen. ‘You’re probably not hungry after that big lunch. I don’t suppose you could force down a sausage sandwich and a piece of chocolate cake could you?’

He didn’t answer, but at least he followed me into the kitchen and when I handed him the cake box he found plates and a knife in the cupboard. After that, I gave him a series of little jobs to do, chatting all the time as if nothing had happened. Eventually, his answers became more than monosyllables.

Then, as we sat at the kitchen table, him tucking into a sandwich and me drinking tea, he asked, ‘When are you going to get that put-you-up so I can stay the night?’

‘Soon. Let’s talk to Alice about arranging the first sleepover, shall we? And I’ll make sure I’ve got everything sorted by then.’

‘OK.’ And his smile made my heart sing.

After Tom and Alice had gone I wrote to Mr Hillier:

I’m enclosing a note from my son, too. He was keen for you to hear from him personally.

Then I begged him to try to arrange for me to talk to Jacob Downes.

All I want is anything that might help me regain my memory. Whatever you tell me, or he tells me, I’ll keep to myself. I definitely won’t talk to the police again. I’ve served my time and I don’t want anyone else to suffer. But please, please, help me if you can.

I went straight out to post it and came back to watch the DVD again. I couldn’t believe it would be a good idea to let Tom see it and I certainly couldn’t do that without talking to Alice about it first. For now I had to hope he’d forget it.

There didn’t seem to be much more to learn about Steve, or myself, and looking at Toby was so painful that I concentrated on the others. After what Emily and Lorna had said about the stress people were under I could see that the whole event was not the totally happy occasion I’d always imagined.

Alice seemed very tired and Lorna depressed. Matt and Emily looked suitably dazed at the centre of all the attention, but I was sure now that there was something wrong about the way Dad looked at Matt. Lorna had said they were close, but if their relationship had soured I needed to find out why.

When I took the DVD from the player I hesitated. Although I didn’t really think Tom would forget about it, at least there was no reason to leave it where he might spot it again. So I put it in the bedroom drawer with his folder, the photo albums, and the baby shoes.

When the phone shrilled, I jumped, but let it run on to the answer system.
‘Still
not there, baby girl. Well never mind …’

I answered before she could ring off. ‘Ruby, oh God, it’s lovely to hear your voice. How’s it going?’

She told me what I already knew: she was just hanging on in there. ‘If I keep my nose clean, and I’m going to, I’ll get through all right. But what about you? It’s not all sunshine, I can tell. So what’s up?’

Very quickly, conscious of the inevitable queue waiting behind her to use the phone, I told her as much as I could. A couple of times she sighed and I knew she was thinking what a mess I’d made of it all. ‘I thought you promised to get on with your life,’ she said, when I stuttered to a halt. ‘I should really tell ya just to leave it alone, but it sounds as if it’s too late for that now.’ A pause where I could hear her breathing. ‘And you did say you’d do anything to get Tom back. So if this is what he needs I guess you got to finish what you started.’

I was desperate to find out what Lorna wanted to tell me, but she had asked me to come in the afternoon, so I decided to use the morning to try to see Matt. Lorna’s hospital was in central London, but Parnell Pharmaceuticals’ offices, and their lab complex, were in the south east suburbs, in Orpington. It had been an easy commute for Dad from Wadhurst and was on the train line from Hastings, too. I could get off the train there en-route to see Lorna. The chances were Matt wouldn’t be in the office today, but it was worth a try, and I didn’t want to call ahead to warn him.

The walk from the station was difficult. It was a lovely day, but it reminded me so much of coming here over the years and especially of the summer I spent working with Lorna. When I met and fell in love with Steve.

The office was one of the better ’60s designs: a long low building with lots of glass. As the architect had no doubt intended, it resembled an expensive private clinic. The discreet Parnell Pharmaceuticals’ signs I remembered had been replaced by bigger and more numerous ones reading, Global Meds: the U.S. conglomerate that had been Dad’s rival for years. He had fought the takeover, but first the scandal and then his death meant it became inevitable.

As I reached the gates I felt a pang, not because of the signs, but because Steve’s lovely landscaping, which had once stretched out in front of the building, had been replaced by a second, large car park.

Inside, things were more plush than I remembered, with a dark blue carpet and matching chairs dotted around small glass tables. The glossy reception desk was larger too, more like something from a top hotel. The girl behind it was unfamiliar and showed no sign of recognising me. When I asked to see Matt Bradshaw she raised her eyebrows. ‘Do you have an appointment?’