Ben Cheetham - The Society of Dirty Hearts

“How the hell could I forget that?” Robert pursed his lips irritably. Then, making an obvious effort to keep his voice low and calm, he said, “Look, all I want to know is the truth.”

You and me both, thought Julian. “I’m telling you the truth.”

“I don’t buy that one bit.” Robert shook his head with a saddened air. “What’s happened to you, Julian? Since when did you start lying?”

Julian made a contemptuous hissing sound. “Around the same time as you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know fucking well what I mean. Look at you. You’re so stressed you can’t get through the morning without a drink.”

Robert scowled, his temper flaring. “Don’t swear at me you little sh-” He caught the word on his lips, inhaled deeply through his nose, then continued, “Of course I’m stressed out, Julian. Your mum — my wife — who I love more than my life has an inoperable brain aneurysm that might pop and kill her at any second.”

“That’s not just it. Mum’s been ill for years and I’ve never seen you like this before. Admit it, Dad, it’s the factory. The factory’s struggling.”

Robert looked at Julian in silent indecision. Twice he glanced at the door, as if trying to work out if anyone was listening at it. Then, his voice dropping even lower, he said, “Okay, so business is a bit tight right now. We’ve been having some problems.”

“Such as?”

“Well, for a start, our biggest supplier has put up their prices by twenty percent in the last year. Also, we’ve lost a couple of big customers recently.”

“And does Mum know about this?”

“Of course not, and there’s no need for her to.” Robert’s voice contained a warning note.

“Oh right, so it’s okay for you to lie and keep things from her, is it?”

“This is totally different, Julian. Sometimes you have to lie to protect people.”

“Yeah, well maybe that’s what I’m doing.”

“So Mia Bradshaw’s still alive.” Robert’s drink-shot eyes stared intensely into Julian’s. “Where is she?”

“How should I know if she’s alive or where she is?”

“You just implied that you’re protecting her.”

Julian tried to shrug off his dad’s hands, but their hold on him tightened almost painfully. “This isn’t a fucking game, Julian.”

“I know that.”

“Do you? Because if you really do, you’ll tell me the truth.”

“There’s nothing to tell.”

Robert studied Julian a moment, then said gravely, “I hope so, because this is the kind of thing that wrecks lives — and I’m not just talking about one life, Julian. If something happens to Mia Bradshaw because you didn’t do the right thing, you’ll carry that with you forever.”

Do the right thing. Those words throbbed in Julian’s head like an anxious heart. Doing the right fucking thing’s all I want to do, he felt like yelling. He brought his arms up between his dad’s and thrust outwards, knocking his grip loose. Then he turned for the door. “Wait,” said Robert, his voice almost imploring. “Just tell me one thing. Tell me you didn’t do anything with her.”

Julian frowned over his shoulder at him. “Do anything like what?”

“Like have sex with her.”

“What kind of question’s that?” Julian’s voice rose in angry indignation. “Jesus Christ, what the fuck do you think I am? She’s fifteen.”

With a worried glance in the direction of the living-room, Robert raised his hands to quieten him. “Okay, okay, I see you’re not lying now. I’m sorry, Julian, but I had to ask.”

“Why?”

“Because if they do pull her out of that river, they have ways of telling if she had sex before she died.”

“Even if we had done anything, do you really think I’d care about that if she’s dead?” Julian stabbed a finger at his temple. “You can’t be right in there. Saying such twisted things.”

“I’m only trying to look out for you.”

Julian echoed Mia. “Well I don’t need looking out for.”

Robert pulled an incredulous face. “Have you looked in the mirror recently?”

“Have you?” Julian shot back. With a shake of his head, he made for his bedroom. He flopped onto his bed, pulling out his mobile phone. “Ring, Jake. Ring, ring,” he muttered, as if by force of will he could make him do so.

Second by second, minute by minute, the day passed. Jake didn’t ring. The police found nothing other than mud and rubbish in the river. Julian sat down to an excruciating Sunday lunch with his parents. His mum still seemed half-doped. His dad was more interested in the bottle of wine he opened than eating or conversation. Julian shoved the beef, potatoes and all the rest of it down his throat and excused himself from the table. As the sun set over the forest, turning the trees into flame, he fell into his usual troubled sleep. By the time the next morning rolled around, he must’ve killed Mia a dozen times.

Julian checked his phone and the TV, but there was still no news on either front. He dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. His dad was at the breakfast table, looking a little jaded, but immaculately shaved and dressed. When he saw Julian, he shook his head and said, “Go and put a suit and tie on.”

“What for?”

“I’ll explain in the car. Hurry up and get changed.”

On the way to the factory, Robert kept licking his lips as though his mouth was dry. Julian would’ve put it down to the drink, if he hadn’t sensed an edginess about him, a preoccupation. “So why am I dressed like this?” he asked.

“I’m meeting with a buyer from a High Street chain-store today to discuss a possible order,” said Robert. “I want you to sit in on the meeting. Not say anything, mind you, just sit there and listen.” His tongue ran over his lips again. “If we can clinch this order, it’ll really turn things around for us.”

“And what if we can’t?”

Robert said nothing, but his face said plenty.

When the buyer arrived at the factory, Robert briefly introduced him to Julian and then the business talk started. To Julian the meeting seemed interminably long and tedious. There was lots of talk from his dad about the history of Harris Shoes, the dedication of their employees, the outstanding quality of the shoes themselves. And then there was lots of talk from the buyer about the company he worked for, its reputation for fair dealing, its general buying policies, and so forth and so on. In the end, though, it boiled down to one thing — price — but neither man seemed willing to talk figures. After listening for what seemed like hours, Julian had to grit his teeth to stop himself from bursting out, “Jesus, can’t we just cut the bullshit and get down to it.”

After they’d shaken the buyer’s hand and waved him off, Robert turned to Julian and said, “That went well, don’t you think?”

He shrugged. “Seemed like a lot of talk that didn’t amount to anything. I was expecting you to try to get him to commit to an order, but you didn’t even discuss prices.”

“Patience, Julian. You can’t do business until you’ve done the small talk. It’s a bit like dating. If you want the relationship to last, you don’t jump straight into bed.” Julian almost flinched when, with a smile, his dad reached to pat his shoulder. “I’ll bet they didn’t teach you that at uni.”

Julian spent the rest of the day going through the orders book with his dad, listening to him talk about his relationship with his buyers. He knew every one of them on first name terms, knew their wives, sent them cards and presents at Christmas and on their birthdays. “It may seem like a lot of bother, but these little extra efforts really pay off in the long-run,” he said. There was an animation about him, an excitement that Julian had rarely seen before. He’d built the business on sheer hard work. It was his baby, and his love for it was written all over his face. A few years earlier it would’ve been enough to make Julian jealous, but not anymore. He was past that now. And besides, it was clear that if he wanted to get closer to his dad all he had to do was put his heart and soul into the business too. “You know, Julian,” Robert went on, “I had my doubts, but I’m starting to think maybe you were right, maybe what this business needs is new blood, a fresh perspective. Maybe together we can drive it on to new heights.”