Elisabeth Carpenter - Only a Mother

My hand automatically goes to my mouth.

‘I’m so sorry, love.’

‘It’s all right. It was years ago… that’s why I’m in Sunningdales now,’ she says quietly. She clasps her hands together; a formal gesture that doesn’t suit her. She’s so young, vulnerable. ‘Dad tries, but, you know. He hates real life and that. My mum loved life, but then you would if you were off your face all the time, wouldn’t you?’

What a life she’s had. There’s something about her that makes me want to put my arms around her and tell her everything’s going to be all right.

She only looks about fourteen, but I’m out of touch with youngsters nowadays. The ones I’ve seen in the Co-op all have a face full of make-up and what looks like mascara lathered all over their eyebrows.

‘Where did you meet Jason, Leanne?’ I say.

‘Always known Jason, really. About a year ago, he started sitting in a beer garden near Sunningdales.’

‘What’s that?’

She laughs.

‘Yeah, it sounds like an old people’s home, doesn’t it?’ she says. ‘It’s great to meet you, by the way.’ She says it in a faux-posh voice and I’m not sure if she’s pulling my leg or not. ‘Craig talks about you all the time.’

‘Really?’ And then the penny, or rather the pocketful of rusty, dirty coins, drops. ‘Have you been visiting Craig?’

‘Oh no,’ she says, her voice wobbling for the first time. ‘We were talking yesterday.’

‘I see. From what you said, it was like you’d known each other for years.’

‘It feels like we have.’

It’s not far to the pub – where the heck is Jason? He needs to take this child home.

‘I don’t mean to be rude,’ I say, ‘but…’

Her eyes widen; she hugs the book, anxious suddenly.

‘That’s OK. Craig promised he’d meet me… an hour ago… but it was Jason instead of him. They all want something, don’t they?’

‘What do you mean?’

Her eyes dart around the room.

‘Guess it’s different these days…’ she says. ‘What with the internet and everything.’

‘I… I don’t know why that’s—’

A knock at the door.

It’s Jason here to collect her. If it were Craig, he would’ve used his key. I swallow.

‘Listen, love,’ I say to her. ‘If you’re in some kind of trouble, you can trust me, you know. You don’t have to go anywhere with Jason. I can ring Sunningdales… tell them to come and get you. You’re welcome to stay here. I can say to Jason that you’re going to help me with something. How does that sound?’

Five minutes ago, I wanted her out of my house and now I feel as though I need to protect her, make her sit down and tell me everything she knows about my son.

Because I don’t think I know him at all any more.

‘I’m fine,’ she says, standing. ‘Honestly. Don’t worry about me. I’ve had to learn to take care of myself.’

‘If you’re sure, love.’ I reach over and touch her slender arm. ‘If you ever need someone to talk to, I’m here. Don’t ever feel alone.’

She places a hand over mine. Briefly, her eyes glisten with tears before she blinks them away.

‘You’re kind,’ she says.

Another loud knock on the door makes us both jump. Leanne follows me into the hallway.

I open the door to Jason.

‘I found Craig at the pub,’ he says. ‘But he’s a bit merry.’ He glances at Leanne standing next to me in the doorway. ‘I can drop you off home instead, if you want? He can get a bit… maudlin after a few.’

‘That’s OK. I want to see him.’ Leanne almost leaps from the doorway. She turns to me. ‘Thanks, Erica. For the tea and everything.’

‘Any time,’ I say.

She looks up at Jason, smiling. She trusts him. Does she trust my son as much? Do I?

I watch as they walk together down the street – a sense of foreboding grips me.

Nothing good is going to come of this, I can feel it.

Luke takes a detour past Erica Wright’s on the way to work – for the third time in six days. He’s already late with the monthly review of the newly released ‘bestsellers’. He doesn’t know what he’s hoping to find down Erica’s street. Perhaps he’ll see Craig appear at the door – or he’ll follow him and witness the crime he knows Craig’s going to commit. He’d be the hero. Or he could see an angry mob of locals confronting him with placards; a fight on the street. He knows these scenarios are ridiculous. As if he’d see it at precisely the right moment, his phone ready to film it. It would be such a scoop. Some of the nationals picked up his most recent piece – even used his quotes from Gillian Sharpe – but they never mentioned him. They just lifted the words from the Chronicle ’s website, with a pitiful link on the word ‘reported’ that no one ever clicked on after they’d been told it third hand.

He slows as he passes Erica’s, but as usual the curtains are closed. Nothing to see there.

Luke continues towards Jason Bamber’s house but stops seconds later when he sees a familiar face. But the face is the only recognisable thing about him. Craig Wright. Shaved head – a number two by the looks of it. Broad shoulders, thick neck, but still the same face.

He’s waiting at the corner on the end of the street, looking around. What is he doing? Craig gets out a mobile phone but puts it away when a car turns on to the street. An older car – an Astra – stops. Craig leans into the passenger window. Luke can’t see if there are any passengers.

He hears Craig swear at the driver, even with his car window up. Luke lowers it down as Craig says, ‘…fucking piece of shit’. He kicks the car door.

Luke gets out his phone to capture it, but the car speeds off.

As though he can sense Luke watching, Craig slowly turns to face him. His gaze is unwavering.

‘Shit,’ says Luke.

He knew he should carry a baseball cap and sunglasses in his glove compartment. Now Craig has seen his face. Luke presses on the accelerator. Craig glares at him as he passes – Luke can feel it even as he tries to keep his eyes on the road.

Luke’s going to have to be more careful about this. God knows what Craig would do if he knew Luke was trying to get a story on him. Unlike all those years ago, Luke has a family now. He can’t put them at risk.

He turns into Jason Bamber’s street, relieved that the black BMW isn’t there. Luke waits a few minutes, his eyes on the rear-view mirror in case Craig is on his way here.

Nothing.

This time, Becks opens the door straight away. She’s wearing a silk blouse with tight blue jeans, but her feet are bare.

Full name: Rebecca Savage, an unfortunate surname. Date of birth: 7 March 1981, almost two years younger than Jason Bamber. They’re married, but she kept her maiden name for some reason.

‘Thanks for coming round again,’ she says. ‘You can’t be long, though. I never know when he’s going to come home.’

She opens the door wide and Luke steps inside.

‘Go through to the lounge,’ she says, heading towards the kitchen. ‘Do you want a drink?’

‘No, I’m fine thanks,’ says Luke.

If Jason were to come back, he doesn’t want to seem too at home with a cuppa.

The living room is small; two leather settees and a chair take up most of the space. On the wall is a fifty-inch TV that’s almost as wide as the mantelpiece below it.

Luke flinches as a piercing scream comes from the corner.

He turns to see a baby in a crib. Luke needs to calm down.

‘Don’t mind her,’ says Rebecca, coming back in, placing her drink on the side table next to her before sitting in the leather chair next to the baby Jumperoo. She tucks her legs underneath her as she gets comfortable. ‘She likes new faces.’