Elisabeth Carpenter - Only a Mother

‘You’d have to meet my mother, then. Wouldn’t you?’

‘I’ve heard a few things about your mother,’ he said. ‘She’s quite a character in the town, isn’t she?’

‘No,’ I said, taken aback that he’d even heard of her. ‘Why would anyone want to talk about my mother?’

He shrugged. ‘They say she’s loaded – has money tucked under the mattress, so to speak. I overheard one person say she had an affair with a millionaire… that he paid money for you and your brother’s upkeep.’

‘That’s ridiculous,’ I said. ‘People have obviously got nothing better to talk about, so they make up stories. My dad ran off when I was born… they were married, you know.’

He shrugged again and looked out of the window. I gazed at his neck and his ears while he wasn’t looking. His skin was so smooth. He reached into his pocket.

‘I got you something.’

He handed me what looked like a ball of navy blue tissue. I peeled it open, and inside was a gold chain with a matching heart about half an inch in diameter. I couldn’t decide if it was really expensive, or really cheap.

‘Does it open?’

He took it from me and pulled the hearts apart.

‘You can put two pictures in it,’ he said.

‘I don’t have a photograph of you.’

While I was holding my hand up to admire it, he put his head on my lap, facing away from me. His fingers stroked my ankles, brought them up towards my knees and slid his hand up my skirt.

‘What are you doing?’

‘It’s time, don’t you think? We’ve been seeing each other for ages. I feel like I’ve known you all my life.’

‘You feel that, too?’ I said.

He sat up and gently pushed me down, so I lay on the back seat. I knew what was going to happen. I’d been worrying about that moment since I first knew it existed. I thought it would be in a bed, though. I thought people got naked to do it, but he just slid my knickers off and put his trousers around his ankles. It hurt so much I thought there’d be lots of blood when he finished, but I couldn’t see any. It must have sunk into the tartan blanket – it was red after all. Perhaps that’s the way he planned it. It only lasted a few minutes and I kept waiting for the passion to take over, but I barely felt anything but pain.

He laid on top of me, his full weight almost crushing me, as though he were dead.

‘That was amazing, Erica.’ His breath was hot against the sticky sweat on my neck and I wanted to run out of the car and into the sea to get cool and clean again.

‘Yes,’ I mumbled, anyway.

‘Maybe next time you could go on top. You might enjoy it more that way.’

I didn’t reply, but his words made me realise this wasn’t his first time.

We saw each other for a month more after that, until he suddenly turned to me on the back seat and said, ‘How come you’ve never said no?’

‘What do you mean?’

And he said, ‘Your period.’

I’d never heard a man say it out loud like that and so frank. Even Mother called them the monthlies . I blushed even more (the vodka that he always brought gave me flushes). He took his hands away from me and said, ‘I need to get you back home.’

The look in his eyes, then, I thought, was pure hate.

He probably still hates me. I wrote to him at his workplace when I found out I was expecting Craig but got no reply. I couldn’t very well turn up at his house or his office. He’d abandoned me when I was at my most vulnerable – couldn’t he see that? I felt so alone, especially after what happened with my mother.

Is this the first time that he’s driven down my street, or is this the first time I’ve caught him? Why would he be coming here after all these years of no contact? He doesn’t deserve to have Craig in his life – I’ve done all the hard work. How dare he come back now!

There’s a knock on the door. A shriek comes out of my mouth; I cover it with my hands. My shoulders are tight as I lean closer to the wall; I feel rooted to the floor, shaking.

Why won’t people leave me alone? I just want to be left alone. Please don’t let it be him.

A tap on the window above my head.

‘I know you’re in there, Erica. I can see your feet under the windowsill. It’s urgent. I need to speak to you about Craig.’

It’s Denise.

It’s not far to the docklands from Erica’s house. Usually, if anything has happened – a body in the water, say – the police will erect a white tent that’s visible from the roadside, but today, Luke can’t see anything that resembles a crime-scene tent along the waterfront.

‘Do you think she misheard the police?’ says Amanda. ‘Looks like there’s nothing here.’

‘I’ll drive all the way round. There’s that road just off the marina… leads to the estuary.’

Luke turns the car around, eyeing up the burger van in the car park, but ignores his growling stomach. He’s tempted, but this is the most excitement he’s had at work for months, maybe years.

They pass the boatyard on the right and immediately after see four or five police cars near another car that’s smoking. Luke turns down the road. There are houses on the left that overlook the water. He parks alongside the barriers and they both get out.

Amanda pulls out a scarf from her inside pocket and wraps it around her neck. The abandoned car has been driven up a hill where the road ends. It’s a maroon 2001 Peugeot 406. Luke hasn’t seen one of those on the road for a few years.

‘Looks like someone tried to set fire to it,’ says Amanda. ‘But they didn’t do a very good job.’

‘All right, Mands?’ says a policeman leaning against the railings. He’s warming his gloved hands by breathing into them. ‘Never thought you were a hotshot reporter. Thought you just checked what was trending on Twitter.’

‘Too funny, Steve,’ says Amanda. ‘Call that proper police work? If you weren’t just standing around, you wouldn’t be so cold.’

‘I’ll have you know that standing around is one of the most important parts of the job.’

‘Is this the car Leanne Livesey was seen getting into?’

‘I’m fine, thank you. How are you?’

She rolls her eyes. ‘Well?’

Steve shrugs. ‘I reckon there aren’t many of these about any more. Surprised it still runs.’

‘Was there anyone or anything inside?’

It seems Amanda is far more comfortable questioning police officers than children.

‘You know I can’t answer that.’

‘It was worth a try.’

‘No sign of Craig Wright, then?’ asks Luke.

The copper shakes his head, but Luke reckons he’s the last person Steve would be telling.

‘Whoever it was did a shit job of setting it on fire,’ says Amanda.

‘They didn’t try to set fire to it,’ says Steve, breathing another load of hot air into his hands. ‘It was the engine… it overheated.’

‘Come on, Luke,’ says Amanda. ‘Let’s go and have a look around.’

‘Hey, hey.’ Steve reaches out a hand. ‘You can’t just go wandering round. There are officers searching the area. Unless you fancy answering a few questions yourself.’

Amanda rolls her eyes and tuts.

Luke looks over at the Peugeot. The bonnet’s up and the smoke, on closer inspection, is just steam. There must be signs in it that Leanne has been in there – DNA, hair strands. He knows Craig’s behind this. It’s how it was with Lucy: the police found the empty car first.

‘Come on,’ he says to Amanda.

As they turn around to walk back to his car, Luke spots a man in a car at the top of the road. He gets out. He’s tall, dark-haired; his hands are in his pockets. From here, he looks too old to be Craig, but there’s something familiar about him.