Elisabeth Carpenter - Only a Mother

He stops at his own car door.

‘Open up then,’ says Amanda. ‘What are you waiting for?’ She follows Luke’s gaze. ‘What’s he doing, staring like that?’

Luke narrows his eyes. It seems the man hasn’t seen them watching him.

‘Maybe he’s a rubbernecker.’

‘That’s all we are at the moment,’ she says. ‘There’s no story here.’

‘We’ve got a burned-out car.’

‘I thought you never lied in your articles.’

‘It’s not lying. It’s true.’

‘Yeah, but you’re stretching it a bit. We don’t know for sure if it’s the same car and it overheated – it wasn’t burnt out.’

Luke presses the fob on his keyring; Amanda opens the passenger door.

‘I might go and ask him if he’s seen anything,’ he says.

The man is about fifty metres away. Luke pretends to look around, at the houses, at the boats over the water in the yard – anywhere but into the man’s eyes. He wants him to think he’s not approaching him; he doesn’t want to startle him. He’s only ten metres away now, and Luke chances a glance at him. Definitely too old to be Craig.

Shit. The man saw him looking. He jumps back into his car.

‘Hey, wait!’ shouts Luke. ‘Can I just have a quick word?’

The car starts; Luke bangs on the window. He feels the adrenaline running through him, making him braver than he thought he could be.

‘I’m not police… I only want to ask if you know—’

The man presses on the accelerator, and the car screeches off.

Luke runs back to his car.

‘What the hell, Luke?’ Amanda says as he gets behind the wheel. ‘You’re not bloody Ross Kemp. What if that guy had a knife or something?’

‘I didn’t really think about it,’ he says, trying to catch his breath from the short run.

He feels his heart pumping, endorphins making him feel alive.

‘Bloody hell though, Mandy. That was amazing.’

‘Come on, then, T.J. Hooker.’

They fasten their seat belts. Luke starts the ignition and executes a perfect three-point turn.

‘Let’s see if we can find him,’ he says, turning right at the end of the road.

‘OK. But, Luke…’

‘What?’

‘Don’t ever call me Mandy again.’

‘Come on, Luke,’ says Amanda. ‘We’ve circled the docks twice.’

‘Hang on. Look over there.’

Luke pulls into the car park and stops the car near the Mexican restaurant.

‘What?’ says Amanda.

‘There’s his car.’ Luke squints into the distance. ‘He’s sitting on a bench near the water.’

‘How the hell did you see him there?’

Luke gets out and starts jogging towards him. The man on the bench has his head in his hands.

Luke stops running as he approaches.

‘Excuse me,’ says Luke.

He looks up and stands.

‘Wait. I’m not police. I’m a friend of Craig’s.’

The man sits back down.

‘Really?’

‘Yes.’ Luke sits down next to him. ‘I haven’t seen him for days and he owes me a pint. I’m worried – the police are looking for him.’

‘I know.’

‘My name’s Luke.’

‘I’m Alan. Alan Lucas. You’ve probably heard of me if you’re a friend of Craig’s.’

‘Of course.’

Luke senses he’s said something amiss; the man is looking at him intensely, taking in every feature of Luke’s face.

Shit. He doesn’t even know who this man is. He could be dangerous, violent. The reason he might seem familiar to Luke is probably because he’s seen a mugshot of him.

‘They’re looking for the wrong person,’ says Alan. ‘Craig didn’t take that kid.’

‘What?’ Luke jerks his head back, feels a fluttering in his stomach at the thought of an inside story. ‘How do you know that?’

‘He’s been staying with me.’

‘But… doesn’t he have a curfew? He has to stay at his mum’s.’

‘At Erica’s? Nah. The police have been there already. Craig won’t stay there, not for long.’

‘If Craig doesn’t have Leanne, then why doesn’t he go to the police? It’ll be obvious that he doesn’t have her if he’s at the station.’

‘ The station ? Who are you?’

‘I said. A friend. I’m looking out for him, that’s all.’

‘Well then, you’ll know that if a body turns up, Craig will already be where they want him. In the station .’

‘Have you known Craig for a while?’ says Luke.

‘Not as long as I’d have liked. Life was complicated thirty-eight years ago.’

‘Have you known him that long?’

‘No. I’ve a lot of regrets.’

‘Actually,’ says Luke, trying to read the mind of the man in front of him, ‘if I’m honest, Craig has never mentioned an Alan Lucas.’

‘No, well he wouldn’t have done. I thought you were taking the piss earlier. Pretending to be his friend when you weren’t. I’ve only just got in touch with Craig. Saw him on the news. I didn’t see it the first time round. Too much going on. Wasn’t even in this country.’

‘Are you a relative?’

‘Yes,’ says Alan. He looks across the water, narrowing his eyes. ‘I’m his father.’

‘Come on, Erica,’ says Denise. ‘I don’t want to be shouting in the street. You know what they’re like around here.’

‘Shouting in the street’s not as bad as running to the local paper to yell about it.’

‘Your neighbour opposite’s looking out of his window,’ she says. She must be leaning close to the glass because she’s not shouting any more. ‘Come on, love. Let me in. We can talk properly.’ There’s a gentle thud on the window, like she’s leaning against it. ‘I miss you.’

I slowly stand and turn to face her.

She’s looking as old as I am, but she probably dyes her hair as it’s still blonde and I can’t see any grey from here. The shade’s too harsh for her, now; it makes her face look too pale.

She still wears blue eyeliner, even though I told her it stopped being fashionable when the eighties ended. She still tilts her head to the side when she’s sorry; her lips still purse together when she knows she’s wrong and wants me to forgive her. We were friends for over thirty years before she did what she did.

I walk to the front door, my legs like jelly.

I open the door. She seems smaller, somehow. She was always such a presence – a firecracker, my mother called her; she really liked Denise, even though they never spent much time together.

‘Come in, then,’ I say.

I stand aside and close the door behind her.

‘Go through to the living room.’

I follow her, and she stands in the middle of it, looking around.

‘It hasn’t changed a bit,’ she says. ‘Except you’ve more Mills & Boons than I’ve ever seen!’

‘I… well… it’s escapism.’

‘I’ll bet.’

‘Do you want me to take your coat, or aren’t you stopping?’

Whatever I might think of her, it’s comforting to have a familiar face in my house when all I’ve had is strangers these past few days. She takes it off, walks out of the room and hooks it on the back of the under-stairs door.

‘Did you get my letters?’ she says when she comes back in. ‘The cards?’

Does she regret doing what made us spend all these years apart? I look at her and I want to take her in my arms – it’s like no time at all has passed. I feel an ache in my chest for all those moments we never shared over the years. She could have made my life so much better than it was, had she not done what she did.

I perch on the edge of the settee. ‘I did.’

She sits on the chair and places her handbag on the floor next to her feet.