Elisabeth Carpenter - Only a Mother

‘They look ever so sweet.’

‘They have their moments, I suppose. That’s Ellie,’ she says, pointing to the youngest – her blonde hair’s in need of a brush, but it’s clean, shiny. ‘She’s just turned two. The eldest is nine. I don’t know how Caroline does it.’

I pass the phone back to her and she clicks the homescreen to black.

‘Won’t Jim be wondering where you’ve got to?’ I say.

‘I don’t think he’ll notice.’ She gets up easily from the floor and sits back on the edge of the chair. ‘It’s like we live separate lives. I don’t think we’ve much in common these days. Don’t know if we ever did.’

‘But you love him, don’t you?’

‘I suppose. Whatever that means.’

She stands and reaches for her handbag and I follow her to the hall cupboard where she retrieves her coat.

‘I guess we’ve all done things we regret,’ she says. ‘And now they’re coming back to haunt us.’

‘What do you mean?’

Her back is to me as she puts on her jacket. She turns to face me.

‘Did you always believe Craig when he said he didn’t do it?’

‘Yes. I did.’

She pulls her jacket close around her without doing it up. She used to do that as a kid, a self-comforting habit.

‘What is it, Denise?’

‘You see… when you say that, it makes me feel terrible.’

‘Why? What would my words change?’

‘I mean as a mother. You’re meant to think the best of your kids, aren’t you? We’re meant to see past everything.’

‘Come on, spit it out. What are you trying to say?’

‘You said you can’t picture Craig doing those things, but I can imagine my Jason hurting someone. I’ve seen him with Rebecca, his wife… such contempt.’

My knees almost give way; I grab hold of the phone table.

Blue eyeliner mixed with tears runs down either side of Denise’s face.

‘But the police didn’t think he killed Jenna,’ I say. ‘Did they? They wouldn’t have dropped it for no good reason.’

‘Oh, God. You’ll never forgive me… I shouldn’t have come here, but I thought… I don’t know what I thought, or why I’ve picked now, after all these years… It’s that new girl… that one from the telly.’

‘Leanne,’ I say. ‘Her name’s Leanne.’

‘It can’t happen again,’ she says, her voice trembling. ‘Not after last time.’

‘Denise, for heaven’s sake. What ?’

‘The reason the police dropped it…’ She takes a deep breath, tears still running down her cheeks, ‘…was because I gave Jason an alibi.’ She looks down at her hands. ‘I didn’t think he’d take it a step further, actually kill someone…’ She pauses for a moment, taking a tissue to dab her face. She scrunches it and puts it up her sleeve and finally looks me in the eyes. ‘I got one of the old blokes from work, Charlie Sumner, to tell the police he’d seen us… that Jason had helped us at work all day. I think Charlie had a bit of a crush on me, so I used it to my advantage. But when the police couldn’t find anything on Craig about the second girl, well.’

‘What?’ I want to grab her by the shoulders and shake her. ‘You mean you gave him an alibi for Lucy? Why the hell didn’t you admit it then? Denise, how could you have kept something so important quiet? It’s my son’s life we’re talking about.’

She looks to the floor, and I stand.

‘Don’t think I’m going to feel sympathy for you just because you’re sorry now . It’s too late for your tears, Denise. Do you even understand the enormity of this?’

I go into the living room, pacing the floor, but it feels as though I’m not really here. I lean against the mantelpiece – the room is spinning; it’s far too hot in here.

Denise sniffs, retrieves the tissue and wipes her nose. She’s standing at the doorway.

‘But… you see,’ she says, finally, though barely audible, ‘I was thinking about my son.’

I consider my lie – my lies: plural. The top that I burned, the things I told the police years ago. But I can’t tell her about that now. It’s what I’ve had to live with. Now isn’t the time for my confession, to trump hers. This might be some kind of trick. She might be recording our conversation on that fancy phone of hers.

I go back into the hall, to the front door and open it.

‘You’d better go,’ I say.

She walks out of the door in silence. I close the door and reach over for the telephone, but I stop mid-air. I can’t ring the police, can I? Because, when they asked where Craig was when Jenna died, I gave my son an alibi too.

The kids have been asleep for an hour, so Luke reaches into the fridge for a beer, thinking it’s the perfect reward. He shouldn’t really be drinking on a school night but it’s not every day he chases down someone on the street for a story.

Alan Lucas, he said his name was. He must have heard about the abandoned car at the docklands too. Luke can’t believe his luck that he stumbled across Craig’s father, assuming he was telling the truth and didn’t give a false name – it wouldn’t be the first time that’d happened. No one else in the press has delved into Craig Wright’s paternity – or if they have, they’ve been as unsuccessful as he was. Luke has never dared to ask Erica who her son’s father was. It’s such a personal question if you’re not on The Jeremy Kyle Show .

When Luke questioned Alan after his revelation, he admitted that Craig hadn’t known who his father was. Alan had made contact with his son after seeing him all over the news. It seems that Erica is very good at keeping secrets.

He opens his laptop on the dining room table, placing his bottle of beer on a coaster. Helen’s shift doesn’t finish until ten, so he has a couple of hours to kill. He types in the name, then clicks on the most recent article:

27 July 2002

Two robbers armed with imitation firearms who targeted seven petrol stations during a three-month period have been sentenced to nine years in jail. Alan Lucas, of West Derby, formerly of Preston, and Lee Traynor, also of West Derby, were sentenced after pleading guilty to five charges of robbery, two charges of attempted robbery and seven charges of possession of an imitation firearm.

Luke scans the rest of the Google articles, but none are a match for the Alan Lucas he’s interested in.

He leans back in his chair.

Jesus Christ. No wonder Erica didn’t want to tell her son who his father is – an armed robber!

So this Alan Lucas can’t be trusted any more than she can. He’ll be trying to protect his son, too, after abandoning him and Erica.

Luke knows he can’t run with this story. He would need actual proof that Alan Lucas was Craig Wright’s biological father. Would Erica confirm it? Luke seriously doubts that she would, but it might be worth visiting her again.

On Genes Reunited he types in Craig Wright’s name and year of birth. The transcript results only show the name of the mother. The father isn’t listed. He’d have to order a copy of the birth certificate, which would cost over twenty quid – and there’s no guarantee it will tell him anything.

The front door clicks gently shut. Luke glances at the clock. Shit, it’s twenty-five past ten already. Helen walks into the kitchen, clutching a bottle of white wine.

‘Hi, love,’ she says, weary from a fourteen-hour shift. ‘Thought we deserved a drink since we’ve been so good with our diet.’ She reaches into the cupboard for the glasses, still in her coat. ‘Though it looks as if you’ve started without me.’