Дэвид Муди - Strangers

‘I’ve heard.’

‘And what do you think?’

Jeremy looked around the room. Michelle was watching him, Scott was glaring at him, Phoebe was chewing her bottom lip anxiously… even George looked unsure.

‘I think it’s very sad and very worrying,’ he said. ‘But I also think you’ll all be okay. Scott’s here, and he’s not going to let anything happen to any of you, isn’t that right, Scott?’

‘Absolutely.’

Another pregnant pause. Awkward. Uncomfortable.

‘Right, let’s eat,’ Michelle said, her voice overly enthusiastic. ‘Who’s hungry?’

Jeremy stayed at the house until almost eleven. The evening was, for the most part, unexpectedly enjoyable and inevitably awkward in equal measure. The girls had gone up to their rooms just after ten, the initial novelty of having their dad around having worn off. He joked that they’d always liked the idea of being with him better than the reality. They made plans for him to pick them up after school tomorrow and spend a little time together.

Things soured soon after the girls had left. Scott disappeared, leaving Jeremy and Michelle alone in the living room. ‘Weird, isn’t it?’ Jeremy said.

‘What is?’

‘This. The fact it feels reasonably normal to be sitting here talking like this. We’ve lived apart for years yet it’s like we’ve hardly been out of the room.’

‘Suppose. We spent a lot of time together. A lot of good times to start with.’

‘I know, but when you think how long it’s been… In some ways you’ve hardly changed, Chelle.’

‘Is that meant to be a compliment?’

‘I guess,’ he said. Jeremy watched his ex-wife watching him, wondering whether he should stop talking now. He’d had a question on the tip of his tongue all evening. ‘Look, if I’m out of line, tell me to shut up, but are you sure you’re okay?’

‘I’m fine,’ she answered quickly. ‘Just tired, that’s all. It’s been a tough few months. Mentally and physically.’

‘I’m not convinced.’

‘Honestly, Jeremy. Look, I hear what you’re saying, but we’ve barely seen each other for years. How do you know I’m not always like this?’

‘I hope you’re not. That’d make it even worse.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

He sighed. Did he really want to do this? Then again, could he afford not to? ‘I’ve got a memory of one particular night just before we split up. You probably wouldn’t even remember it. We weren’t fighting or arguing, we were just trying to live together and failing miserably. I remember watching you watching TV and thinking, something’s not right here… but I couldn’t put my finger on it. It’s hard to explain, but looking back I think that’s when I first knew we were in trouble. It was what you weren’t saying that was important, not what you said. There was no connection anymore. The spark had gone out. You looked like you were lost. Remember that tatty old armchair we had? The one Mum gave me? You were sitting on it with your knees pulled up to your chest, watching TV. You looked so small, so vulnerable… I didn’t realise it was me making you feel that way.’

‘What point are you making?’

‘That you’ve been giving off the same vibes all evening.’

‘So maybe it’s having you around again that’s making me feel this way?’

He shrugged. ‘Maybe it is.’

‘All due respect, like I said, we’ve hardly seen each other in ages.’

‘You’re right. But like I said, if you are usually like this, then that makes me even more worried.’

‘Don’t be. There’s nothing to worry about.’

‘The girls tell me things…’

‘Well they shouldn’t.’

A heavy silence. The two of them staring at each other across the dark room, just the creaks and groans of the tired old house around them. Jeremy cleared his throat. ‘I care about you, Michelle, so I’ll ask once more, then I’ll shut up. Are you sure you’re okay? Are the girls going to be all right here?’

‘Tell you what, Jeremy,’ Scott said, ‘why don’t you just save us all the trouble and shut up now? Seriously. I’ve put up with your bullshit all night, and I’ve had just about enough of your fucking noise.’

‘Scott, don’t…’ Michelle protested.

Jeremy held his head in his hands. ‘I didn’t mean anything by it, Scott. I just need to know. For the sake of my kids…’

‘Jeremy was just—’

‘Shut the fuck up, Michelle,’ Scott ordered. ‘Don’t you take his fucking side.’

‘I thought we were all on the same side,’ Jeremy said, quickly getting to his feet and positioning himself between Scott and Michelle, hands raised. Fuck, how he hated confrontation. He could smell the scotch on Scott’s breath from here. ‘Like I said this morning, just put yourself in my shoes. I’m worried about the girls.’

‘And like I said this morning, everything’s fine.

‘Maybe I still need convincing?’

Scott grabbed Jeremy’s collar and pushed him back against the wall. Michelle tried to force herself between them. Jeremy kept his hands raised in submission, refusing to fight back. ‘Then let me convince you, fucker,’ Scott hissed.

‘Scott, please,’ Michelle said, trying to separate them. ‘This isn’t helping anyone.’

He remained tense for a few seconds longer, then let go and walked away. Jeremy straightened himself out, adjusted his glasses and smoothed his hair, breathing hard but trying not to let his nervousness show. ‘I should leave.’

‘You don’t have to go,’ Michelle said.

‘I think he fucking does,’ Scott told her.

Jeremy didn’t hang around. He tried to tell Michelle it was okay and that he’d try and talk to her tomorrow, but Scott wasn’t having any of it. He handed Jeremy his coat and blocked his way to any other part of the house but the front door. Standing out on the step, Jeremy turned around to try and make one last situation-saving apology, but the door was slammed in his face.

He stood next to his car and could already hear Scott yelling at Michelle. But what could he do? Part of him wanted to go back inside, but would that just make things even worse? He’d come back and try again tomorrow. Michelle was a good mum. She’d always look out for the kids. He tried to hold onto that thought.

He looked up at the house and smiled and waved to Phoebe who was watching from her bedroom window. Don’t let her see , he told himself, don’t let her see…

It wasn’t even eleven, but it looked like the entire town had already gone to bed for the night. Christ , Jeremy thought as he drove, how could anyone stand living in a place as soulless as Thussock? He drove the short journey back to the Black Boy, hoping he’d come across somewhere more interesting to stop en route , because the idea of spending the rest of the evening alone in the cramped little box room above the pub lounge didn’t bear thinking about. He travelled constantly and he’d stayed in some pretty shitty places and lonely hotel rooms around the world, but this was grim by anyone’s standards. It reminded him of a week he’d once spent living on his nerves in Azerbaijan.

The room seemed stuck in the late eighties. There was no Internet, and it would probably be better to take your chances and shout from the window rather than risk the temperamental mobile coverage. The landline in the room was corded – Christ, when did I last use a phone that wasn’t cordless? – and he hadn’t been able to get a picture on the small portable TV when he’d tried earlier. He’d only wanted to catch up with the news headlines and it was only after a frustrating twenty minutes spent checking cables and fiddling with the aerial that he realised it was because the TV was an old analogue set, useless since the switchover to digital. And that, he decided, summed up Thussock perfectly: an analogue place stuck in a digital world.