I wave away his apology. ‘That’s okay.’ But there is a lump in my throat.
‘How old is your son?’ he asks.
‘Finn is only ten. And I love Gav. Gavin, my husband. I’ve been with him since I was nineteen. Half my life. I really want to make it work.’
‘So it was his idea?’
I nod, my eyes smarting. I shouldn’t be drinking. I’ve already shared too much with someone I barely know.
‘Jody, that’s my ex, well, it was her idea too. It sucks, doesn’t it?’
I laugh despite the pain behind my eyes. ‘It does.’
‘I’m sure it’ll be okay. Hopefully you guys can sort it out.’
‘I hope so too.’
Dale’s mobile buzzes on the table next to him. He glances at it. ‘Shit. Sorry, it’s work. I’d better get this.’
I nod and take a sip of my drink. From across the room I see Wesley get up to go to the bar.
‘I see,’ says Dale, into his mobile, his expression stern as he fiddles with the edge of his paper napkin. ‘Right. Okay. Yes, yes, I’m in the area. I’ll go now.’
‘Is everything okay?’ I ask, when he ends the call.
He has a distracted look about him now and his face is grave. ‘I’m so sorry, Jenna, but I’ve got to go. Something’s happened.’ He gathers up his coat and I follow suit.
As we’re leaving I hear a peal of Wesley’s fake laughter. It sends prickles of irritation shooting up my spine. The cold air hits us as we step outside and I wrap my coat further around my body. ‘I bet they’re relieved to see us go. They can enjoy their night now,’ I say.
Dale gives a snort of laughter. ‘I expect so.’ He strides off towards our cars, which are parked near each other, and I fall in beside him.
‘Are you okay to drive?’ I say, when we reach his car, a blue Volvo with a dent in the bumper.
‘I’m fine. I had a very weak shandy and there was hardly time to get started on my second pint. But thanks for your concern.’ His lips twitch. ‘Maybe you should have been a police officer.’ I wonder if I’ve offended him but his tone is light.
I hesitate as he points his keys at his car and the lights flash on. ‘Are you able to say why you’ve been called away urgently?’
He opens the car door and my heart sinks with disappointment. He’s not going to answer me. But he seems to change his mind. ‘A man’s been found dead.’
‘In Stafferbury?’
He nods curtly, then gets behind the wheel.
My journalistic brain is crying out to know more. ‘Who?’
‘I can’t say yet. But I’ll be in touch when I can, and we can set up an interview. Bye, Jenna.’ He closes the door and I have no choice but to get into my own car.
I turn the ignition on and watch as Dale pulls away.
And then I slowly follow him.
16
Olivia
Olivia is relieved when she sees Dale Crawford leave with Jenna. The whole time they were in the same air space she felt like the oxygen was being sucked from the room. She’d heard he’d become a cop and was now working on her friends’ disappearance and it irritates her that Jenna is already trying, no doubt, to charm information out of him.
The mood has now changed between her and Wes. While Jenna and Dale were here he acted his usual chirpy self, even a little hyperactive. Now he seems subdued, as though they’d taken his spirit with them when they left, leaving behind just a shell.
‘Well, that was weird,’ he says, getting up from the table. He looks troubled as he pulls on his puffy coat. Their food remains half eaten. Olivia had lost her appetite as soon as she walked through the door and saw Dale and Jenna together. ‘What do you think they were talking about?’
‘Me, I expect,’ she says, shouldering on her jacket. She tries to keep her voice even to hide how rattled she feels. ‘Jenna will try to speak to everyone connected with the case.’
‘Hmm, well, as long as she doesn’t bother you again.’ They are both equally shaken by seeing Dale and Jenna conspiring, and their unvoiced concerns float between them, creating a barrier. As if to counter that Wesley takes her hand and leads her out of the pub. ‘My flat tonight, yeah?’
She’d rather go home, sit in the cosy living room with her mum and watch reruns of Only Fools and Horses or Friends. Something comforting. Something to make her forget everything else. All her fears and dark, tortured thoughts. The stables have always been her place to hide from the world.
‘You don’t want to come back to mine?’
‘I’m always at yours, Liv, and we have more privacy at mine.’
‘Your place is small, though.’
‘That’s why we need to find somewhere of our own. I really like your mum and everything but I’d rather it just be the two of us.’
It’s begun to drizzle, beads of rain landing softly on Wesley’s dark head. He holds his arm out and she takes it obediently and they wander towards the high street. He is trying his best to be chipper, chatting away about a comedy he watched the other night, but she can sense an underlying anxiety to his tone. Just as they reach Madame Tovey’s they spot Izzy and her boyfriend, Joe, ambling towards them. Izzy is gazing up at Joe adoringly and he’s laughing at something she’s said. Seeing Izzy will always take Olivia’s breath away and make her think of Sally, even after all these years.
Izzy smiles as she passes. But she doesn’t say anything, her head bent into Joe’s burly shoulder. She was only nine or ten the night of the car crash. So much younger than Sally – a happy accident, Mrs Thorne always said. Izzy has stayed on the polite side of friendly with Olivia since their reminiscing days. She’s never crossed the road to avoid her, like her parents do, or openly glared at her when she’s out and about, like Katie’s mum does. She’s relieved that at least Tamzin’s parents have moved away and she doesn’t have to face their judgement and hostility.
The flat is dark when they get back. Wesley has rented it from Madame Tovey downstairs since his mother turfed him out in his late twenties. Initially they were supposed to live in it together but back then Olivia still had difficulty with stairs. She forgets sometimes how much her health has improved over the years with the advances in procedures to her leg. It will never work like it did before the accident but at one point she couldn’t imagine ever walking again. The crooked staircase wasn’t enough to put Wesley off renting the place, though. And she’d often wondered if it was because, deep down, he wasn’t ready to live with her either.
The flat is tiny – mostly one large room with a beamed ceiling, a small kitchen in the corner and a bathroom off it. Wesley’s double bed is unmade, a pile of clothes strewn over the ugly leather armchair in the corner. Facing it, and the massive TV, there is an equally ugly three-seater black leather sofa. The flat is sparsely furnished and it has a funny smell. It will never feel like home to her.
Wesley switches on the kettle, then settles on the sofa, patting the seat next to him.
‘So?’ he says, when she’s beside him. ‘What do you think about buying a flat together? I’ve been saving for years. I know a bank teller doesn’t earn that much but I’ve been saving for a deposit. We’ll own it jointly. Both our names on the mortgage.’