Joanne Sefton Book 2

He ordered swiftly, checking quickly with her before telling the waitress they’d share a banquet for two.

‘Saves picking,’ he explained. ‘So, tell me what’s going on. Why on earth did you want to see me about Alex?’

His bonhomie had evaporated. He didn’t add ‘this had better be good’ but that was the clear message she took from his tone and the flint-hard look in his eyes. Suddenly the drive and decisiveness that he must possess to have become so successful was laid out on show. There was something vulpine about him.

She took a deep breath and pulled out her tablet. Wordlessly, she keyed in the passcode, tapped open the saved screenshot and slid it across the table to him.

He gazed at it, seemingly impassive, for a few seconds that seemed like an eternity.

‘I think I need that beer.’

‘You see it too then?’

By way of answer, his hand travelled up to his temples, mirroring the posture of the woman in the background of the picture. Karen didn’t need to see the tablet – the arch of the woman’s arm, half-raised, her fingers brushing her forehead as if to smooth away some stray, invisible hairs, was etched on her brain.

‘She used to do that all the time. If she was anxious, or just uncertain. She was so polished, you know, always looking perfect, knowing exactly what to say, but when you got to know her there was so much vulnerability underneath.’

Andrew was right, now she came to think of it; she’d forgotten that tic of grazing her forehead with her fingertips, which had been one of Alex’s characteristic gestures.

‘Could it be her?’ she asked, her voice a whisper. ‘It’s not a twenty-year-old who looks like she did then. This is the grown-up version, though it’s hard to guess if the ages match because of all that dust. I just can’t imagine anyone else being so like her, in so many ways. Right down to that gesture, like you say.’

Just then the waitress arrived with two frosted bottles of Singha. Andrew took his time – and a long draught of the lager – before he answered her.

‘You know, there’s nothing I’d like more than to believe it could be her.’ He spoke to the bottle in his hand more than to Karen. ‘I know we were only twenty-one, twenty-two, but she was the one for me. I’ve never had anything like that in my life since.’

‘I do understand,’ she said, softly. ‘I know how it feels to lose a partner.’

‘Of course you do, and I wouldn’t for a moment take away from what happened to Jonathan. That was a tragedy and you had the girls’ grief to deal with too. But …’ she watched his face crease with the effort of trying to express himself, ‘… I don’t want you to take this the wrong way. I don’t want you to feel like I’m diminishing your suffering or trying to be competitive.’

‘No, no, of course not. I’ve known you long enough that I’d never think that of you.’

She reached out to place a reassuring hand on his forearm and was rewarded with a smile of relief. It struck her as the most heartfelt expression she’d seen on his face that evening.

‘The thing is that when Jonathan died, everyone around you recognised your loss. That it was something horrendous, huge … and that you needed and deserved every bit of support they could give you.’

She nodded, not entirely sure where he was going, but sensing that she couldn’t hurry him, she just had to let him try to explain in his own way. He rubbed at his forehead and opened a button on his shirt. It was clearly difficult for him to talk about Alex’s death, despite the length of time that had passed.

‘Well …’ he continued, carefully, ‘it wasn’t like that for me when Alex died.’

His explanation was cut off by the waitress arriving laden with their starters. She fussed for a couple of minutes, clearing the table of its flower arrangement and candles and naming a variety of dishes as she set down the ornate little bowls. They waited in silence, save for the odd muttered ‘thank you’ and when the waitress was finally ready to depart, Karen found that she didn’t want to be the one to break it. When Andrew spoke, his voice was strained with emotion, and his words were unexpected.

‘There isn’t a formula, you know, for losing the love of your life at twenty-one. I didn’t know what was expected of me. I certainly didn’t know what I should expect of them. Alex’s family … it felt like they closed round like … I don’t know … like a flock of vultures or something. I was on the outside. All I got was sharp pecks to keep me away.’

He held up one hand and mimed a vicious avian attack, managing to laugh, in spite of himself. Karen wondered with a jolt whether he’d ever given himself the chance to talk about these painful memories before now and felt a weight of responsibility on her shoulders.

‘What about your own family – surely they would have been there for you?’

He shook his head. ‘They were living in Wales then. It was a long way to Cambridge. I spoke to my sisters about it a bit, but they were both a long way away too, and they had young families. Enough on their plates without a mourning younger brother to deal with.’

‘So, there wasn’t really anyone for you to talk to?’

‘Nah. I mean, I had some mates who tried, but they were twenty-year-old blokes, you know? Not exactly renowned for their emotional intelligence.’ She acknowledged the comment with a grimace. ‘Besides, I was so into Alex. I suppose I’d let other friendships wither a bit. I was happy to have a drink or a chat or whatever – I mean I knew you and Misty fairly well – but I didn’t get beneath the surface with people, because I had Alex for that.’

‘I don’t know if it helps …’ she took a breath, trying to phrase what she wanted to say as carefully as possible, ‘… but I remember that she felt really deeply about you too. She used to joke that it was a shame she’d found “the one” at university, because you’d end up getting married and she’d never get to have a proper single life.’

He gave a sad smile and picked at some food.

‘We did talk about the future,’ he agreed. ‘That’s one reason why it’s strange. She’d gone through a really bad phase, with the … the weight thing.’ Karen’s stomach dropped at the reference. She didn’t want to think about how Alex had died; she couldn’t trust herself to go there. Andrew, though, was still talking.

‘It had been over a year earlier, though, before we were going out – or at least going out seriously. I expect you remember?’

Karen nodded. She remembered only too well.

He shook his head. ‘I really thought she was over it. We had all these plans – moving to London, getting a flat together. Then … boom. It’s all over.’

He gazed at her. His eyes were blue, intense – too needy to be the eyes of an entrepreneur. She felt a sweat break out on her palms and a lump rise in her throat. The last thing she wanted was to think back to that winter. She wouldn’t. She couldn’t.

‘Okay …’ she said, trying to steady herself as much as anything else.

‘It happened so suddenly …’ His voice had become a monotone. He was struggling to go on. ‘I don’t even know why she went home that night … She should have been in college. And then … and then she just didn’t come back.’

His voice cracked then, and he rubbed at his face with the back of a hand, tears not quite coming but clearly not far away. Karen wanted to say something to make it easier, but nothing would come out. Mutely, she nodded.

‘… I called the house. Her mum answered and it was clear something was very wrong. She couldn’t tell me. She tried to get it out a couple of times, then she passed the phone to Alex’s dad. He told me she was dead.’

‘Her heart failed.’ Karen’s voice was a whisper. She felt her own eyes moisten as she remembered that horrible time.

‘On the Sunday morning!’ There was anger in Andrew’s voice. It came suddenly, as if from nowhere. ‘A day and a half and they hadn’t told me. They hadn’t even tried. If I’d not phoned the house, I’m not sure they’d ever have bothered.’

‘They must have been in terrible shock …’

‘I know, I know. That’s what everyone says, that’s what was going around in my head at the time. But do you know what?’

‘What?’

‘He didn’t sound shocked. Eric Penrith was as composed as a … a traffic warden telling me he’d already written my ticket. I never saw him lose it. I never saw him well up, or struggle to keep it together. He certainly had the wherewithal to talk to me on the phone, even if his wife didn’t.’

There wasn’t much that Karen could say. It seemed likely that however much Alex Penrith and Andrew Dyer had loved each other, wherever the relationship might have gone, Alex’s parents viewed it as little more than an inconsequential crush. Right or wrong, there wasn’t much to be said about it all these years later.

‘Do you know what? They never even let me see the body.’ His face was twisted with torment as he spoke, the hurt and impotence of his younger self etched over the veneer of confidence and success. ‘I pleaded – I fucking begged those people to let me say goodbye to her. I may as well have saved my breath. They were cold as stone, deaf as stone too.’

Instinctively, Karen reached out again. This time she took his hand, trying to offer a little bit of comfort where she knew that no words would assist.

‘God … I’m being ridiculous.’ He took a shuddering breath. ‘It’s been years since I talked about this stuff – seeing that picture, out of the blue like that – it’s just opened the wound again.’

‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have …’

‘No, no, it’s not your fault. I’m glad you brought it.’