Chapter 44
FORTY-FOUR
ANNA
Before I could protest, I found myself sitting at a Formica table in the kind of café where taxi drivers stop for a break during a night shift, a steaming cup of tea in front of me into which Laurel was heaping teaspoons of sugar.
‘What’s happened to Lulu?’ she asked, tearing open a cellophane packet of mass-produced shortbread biscuits and putting one on my saucer. ‘Is she hurt?’
I dug in my bag for a tissue, wiped my eyes and blew my nose, then took a sip of tea. It was over-stewed, over-sweet and surprisingly comforting. Across the table from me, Laurel’s face was wary and concerned.
Is she going to throw her tea in my face? I imagined her thinking. Well, I wasn’t going to do that; I’d embarrassed myself enough already for one night.
‘She’s okay,’ I said coolly. ‘She’s at Orla’s tonight. She sneaked off to see some boy.’
Laurel shook her head. ‘That’s not great, is it? I’m sorry – if I’d known that was likely to happen, I wouldn’t have agreed to meet up with her when you weren’t there. But she’s okay, at least?’
Her concern disarmed me, and the desire to share what had happened with another adult – another woman – was strong. I found myself saying, ‘They had sex. Then he ghosted her.’
Laurel winced. ‘Oh no. Poor Lulu. I suspected she was doing something she didn’t want either of us to know about, but I – you know. Like you said just now, it’s not really—’
‘Your business?’ I dunked my biscuit in the tea and took a soggy bite. ‘No. It’s not. But you’re involved now, so you might as well know.’
‘I thought it was okay to arrange to see her,’ she fretted. ‘I never expected her not to turn up. I can see why you—’
I shook my head. ‘This isn’t your fault. I’m sorry about how I behaved back there. I just…’
‘Went off on one?’ She smiled, and I felt a stab of the familiar jealousy – there was something about that smile, its warmth, its openness, its promise of fun, that reminded me afresh why Gray could have fallen in love with this woman.
‘Hey, it’s totally understandable. When you’re worried about someone and you can’t lash out at them, you lash out at whoever else is nearest. And it’s not like I’ve done nothing to deserve being lashed out at. ’
‘I’m sorry, anyway,’ I said.
Laurel sipped her tea, looking at me cautiously. ‘Will Lulu – I mean, physically…? She’ll be okay?’
‘She’s taken the morning-after pill, if that’s what you mean. I suppose we’ll have a conversation about STI checks when she’s ready to talk about that.’
‘Poor girl,’ Laurel sighed. ‘I mean, we’ve all been there, haven’t we? But it must be so different when it’s your daughter.’
‘Oh God. When I was that age I was sneaking off to clubs with fake ID and getting up to all sorts.’
‘It was underground raves for me.’ Laurel flashed that smile at me again. ‘I put myself in so many dodgy situations. My parents would’ve hit the roof if they’d known.’
‘But they didn’t know, did they? God, mobile phones have a lot to answer for.’
‘It certainly makes it a lot harder for young people to do the stuff young people do,’ she agreed.
‘I just wanted to keep her safe.’ I blew my nose again. ‘That was always Gray’s thing. He never wanted anything bad to happen to our kids. I didn’t either, of course – I don’t. But he was always the more protective of us. And now that he’s gone…’
‘It’s all on you,’ she said. ‘I get that. It’s a lot.’
‘And with her father not being here,’ I went on, ‘I mean, an older boy – not that this Callum is any kind of father figure, the miserable shit – but she’s so much more vulnerable. So much more likely to fall for whatever male attention she can get. I should’ve known that.’
‘You’re grieving too, Anna,’ Laurel said gently. ‘Don’t be too hard on yourself. You can’t be everywhere at once – physically or emotionally.’
‘I wasn’t there, though. Physically or emotionally. I was off in Wales, trying to find out about Gray.’
‘You were?’ Curiosity sparked in Laurel’s eyes. ‘Did you… I mean, is that why you were at the concert tonight?’
‘I wanted to hear Joel Chamberlain play,’ I explained. ‘It turns out – I found out, when I was in Wales – that he was at school with Gray. An elite school for boys with a talent for music.’
‘Really? They were at school together? So that’s how…’
‘How what?’
‘How they met. I thought it might have been later, at university or something.’
‘Wait.’ A thought formed in my mind as I drank the last tepid dregs of my tea, avoiding the soggy biscuit crumbs in the bottom of the cup. ‘How did you find out that Joel knew Gray? Gray didn’t tell you, did he?’
She shook her head. ‘He just mentioned his name. I tracked him down myself, because I wanted to meet the person Gray donated his kidney to. But you knew that already, of course.’
If I had wanted to pretend her revelation wasn’t news to me, I would have failed.
Her words hit me with such force that I felt my eyes widen and heard myself gasp.
I had recognised Joel as the boy in the school photograph when I saw him on stage, but it had never crossed my mind that he and Gray could have had this other, even deeper connection.
‘No. No, I didn’t,’ I said. ‘I had no idea.’
‘I…’ She flushed, and went on hastily, ‘I tried to find out. I was curious, because there was – you know. Some part of Gray that was still alive. Apart from your children, obviously. Gray never said much to me about it, only his name. And then I saw an interview with him in a magazine where it said he’d had a kidney transplant, and I realised I’d found him. ’
Suddenly, I remembered the card – the twenty-fifth anniversary card that had arrived after Gray’s death, signed with a J. That must have been the occasion it was marking. Not a woman; not a lover. A friend with a debt of gratitude.
‘What did you find out, in Wales?’ Laurel was asking.
My meeting with Bryn suddenly seemed like a long time ago. I tried to transport myself back to the sunny bench, the old man next to me, the voices of the choir still fresh and sweet in my memory.
‘Gray was unhappy at school,’ I said, sadness weighing heavy in my stomach. ‘There was something about his home life – his mother. She was neglectful, troubled maybe. But she’s dead now – she’s been dead for years, since before I met him. So I’ll never know what went on.’
‘Joel would know, though,’ Laurel said.
‘Joel and Joel’s mother.’ I took my phone out of my bag.
The number was still there in my list of contacts where I’d saved it.
Seren Chamberlain, mother of the boy who had grown up to be a world-class violinist, whose best friend had been a gifted pianist, but left all of that behind him.
Might she know why? Could she answer the questions I had about Gray, which seemed to be multiplying rather than reducing the more I found out?
And did I want to find out? It didn’t matter whether I wanted to, I realised – I needed to.
‘I’m going to talk to her,’ I said. ‘To Seren Chamberlain. I’m going to call her tomorrow.’
Laurel spoke as if she hadn’t heard me, her fingers twisting her teaspoon where it rested on her saucer. ‘I’m going to see Joel. At least, I’m going to message him and ask if he’ll meet me. If he doesn’t mind.’
Then she looked up, like she’d just remembered I was there. ‘If you don’t mind,’ she added.