Chapter 74 Damon
Damon
By the time I get home to the flat, the anger that consumed me has vanished, leaving behind it a frightened schoolboy.
Callum is late returning home, but Mum isn’t worried.
He is rarely punctual. Then later, when swarms of police descend below the flats, and white tents are erected and sniffer dogs are deployed, Mum joins the other neighbours downstairs to find out what’s happening.
Word-of-mouth spreads, and Callum’s name is mentioned.
The fallout begins.
His dad is driving his truck back from Estonia when the police contact him.
My distraught mum breaks the news to me as we await Lloyd’s return, then she holds me tightly as we cry in each other’s arms – her tears for the loss of a boy she cared about, mine in gratitude for having Mum to myself again.
I play the part of the grieving friend well, asking all the right questions, becoming upset when necessary, accepting sympathy from schoolteachers and whoever else offers it.
I know what I have done to Callum is wrong. But he was terrible and bent on my destruction, and it has given me the outcome I wanted. So was it really so awful?
In the days that follow, I devote all my attention to my devastated mum, ensuring she eats regularly and rests.
I field visits from worried friends and make the police family liaison officer cups of tea when he comes round.
He tells me a witness claims to have seen a boy matching my description chasing another child at the time of Callum’s death.
But he says the man is alcohol-dependent, so can’t be relied upon.
Weeks on from the discovery of Callum’s body, I will hear that man shouting over the balcony at me, ‘I know what I saw! They didn’t listen, but I know! ’
For the most part, it’s only Mum and me for the first time in ages. It’s like old times. Even Maud is nowhere to be seen.
Dad appears one morning shortly after breakfast. Mum allows him in and he tells her how sorry he is.
His stubble looks prickly and his hair greasy, like he hasn’t washed it or shaved in days.
He and I make eye contact several times but it’s never only us together.
We say nothing about what happened. About what I am allowing him to believe he did.
I keep my hand in my pocket, balling the handkerchief in my palm.
In the other I clutch Dad’s cigarette lighter.
Lloyd returns and blames his son’s death on Mum for not keeping a close enough eye on him. His words devastate her, and the last time we see Lloyd is days later, when he packs up his clothes and terminates their relationship. I can’t stop smiling. Callum’s exit is the gift that keeps on giving.
I attend Callum’s funeral alone as Mum can’t even leave her bed. Even as I watch his white coffin being carried into the church on the shoulders of pallbearers, I can’t pretend to feel remorse. Because every time Mum holds me tightly like she’s afraid to let go, I know what I did was right.