He nodded a little and said, ‘Thanks, I appreciate that, and I know.’ He went out and got the coffee.
She was right of course, not so much about his contribution but about losing faith, losing interest, losing his way. He’d taken a sabbatical to work on his new book and yet hadn’t really worked at all in three months, wasting the days, sitting at his desk each night shuffling papers, rearranging his notes, pretending to work but only biding time, waiting for what was to come.
When he came back from America he’d have to do something about that. It seemed possible too, because in some stubborn part of his mind he’d decided that going to America and seeing Matt was the first step in freeing himself. There was no great logic in it but he held fast to the thought.
He was still conscious of the other possible outcome though, and as he sat with Ruth making small talk over the coffee he was thinking about it. When she finally mentioned the impending trip to America he answered briefly and then said, ‘I know this is silly, but say my plane were to crash, I’d like to believe that you might stay on here. I don’t know, maybe even expand it, turn it into a real unit.’
‘Don’t worry, if your plane crashes, I’ll stay.’ She smiled and said, ‘You never know, I might even stay if your plane doesn’t crash.’
He gave her a concerned look, lifted his hand and said, ‘How many fingers am I holding up?’ She laughed, a sleepy laugh that he found warming somehow. He thought over what had been preoccupying him the last couple of days and decided it was perhaps finally the time to ask her about it. He said, ‘Tell me something Ruth, has it ever occurred to you that I might not actually want my attacks to cease?’
She looked almost offended, an injured look in her eyes as she said, ‘Of course it has.’
‘So why have you never said anything?’
‘How would you have reacted?’ He didn’t answer and she said, ‘Exactly. Anyway, teasing aside, I’ve never wanted to push you into talking about it. If you want to tell me you will. I’d never want to force a decision that personal onto someone.’
He nodded.
‘If ever I do tell anyone, it’ll be you.’ She smiled, not believing him. ‘So go on, what other suspicions have you never shared with me?’
‘You won’t be offended?’
‘Since when has that worried you?’
She shrugged and said, ‘Okay. I think you know who she is. I think it’s someone you know, or knew, maybe some ex-girlfriend who died. And I think you know why you have the attacks, that you could stop them but that, like you said, you don’t want them to stop. Perhaps because they keep her alive in your head.’
He’d had to put on a poker face at first as he’d listened to her but he’d relaxed more as she’d talked on, and now he smiled and said, ‘Not bad, but touch wood, I’ve never had a girlfriend die on me. And maybe I have been ambivalent about stopping the attacks, but trust me, I’m in the process of stopping them now.’
He felt that was true, that these two strands back to the past had become entwined and that he could bring a halt to both of them simultaneously, the process starting with the visit to Matt. If Matt really was behind the deaths of Will and Rob, he didn’t know whether the things he had to say would be enough.
He’d go anyway though, because the process of freeing himself would begin with Matt too. He’d talk to him, finally tell him the truth of what had happened that night. If Matt had changed beyond recognition it was probably information that would mean nothing to him, but that wouldn’t matter, because it wasn’t only Matt’s forgiveness he was after, it was his own.
12
He didn’t sleep on the plane. He was tired but he didn’t sleep, uneasy about the thought of having an attack in front of other people. It wouldn’t matter how much he tried to dismiss it, the attendants would have him marked as someone to keep their eye on, other passengers staring at him as if he was disturbed.
Instead he thought feverishly over the things he’d need to do, mental checklists too of the things he’d already done, thinking over other contingencies, anything to keep his mind falsely alert. He’d already thought through these things a hundred times but he didn’t want to sleep.
He’d considered writing something out before leaving, handing it to his solicitor with instructions that it be published if he died in mysterious circumstances. He hadn’t though, the whole thing finally seeming too fanciful, too absurd. And anyway, what counted as mysterious? Rob’s death? Will’s?