Hawthorn Gardens is a tree-lined street full of Victorian houses. Most of them are well maintained, despite their age, and if Alison is telling the truth about living here then she and Dominic must be doing well for themselves. I remind myself he is a head of department at a prestigious university now, something Zach never got the chance to be.
As I head towards number 26, it strikes me that Alison could have been lying about Dominic Bradford being her partner – but for what purpose? None of it makes sense, and the little that does – Zach’s death – I don’t want to think about.
The house looms over me as I stand outside. What am I thinking, coming here? If, by some slim chance, Alison did give me her genuine address, what can I possibly say to make her admit what she told me yesterday? She fled my office without hesitation; clearly, she’s made up her mind.
But I’ve got to try. I can’t walk away from this now.
I press the doorbell but can’t hear anything on the other side so have no idea if it even works.
Silence surrounds me, even on a busy London day. But it’s past 2 p.m. now so most people will be at work. I’m turning away, sure nobody is home, when the door creaks open.
‘Can I help you?’
It’s not Alison, of course it isn’t. The woman addressing me is at least eighty and she hunches over, leaning against the door frame.
‘Hi, I’m looking for Alison Cummings?’
The woman frowns, appraising me from head to foot. ‘No, wrong house. It’s just me here.’
‘Okay, sorry. She must have moved.’
‘Not likely. I’ve lived here my whole life and it was my parents’ house before that.’
Thanking her, I turn and leave. It was only as I expected, but anxiety still floods through me. What if I never find her? What is she up to?
* * *
It’s been a long time since I set foot in a university, but walking into one now brings back a flood of memories: starting adulthood; meeting Zach; losing him years later. I didn’t think coming here would hit me this hard – this exact place had nothing to do with Zach or anything else – but it’s a struggle to keep going.
I should have called. It’s the summer break and though I know university lecturers work most of the holidays, there’s only a small chance he’ll be here. I could have saved myself this pain. But I couldn’t just sit at home. At least I’m doing something. Whether it’s futile or not, I’m heading in the right direction. I just don’t know what to expect when I get there.
The reception desk is manned by a young woman with glasses and shiny black hair. She smiles as I approach, putting me at ease. ‘Hi, how can I help?’
‘I was just wondering if Dominic Bradford is in today? Head of the law department? He’s an old friend of mine and I wanted to catch up with him.’
She looks towards the main doors. ‘Oh, you just missed him. But he only left a moment ago so if you hurry, you might catch up with him. He’s probably heading to the tube station.’
I quickly step out into the street, but there are too many people around. Too many men who could be Dominic. From behind, I have no way to identify him, especially when I’ve only seen him once, five years ago. I spin around, both wanting and not wanting to find him, and then there he is, across the road, bending down to tie his shoelace.
Dominic is larger than I remember him, and at least a stone heavier, but his hair is the same and his face is unmistakable. At the funeral I’d considered it an arrogant face, but it’s hard to believe he is an abusive man, although they don’t come with warning signs or labels. It is always the people you least expect. Like Zach, I think.
Dominic straightens up and continues on his way, so I cross the road towards him. But what am I going to say? I can’t just run up to him and demand to know if he’s seeing someone called Alison Cummings. There’s no way to tell him. Plus, if she was telling the truth about him being abusive, then what will Dominic do when he finds out she has come to see me? It would only fuel his rage.
Slowing down, I keep my distance but follow behind him. I’ve had a better idea.
* * *
I didn’t have to follow him for too far, just one short tube trip from Euston to East Finchley, and after a short walk through some quiet streets, we turn into Abbots Gardens. He walks up to number 95, a large, white, semi-detached house with a front garden filled with huge trees, giving the house privacy from passers-by.
But I can see him clearly as he stands by the front door, fishing in his pocket for what I can only assume are his keys. And just as he pulls them out, the door opens and Alison is standing there, stepping aside to let him in, neither of them smiling or greeting each other.
I shrink back against a tree, hoping she doesn’t spot me. At least I have made progress today, and I will come back here to get some answers.
* * *
‘Mummy! Where have you been? We’ve been waiting ages for you!’
Freya rushes to the door as soon as she hears me turn the key in the lock, and she barges into me, folding her little arms around me as if she hasn’t seen me for weeks.
I look past her to Will, who is shaking his head in the kitchen doorway. Shrugging an apology to him, I kiss my daughter on the head. ‘Sorry, sweetheart, I just got held up. I’m here now, though.’
Freya pulls back. ‘Will said it’s probably too late to go anywhere now. And it’s nearly my bedtime, isn’t it?’
I hadn’t meant to be back so late, but travelling halfway across London during rush hour eats away at time. ‘How about pizza for dinner?’ I suggest. It’s another of Freya’s favourite foods so that should at least cheer her up a bit. ‘And we can play that game you love – Sequence.’
This brings a smile to her face. ‘You won’t just let me win this time, will you? I’m seven now, Mummy, I can win for myself.’
I ruffle her hair. ‘No, I play to win.’ And this is true today after finding Alison Cummings so easily, although that is no game.
Freya asks Will if he’s staying, but he shakes his head. ‘Sorry, I can’t today. I’ve got some work to do later. But I’ll have some pizza with you first, if that’s okay?’
He addresses his question to me, and I nod. ‘Of course. You know you don’t have to ask.’
But does he know this? I’ve been so off with him since yesterday that it would be no surprise to me if he didn’t quite feel comfortable.
I’m not being fair to Will. I owe it to him – to everyone – to get some closure. I thought I had it, but then Alison appeared and stirred everything up. I have to find out what’s going on, and then maybe I can start living.
Will is quiet over dinner, but Freya’s excited chatter fills the silence as she tells him about her trip to stay with her grandparents tomorrow. Zach’s parents live in Reading, and I try to take Freya there as much as possible. They have always adored her, but now she is their only link to their son, so every moment with her is even more precious to them. She loves going there too; they can bring Zach to life for her, fill in the colours even more than I can.
When Will leaves, he kisses me quickly by the front door and tells me he’ll call tomorrow. ‘I know Freya’s away for a few days, but I really need to catch up with some work this weekend. How about we get together on Monday?’
It’s not unusual for us to go a few days without seeing each other – we both have busy lives – but it hasn’t happened for a while. Lately there’s usually been some point in the day when we’ve seen each other. But I could do with this time now, so I readily agree that Monday is fine.
* * *
Something startles me from sleep: a sharp piercing sound I can’t place at first. It’s my mobile phone, ringing from the bedside table.
With blurred vision, I check the screen, but there is no caller ID. Normally I would ignore it – these anonymous calls are usually nuisance ones – but it’s 2 a.m. so it must be important.