We settled down at Henry’s kitchen table, he with his cup of tea, me with my takeaway coffee. He ripped open the brown paper bag and helped himself to a chocolate éclair, murmuring appreciatively as he ate. Bridget knew they were his favourites. I’d fallen into the habit of finishing work early on a Thursday just so I could call in at the café and pick up a coffee for me and a treat for Henry on my way over. He deserved it.
I visited him twice a week – Tuesdays and Thursdays. On Tuesdays, we went to the Police Station, then I dropped him off at the RSA for his weekly game of pool with his mates. Thursdays, we did this. He was a stickler for routine, and after Em disappeared, I needed something solid to set my clock by. I needed to keep track of the days somehow, to keep myself grounded. I’m sure Henry knew that. Henry seemed to know everything.
“How’s Jasmine?” he asked, between sips of tea. “I haven’t seen her for a couple of weeks.”
“She’s fine. Fighting fit.”
“How much longer is it now? Can’t be much.”
“Anything from two to four weeks, apparently. She’s due on the 20th, but they say first babies could go a week or two over.”
He nodded. “That’s right, I remember now. Vinnie’s having his birthday party tomorrow night, isn’t he?”
“Yeah, at the café. Costume party. Don’t ask why, I have no clue. Jas’s idea, apparently.”
“You still planning on going?”
Not him, too. “It’s his thirtieth. Of course I’m going.”
“Good. No use mooching around the beach like you did last year.”
I started to object, but before I could get a word in, Henry held his hand up.
“You can’t kid a kidder, boy. Emily might be out there somewhere, but Vinnie’s right here. You owe it to him to make an effort, especially after last year. He can’t help when his birthday falls, and that’s never going to change. Best you get used to that, and stop letting your brother down. He wouldn’t let you down – just remember that.”
I stared at Henry across the table. The old man was infuriating, especially when he was right. Suddenly, my appetite seemed to vanish. I picked at my chocolate éclair.
It was true, I’d briefly entertained the idea of not going tomorrow night, or slipping away early, but Vinnie’s little speech this morning had washed all thoughts of that from my mind. After everything Vinnie and Jas had done for me over the past few years, I was ashamed of myself for even thinking it. Henry didn’t need to lay on the guilt.
“You’re not being disloyal to her for picking up and moving on,” Henry said, in his usual matter-of-fact manner. “We all have to do it.”
First Vinnie, then Henry. Either it was a conspiracy or a coincidence, but it felt targeted either way. It felt like, one by one, everyone was giving up on her. I was the last bastion of hope.
Even as the words came out of my mouth, I knew I was going to regret them. Henry was far wiser than I could ever hope to be, yet my knee-jerk reaction was still to defend the concept of hope that I wasn’t even sure I believed in anymore.
“Come on Henry – moving on? Is that what you call going to the police station every Tuesday?”
My heart pounded but Henry wasn’t even rattled. He put down his cup of tea and stared at me over the table, his eyes steely blue, so like Bridget’s.
“Moving on and giving in are two entirely different things. My granddaughter is still out there, somewhere. Cops come and go from that place, but as long as I’m alive, Latimer and the others will keep her picture up on that board and they’ll remember her name. I may not be able to do much for her, but I can do that.”
I felt like I was ten years old again. A stupid kid, one who opened his mouth before he had a chance to think it through. One of Henry’s favourite quotes came back to me.
Better to be thought a fool, than to open your mouth and remove all doubt.
This time next year, I should just lock myself in my house and unplug the phone. I wasn’t fit to be around people. Meeting Em’s double at the café today had only succeeded in making me crazier than usual.
“I’m sorry,” I said, suitably contrite. “You’re right.”
“Of course I’m right,” Henry snapped, picking up his cup once again and taking a quick sip. “I’m always right.”
Without breaking into a smile, he winked at me, indicating the half-eaten chocolate éclair on the table in front of me. “You going to eat that? I hate to see good food go to waste.”
Not so fast, old man. I picked up the éclair and took a large bite. Henry shook his head, as if I was a giant pain in the ass. He got up to retrieve the beaten-up aluminium teapot from the kitchen counter, muttering under his breath as I chewed. Pouring himself a refill, he sat down again.
“Bridget has the birthday memorial at the beach again tomorrow morning. You coming to that?” he asked, deftly changing the subject while subtly letting me off the hook at the same time.
I nodded, finishing my mouthful before I spoke. I knew better than to talk with my mouth full in front of Henry. It was one of his pet hates.
“Yep. She told me she switched it to the morning so it wouldn’t interfere with Vinnie’s party, which makes sense, I suppose. I haven’t seen Alex lately, have you? I’m guessing he’ll be there, but she didn’t say.”
“It makes no difference if he’s there or not – you’ve got as much right to be there as he has.”