‘We might have to get the locks changed,’ I add. ‘I was figuring out who had keys for the house – and all I could come up with was Dan, me, Liv, the spare one in the kitchen, and you.’
Ellie glances across to her fridge. There’s a small whiteboard pinned to the front with a shopping list written in neat capital letters. Next to that is a row of magnetised hooks, with keys hanging from each.
‘I don’t suppose someone could have used your spare key…?’
I’ve already said it before I’ve thought too much about the words. It’s been in my mind since Dan said he’d seen Jason on the street. Perhaps someone simply let themselves into the house and the broken glass is there to confuse us. Nothing was taken but maybe that wasn’t the aim of whoever broke in.
Ellie knows what I mean straight away. Her lips twitch as she takes a second or two to think of her response. I know she’s holding back.
‘You mean Jason,’ she says.
‘That’s not what I mean,’ I reply, hoping the lie isn’t too obvious. Of course I mean him.
‘What do you mean?’ she asks.
‘I don’t know…’
Ellie could force the point, turn this into an argument, but she’s too diplomatic for that. She has more patience than me. ‘Are you sure there isn’t another key?’ she asks. ‘Hidden under a flower pot or something?’
‘Dan’s really funny about that sort of thing. I locked myself out once and he made me wait until he was home from work. He didn’t even leave early. I thought about breaking a window but didn’t...’
Ellie shrugs and then winces from another twinge. It’s not long after that I say I have to go. It’s a little after nine and Olivia is due home from work. I wasn’t joking when I said her father and I needed a word with her, even if she wasn’t there to hear it.
Ellie and I hug softly – she says she’s still a little fragile – and then I head back to the hallway. I’m about to open the front door when I notice the unopened letter sitting on the small table close to the exit. It’s perfectly normal – white, with a plastic window – but it’s the name that grabs my attention.
It’s for Jason Leveson – and, even though I’ve now seen him for myself, the two words somehow feel more powerful. It all feels real.
Jason Leveson: A walking, talking, living, breathing reminder of the worst thing I ever did.
Chapter Twelve
There are no further updates on Tom Leonard. The hotel worker is still missing, with no reported sightings. There are also no other reports of hit-and-runs, or killed animals on those country lanes. The blood on my car remains a mystery.
It’s a few minutes after half past nine when the front door opens. I can’t help but notice that Olivia is a lot quieter when entering the house if she knows her father is home. The door doesn’t bang off the wall and she takes her boots off before padding into the living room in her socks.
‘I’m going upstairs,’ she mumbles, before turning back to the hall.
Dan and I exchange the briefest of glances and it’s he who speaks. ‘We need to talk to you, Liv,’ he says.
She turns and looks between the two of us before dropping her bag onto the floor and lurching across to one of the breakfast bar stools. She removes a phone from her pocket and starts tapping on the screen.
‘Go on then,’ she says, not looking up.
‘We actually need your attention,’ I reply.
Olivia scowls at the pair of us. It must have been warm in the café this evening because almost all of her make-up has evaporated or rubbed away. There are a few streaky smudges towards the back of her cheeks but she looks otherwise free of cosmetics. It’s unlike her – but so is wearing her glasses, and she’s doing that.
‘We’ve been trying to sit down with you for a few evenings now,’ I say.
‘I’m here now.’
‘First of all, someone might have broken into the house earlier.’ I nod towards the boarded-up glass behind her and Olivia turns to take it in. ‘Nothing appears to have been taken,’ I add, speaking quickly, fearing she’ll run off to her room to check. ‘I want to make sure you have your key with you.’
I don’t bring up the ￡50 for fear she’ll think I’m accusing her of something.
Olivia reaches for her bag and digs out a grubby keyring, holding it up for us to see.
‘If they broke a window, why are you worrying about my key?’ she asks.
‘The back door was unlocked,’ I reply. ‘We don’t know if one of us left it open by accident, or—’
‘I didn’t leave it open!’
‘I wasn’t saying you had. Like I said, we don’t know if someone broke through the window and then unlocked the door somehow, or if it had been left open. Your father thinks it might have been some kids with a football who broke the glass and that the unlocked door is simply a coincidence.’
Olivia looks to Dan and then back to the door. ‘But nothing’s missing…?’ she says.
‘We don’t think so.’
She starts to stand, apparently deciding this was the only thing we wanted, but then she jabs an accusing finger in my direction. ‘You think this was Ty, don’t you?’
‘What? No.’
A lie. Obviously, I’d thought that.
‘Yes you do,’ she storms. ‘You think he copied my key, or something. You—’
Dan cuts her off and, for once, I’m grateful for his input. ‘It’s not that, Liv,’ he says. ‘We’re simply asking if you have your key with you. That’s all.’
Olivia calms at her father’s voice and I can’t pretend it doesn’t annoy me. I’m the dragon and he’s the soothsayer. I breathe fire and he breathes poetry.
‘Oh,’ she says, suddenly unsure of herself. ‘Is that it, then? Can I go?’
‘No,’ Dan says firmly.
There’s a moment in which I think he’s going to do the hard work. That he might say those difficult words. But he doesn’t: he turns to me instead. Olivia follows his gaze until they’re both staring, both expecting. I’m not sure why I thought this might go differently. Dan and I have known each other for too long, after all. This is precisely what I thought would happen.
‘Your father and I are separating,’ I say.
It’s as quick as that, like ripping off a plaster in one go. Bang. Done. It doesn’t even hurt.
It’s like time has stopped. Dan and Olivia both continue to stare at me; him with knowing acceptance, her with wide-eyed shock. Olivia’s mouth bobs open, closed and open again. She turns to her father but he’s still watching me.
‘You’re divorcing?’ Olivia replies slowly, disbelievingly. Her voice cracks midway through the sentence.
‘Not yet,’ I reply. ‘We’re going to separate first and see how things go. We’ve not quite figured everything out yet.’
I’m not sure what reaction I expected. Olivia is eighteen – an adult – but it was always going to be a shock when we told her. She has both hands pressed together into one giant fist, her knuckles white as she squeezes her fingers tight.
I look to Dan, hoping he’ll pick things up from here, that he’ll know what to say, but he’s staring through me uselessly.
‘What does that even mean?’ Olivia’s voice is pained. She cradles her knees up to her chest, somehow keeping her balance on the stool.
‘We’re going to try living apart for a while,’ I say. ‘I’m staying here, your father is—’
‘Why do you get to stay here?’
‘I, um…’ I don’t have a good answer, not an immediate one in any case. I stammer for a moment and then turn to the third person in the room. ‘Do you want to say something, Dan?’
He jolts in his seat, as if I’ve just awoken him. ‘Right, yes…’ he says. ‘We, er, decided it’d be for the best.’
I look to him and my whole body slumps. Is that it? In all the conversations we had over this, over how we’d tell Olivia, this is the best he can do?
‘Why now?’ Olivia demands.
It’s clear Dan’s out of this conversation, not wanting any part of it.
‘We decided it was time,’ I reply. ‘We’ve not been getting on for a while and, rather than continue to make each other miserable, we thought we’d try something else.’
‘If Dad’s moving out, are you making me choose between you?’
‘No!’
Dan and I reply at the same time – but there’s no follow-up from him.