‘How do I know? I don’t even know what they’ve said. It’s the British media. It’ll either be spot on or completely made up. In which case there’s either no point lying to you, or no point trying to convince you it’s lies.’
‘The company. Russ Alman. The bankruptcy,’ she says, surely knowing by the look on my face that she doesn’t need to say any more. I look away. It was something I’d tried to block from my memory since it happened, but I could tell Jess wasn’t going to make that so easy.
Russ and I set up a company a few years back, based around a concept Russ had for a free-standing lighting rig that could be set up and taken down in a couple of minutes at most. He was convinced it was going to make millions. We both were. I’d managed to build up a good network of contacts who were all really interested in the product, but we couldn’t get it to the point where it was ready for production. The whole process of testing and development killed us, not to mention having to go through applying for patents and trademarks. Sure, perhaps I put a little too much pressure on Russ. But all I had to offer was the pure, hard facts: that so many people were interested in our product, we’d be multimillionaires if we could just get it to market. Russ took that at face value and put everything he had into it – his life savings, his house, everything. By the time the last penny was rattling around in the tin, we still weren’t any closer to launching the product.
‘It was a long time ago, Jess. And it’s got nothing to do with Lisa’s death.’
‘How can you be so sure?’ she says, sitting down opposite me. ‘Dan, you screwed that guy over for two hundred grand. He was your business partner. Wouldn’t you be a little fucked off about that?’
‘He was fine. Well, not fine, but we sorted it out. We’d been on speaking terms. And I didn’t “screw him over”, either. We both lost out. Heavily.’
‘You didn’t go bankrupt, though.’
‘No. I wasn’t quite as naive as he was. Look, it was business. It happens. We both knew the risks when we set up the company.’
Jess takes a sip of her tea. ‘The paper said you were arrested and cleared of fraud.’
I shake my head vehemently. ‘No. There was a tax investigation after the company was liquidated and I was found to have done nothing wrong. The police weren’t involved at any point.’
She says nothing for a few moments.
‘He lost his home, Dan.’
‘I know.’
It hurts to think that the papers have uncovered that episode in my life. It was a difficult enough time for me as it was, almost losing my home and everything I knew, but to think that they are actively using it as some sort of proof of my guilt over my wife’s death is an entirely new level of shitty. But could Russ really be behind all this? Personally, I can’t see it. He’s always been the quiet, inventive one. The Nutty Professor, we used to call him. He’d be in his workshop at all hours, playing around with new ideas and testing different types of rig. He certainly never struck me as the crazed-killer type.
‘I just can’t believe they’re bringing that up now. It’s got nothing to do with Lisa. It’s just the tabloid bastards trying to dig up dirt and make out I’m some sort of monster. Trial by fucking newspaper, yet again.’ I can feel the veins in my head throbbing.
‘Dan, you need to calm down,’ Jess says, placing a hand on my shoulder. ‘We knew this was going to happen. The media attention, I mean. And anyway, in a few days’ time everyone will have forgotten your name and my name and they’ll be on to the next new scandal. Sod them.’
‘I dunno,’ I say, rubbing my forehead with the palm of my hand. ‘I don’t think I can handle this. What other stuff are they going to dig up?’
‘What is there for them to dig up?’
I shake my head. ‘Nothing like that. That’s not what I mean. I just . . . I just know what these people are like. They’ll find anything they can and twist it in any way that suits them. They’re parasites.’
‘Yep, they are. And parasites move on to a new host when they realise they’re not getting anything out of the old one. Don’t give them the satisfaction. Let it wash over you.’
I’m not really even listening to a word she’s saying.
‘I mean, fuck’s sake. “Dangerous”? “Can’t be trusted”? What the fuck’s that all about? Seriously, those people are going to ruin my fucking life.’ I’m yelling now, feeling the anger and resentment flowing out of me like lava from a volcano.
Jess pulls me towards her.
‘This isn’t doing you any good at all. We’re going to get through this, alright? This is the tough bit now, but if we sit it out we can get through this.’
I look up into her eyes, feeling like a lost puppy.
‘Who’s doing this to me, Jess? Why?’
‘I don’t know,’ she says, kissing me on the head. ‘I don’t know. But we’re going to sort it out, okay? I think the best thing for you to do is to keep yourself busy. You need to give your head some space. Thinking about things over and over isn’t going to help at all. Why don’t you go into town and get some bits? We could do with some proper milk, rather than that revolting stuff in the fridge.’
I think for a moment before realising she’s right. I nod, stand up and go to fetch my shoes.
28
It’s about a mile and a half’s walk into the town from the campsite, which is just enough to start to get my head clear. The only problem is, every car that goes past is a potential threat, as far as I’m concerned. My photo’s out there now. Jess is right – it’s unlikely anyone’s going to recognise me from those old photos, particularly with my head shaved and my beard gone – but that doesn’t stop me feeling paranoid.
I’m wearing a pair of reading glasses we found in one of the cupboards in the caravan, presumably left by a previous guest. It goes some way towards being a disguise, I guess, especially seeing as I’ve never worn glasses in my life. They don’t look too obvious as a disguise, either. I didn’t particularly fancy walking around in a massive top hat and a false nose.
As I reach the town, I find a small supermarket. I check my pocket to make sure I’ve still got the money. I don’t know how much stuff costs, or how much a Swiss franc is even worth, but Jess said she thought a hundred francs would get us some food and stuff. Not that I can carry much home with me with that walk, and I wasn’t going to risk taking the car out – especially as we’ll no doubt have been seen driving it at some point. I’m desperate for Jess to get rid of the car somewhere, but she thinks that’d be too risky. We’re better off leaving it at the campsite, she reckons, as it’s hidden well out of the way as it is. I’m not so sure.
Once I’m inside the supermarket, I grab the milk as well as some ham, bread and a large carton of orange juice. I find what looks like a packet of roasted nuts, so I grab those, too. The weight’s going to add up quite a bit, so I decide this’ll probably do for now.