What I did remember was laughing. Aiden would stay up late with us at night and we’d sit around the campfire chatting about everything and nothing. Hugh liked to entertain the group, telling stories of his early years in an all-boy’s public school. I’d put my hands over Aiden’s ears as he told us about walking in on the other boys’ improprieties. He had us in stitches telling us stories with funny posh accents and silly faces.
“Do you remember how the campsite had that stupid little flagpole with the French flag on it? The thing was about half the size of a normal pole. Well, Aiden stole a couple of bras from the German woman’s tent and shimmied up the thing to tie them onto the pole. The poor woman was so large that those bras just started flapping in the wind.”
“Why don’t I remember this? Jesus, how old was he then?”
“Just over five,” Rob said. “He was definitely a monkey.”
Though Rob appeared to be delighted by his son’s naughtiness, I didn’t feel the same way. Why didn’t I remember him acting like that? I had a highlights reel in my mind of Aiden being a sweet, intelligent little boy. But there was more to him. He could be naughty. He used to steal things when he was three. He’d grab chocolates from the supermarket aisles. But he didn’t put them in our trolley. I once caught him sneaking them into a stranger’s trolley when they weren’t looking. I caught him at it, told him off, and forgot all about it until Amy’s article brought some of Aiden’s naughtier acts back to me. Was that normal behaviour for a three year old? I couldn’t help but wonder if I was now actively trying to find examples of him being bad.
“Is everything okay?” Rob asked.
“Fine,” I lied.
“How’s Josie doing? Any news from Hugh?”
“I haven’t called her.” I finally let go of the mug to run my warm hands over my face. It was shameful that I hadn’t been in touch with my best friend after her messy break-up.
“Why don’t we look after Aiden for a few hours so you can go and see her,” Rob suggested. “You’ve had Aiden 24/7 since his release. You need a break.”
At that moment, a few hours away from Aiden sounded like pure bliss. As much as I wanted complete control over everything around my damaged son, I needed some time away from him. I needed room to breathe.
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.”
I was already off my chair and searching for my car keys.
31
After a quick phone call, Josie told me she was in, and that she hadn’t been at work for a number of days. Even though I’d asked her to promise me she’d go to work, I’d expected as much. In all honesty, if Jake left me without a word I wouldn’t bother with work either. So I hopped into my car and drove across the village and up the winding hill towards the Barratts’ home. It was warm enough to leave the house without a jacket, which was unusual for mid-October, and the blue sky above seemed almost superficial, or at the very least, fleeting. I was waiting for dark clouds to plunge us into darkness. While I’d been going through hell, the weather had mostly been fair and mild, belying my own stormy disposition.
Yet another way the world decided to betray me.
I took it steady around the narrow roads, pulling in warily when meeting other cars.
The Barratt home seemed eerily serene when I parked the car. The mild weather meant Josie’s yellow pansies were still in bloom in pretty pots around the front door. But my gaze did not linger on them. I found it difficult to look at anything beautiful during those weeks.
Josie answered the door after the first knock. Her large blue eyes were red-rimmed and I noticed that she clutched her mobile phone in one hand. She was wearing leggings and an oversized jumper.
“I’m so sorry I didn’t come earlier,” I said.
“Are you kidding?” she replied. “I’m ashamed for not coming to you. I mean, I know you said you wanted space and that you were fine, but still. With everything you’re dealing with, my problem is tiny.”
“Have you heard from him?”
Josie sighed and led the way through her house to the kitchen. Her messy bun bobbed up and down as she dragged her feet over the carpet. Her body was loose and lazy, but it almost seemed like an act, as though deep down she was in real turmoil. I knew her well enough to know that she dealt with stress by trying to pretend it wasn’t happening, or at the very least pretending she was fine with it all. Josie was a ‘fake it ’til you make it’ person. She wanted to see the bright side, but I wondered whether, when she was on her own at night, it really worked.
“Nothing. Not even a text. But guess what? He posted something on Facebook.”
“What?”
She nodded, gesturing to an open laptop on the breakfast bar. Hugh’s profile was on the screen. For the first time I realised that he’d updated his profile picture. It used to be a photograph of him and Josie on a skiing holiday, but now it was a solo picture of him smiling on top of a jet ski. Next to his profile picture was a status where he had ‘checked in’ to the McCarran airport in Las Vegas.