‘Well, you know, Vid and Tiffany are right next door to him,’ said Erika. She did not want to think about Harry lying on the floor. The sun rising and setting. Hearing the sounds of the neighbourhood: lawn mowers, garbage trucks, the leaf blower he hated so much.
‘I know. Tiffany is really upset too. But you know what? I was the one on the street he probably liked the most. He tolerated me, anyway. I mean, we had some civil conversations.’
‘I know,’ said Erika. ‘Like that time you were both so mad about that abandoned car outside the Richardsons’.’
‘I should have noticed he hadn’t been out and about,’ said Oliver. He took a tissue from the box and blew his nose noisily. ‘I did think I hadn’t seen him for a while, maybe a week or so ago, but then I just forgot about it.’
‘He wouldn’t have starved to death,’ reflected Erika. ‘It would have been the lack of water that killed him. Dehydration.’
‘Erika!’ Oliver winced. He dropped his scrunched-up tissue on the couch next to him and pulled another one from the box.
‘What? I’m just saying he didn’t lie there for weeks on end.’ She paused. ‘He should have had one of those emergency alarm things around his neck.’
‘Well, he didn’t,’ said Oliver shortly. He blew his nose again.
‘And I guess he had no family,’ said Erika. ‘No friends.’ Because he was such a nasty, vindictive old bastard. She wasn’t going to let Oliver drag her into the morass of guilt into which he was sinking. Let Tiffany sink with him. Erika already lived with the permanent thrum of guilt.
‘I guess he didn’t,’ said Oliver. ‘Or if he did, we never saw them visit. That’s why it was up to us to keep an eye out for him. These are the people who slip through the cracks of society. I mean, as a community, we have a moral obligation to –’
The landline rang and Erika leaped to her feet as though she’d won a prize. ‘I’ll get it.’
She picked up the phone. ‘Hello?’
‘Erika, darling. It’s Pam.’
That well-bred, well-projected voice. The voice of good sense and good manners.
‘Pam,’ said Erika. ‘Hi.’ She felt an instant softening and a ticklish feeling of imminent tears. She felt it whenever she spoke to Clementine’s mother. That old childhood adoration, the dizzy, glorious feeling of relief, as if she’d been rescued at sea.
‘I’m babysitting for Clementine and Sam,’ said Pam. ‘They’ve just left. They’re going out for dinner at that new restaurant in the Overseas Passenger Terminal people have been raving about. I booked it for them. It’s got three hats. Maybe even five hats? I don’t know. An impressive number of hats. Hopefully they’re having as nice a time as can be expected, although I wish it wasn’t raining, but fingers crossed. They need it, the poor kids. To be frank, I’m worried about their marriage. That’s talking out of school, I know, but, well, you’re her best friend, so you probably know more than me about it.’
‘Oh, well, I don’t know about that,’ said Erika. In actual fact, Erika knew nothing about Clementine’s marriage problems. Surely Pam knew that the ‘best friends’ label had been created by her, and for all those years Erika had clung to it while Clementine merely endured it.
‘Anyway, Erika, darling, I know we’re seeing you soon for our special dinner at my place, which I’m really looking forward to, but listen, the reason I thought I’d give you a call tonight …’ Erika heard the tentativeness in Pam’s voice and her jaw clenched.
‘Well, I had to go to Flower Power today, which meant I drove by your mum’s house,’ said Pam. ‘I didn’t stop.’ She paused. ‘Perhaps I should have, but your mum has really taken against me in recent years, hasn’t she?’ She didn’t wait for an answer. ‘Erika, I know you stick to a schedule now with your visits and I think that’s a really sensible idea for your own mental health, but I’m thinking perhaps you need to bring this month’s visit forward.’
Erika breathed out a long thin stream of air like she was blowing up a balloon. She looked at Oliver. He’d closed his eyes and let his head tip back against the couch, one hand pressed to his forehead.
‘How bad?’ she said to Pam.
‘Pretty bad, darling, I’m afraid. Pretty bad.’
chapter fourteen
‘How did your, ah, thing at the library go today? Your, um, what-do-ya-call-it, speech?’ asked Sam in a strangled voice, as though the question were being forcibly squeezed from him.
‘It went well,’ began Clementine.
‘Many people there?’ interrupted Sam. He piano-played his fingertips on the white linen tablecloth and scanned the restaurant feverishly, as if there were someone or something he needed. ‘How many would you say? Twenty? Thirty?’
‘Less than twenty,’ said Clementine. ‘One of them was Erika.’
She waited for a reaction and when none seemed forthcoming she said, ‘I didn’t really understand why she wanted to come.’