No Place to Hide (39 page)

The funny thing is, Mummy, the only person I feel kind of bad about is you, and I’m still trying to figure out why. You looked so pathetic the day you came here, I wanted to laugh at you, but you ended up making me cry when you’d gone. Deffo hadn’t expected that. Got over it pretty soon though, which was why I never wrote. Didn’t want you getting to me again, did I?

Dad told me you moved to America with Tallulah. Good long way from the psycho son, yeah? What’s it like there? Don’t worry about answering, I won’t be around to hear it, just being polite, which I bet you’ll say isn’t like me at all. Anyway, I’ve been giving this some thought since I was offered a quick way out, and I reckon your life might be a lot easier if I wasn’t around anymore. Don’t worry, I’m not doing it for you, I’m doing it for me, cos majorly sick of it in here. When I’m gone you won’t have to feel guilty about not visiting me—I know you do, because I know you—and you won’t always be fretting over what’s happening to me in here.

I’m not sure it’ll make Dad’s life much easier. I’ve been providing a good excuse for him to stay in England, wonder what he’ll do when I’m not here anymore. I told you, ages ago, there was something going on with him and Hayley, but you never wanted to believe me. You’ll have to now, because there’s more to it than just an affair, or maybe you already know they’ve got a kid together. A boy, not sure of his name, but he must be about four by now, same age as Tallulah.

He must have been going through a fertile patch back then, getting you both knocked up around the same time.

When Camilla’s eyes came up again, Justine knew she’d reached the part about Hayley. She looked as shaken as Justine had felt when she’d read the words herself.

She felt no better about them now, even though she kept telling herself they couldn’t be true. A part of her must believe it, or she’d have given the letter to Matt by now.

“Keep going,” she said softly. “It doesn’t get any better, but you might as well.”

Pressing a hand to her mouth, Camilla returned to the letter.

It feels weird to think I won’t ever see you again, although I don’t suppose I ever really expected to. Just never really thought about it before. I wish I could tell you something to make you believe you were a great mum, but why should I when you weren’t, or at least not all of the time. Favoritism’s not a good thing, it fucks with a kid’s mind, gives him a sense of not belonging, or being wanted. That’s what you and Dad did to me, but lucky I could handle it better than most, and I suppose you were better than I gave you credit for before I came in here. That’s because I’ve had a lot of time to think since, and it’s funny the way my thoughts keep going back to you. It’s like that with mothers, I suppose, they always matter in the end even if they couldn’t stand you.

This was where his pen had apparently run out of ink and he’d continued in pencil.

You know, I’m intrigued to find out what’s on the other side, if there’s anything at all, or if all that crap about afterlife, judgment, eternal hellfire, is just another load of bollocks. Maybe Abby and the others will get to take some revenge on me, or maybe they’re in a place I’ll never be allowed to go to. Anyway, whatever’s over that side, anything or nothing, has got to be better than where I am now. OK, if I was going to get out one day, but it’s not going to happen even if I start saying I’m sorry and acting all weird so they can label me a mentalhead and put me in Broadmoor.

So this is goodbye, Mummy. Guess what, I’m crying as I write this, like I don’t want to go, but I do. I guess it’s that I wish you were here to hold my hand, or tell me it’s going to be all right, the way you used to sometimes if Abby wasn’t around to distract you. I know it’ll make you feel better if I say I’m sorry for everything I did, so I’m sorry for everything I did.

One last thing: I’m still capable of a good feeling toward someone and I hope you’re glad it’s you.

Ben

Justine watched her mother inhale deeply, push a shaking hand through her hair, and eventually put the note down.

“I hardly know what to say,” Camilla murmured.

Seeing there were tears in her eyes, Justine passed her a tissue and reached for her hand. “What do you think of the bit about Matt and Hayley?” she asked. “And the child?”

“That it’s nonsense,” Camilla replied. “I don’t know why he said it, but frankly we’ve never known why Ben did anything.”

Justine stared at the note. With all it contained, it felt like a bomb that kept on exploding.

“You have to show Matt,” her mother told her gently.

After a while Justine said, “What if it’s true?”

“Justine, you know it isn’t. This is Matt we’re talking about—and Ben.”

Her eyes full of anguish, Justine said, “I never believed my son could be a mass murderer before it happened.”

Camilla almost flinched. “It’s hardly the same.”

“Why not? People can be capable of so much more than we ever suspect, and when I think of how Matt didn’t seem to want to come to Culver, how he thought it was best for us to sacrifice our marriage for the sake of our children…”

“I thought that was your idea.”

“I guess it was both of us, but let’s not forget how Hayley’s been there for him since I left. She hasn’t let him down the way so many other friends have. She wouldn’t, if they have a child together…”

Camilla picked up the note again, and after rereading parts she said, “I hear what you’re saying, and I understand why you’re afraid to trust—anyone would be in your position—but the part that’s not working for me is that Matt confided in Ben.”

It hadn’t seemed likely to Justine either when she’d first read it, but after giving it some thought…“They had to talk about something during all those visits,” she said, “and why would Ben bother to lie?”

“To make mischief, of course.”

“But what would he gain from it when he had no intention of being around for the fallout?”

Though there were many ways of answering that, all Camilla said was, “You have to show Matt the letter, and frankly I think you should do it now.”

Justine’s insides dissolved into turmoil. “And if turns out he does want to stay with Hayley?”

Camilla’s face was pinched, but her tone was firm as she said, “It’s not going to happen, but if it does, we’ll work it out. I’m not sure how yet, but I promise you, we will.”

—

It wasn’t until much later in the day, after Lula was tucked up in bed and the others were watching a film downstairs, that Justine finally presented Matt with the note.

As she passed it over she hated noticing how pale and edgy he seemed, as though he’d rather be giving it back than taking it.

“Can I ask,” he said, “why you’ve waited until now to let me see it?” He sounded like a stranger, someone whose voice was hollow, not really belonging to him.

Wondering what he was imagining, or dreading, and trying not to think of it herself, she told him, “It’s best if you just read it.”

She noticed his hand shake as he unfolded it, and the way he suddenly frowned told her his eyes had gone straight to
Dear Mummy.

After that his expression wasn’t possible to gauge, since he got up from the bed and kept his back turned as he read. She could sense his tension, almost feel the emotions tearing through him, or perhaps they were her own. She was aware of her heart thudding, yet she was hardly breathing.

He must be about four by now.
If the child was real, then he was somewhere right now with his mother, maybe waiting for his daddy to call or come.

She could live with it if it would bring Abby and the others back, but it didn’t work like that. There was no bargaining with fate, or destiny, or God if there was one. This cruel, never-ending suffering was how things were.

Matt was shaking his head, and she suddenly felt herself being sucked into a terrible void where there was only darkness and devastation and no escape. She was going in deeper and deeper, gulping for air, shuddering, panicking, retching…

Matt’s arms were around her, he was holding her tight, trying to soothe her, to make her look at him, to stop fighting him.

“You need to listen to me,” he told her. He took her face in his hands, forcing her to look at him.

“Tell me it’s not true,” she gasped.

“Hayley has a child,” he replied, “but he’s not mine. I swear it. Hayley’s son is
not
mine.”

The words were reaching her, but she was afraid to believe them. How could she trust anything or anyone anymore? “So why does Ben think he is?”

“I’ve no idea what Ben thought. I never told him that.”

“How did he know the child even existed?”

“Because I talked about him sometimes…There was so little else to talk about, but never once did I say that Marcus was mine. Why would I when it isn’t true? Marcus has a father. OK, he hardly ever sees him, and over these past few months he’s probably seen a lot more of me, but he knows I’m not his daddy. He calls me Matt.”

“I don’t know what that proves. You and Hayley were always—”

“
Good friends
, and we still are. It might not be what you want to hear, but since you went, I swear I don’t know how I’d have coped without her. She’s been there for me in a way you just couldn’t be, because you had to put Lula first. We both did, and I still think we were right to do that, but I think we agree now that we went about it the wrong way.”

She couldn’t deny that.

“I swear to God Marcus isn’t mine,” he said softly. “It’s not possible for him to be when I’ve never slept with Hayley in my life. If you don’t believe me, call her. She’ll tell you it’s true, and she’ll tell you about Marcus’s father if you want her to. He’s her ex-boss, and he’s married, which is why he’s hardly ever on the scene, and that’s a shame, because Marcus is a wonderful little boy. You’d love him too if you met him, and I hope you will, because I don’t want to cut him out of my life as if he doesn’t matter. But if it’s what you want I will, because you and Lula come first now. Ben’s suicide is allowing me to make that happen…He’s given me…He’s done…He…” As he started to break down Justine folded him in her arms, crying too as their terrible, relentless grief engulfed them.

“I can’t believe he’s gone,” Matt sobbed. “I keep thinking he’s still there, at the prison, and this is all a sick joke…Or I tell myself it’s for the best, but how can any of this be for the best?”

“It can’t,” she replied brokenly. “There is no rhyme or reason. We’ll never understand why he did what he did, or what made him the way he was.”

“I’m the one who dropped him.”

“But you didn’t. You caught him, just not quickly enough, and we still don’t know if it’s the reason he turned out the way he did. We’ll probably never know. Matt, please, you have to stop blaming yourself. You’re a wonderful dad, you did everything you could for him and for Abby…”

Matt’s eyes closed as he murmured, “Abby, Abby, Abby. Our precious girl. Oh God, Justine…I miss her so much.”

“I know. I do too.”

“I keep hearing her…It’s like she’s always there. I turn on the radio, the TV, and everything reminds me of her. I see young girls walking down the street, I hear someone laugh…”

Justine pulled him back into her arms, needing to hold him as much as he needed to be held.

They stayed that way for a long time, crying together, trying to comfort each other, and somehow make sense of why things had happened the way they had, even though they knew they’d never be able to give it any meaning.

“I don’t know if we deserve to be where we are now,” he said in the end, “but I do know that I can’t carry on without you. I don’t know why I ever thought I could.”

“You tried for Ben’s sake,” she reminded him, “and you’ll always have that, knowing you were there for him when no one else was.”

His eyes drifted as he shook his head. “And how did he repay me? By telling you something he knew wasn’t true, and was going to hurt you, hurt us both, in a way that…what? Gave him pleasure?”

“Maybe he thought it was true,” Justine responded. “Maybe the way you talked about Marcus…” Realizing what she was about to say, she cut herself off.

“Maybe I sounded like a proud dad?” Matt continued for her. “Maybe I made him think that I’d found a son worth caring for…”

“Don’t,” Justine interrupted, putting a hand to his face. “We’re never going to understand what went on his head, so we have to stop trying.”

After a while his eyes came searchingly to hers.

“It’s going to stop now, isn’t it?” she implored. “Please tell me that we don’t have to go through any more, because I’m not sure I could survive it.”

“I wish I could make you that promise,” he replied softly, “with all my heart I wish I could. But this I can tell you—if there is any more, we’ll get through it somehow, because we have to, for our own sakes, as well as Lula’s.”

Of course he was right, she knew that; she just hoped all their challenges and heartache were over.

“We’ll be fine,” he whispered, as though reading her mind.

She smiled, and her eyes closed as he kissed her. She wouldn’t ask him yet about moving to Culver; there would be plenty of time for that later.