The Society Of Dirty Hearts (17 page)

Julian shrugged, his mind swaying between concern over his dad’s increasing drinking and wondering what his interest in Mia’s disappearance meant. It flashed through his mind that somebody had told his dad about him and Mia.

“So you don’t know this girl?”

“Only…only by sight.” Julian stammered over the lie. Faking a yawn in an effort to conceal his agitation, he started to turn to leave. But his dad caught hold of his shoulders, not letting him squirm away from his questioning gaze.

“You’re lying, Julian, I can tell. You know what I think? I think all this nonsense that’s being going on with you lately, the way you’ve been behaving, it’s got something to do with this girl.”

Julian blinked, taken aback at his dad’s insight. So someone has been talking, he thought – most probably Kyle out of spite, or maybe Eleanor out of concern. Hoping he was wrong, he said, “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve seen her in The Cut a couple of times. That’s all.”

“So why were you at The High Bridge today?”

“Who told you I was there?”

“It doesn’t matter who. You were seen.”

That didn’t surprise Julian. His dad was an influential man with a lot of eyes around the town. “I went because I wanted to see for myself what was going on. Have you forgotten that I found Joanne Butcher?”

“How the hell could I forget that?” Robert pursed his lips irritably. Then, making an obvious effort to keep his voice low and calm, he said, “Look, all I want to know is the truth.”

You and me both, thought Julian. “I’m telling you the truth.”

“I don’t buy that one bit.” Robert shook his head with a saddened air. “What’s happened to you, Julian? Since when did you start lying?”

Julian made a contemptuous hissing sound. “Around the same time as you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know fucking well what I mean. Look at you. You’re so stressed you can’t get through the morning without a drink.”

Robert scowled, his temper flaring. “Don’t swear at me you little sh-” He caught the word on his lips, inhaled deeply through his nose, then continued, “Of course I’m stressed out, Julian. Your mum – my wife – who I love more than my life has an inoperable brain aneurysm that might pop and kill her at any second.”

“That’s not just it. Mum’s been ill for years and I’ve never seen you like this before. Admit it, Dad, it’s the factory. The factory’s struggling.”

Robert looked at Julian in silent indecision. Twice he glanced at the door, as if trying to work out if anyone was listening at it. Then, his voice dropping even lower, he said, “Okay, so business is a bit tight right now. We’ve been having some problems.”

“Such as?”

“Well, for a start, our biggest supplier has put up their prices by twenty percent in the last year. Also, we’ve lost a couple of big customers recently.”

“And does Mum know about this?”

“Of course not, and there’s no need for her to.” Robert’s voice contained a warning note.

“Oh right, so it’s okay for you to lie and keep things from her, is it?”

“This is totally different, Julian. Sometimes you have to lie to protect people.”

“Yeah, well maybe that’s what I’m doing.”

“So Mia Bradshaw’s still alive.” Robert’s drink-shot eyes stared intensely into Julian’s. “Where is she?”

“How should I know if she’s alive or where she is?”

“You just implied that you’re protecting her.”

Julian tried to shrug off his dad’s hands, but their hold on him tightened almost painfully. “This isn’t a fucking game, Julian.”

“I know that.”

“Do you? Because if you really do, you’ll tell me the truth.”

“There’s nothing to tell.”

Robert studied Julian a moment, then said gravely, “I hope so, because this is the kind of thing that wrecks lives – and I’m not just talking about one life, Julian. If something happens to Mia Bradshaw because you didn’t do the right thing, you’ll carry that with you forever.”

Do the right thing
. Those words throbbed in Julian’s head like an anxious heart.
Doing the right fucking thing’s all I want to do
, he felt like yelling. He brought his arms up between his dad’s and thrust outwards, knocking his grip loose. Then he turned for the door. “Wait,” said Robert, his voice almost imploring. “Just tell me one thing. Tell me you didn’t do anything with her.”

Julian frowned over his shoulder at him. “Do anything like what?”

“Like have sex with her.”

“What kind of question’s that?” Julian’s voice rose in angry indignation. “Jesus Christ, what the fuck do you think I am? She’s fifteen.”

With a worried glance in the direction of the living-room, Robert raised his hands to quieten him. “Okay, okay, I see you’re not lying now. I’m sorry, Julian, but I had to ask.”

“Why?”

“Because if they do pull her out of that river, they have ways of telling if she had sex before she died.”

“Even if we had done anything, do you really think I’d care about that if she’s dead?” Julian stabbed a finger at his temple. “You can’t be right in there. Saying such twisted things.”

“I’m only trying to look out for you.”

Julian echoed Mia. “Well I don’t need looking out for.”

Robert pulled an incredulous face. “Have you looked in the mirror recently?”

“Have you?” Julian shot back. With a shake of his head, he made for his bedroom. He flopped onto his bed, pulling out his mobile phone. “Ring, Jake. Ring, ring,” he muttered, as if by force of will he could make him do so.

Chapter 15

Second by second, minute by minute, the day passed. Jake didn’t ring. The police found nothing other than mud and rubbish in the river. Julian sat down to an excruciating Sunday lunch with his parents. His mum still seemed half-doped. His dad was more interested in the bottle of wine he opened than eating or conversation. Julian shoved the beef, potatoes and all the rest of it down his throat and excused himself from the table. As the sun set over the forest, turning the trees into flame, he fell into his usual troubled sleep. By the time the next morning rolled around, he must’ve killed Mia a dozen times.

Julian checked his phone and the TV, but there was still no news on either front. He dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. His dad was at the breakfast table, looking a little jaded, but immaculately shaved and dressed. When he saw Julian, he shook his head and said, “Go and put a suit and tie on.”

“What for?”

“I’ll explain in the car. Hurry up and get changed.”

On the way to the factory, Robert kept licking his lips as though his mouth was dry. Julian would’ve put it down to the drink, if he hadn’t sensed an edginess about him, a preoccupation. “So why am I dressed like this?” he asked.

“I’m meeting with a buyer from a High Street chain-store today to discuss a possible order,” said Robert. “I want you to sit in on the meeting. Not say anything, mind you, just sit there and listen.” His tongue ran over his lips again. “If we can clinch this order, it’ll really turn things around for us.”

“And what if we can’t?”

Robert said nothing, but his face said plenty.

When the buyer arrived at the factory, Robert briefly introduced him to Julian and then the business talk started. To Julian the meeting seemed interminably long and tedious. There was lots of talk from his dad about the history of Harris Shoes, the dedication of their employees, the outstanding quality of the shoes themselves. And then there was lots of talk from the buyer about the company he worked for, its reputation for fair dealing, its general buying policies, and so forth and so on. In the end, though, it boiled down to one thing – price – but neither man seemed willing to talk figures. After listening for what seemed like hours, Julian had to grit his teeth to stop himself from bursting out, “Jesus, can’t we just cut the bullshit and get down to it.”

After they’d shaken the buyer’s hand and waved him off, Robert turned to Julian and said, “That went well, don’t you think?”

He shrugged. “Seemed like a lot of talk that didn’t amount to anything. I was expecting you to try to get him to commit to an order, but you didn’t even discuss prices.”

“Patience, Julian. You can’t do business until you’ve done the small talk. It’s a bit like dating. If you want the relationship to last, you don’t jump straight into bed.” Julian almost flinched when, with a smile, his dad reached to pat his shoulder. “I’ll bet they didn’t teach you that at uni.”

Julian spent the rest of the day going through the orders book with his dad, listening to him talk about his relationship with his buyers. He knew every one of them on first name terms, knew their wives, sent them cards and presents at Christmas and on their birthdays. “It may seem like a lot of bother, but these little extra efforts really pay off in the long-run,” he said. There was an animation about him, an excitement that Julian had rarely seen before. He’d built the business on sheer hard work. It was his baby, and his love for it was written all over his face. A few years earlier it would’ve been enough to make Julian jealous, but not anymore. He was past that now. And besides, it was clear that if he wanted to get closer to his dad all he had to do was put his heart and soul into the business too. “You know, Julian,” Robert went on, “I had my doubts, but I’m starting to think maybe you were right, maybe what this business needs is new blood, a fresh perspective. Maybe together we can drive it on to new heights.”

“For any build-up strategy to work there needs to be a strong flow of new orders in the pipeline.” The line was straight out of Julian’s business textbooks. He said it more because, faced with his dad’s sharp U-turn of opinion, he felt a responsibility to reciprocate his enthusiasm than because he believed it.  

Robert clicked his fingers in assent. “Exactly. And that’s what I want you to do – find new markets, new buyers.” He talked on eagerly about all the possibilities they could explore, but Julian was only half-listening. The other half of him was thinking about Mia and Jake. He suddenly found himself longing to be back in the ‘Cripples’ storeroom, shut away from the world and himself. By the end of the day he felt exhausted from listening to his dad. But he wasn’t ready to go home and face the nothing of the evening. Neither did he want to risk going out drinking. Knowing what this town was like, there was every chance word had gotten out about his involvement with Mia.

When his dad offered him a lift home, Julian shook his head. “I’m going to hang around here a while and have a good think about everything you’ve said, maybe come up with some ideas of my own.”

Robert’s eyebrows lifted. “You sure? It’s been a long day and you look tired. There’s no need to burn yourself out trying to prove your commitment.”

“I’m fine, Dad, honestly.”

Robert stood by the door, keys in hand. “Maybe I should stick around too. We could brainstorm together.”

“I don’t need to talk, I need to process.”

“Process?”

“Yeah, I feel a bit overloaded with information. I need to let it all sink in.”

“Why can’t you do that at home?”

“’Cos I’ll just end up staring at the TV or messing around on my laptop. There are no distractions here.” Still, Robert hesitated to leave. Julian didn’t doubt his concern was genuine, but he also had a sneaking suspicion that he was reluctant to trust him in the factory alone. “You should get going. It’s already late. Mum’ll be wondering where you are.”

Julian guessed that would do the trick – and it did. His dad tossed him a bunch of keys. “Just make sure you lock up and put the alarm on.” He gave him a final look that was half pleased, half uncertain, before leaving.

Julian wandered around the factory. He’d never been there alone before. There was a kind of unnatural hush over the place, as though the machines were sleeping. A thought came to him. He returned to his dad’s office and searched his desk drawers. In the bottom one there was a tumbler and a bottle of whisky. He poured himself a large one and sat sipping it in his dad’s leather swivel chair. His gaze moved around the office. A slight thickness came into his throat at the sight of a framed photo of his mother in her bridal dress, her smile as big as a full moon. He’d almost forgotten what she looked like before she got ill. He couldn’t bear to look at the photo for long. His eyes dropped away from it, coming to rest on a filing-cabinet. He approached the cabinet and opened it. Inside was nearly two decades worth of business accounts. He took out files containing the balance sheets for the previous five years and returned to the desk to peruse them, quickly and gladly losing himself in the figures. Hours passed, night came down. He worked backward through the years, occasionally pausing to sip his drink or scribble notes. When he was done, he took out more files and worked through them too. Darkness was wearing away to the blue edge of dawn as he returned the last of the files to the cabinet and dropped, yawning, into the swivel chair. He only closed his eyes for a second, and then suddenly he was waking to find his dad frowning down at him. He sat up with a jolt, his neck stiff from the chair, his mind still reeling from the dream. He blinked the dark images away.

“You’ve been here all night,” said his dad, stating the obvious.

“I started working on something and lost track of time. I meant to come home when I finished, but I guess that, well, I must’ve fallen asleep. I usually don’t go to sleep so easily.”

Robert glanced at the almost empty bottle of whisky. “Looks like you had some help.”

“Sorry about that. I needed something to keep me going. You don’t mind, do you?”

“That depends. What were you working on?”

“I went through the balance-sheet accounts to look for any possible savings.”

Robert’s frown gathered intensity. “And what did you find?”

“It’s not rising supply costs or even lack of orders that’s killing us, it’s overheads. You see, overheads accumulate on companies the way barnacles accumulate on the hull of a ship. And, from time to time, they need to be scrapped off, just as barnacles need-”

“Enough of the business-school stuff,” broke in Robert. “Get to the point.”