There wasn’t much that Karen could say. It seemed likely that however much Alex Penrith and Andrew Dyer had loved each other, wherever the relationship might have gone, Alex’s parents viewed it as little more than an inconsequential crush. Right or wrong, there wasn’t much to be said about it all these years later.
‘Do you know what? They never even let me see the body.’ His face was twisted with torment as he spoke, the hurt and impotence of his younger self etched over the veneer of confidence and success. ‘I pleaded – I fucking begged those people to let me say goodbye to her. I may as well have saved my breath. They were cold as stone, deaf as stone too.’
Instinctively, Karen reached out again. This time she took his hand, trying to offer a little bit of comfort where she knew that no words would assist.
‘God … I’m being ridiculous.’ He took a shuddering breath. ‘It’s been years since I talked about this stuff – seeing that picture, out of the blue like that – it’s just opened the wound again.’
‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have …’
‘No, no, it’s not your fault. I’m glad you brought it.’
As she looked at his shaking shoulders and pained expression, she wondered if he’d done so well not in spite of that awful early experience, but rather because of it. Perhaps all of his life since that time had been about making sure he would never feel so desperately powerless again.
‘I wish you hadn’t had to go through all that, Andrew.’
‘Well, it’s in the past now, isn’t it? But maybe it helps you to understand why I’d love to have hope. God, if you could bring Alex back to me, I’d give you the world on a plate. But no one can, Karen.’
She didn’t try to contradict him; she didn’t say anything at all. She just kept her hand on his arm whilst he stared ruefully down at the table. It was a moment of stillness, an accidental intimacy that would evaporate soon enough. Her thoughts, though, were anything but still. The image of the closed coffin, laden with white lilies, remained as crisp as the day she had first seen it. But if Andrew hadn’t seen the body, then how did she know anyone else had? What if there was more to Alex’s parents’ mistreatment of him than an oversight on the part of a grieving couple who’d never thought that much of him anyway?
The waitress arrived to clear away the starters that they had barely touched and returned a minute or two later with steaming bowls of curry and rice. With a slight reluctance, Karen pulled her arm away. Andrew gave her an apologetic smile.
‘We should talk about something else, probably?’
She nodded but busied herself with the food instead. Her mind was still whirling with possibilities. What if Alex’s death had actually been some sort of staged disappearing act? Perhaps she’d been recruited into some shady branch of the secret service. Unlikely, perhaps, but not impossible; after all, it had been the height of the Cold War back then, and Cambridge was a prime recruiting ground for all that stuff, wasn’t it? She glanced at Andrew, whose plate remained empty, his gaze heavy and settled in the middle distance. She had enough tact to realise that now was not the time to share her theories.
‘Do you want some of this? It smells fantastic.’
‘Yes, thanks, sorry, I think I drifted off a bit.’
‘So, business good?’
‘Busy, but good, yes. We’re opening more bricks-and-mortar stores, and we’ve got a small operation setting up in Canada as a precursor to trying to get into the US market. Don’t get me started though, we’ll both end up bored witless. How’s life with you?’
‘Oh, same as ever. Evie’s at university now – you probably knew that – she’s doing law at Brighton and networking and CV-building like crazy. They don’t just drink and piss about like we did, you know! Tash and Callie are fine, just glued to their phones all day like all teenagers.’
‘And what about Karen?’
‘Me? Well …’ For a moment she thought about telling the truth. That it scared her how quickly Evie had adjusted to life away from home, how little she seemed to need her mother and how soon Tash and Callie would be off down the same road. That she had money worries because the nice financial adviser she’d been paying to manage the payouts from prudent Jonathan’s various insurance products and investments was turning out to be not so nice after all. That she was approaching fifty and contemplating the rest of her life on her own and finding it bothered her much more now than it had ten years ago. ‘Well, I’m planning my fiftieth. I’ve decided to have a bit of a party.’
He smiled, his first genuine, untarnished smile of the evening. ‘That’s brave. I just had a skiing weekend with a couple of mates and we drank champagne and cognac in a bar where they played Edith Piaf on a loop.’
‘Did it end in tears?’
‘Absolutely. We got so emotional we slept in the next day and missed the surprise skidoo trip they’d booked for my birthday present.’
She had to laugh. ‘Why don’t you come to my party? I’m having it in the garden at home. I can’t promise cognac, Edith Piaf or skidoos, but there will definitely be champagne.’
‘Well, that would be nice, thank you.’
They checked the dates and he made a note in his calendar. It had been a spur-of-the-moment thought – the party guests were mainly local couples. With three kids and big age gaps she’d met a lot of school mums over the years. But there were a few friends she’d met as work colleagues in a previous life, some book club members and the odd neighbour.
‘Feel free to bring someone; the more the merrier.’
‘I’ll have a think about that. I’m looking forward to it.’
They chatted easily as they finished the meal, staying away from the subject of Alex and university. After coffees, Andrew offered to call her a car, explaining that he was going back to the office to pick up a few things first. She was impressed by the sleek new Mercedes that turned up, and even more impressed when she got back to Twickenham and it transpired that the journey had been paid for on his company’s account.
He’d said if someone could bring Alex back, he’d give them the world on a plate. What if Alex was out there somewhere? And what if Karen could be the one to find her?
Misty
1987
Misty’s little room faced east and had thin curtains. Every morning the sun woke her up slowly, and she basked in the joy of no longer sharing a room with a twelve-year-old boy who emitted constant noise whether awake or asleep. Those sleepy, early moments were her one oasis of calm and she treasured them.
The university didn’t believe in easing you in. The work rate was punishing and the speed at which you were expected to grasp things dizzying. Thank God she’d found Alex. Alex was chilled about everything. She always knew how to get an extension or which lecturers
