One Small Mistake(47)
I jump. The Nokia flies from my hand, hits the floor and skitters beneath the bed.
Jack is standing on the stairs.
‘Did you know this place was here?’ I ask.
‘Yeah, of course.’
‘How did I not know about a secret room?’
‘Didn’t know it was a secret.’
‘It was hidden behind a shelving unit!’
‘Not very well if you found it.’
He’s trying to be breezy, like it’s perfectly normal to have a secret basement room in your house. No different from having windows or light switches. ‘Jack, why didn’t I know about this place?’
He casually scratches the corner of his mouth with his thumb. Casually shoves his hands into his pockets. Casually makes his way further down the stairs. Only, there is nothing casual about Jack right now. He’s uncomfortable. Why is he uncomfortable?
‘Jack?’
‘I don’t like this room. Let’s go.’
‘Why?’
He looks away.
‘Why?’ I move closer to him, trying to catch his eye. ‘Jack?’
His jaw is clenched, his mouth is a hard line. He isn’t just uncomfortable. He’s tense. I lay a hand on his arm and he flinches, ever so slightly. Some of the tension creeps into my own body. I wait for him to open up because he won’t be pushed.
‘This is where I stayed whenever I came with Jeffrey. When it was just the two of us.’
‘Your Easter trips?’
He nods.
I always thought it odd that Jeffrey and Jack came away to Wisteria alone, but Mum said Kathryn insisted, claiming it was important they had time to bond.
‘Okay …’ I say gently. ‘But why would you sleep down here when there are several spare rooms in the house?’ I make a show of looking at the windowless walls and the basic furnishings. It pales in comparison to the lavish bedrooms above.
He suddenly looks very young and vulnerable. I reach out and take his hand.
‘I didn’t just sleep down here, Fray. I lived down here.’
‘But … why?’
‘It wasn’t a choice. The moment we arrived, he’d toss me down here.’
‘That doesn’t make sense. You went hiking and kayaking and had BBQs on the beach.’
He’s shaking his head. ‘Never happened.’
‘I saw the photos. Every trip you’d come back with photos. I saw them, I know I did.’
His laugh is mirthless and sends ice down my spine. ‘Yeah, a couple of hours before we’d leave for Crosshaven, Jeffrey would have me posing all over the place like some fucking catalogue model. Every photograph you saw was taken in one afternoon. He brought spare clothes, made me change over and over so it’d look like they were shot on different days.’
I stand with my mouth open, searching for words that don’t come. Anger and sorrow sludge their way in as I imagine that wiry, golden-haired boy I raced down to the little beach, banished to the basement.
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ I ask gently.
He shrugs. ‘Who wants to admit they’re that fucking unloved by their own father?’
We’re both quiet. I want to tell him that Jeffrey did love him, but we both know it’s probably a lie. ‘Kathryn – did she know?’
‘I told her. Once. Didn’t believe me. Thought I was making it up so I didn’t have to keep coming out here with him.’
Rage bubbles to the surface of me. ‘Seriously?’
‘She was in denial. She wanted Jeffrey to love me like he loved Charlie.’ There’s a quiver to his voice which makes my heart ache. ‘My father was smart; whenever we were around others after we’d come back from a trip, he’d be as nice to me as he was to Charlie. He kept it up for days after. He was so good at pretending even I started to forget what he’d done. I can’t blame my mother for believing him over me, not when he was such a good actor.’
Several times, Jack has compared the relationship I have with my parents to the one he has with his, but I think that’s to make himself feel better because it’s obvious he had it a thousand times worse.
I hug him tightly. ‘I’m sorry.’ It’s a weak offering, but it’s all I have.
‘Come on,’ he says, ‘let’s get out of here.’
He takes my hand and leads me up the narrow stairs. At the top, a thought leaves my brain on a breath. ‘What reason do you think Jeffrey had for not liking you?’
This is a question I’ve tentatively asked before, but, as usual, Jack becomes hard like granite. Then he turns side on to me and says, ‘Who knows what went on in his fucked-up brain in the years before he blew it out all over his office?’ He shrugs. ‘Crazy doesn’t deal in reason.’
He’s telling me a half-truth. I think he knows, or at the very least, has an idea. But I don’t push it. Not tonight.
Chapter Twenty-Three
19 Days Missing
Elodie Fray
The first time I kissed Jack was on the last day I saw Jeffrey Westwood alive.
We were at Jack’s house, sitting on the ledge outside his bedroom window, our bare feet dangling two storeys above the garden below. It was late, there were stars in the sky and the smokiness of a bonfire in the air.