The Truth About Keeping Secrets(68)

He adjusted the rear-view mirror to get a look at her. ‘Not a good time? What the fuck does that mean? What’s a good time for you, then? Clearly what matters is what you find convenient. No. When you instigate a relationship’s demise, June, you don’t get a say any more. You have none.’

I had never heard him speak like this, to her, to us, some sort of evil villain garbage; my body hung uselessly from me, unfamiliar and heavy and clenching, my brain trying to reconcile all the memories with this new face behind them. I had told myself that knowing was going to make all of this easier. A name and a face were supposed to make me less afraid. But all the unknowns had been limited by my imagination, and the answer was scarier than I could ever have conceived.

‘Why am I here?’ I asked, in a futile attempt to exert some amount of influence over the situation.

‘We needed to talk. Obviously.’

What life June’s voice had lost, Heath’s seemed to have gained; there was something wired about it, too much of it, irrational and unpredictable and hooked.

‘OK. I’m listening.’

‘God. Where do I start?’ Heath tapped his fingers against the wheel impatiently. ‘I just – I take issue with the emotional cheating. You know? Of course I do. It’s not a compassionate thing to do. It’s dishonest, and almost worse than physical cheating – actually, strike that, it is worse, because sex doesn’t necessarily mean emotions have to be involved, but that’s definitely what’s happened between the two of you. Emotions. Right? It’s not compassionate. But neither is June wanting to call off a relationship when her partner is at his lowest point. It’s very selfish.’

Call off a relationship.

She’d broken up with him.

‘You’re wrong,’ June said.

Everything shook. Everything pulsed. The world flew past, all streetlights and raindrops, the wipers squealing. It seemed like it was all moving faster and faster and faster, and it hit me all at once, everything fitting together.

The air around Heath’s body seemed to go red. He’d sent the first text after the funeral, then after the cemetery. He stole her folder. Everything was too bright and too much and I had to say the words:

‘You did everything,’ I said. ‘It was all you.’

Heath didn’t even flinch. ‘Well, yes.’

With nowhere to go, the fear became almost claustrophobic; I felt like I’d been trapped in this car for a million years. Where even were we? I’d lived here my whole life but as the residential streets rushed past I had no idea where we even were. Where were we going? ‘What do you want, then?’ I said, purposely speaking from the back of my throat so the sound wouldn’t waver.

His grip tightened again. ‘I wanted to ask how it feels to know you’ve singlehandedly ruined everything. Because you have. None of this would be happening if it weren’t for you. Oh. And your fucking faggot of a dad.’

I clenched my teeth so hard I thought they might shatter.

Dad.

Dad.

The fear turned to anger and the anger to rage.

‘What did you do to him?’

Heath just laughed. He actually laughed.

I couldn’t move.

‘Nothing, you fucking moron. I didn’t do anything to him. Can’t say I was upset when I heard the news, though, but that’s not a crime.’

I dived. June stopped me before I could make contact, threw herself between me and him from the back seat. I wanted to beat that smug little smirk off his face. Everyone I’d ever watched die on the ToD now looked like Heath. It was Heath, getting hit by a train. Heath, leaping off a building, jump, gasp, splat. Heath, beheaded by ISIS. I didn’t even understand. I didn’t understand why he was saying any of this, so I replied with the only thing I knew: ‘You’re lying.’

June grabbed my arm, and I knew the pressure was too tight, too much, but the pain didn’t register. ‘Sydney.’ Her eyes caught mine and kept them in place. Relax, she mouthed.

Dad. Heath was lying. He had to be. ‘You’re fucking lying!’

‘Do not raise your voice.’

God, no, Dad. No, no, no, no. Someone had to be responsible. It was Heath and he had to admit it. Liar, liar, liar. This was the solution. It had to be, because if it wasn’t, then it was nothing; it was a completely senseless death orchestrated by nothing at all, that happened for no reason at all, just dumb fucking luck and fate and wrong-place-wrong-time, and I wouldn’t believe it, I couldn’t, because he wasn’t like the people on the ToD. He was Dad and he was too good for that. He was too fucking good to die in a heap of metal for no reason at all. I choked on the knot in my throat, pushed it down, down, down. ‘What does that even mean?’ I asked. ‘What did he do to you?’

‘Firstly, what did he do to June,’ Heath said. ‘He put fucking ludicrous ideas in her head. And it worked! Obviously it worked, and we’re all here now because you finished the job.’

‘I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ I said.

He looked at June in the rear-view mirror. ‘Sweetie, I genuinely don’t understand how you could have put up with someone so useless for so long. Christ, you didn’t just put up with her, you think she’s attractive.’

‘Stop it,’ she said.

‘Just admit it!’ He smacked the wheel with the palm of his hand. ‘Holy shit!’