Haven't They Grown(75)

‘I’d have thought you’d be disgusted, or furious,’ I say. ‘Georgina was only a tiny baby. I cut her out of a photograph of your family. She fell on the floor.’

‘So what?’ Lewis chuckles. ‘This was more than ten years ago. Whatever you did, you did it to a piece of paper, not to my daughter. I’d love to know why, though.’ He walks over to his desk, sits behind it, then uses it as a footstool, putting his feet up on a pile of glossy brochures.

I try to focus on his face, not the soles of his shoes. ‘When I saw the picture, I realised Flora had been pregnant and had a baby, and not told me. I took that as evidence of how little I mattered to her. The photo she sent was the first I knew of Georgina’s existence. I was upset, and I overreacted. Then I felt terrible about it. Flora found out I’d done it, which didn’t help our friendship, but that wasn’t the cause of the rift between us. That was something else.’

‘Was it a rift? Is that what it was?’ asks Lewis. ‘A rift sounds dramatic and exciting. You’re telling me a rift happened and I missed it? I’ll be honest: I always thought the root cause was envy.’

‘Because you suddenly had money? No. For a long time I thought it was the money that had changed things between us, but I was wrong.’

‘Then what was it?’

‘That’s what I’m waiting for you to tell me.’

‘Well … let’s see.’ He smiles conspiratorially, as if we’re both enjoying the game. ‘I’ve never cut up any photographs of your children.’

‘You know what I want you to tell me, Lewis.’

His face changes. The smile is gone. Now he’s staring at me earnestly, with sympathy in his eyes. ‘I think I do,’ he says. ‘I think you want a story that explains why you’ve seen Flora in England recently. The thing is, Beth, you can’t have. Flora hasn’t been in England. She’s been here, with her family. I don’t know who you saw, but it wasn’t her.’

‘Maybe I saw the woman who lives there now,’ I say.

‘Quite possibly.’

‘Jeanette Cater?’

‘I can’t remember her name, if it’s even the same family that we sold to.’

‘Don’t you remember Kevin and Jeanette Cater?’

‘Kevin Cater … Yes, I think that is who we sold to.’

‘You used to work with him.’

‘No, I didn’t.’

‘He worked at CEMA while you and Flora were there.’

‘Did he?’ Lewis looks mildly interested in this coincidence. ‘You could be right, but I didn’t know him. Flora might have. Beth, are you all right? You’re starting to worry me.’

‘I’m fine. Do you have a current photo of Georgina? I’d like to see one.’

‘Not with me, no.’

‘None on your phone?’

‘No.’

‘How come?’

‘Do you know about Georgina?’ Lewis asks. ‘I suppose you might have found out if you’ve been scouring the UK in search of Flora.’

‘What’s there to know?’

‘That she died,’ Lewis says simply. ‘Which … you knew. Okay. Did Flora’s parents tell you?’

‘Why did you lie to me? I asked you how old she was now and you said twelve.’

‘I didn’t want to discuss the death of my daughter with someone who’s not part of my life any more. My aim was to get on to a new subject as swiftly as possible. I miscalculated, clearly, because now we’re having the conversation I didn’t want to have, only face to face.’

No. He sounds so plausible, but it can’t be true. Or rather, what he’s told me so far might be true but he’s saying it to obscure the bigger truth, whatever that is. If he really had nothing to hide, why would he allow someone he hasn’t spoken to for twelve years to intrude into his morning with a barrage of strange questions? He wouldn’t. He’d ask me to leave.

‘I’m sorry Georgina died,’ I say.

‘Thank you. Me too.’ Lewis smiles sadly. ‘This game turned out to be less fun than I hoped it would be.’

‘Tell me the truth, Lewis. Please.’

‘I just have.’

‘The whole truth.’ I’m not scared to push him further. What’s he going to do, leap out of his chair and punch me? I’m assuming he cares what the people in this building think of him and so wouldn’t risk it. ‘If you and Flora are still married, why are there no photos of her on your Instagram? Why is she living with Kevin Cater in your old house, and calling herself Jeanette? Whose are the two children that live in that house? They’re yours and Flora’s, aren’t they? So why are they living with Kevin Cater? I’ve seen them, Lewis. I know you’re their father.’

‘Are you lonely, Beth?’

‘No. I’m not lonely at all.’

‘Are you fulfilled?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You’ve flown all the way from England to sit in my office and fire strange accusations at me. They do sound like accusations, whether that’s your intention or not – as if you’re a TV detective trying to crack a case. Which casts me in the role of “villain you’ve exposed, about to be locked up at Her Majesty’s pleasure”. In fact, I’m someone who’s done nothing wrong and who used to be your friend. Whose third child died tragically many years ago, and who didn’t and doesn’t want to talk about that with someone he’s no longer close to. There’s nothing in my life that justifies a manic interrogation, so … this has to be about whatever’s going on with you. I’m wondering if you’re okay.’