His Other Life

‘Hi Julia. It’s Grace.’

‘Oh. Grace.’ Definite disappointment.

‘Listen, I’m sorry I’ve taken so long to ring you. I’ve just been a bit … Well, you know. How are you doing?’

There’s a very brief pause as Julia processes the fact that it’s not Adam on the phone, or the police, or anyone with any information about what’s happened to him or where he is. Then she takes a deep breath in, and starts to speak, and what she says next disturbs me almost as much as Leon.

‘Oh, love, it’s so kind of you to ring. It’s so terrible, isn’t it, this whole thing? I just can’t … I just can’t think … But listen, Grace, I’ve had an idea. About three this morning, I’m sitting in the kitchen, OK, and I’m trying to work out the answers to the crossword, only the coffee time one, I never get the hang of those cryptic ones, they don’t make sense, do they? And of course the neighbour’s dog is barking – must have been shut outside again. I hate that, drives me totally bananas. On and on it went, bark bark bark, and then the occasional howl. Poor thing. Good job I was awake anyway, otherwise it would’ve woken me up. Anyway, it goes on and on and suddenly it starts to sound different, not like barking any more but more like someone whispering to me, over and over, I’m here, I’m here, I’m here. What do you make of that?’

This is the most she’s ever said to me. My ears are thinking, ‘Hang on a minute, we weren’t ready, can you start again?’ I blink. ‘Um, well, I don’t …’

‘It must have been Adam! Mustn’t it? I was thinking, you know, that it was probably definitely him, wasn’t it, trying to contact me, don’t you think? From the other side, or wherever he is, I mean. Because of course he would try to get in touch, wouldn’t he, if he could. He’d definitely try and contact me, I know he would. I’m his mum after all, aren’t I?’

I can’t answer for a few moments. There are so many things about this outburst that have surprised me, I’m not sure which one to react to first. She called me ‘love’. She thinks Adam’s dead. She’s not sleeping. She thought she heard Adam trying to contact her in a dog’s bark. She thinks Adam’s dead.

‘Julia, he’s not even dead.’

There’s a brief pause during which I can hear pages turning, or paper shuffling. Sounds like she’s looking through a newspaper. ‘Oh, my love, no, no, no, I know that. It’s just we have to, you know, consider every alternative, don’t we? I mean, if he did try to contact me, somehow, from wherever he’s been taken, I’d want to try and get back in touch, you know, to try and find out what … or who … you know …’

Ginger appears suddenly in the doorway and gestures at the phone, making ‘Who’s that?’ movements.

I mouth ‘Julia’ at her, and roll my eyes. She grins and makes drinking motions with her hand, then crosses her eyes and sways. I shake my head and look away. Ginger’s theory for Julia’s erratic behaviour is that she’s an alcoholic, or a drug-oholic, or sniffs glue or marker pens or air freshener. I don’t agree. Well, I’m not sure what I think, but I’m pretty sure I don’t think it’s stimulants.

I remember my birthday last year, when we’d all gone out for a meal. Ginger was completely psyched-up about seeing what Julia was likely to get up to, and arrived at the restaurant in a high state of anticipatory tension. She kept looking around for Julia, longing for her to arrive, wondering when she would. She had brought Fletch along, of course, and they were being loud and demonstrably loving with each other, in a mutually abusive kind of way. Adam and Fletch always seemed to get on, in the way that men whose girlfriends are close are forced to. Adam used to smile and nod and clutch Fletch’s shoulder, but I’d sometimes wished he’d join in with their banter a bit more.

‘All right buddy!’ Fletch always said when he and Adam met. ‘Still alive then?’

‘Hello, Fletch. How’s things?’

‘Living the dream, man. Doesn’t get much better, does it, eh?’

‘Damn straight,’ Ginger cut in at this point, punching Fletch’s arm. ‘Just remind yourself every ten minutes how bloody lucky you are, you snivelling wretch.’

‘Gotta love her, the whore,’ Fletch said with an affectionate smile.

We were in the Harvester because it was simple food with large tables, not too intimate. The four parents sat together at one end of the table, while we four youngsters sat at the other end. Adam and I were in the middle, effectively screening his parents from Ginger and Fletch. A sour expression had appeared on Ray’s face the second he’d heard the night before that Fletch was going to be there, and now that he could see him, it was only getting worse. His hands were starting to fist-up, probably without him even realising it. Ray watched Fletch; I watched Ray; Ginger watched Julia. Fletch and Adam, oblivious to all of it, had a conversation about Arsenal.

The reason behind Ray’s hostility was that the first time Julia had met Fletch, something very odd and uncomfortable had happened. It was another occasion, someone’s birthday – probably Adam’s – and he’d brought Ginge and Fletch over to where Julia was standing, to introduce them. Julia had not even acknowledged Ginger. She had kept her gaze firmly locked on Fletch’s face the entire time. And as Adam had said, ‘This is Gracie’s friend, Fletcher’, she had sidled in very close to Fletch and put her hand on his chest.

‘Fletcher,’ she had breathed huskily. Fletch’s head had moved back almost imperceptibly. ‘It’s so very lovely to meet you.’ She had put her nose even closer, practically touching the skin at Fletch’s neck, and had taken a deep breath in through her nose. ‘Mmm, you smell lovely.’ She hadn’t moved then for another four or five seconds, but had carried on staring straight at Fletch’s neck, which was just about at eye level for her, lost in some kind of trance. Or overpowered by his liberal use of Lynx. Ginger and I glanced at each other, wondering what to do, and I remember the panicked look in poor Fletch’s eyes, like a small animal in a snare. He thought he was going to be consumed. Eventually, Ginger pulled on Fletcher’s arm, saying, ‘You can move, you know’, and Julia had wandered hazily away.

‘Oh my God, how gone was she?’ Ginger had stage whispered, then giggled. Adam had tried, unsuccessfully, to eviscerate her with his eyes, before stalking off after Julia.

So a few months later on my birthday, Ginge had been fidgety with interest, waiting to see what was going to happen. ‘Oh God, I hope she gets stoned again,’ she kept repeating, much to Fletch’s annoyance. ‘Oh shut up moaning, Fletcher. Don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy it.’

‘I fucking well didn’t,’ he snarled, and opened his mouth to elaborate on the awfulness of it all. Then closed it abruptly as Adam joined us.

‘What are you all talking about?’ he’d asked, taking his jacket off.

Ginger had grinned. ‘Remember on your birthday?’ she started, but I couldn’t let her continue.

‘Yeah, remember that delicious tiramisu I had?’ I cut in. ‘I was just wondering if they did anything like that here.’

Ginger had frowned at me, but I ignored it. Talking about Adam’s family was completely off the agenda. Particularly his mother. I didn’t need that lesson twice.

‘Um, Julia,’ I start now, not because I have anything at all to add to this awkward rambling, but just to cut her off so I can ring my own parents, ‘do you want me to pop round and see you both? Today? So we can talk about this properly?’

There’s a brief pause, then she’s off again. ‘Oh, yes, yes, it would be wonderful to see you, love. I want to talk to you about my idea, Ray won’t listen, he’s just gone into a trance, with his headphones on, you know, that’s his way of dealing with things. But he’ll definitely want to see you too. Yes, it will help to have you here. When are you coming?’

I close my eyes. I have never been to Julia and Ray’s place without Adam. In fact, I’ve never been in their company without him. I offered to go out of duty, really, and didn’t really expect her to take me up on it. She’s never shown much interest in me before. But at least we’ll have a good, solid conversation starter. ‘I’ll leave as soon as I can,’ I tell her. ‘Probably within an hour.’

After we’ve hung up, I realise I don’t have any means of getting there as my normal ride is currently languishing in Linton, so I sit down on the sofa next to Ginger, who is now glued to SpongeBob SquarePants.

‘Ginge, you’ve got to drive me.’

She turns to me with her thirteen-year-old’s face and says, ‘Why do I? And more to the point, where?’

‘I’ll tell you in the car. Come on, make yourself decent. You can use my toothbrush.’

Twenty minutes later, we’re pulling up outside the house. I had to drive in the end, as Ginger claimed to be too ill. We get out of the car slowly and carefully – Ginge with a poorly head, me with almost overwhelming reluctance – then stand together on the pavement for a few moments, trying to get up the nerve to go in. At least one of the people inside that house is going to be sympathetic to Adam’s position here, and I’m not sure I can stomach it.

‘Don’t just stand there like buffoons,’ Ray says suddenly from the front lawn, ‘come inside. Julia’s desperate to see you.’

We both start a little, neither of us having spotted the grown man standing right in front of us. We both greet him with a dutiful cheek-peck, and follow him in through the open front door. As we enter, I feel immense gratitude for the fact that Ginger is here with me. I’m not one of those selfless kinds of friends for whom a descent into hell is made more bearable by the knowledge that at least all their friends and loved ones are not there to endure it also. I need as many people around to support me as I can get.

Ray leads us into the living room, and there in front of us is Julia.

I’m shocked at the sight of her and find myself staring to take it all in. She’s absolutely immaculate. She is dressed smartly and conservatively as usual in navy trousers, a pale pink blouse and a navy and white patterned scarf looped loosely round her neck. Her hair is washed and smooth. Her make-up is flawless. Her hands, one on her chest, even have polish on the fingernails. There isn’t one thing out of place. I am absolutely staggered.

‘Hi Julia,’ I hear Ginge saying next to me as she moves forward to kiss Julia’s cheek and give her a brief hug. Oh, yes, good idea. Can’t believe I didn’t do that first.

‘Hi Julia,’ I say then, and move in to repeat Ginger’s actions. ‘How are you doing? You look very well.’

‘Oh I’m not well, Gracie, I’m not at all well. How could I possibly be? I’m a complete wreck.’

She really isn’t. ‘Oh dear …’

‘Well what did you expect? Of course I’m going to be a mess, my only son has disappeared off to who knows where, probably dead in a ditch somewhere, or dying, panting his last breath right now, this very second, wishing his mummy would just come and get him and take him home.’

‘Now what would you two girls like to drink?’ Ray cuts in jovially at this point and we both turn to find him grinning in the doorway. ‘Tea? Or something stronger?’

‘I’ll have one, Raymond,’ Julia replies, and I notice for the first time that the hand not pressed dramatically to her chest is wrapped firmly around a glass. She holds it out to Ray. ‘Water please.’

Ginger glances at me as if to say, ‘Water? Really?’ but I think that’s unfair. Julia’s had a terrible shock and anyway it could well be water. I turn to Ray gratefully. ‘A cuppa would be lovely, thanks Ray.’ I go over to the sofa to sit down, and thankfully both Ginger and Julia follow suit.

‘I’ve not been sleeping, I’ve not been eating, I must look like skin and bone by now,’ Julia announces. ‘I must look like absolute death.’

Ginger and I both make the soothing sounds of denial, while discreetly taking in Julia’s healthy, fresh-faced youthfulness and groomed coiffure.