Page 58 of The Perfect Son
“For you,” she says, handing me the white wine. “After the day you’ve had I thought you might need it.”
“Thank you.” My fingers touch the green bottle. The glass is cold on my fingertips and I imagine the tang of citrus on my tongue and the heady hit of alcohol to my head.
“Fancy a glass now?” Shelley raises an eyebrow and grins.
“Er...” I pull a face. “I want to, but I don’t think it’s a good idea. I’m barely hanging on as it is. I doubt drinking wine will help.”
“You’re doing brilliantly, Tess,” Shelley says, wedging the wine in the fridge between two packets of cheese and a bag of spinach. “We’ll have this another time.”
“Thanks.”
Shelley turns, her eyes finding mine. “Are you all right? Has anything else happened since I left? I’ve been so worried. I wish I hadn’t left you.”
Me too, but I shake my head. “I’m fine. It was probably my imagination running away with me.”
I don’t believe it but it’s easier to pretend than to tell Shelley that I think it was Ian. I need to figure out what he is up to before I tell her, I decide, thinking of the doubt on Shelley’s face when I tried to show her the answerphone message. The one I’m now sure Ian deleted.
Shelley opens her mouth to say something more but for once I get there first. “I hope this will be OK.” I motion at the pan on the stove filled with heaps of yellow rice and meat and vegetables. “I’ve made too much. We’ll be eating it for weeks.”
“It smells lovely, and I’m so hungry it could taste like cardboard and I’d still eat it,” she jokes.
“Hey, what are you saying about my cooking?” I reply and we both smile.
“I’ll just go wash up quickly.” Shelley moves toward the door and slips into the hall.
The paella has stuck to the pan and it seems to take forever to scrape it off and stir it around on the low heat. Shelley hasn’t returned by the time it’s ready again. I don’t know what makes me go looking for her instead of just calling through the doorway, but I do.
I find Shelley upstairs, creeping out of Jamie’s room.
“What are you doing?” My voice is low, barely above a whisper, but Shelley jumps and turns to face me.
“Oh, I... I didn’t mean to intrude. I’m sorry, Tess. I thought I heard something.”
I push past Shelley and peer into Jamie’s room. Jamie’s bedside light is on and he’s flicking through hisWhere’s Wally?book. He looks up at me and smiles a beautiful smile.
The anger disappears and I realize how rude I must’ve sounded. “Sorry.” I sigh. “It’s just I’m a bit overprotective right now. Today has been a challenge.”
“It’s fine, Tess. Completely natural. I should’ve asked first.”
She rubs my arm and tears leak from my eyes. I’m so fed up with crying, Mark. I wish you were here right now.
Me too, Tessie. I love you.
“Come on,” Shelley says, “let’s go eat. Oh, before I forget,” she adds as I follow her down the stairs. “Your mum wanted me to tell you that she’s thinking of you and that she loves you.”
“Thanks. Maybe I’ll give her a call tomorrow.”
There’s a pause before Shelley speaks. “That’s a really good idea. I’m really pleased you’re feeling up to speaking to your mum. I know how draining it can be reassuring loved ones when you’re the one who needs reassuring.”
“Oh” is all I say. Shelley is right. Speaking to Mum will sap my energy, and I know I’ll feel guilty when I hear her voice. I used to visit every few weeks. Help around the house and take her out for lunch at a seafront café she likes. I don’t even have the capacity to think about how she’s doing, how she’s coping without my visits. “Maybe next week,” I add.
I should call Sam too. I can’t remember the last time we spoke. I know my family are worried about me but I don’t know what to tell them.
Shelley squeezes my hand. “I’m here for you, whatever you need, OK?”
I nod and we sit down to eat.
Later, when Shelley has gone and the house feels like the loneliest place in the world, I wrap the duvet around myself and write in the notebook:Someone came into the house. Nothing taken. Were they looking for something? Did they find it? Will they come back? Answerphone message deleted—who did it? Why?
