Page 30 of The Perfect Son
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I check the time on the phone display. It’s almost five thirty. Time to call the police. It’s dark in the room, pitch-black, but if I switch on the lamp then I’ll lose sight of the driveway and the lane, now barely visible in the last of the dusky light.
I’m just about to press the first nine when I hear the purr of a car engine pulling into the drive. I lean closer to the window and see Shelley behind the wheel of a white Mini with a black soft-top roof. Jamie’s smiling face is visible in the back.
Suddenly I’m shivering all over with relief, and maybe anger too. What was Shelley thinking?
The anger is gone the moment the side door crashes open and Jamie’s footsteps tap in the kitchen. “Mum,” he shouts. “We’re back. Can I play on the PlayStation?”
A gust of wind blows from the open side door as I race along the corridor, almost knocking straight into Jamie as I reach the kitchen.
“Hey, baby, did you have a good time?” My voice is shaky but I manage a smile.
He nods. His mouth is open a little and I can see his tongue touching his top tooth, wiggling it back and forth.
“Did you say thank you to Shelley?”
Before he can answer, Shelley bustles in with two bulging carrier bags in each hand. I step forward to help her and when I turn around Jamie is gone. A moment later I hear the familiar beep of the PlayStation powering into life.
“Was everything all right?” I ask, dumping a bag onto the worktop. A jar clonks from inside, and there’s a frozen pizza sticking out the top. Pepperoni—Jamie’s favorite.
“It was great. Just what I needed.” Shelley’s hair is scooped into a ponytail at the nape of her neck, and a few strands curl around her ears. Her skin is a shade paler without makeup, but her eyes are still large and vibrant and dancing with fun. “Once I got over how cold the pool was anyway.” She laughs, giving a little shiver as she slides the rest of the shopping onto the mottled beige worktop.
I swallow back my frustration before I dare to speak. “It’s just, I was expecting you back a while ago. I was starting to worry. You didn’t answer your phone,” I add, failing to keep a whine from my voice.
“Oh. I’m sure I said five-ish. I didn’t think it mattered too much.”
“Of course it matters,” I snap, my voice rising loud enough for Shelley to stop riffling through the bags and look at me. “You said three. I was starting to panic. All these thoughts were racing around my head. I thought something had happened. I was about to call the police.”
“Oh, crikey, Tess. I’m so sorry. I really didn’t think you’d mind. You looked so washed-out this morning, I thought you’d be resting. But look, I’m here now.” She takes my hand. Her skin is smooth and her hand seems half the size of my own, but it’s warm and I instantly feel better.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to panic you,” Shelley says, staring straight into my eyes. “I did try the home phone a few hours ago, just to see if there was anything in particular you wanted from the shops. When youdidn’t answer I thought you might still be sleeping. I couldn’t leave a message because your answerphone is full, and then my phone battery died. I meant to tell you about your answerphone yesterday.”
“Oh.” I swallow back the tears threatening to fall. “Sorry. You’re right. I’m overreacting. After all you’ve done this weekend, it’s me who should be sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. I’ve been exactly where you are, remember? The number of times I lashed out at Tim and my sister in those early days, well, it was a lot. I should’ve texted you or tried your mobile earlier before my battery died. I honestly thought you were sleeping, but let’s put it behind us.” She smiles. “I’ve got lots of food to keep you going. Why don’t you get started packing these away and I’ll put the kettle on.”
Shelley’s confidence, her breezy way, eases the knots strangling my insides. Jamie is safe. Nothing bad happened. It isn’t Shelley’s fault that I worry so much. I should’ve heard the home phone. I should’ve gone with them for a swim like Shelley suggested. Why didn’t I? I could’ve just sat on the side and watched. I didn’t even have to swim. Instead I spent the day shuffling around the house, my world in slow motion, lost in memories of us.
And now I’m not so sure Shelley did say three. Maybe she did say five. It’s not as though my recollection of this morning is rock-solid. Maybe it was just a mix-up.
“Oh, talking of last night, I forgot to tell you,” Shelley says, putting the kettle on to boil and grabbing two mugs from the draining board. “Your mum called your landline yesterday while you were asleep. I answered it so it wouldn’t wake you. She’s worried about you.”
I sigh, sliding a tin of baked beans into the cupboard. “It’s hard to speak to her right now. She wants me to say things are getting better, and I can’t do that.”
“I know. I explained that to her. We had a long chat actually. Shespoke about how hard it was for her when your dad died, and how she wants you to know that she understands what you’re going through.”
“She doesn’t.” The words slip out. My fingers close around the handle of the cupboard door. I squeeze it tight before slamming it shut. “Sorry, I know that’s an unfair thing to say, but she doesn’t. My dad died at sixty-seven. It isn’t the same.”
“She’s trying, Tess. There is no way to measure someone’s level of grief.”
I nod through a pang of guilt, feeling bad for not calling Mum, but resentful too. I know she doesn’t mean to make me feel guilty for not calling her, but I do and it isn’t fair. “I’ll call her.”
“It’s OK,” Shelley says. “I explained how you’ve been feeling and gave her my number. From now on she can call me when she wants to know how you’re doing, and you can call her whenever you’re ready.”
My throat tightens. Relief and sadness mingled into one claylike lump. “Thank you.”
“It’s nothing. I’m glad I can help. If there’s anyone else you don’t want to speak to I can talk to them for you. Here, have a cup of tea.”
