Page 73 of The Truth About You and Me
I order a Heineken Zero, even though I know I won’t be staying, and broach the subject of the night that changed my life.
‘Sorry, mate, I barely remember last Friday let alone a year ago.’
‘Are there any regulars? Smokers who might have seen something?’
‘There’s Frank?’ He nods over to a man sitting in the corner, weathered skin, blue woolly hat pulled over his ears. ‘Frank!’ he bellows. ‘Fella wants a word!’
‘Cheers,’ I say, tapping my card as Frank makes his way through the throng.
I put out my hand. ‘Jack.’
‘What can I do you for, Jack?’
I explain what happened and ask if he remembers that night. ‘Anything at all might help,’ I prompt as the creases in his forehead furrow. ‘Sorry, lad, nothing springs to mind.’
‘Not to worry, it was a long shot. But if you do remember anything, could you give me a call?’ I ask the barman for a piece of paper and a pen and scribble down what I hope is my name and number.
‘Will do. Good luck, I hope you find the answers you’re looking for.’
I ask a few more people, but no dice, and exit the pub scanning the bench to where Maggie is sitting, pink fur collar pulled up against the cooling sea air.
‘Hey.’ She smiles looking up and pocketing her phone. ‘Anything?’
‘Nope,’ I say with a sigh.
Her shoulders slump. ‘I’ve been googling the newspapers again. There was a robbery that night but that was a few towns over.’
I’m hit again by how much that means to me, that she would sit outside in the cold, trying to help me find the answers I need. My stomach rumbles.
‘Fancy grabbing something to eat? There’s a place not far. It’s usually quiet…’
A siren goes off in the distance, a fire engine or ambulance. Flashes of memory fire into my subconscious: blue lights, someone asking what my name is, then a flash of something red. Red hair. Long and flowing, caught on the air. I look across the road, a deep groove forming between my eyes.
‘I think I remember something.’ I’m still, eyes darting to the left and right, my face tight in concentration. I take slow steps. Forward then backwards, eyes scanning the dark road opposite.
‘Jack?’
I crouch down, leaning my head to the left, narrowing my eyes, viewing the street from a different perspective. ‘I think…’ I stand back up, hand rubbing across my mouth. ‘There was a woman. With long red hair. Up ahead of me. I might be wrong but… it’s something?’ My voice is hopeful but edged with doubt.
‘Where?’ Maggie steps towards me.
‘I don’t know… She had long red hair, bright, like fire engine red. It was blowing out behind her.’
‘Maybe you hooked up with someone?’
I laugh, shake my head, holding up my hand and tapping my ring finger. ‘I was engaged, remember?’
‘Right. Yeah, sorry. Anything else?’
I shake my head. ‘No. That’s it.’
‘Should we go to the police? They might reopen your case?’
‘Maybe? Let’s wait until I have something more solid. Let’s go eat. I can’t think on an empty stomach.’
I lead us towards the American Diner in town: red leather stools along the bar, separate booths, jukebox that only stocks fifties music. I think Maggie will appreciate the vibe.
‘May I?’ I hold out my hand. She hesitates, looking down.
