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‘All good. Have you seen him?’
‘I think Sally offered him extra hours this weekend. He must have left first thing. Oh – weird one. Have you seen the washing-up bowl? Or the dish scrubber?’
Joseph shrugs.
‘So why has he run off with them?’
‘Because … teenager?’ Tilly suggests, as if she isn’t one herself.
‘I’ll pick up replacements while I’m in town,’ Joseph says.
Erin pastes on a grin, again for her daughter’s benefit over his. ‘I think we’ve got enough teenagers. You’re going into Crompton?’
‘I need a new shirt,’ he tells her, because it’s the first explanation that enters his head.
‘New scent, new clothes. Did someone order me a Joe Carver Mark Two as an early birthday present? Don’t forget we’re hosting the neighbours tonight. You’re on barbecue duty.’
Joseph grimaces, because the party had completely slipped his mind, and because this endless charade in front of Tilly is exhausting. Glancing out of the window, thinking of his mother’s airless garage and the dead man wrapped in plastic, he asks, ‘What’s the forecast today?’
‘Hot,’ Erin says. ‘And I mean Death Valley hot. You might want some lotion if you’re going out – I don’t want you burning, and frightening away all our guests. You can collect my meat order from Samsons while you’re on the high street. Save me a trip.’
‘Can I get a lift into town with you, Axe Man?’ Tilly asks.
Right now, company is the last thing Joseph needs, but heknows he has to act normally – and normally he’d agree to his stepdaughter’s request without complaint.
Before they leave the house, he returns to his bedroom and closes the door. From the back of his wardrobe he retrieves the bereavement box he keeps there and places it on the bed. Holding his breath, he removes the lid.
When Joseph sees the first few items – Claire’s passport, a pair of her sunglasses, a battered copy ofPerfume, her favourite novel – emotions crash over him like breaking waves. He delves into the box regardless. His fingers press past old concert tickets, anniversary cards, a silk scarf. At the bottom he finds Claire’s iPhone, still in its sequinned case, which he slips into his pocket before returning the box to the cupboard.
He pauses there, closes his eyes. Is he doing the right thing? Last night, had the steady drip-feed of revelations affected his thinking? At first, he’d thought he was dealing with a tragic accident. Only as he was preparing to drive to Jack-O’-Lantern Woods and take responsibility had he learned that the dead man survived the initial impact, and that Max had intervened to cut short his suffering.
Would he have acted differently if he’d known that from the start? It’s not too late to change his mind about how he handles this.
Downstairs, still reeling from his encounter with the touchstones of his previous life, Joseph grabs his keys and calls to his stepdaughter that he’s leaving.
Crompton isn’t huge. A single high street intersected by two roads into which more shops and restaurants have spilled. There’s a roundabout at one end, a cenotaph at the other.
‘You can drop me at the Grind House,’ Tilly says. From her pocket she retrieves Max’s phone. ‘Guess whichmed-school-student-in-waiting forgot this when he left for work? Step-sis rides to the rescue as usual.’
‘You should have said. I could have saved you the trip.’
Tilly grins, shakes her head. ‘Leverage, dear Joseph. This way Max owes me a favour. Got to keep him sweet.’
‘For what?’
‘Free carrot cake, for a start.’
‘You’re your mother’s daughter.’
‘Naturellement.’
Joseph pulls up outside the coffee shop. Tilly unclips her seatbelt, hesitating with one hand on the door. ‘Joe?’
He glances over.
‘What you told Mum – is everything really OK? Last night I thought I heard … I don’t know. Were you and Max up late talking? Wasn’t he meant to be staying at a friend’s?’
Joseph reaches for the aircon, thinks better of it. ‘Just university chat. Everything’s fine.’