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‘Unless she’s being difficult.’ Ralph flinches, then chuckles – as if reacting to a mild admonishment.
‘It’s nice that you do that.’
‘You don’t talk to … Claire? Is that your first wife’s name?’
As usual, when hearing it, Joseph feels like he’s plummeting into an abyss. ‘It was,’ he says. ‘And yeah, sometimes I do. But not often. And not in the same way.’
The older man nods. ‘You petition her, perhaps. Plead for help. When things aren’t going how they should.’
‘Something like that.’
Ralph joins him at the table. ‘Some might say that isn’t really a conversation. They might say it’s an appeal to a deity you’ve disguised as a loved one. They might tell you that a conversation has to flow in two directions, and for that you mustn’t simply talk, you must listen. Really listen.’
Joseph thinks of yesterday’s cemetery visit. How he’d managed to touch Claire’s headstone but not look.
Ralph smiles. ‘If it’s really Claire you seek, then it’s time you opened your ears to her, Joseph. It’s time you opened your eyes, too.’
Joseph clears his throat, tries to shake off the dreamlike mood that’s stolen over him. ‘Saturday night, at the party. We were talking about Erin’s intruder. I know it was a false alarm but it got me thinking about security, and then I remembered you offered to show me the ropes on your doorbell cam.’
‘I did,’ Ralph says. From the depths of his robe he retrieves his phone. Unlocking it, he opens the Nest app and angles the screen. ‘The camera’s idling right now. But if I press here, it’ll wake and show me the live view. See?’
Suddenly, Joseph’s looking at an astonishingly high-resolution image of his own house, from the perspective of Ralph’s front porch. ‘Wow,’ he says. ‘What’s the view like after dark?’
‘Great – it switches over to night vision. You can change the sensitivity trigger for what it records, but I like to keep it high – you’d be surprised at how much wildlife you get to see. When you want to check recent events, you just press here. Or, for a full history, here.’
‘Would you mind if I had a play around?’
‘Be my guest. Would you like some more shogayu?’
‘I’d love some.’
Ralph hands over his phone and gets up from the table. Joseph, recalling the instructions he researched on Claire’s iPhone, opens the app’s settings menu.
He tapsDelete video history. Then he tapsDeleteto confirm. It’s ridiculously easy, ridiculously quick. If what he read online is correct, Google don’t keep backups, which means the evidence on Ralph’s device has disappeared for good.
‘How strange,’ the widower says, from where he’s standing by the stove, ‘that we were only just talking about the importance of opening your eyes. And it turns out you came here seeking better ways of seeing.’
Actually, Joseph came here to prevent others from seeing, but he’s not going to argue the point. He jumps out of the app’s settings and back into the live view of his house. Thanks to the clock at the top of the screen, he’s able to note the exact moment that a police car pulls into his driveway.
THIRTY-FOUR
Paralysed with shock, Joseph remains at Ralph Erikson’s kitchen table. In the space of a breath his world has shrunk to the dimensions of a smartphone screen. He watches the police car’s front doors open and two officers step out. They stare at his house for a moment. Then they walk to the front door and ring the bell.
Joseph’s heart is a hummingbird in his chest. Vaguely, he hears his feet scrape against the terracotta tiles. Across the street, Erin opens the door. She stands there listening as the officers talk. Stepping back, she lets them into the house.
‘Your tea,’ Ralph Erikson says.
Joseph kills the live view and puts down the phone. Maybe, if Ralph doesn’t see the police car, the police car won’t exist. With shaking hands he picks up his mug and drinks. The shogayu is hot enough to burn his tongue. He winces, swallowing a scalding mouthful.
He could call Max, perhaps. They could jump into the car, drive to Crompton, empty the savings account of cash. From there they could go …somewhere.
Except Joseph’s car is boxed in. Even if they could release it, they wouldn’t evade capture for long.
‘I’m sorry,’ he tells Ralph, pushing up from the table. ‘Ijust remembered something important.’ When he tries to stand, his knee nearly gives out. The pain is instant and electric.
‘Well, I’m glad you chose to visit us,’ the older man says. ‘Perhaps we could do it again. Remember, Joseph: open your ears if you want to listen; open your eyes if you want to see.’
Smiling, wanting to puke, Joseph hobbles across the kitchen. He feels drunk, sick – as if the widower’s tea contained a toxin. He knows he has to get home, but he doesn’t know what to do when he gets there. Nor what to say.