you’re his mum, but he’s turned himself in and that’ll count for him. I understand where you’re coming from, love, but you can’t help him this time, all right?’
‘I did it.’ My mother’s voice was quiet and high and trembling. She turned to me, her eyes desperate. ‘Tell them, Nicky. I was out, wasn’t I, at that time? I don’t have a whatsit, an alibi, do I? Tell them.’
I was crying so much I couldn’t speak. I collapsed against her, sobbing into her chest.
‘We’ve spoken to his partner, Tracy Adams,’ the policewoman went on. ‘She said you went to see your son, but that when he wasn’t there, you came home. She says that was around 9 p.m. Can you confirm that for us, Mrs Watson?’
My mother nodded. ‘Yes. But then after that I killed Barry. You can’t take my son. He’s just a boy. He’s had a lot to deal with. He’s … he’s not well.’
The policewoman was still on her haunches. She nodded, her brow set in sympathy. ‘If you’ll just come with us, we’ll take a statement. Do you think you can do that, Mrs Watson?’
‘Can you wait a moment? I need to make a phone call.’
The policewoman helped my mother up. I watched her stagger into the hallway.
‘Please,’ I said to the policeman. ‘Sit down.’
‘Hello.’ My mother’s voice came from the hallway. ‘I need to put in an emergency call. To Jim MacKay. He’s offshore.’
We waited. Minutes passed.
‘You can come to the station with your mum,’ the policewoman said.
The carriage clock on the mantelpiece struck quarter past. I met the policewoman’s eye and she smiled her sympathy at me.
‘Won’t be long,’ my mother called through, then an urgent ‘Hello? Hello, yes. Jim, yes.’ Her voice lowered to a whisper, but still we heard everything she said. ‘No, I’m OK, I’m all right, I’m … It’s our Graham. Jim, listen. Graham’s been arrested. They’re saying he’s killed someone. Can you come? Can you come, please?’
* * *
It was no use. My mother could not protect Graham from justice. The evidence against him was overwhelming. It seems to me now that my brother was always heading for that moment, that his tumbling towards it was unstoppable from the moment we left my father. It was my father’s legacy: damage, seen and unseen, bruises and broken bones, physical pain and mental chaos.
I visited him in prison, but he was taciturn and I always left discouraged. The third or fourth time I went to see him inside, he told me not to come back.
‘I’ll see you when I get out,’ he said, realising that he’d upset me. ‘G-go and s-study, will you? That’s all I want you to do, all right? You have to. Otherwise there’s no p-point in any of this. I d-don’t want you to be c-coming here all the time. I’ve got nothing to t-tell you.’
‘But that doesn’t mean—’
‘N-Nick, listen. L-listen to me.’ He took both my hands in his. His grip was tight. ‘Y-you better make something of yourself, all right? Otherwise, it’s all just …’ He looked about him, his mouth strange with anxiety. ‘P-promise me. Promise me you’ll g-get a g-good job, yeah? Make p-plenty of m-money. Make shitloads. Look after Mum.’
I nodded, blew my nose. ‘All right.’
‘I’ll see you when I get out, yeah?’
‘Will you talk to someone?’
He shook his head. ‘I’ve g-got n-nothing to say.’
‘Well if you won’t talk to me or Mum, talk to someone in here. There must be a counsellor or someone. There must be someone who can help you. If you don’t come out a …’ I almost said better but caught the word just in time, ‘a more peaceful person, then this has all been for nothing, hasn’t it? So I’ll keep up my side if you keep up yours.’
He shrugged. ‘Up yours.’
‘Don’t joke, Graham. You can’t joke your way out of everything in life. Just talk to someone. Or I … I won’t stop visiting. I’ll make this trip every week and I’ll probably fail everything.’ I forced him to meet my eye. ‘Gray? Promise me. Then it’s fair.’
He rolled his eyes. ‘All right. P-promise.’
Forty-Seven
Richard
1993
Graham rubs his face, scrubbing at an imaginary mark that, it seems, will never come off. His eyes shine, but he rubs at them too with the same gruff sweeping motion. ‘Have you ever done anything you really regret?’
Richard feels for his Bible. ‘Yes.’ He wonders whether he should tell Graham how he let a girl believe in him for years, didn’t