and swearing that meant Jason was searching the kitchen drawers. This went on for about thirty seconds and then I heard him stomping back into the hall.
‘They’re not in the bowl where I always leave them.’
I tensed, ready for the line I knew was coming next.
‘Have you moved them?’
‘No.’ I kept my voice neutral. ‘Have you checked your jeans pocket?’
‘You must have,’ he shouted, and then, a little bit quieter, as though he didn’t want me to hear. ‘You’re always tidying my things.’
Fortified for the day ahead in my black suede stilettos with the polished metal heels, I came down to find him in the living room, busy upending every drawer in the sideboard. Bottle-openers, packs of cards and bits of string littered the carpet.
‘You’d better put all that away when you’re done.’
He thrust his hands down the back of the sofa.
‘I’m sick of never being able to find things when I need them.’ When the sofa proved fruitless, he moved on to the armchair, flinging the cushions onto the floor.
‘Maybe I didn’t move your bloody keys. Maybe you put them somewhere. Maybe you hid them.’ Once I got started, the words rushed out of their own accord. ‘Because, let’s face it, when it comes to hiding things you’ve got a bit of a track record.’ I wanted to stop, but still, I kept going. ‘Where in the house is your Vicky folder stashed now Jason? Under the floorboards? In the loft? A metal safe only you can access using the secret combination?’
‘Careful,’ warned Jason. He came in close to where I stood and pushed his face into mine. ‘There are some things that, once you say them, you can’t take back.’
Heeding his threat, I stopped. I was already ten minutes late for my meet-up with Tommy. Every extra minute I stayed was an extra minute in which he might bang on the door and make good on his threat to tell Jason everything. I wanted to go, but this exchange, this argument, seemed to have levered open a tiny chink in the dam. A gap through which, given half a chance, all things unsaid could escape. It felt like an opportunity.
‘Who is Danny?’
‘What?’ The change in topic threw him. His anger collapsed into confusion. But then half a second later I saw his eye twitch. Fear. His brain had yet to catch up with what his body already knew. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘I heard you. The other night. You and Vicky. You were watching old videos together.’
He floundered, reaching for what he and Vicky might have said.
‘There’s nothing to tell.’
‘It didn’t sound like nothing.’
‘You’re poking your nose into things you don’t understand,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘It’s none of your business.’
‘What is it she wants you two to come clean about? And to whom?’
He went to leave the room. Sick of his evasion tactics, I pushed in alongside him, making sure to get to the door first.
‘Stop bullshitting.’ I blocked his way. ‘Tell me – tell me right now.’ I pulled out the only threat in my arsenal. ‘Or I’ll go and ask Vicky myself.’
He took a step back, shocked.
‘You really want to do this? Then let’s do this.’ He looked to the floor, his bravado gone. ‘Vicky had an affair.’
‘She what?’ This I hadn’t expected.
‘A bloke I worked with. Danny.’ He said the man’s name through gritted teeth.
I was so lost for words I couldn’t even formulate a question, but he continued.
‘She realised she was pregnant the day Barney went missing.’ He shook his head, a reluctant surrender. ‘She drove over to Danny’s house that morning. She went to tell him it was over.’
I thought of all the times he’d recounted the events of that day. The idyllic scene with the dippy egg and soldiers in the kitchen. The way Barney had bounced on their bed, blowing raspberries.
‘Danny didn’t take it well.’ He laughed bitterly. ‘After she’d gone he kept calling her on this pay-as-you-go he’d given her. Flashy shit. Thought he was the bee’s knees. Still does. He has this ridiculous tattoo on his back. A tree. The branches go all the way up to his neck.’
‘Did you know about this right from the beginning?’
He paused and looked me in the eye. He seemed to be deciding which answer to give.
‘Vicky was scared to tell me about it at first, about the baby.’
‘And then?’
‘A week or so after Barney had gone, she broke down. By that point the press had turned their crosshairs on us.