been nothing. I felt myself still desperately trying to believe, despite all the evidence. Stupid of me. ‘And – Jake? She’s saying he’s Mike’s.’
Again, no surprise. ‘I suppose it makes sense. There wasn’t anyone else on the scene.’
I opened my mouth, wanting to ask had she always known or suspected that Mike was Jake’s father, and if so why she hadn’t told me, but I hadn’t the words. A noise at the door made Jodi swing her head; her jaw tightened. ‘Cal’s home.’
He came in with fanfare, slamming the door, slinging his jacket off on to a chair, kissing my cheek with a wet smack. I thought I smelled whisky on his breath. ‘Al, sweetheart, how you holding up?’ He rubbed my shoulder, and I was grateful for the contact.
‘Oh, not so good.’ I couldn’t face outlining it all for him again. Jodi had turned back to her Aga. ‘What about you guys? Exciting times, huh?’ I faked enthusiasm as best I could. ‘How do you feel about being a dad? Scary?’
‘Oh, Jod has a handle on all that.’
‘You’re a pretty big part of it too, Cal.’
‘Am I?’ He moved into the kitchen, nosing for food like a truffle pig.
‘Leave it,’ Jodi scolded.
I had the feeling this meetup was sliding away from me somehow. I took a deep breath. ‘There was a reason I wanted to talk to you guys. Karen came to see me the other night.’ Her name felt like glass in my mouth. ‘She mentioned something about Martha Rasby.’
Jodi was so slow these days. She turned in space like a gyroscope, a frown gently spreading over her face. ‘Martha? Why on earth . . . ?’
‘What did she say that for?’ Cal scooped an olive into his mouth, chewing the black flesh.
‘I don’t know. I guess because – what happened back then. When we had to talk to the police.’ I was choosing my words carefully, for myself more than anything else. I had to think about that night, the one more than twenty years ago, in very certain terms. Why I’d done it. I had to keep it clear in my head.
‘You mean like a threat?’ Cal frowned. ‘What did she even have to do with it?’
‘She . . . backed me up. About what I told them. Where Mike was that night.’ He was with her, maybe, when I’d lost him for those few hours, the ones I’d lied about. Not all the time, she’d said the other night. What did that mean?
Cal was picking at a sliver of olive in his teeth. ‘What can she say after all these years? Mikey was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. You helped him out, that’s all. I mean, Jesus, it was over twenty years ago!’
‘I bet Martha’s parents don’t see it that way,’ said Jodi, stacking plates. ‘They never found who did it, did they?’
‘No.’ But that wasn’t my fault. I’d just helped Mike avoid becoming a statistic. In the wrong place. No alibi. Last seen with her. Had I in reality helped cover up his cheating?
‘Sounds like Karen’s distraught,’ said Jodi. ‘I guess what happened, it brought back memories of all that. You remember?’
I remembered. I didn’t want to think about that pale hand, the white silk in the dirt. I turned instead to another worry. ‘Cal – did Mike ever talk to you about money?’ The two of them had stayed close since uni, meeting for lunch in town at least once a month. I’d felt jealous and cut off so many times, isolated in my country paradise. As if real life was going on somewhere without me.
Cal tore a hunk of pitta bread from the platter Jodi had set out, Parma ham draped artfully over olives, cheese, dips. She did everything so well. I thought of my abandoned, shattered party. The wine glasses filling up with rain. ‘Hmm. I don’t know. Something wrong?’
I told them about the money missing from the account, noticing the quick worried glance between them. My stomach fell. Maybe I was in worse trouble than I knew.
‘And you’ve no idea where it went?’ said Jodi, peering into her Le Creuset pot.
‘No. They’re saying the kids’ school fees haven’t been paid. I don’t know what I’m going to do.’
Another silence, in which I felt them communicating, as Mike and I had been able to do, through some kind of couple’s telepathy. The space between, the webbed bands that held us together. Maybe cut now, for ever. I