‘Listen to this,’ said Stevie. In the darkness she rang the number the police had sent her, and replayed the message on speaker.
This is an AI-recorded message for Stevie Mason. This is the Metropolitan Police. You may have been affected by the presence of radioactive material at Toppings Pizza Restaurant on 16 May. You are required to remain isolated pending further advice. You may not socialize, other than with individuals who are also isolating. It is better to remain at home. Do not use public spaces, shops or public transport. If you live alone, please call the number at the end of this message for help with daily necessities.
They listened to the number and sat in the dark. ‘So that’s it for the wedding,’ Stevie said glumly.
‘Is that so bad?’ asked Kim gently. ‘Maybe you could do with a bit more thinking time before jumping into this?’
Stevie spoke softly in return. ‘When I told you about Roddy, I saw you hiding within yourself. I don’t know you well, Kim. I hope one day we do become, I don’t know, besties or whatever, at least mates. But I saw you hated him.’
‘I didn’t hate him!’ Kim protested. ‘But … I thought he was trying to change you, and I don’t want you to change.’ Stevie’s steady gaze gave her permission to say more. ‘Stevie, I was in a bad marriage. It was a shocker. I got black eyes and broken ribs and I learnt how to brace my shoulders so it hurt less when I got pushed into a wall. He always chose the same bit of wall, by the way. But that wasn’t even the most hurtful thing. What hurt me was constantly being told I was a piece of shit. Boobs too small, feet too big, can’t drive a car, having to tell him how I’m voting—’
‘It sounds like living in Saudi Arabia.’
‘That’s it! That’s what it was!’
‘Although I don’t think they have a problem with boob size over there.’
When they had finished laughing idiotically, laughing in the dark like naughty schoolgirls in a school dorm, Kim knew she had complete permission to speak.
‘That marriage ended for reasons you may not know. It didn’t end because I walked out. I’m a successful businesswoman, but I stayed because I couldn’t see the bottom line in my own life – a guy was screwing me up bigtime.’
Outside, the Sidmouth wind picked up, rattling the open window as if heading for Stevie to hear the response Kim wanted.
‘When we met at Nine Chairs and you told us you were marrying Roddy, he turned up and you became … someone who wasn’t you. I saw a little bit of me in you. The quietened, married me. “Quietened” – such a good word for what happens to a victim.’
‘Victim—?’
Kim was in full flow now, she was going all in, and Stevie’s barked objection would not stop her. ‘I wasn’t myself in my marriage. I want you to be yourself! And I know this will sound, Stevie, well, you’d probably say “weird as fuck”, but were you thinking you were lucky he fancied you?’
There was a long pause, so long that Kim wondered if she’d gone too far.
‘Yes,’ Stevie croaked at last. ‘Yes, I did feel fucking lucky. I wear an eyepatch, I have these burns, there’s my scoliosis that makes me five foot two with a spine like a letter “S”. And I can’t control my fucking gob. So yes, I’d say I’m lucky that I caught a di— a guy.’
‘Well, you’re wrong. He’s the one who’s “fucking lucky” – lucky to have a diamond like you. Lucky to have a princess who is going to be a queen one day. And if he can’t see his luck, if you can’t get married at the weekend—’
‘I howled when they told me.’
‘I know. Your mum said. But maybe this buys you some breathing space.’
‘And maybe you should mind your own business.’
‘And maybe I should go.’
A pause. In the darkness, Stevie began to cry.
‘Don’t go,’ she said. ‘You’re my only friend.’
Chapter Twenty-Six
Edward took the road home at midnight, thinking:That was the longest day of my life.On his moped in the dark he saw two missed calls from Kim. He pulled over at Pinn Cove and cut the engine. But when he called Kim her number went to voicemail. He guessed she had called when she was with Stevie, where the signal was intermittent. He said, ‘Been a long day. Let’s chat tomorrow. Apparently the army are coming down. Or – are they here already? I’ll be home in two mins.’
He slowed his bike at the approach to his house. The light from the moped swished left and right across the building like a prison camp beam, illuminating brickwork and leaning joists. Everywhere it fell revealed an imperfection – gaps in the brickwork, mildewed fascia boards, doors and windows that seemed to lean and tilt. In fact the whole house looked like a corkscrew, with six rooms downstairs, three above, two, then one at the top. The twist in the body of the building had been caused by the ground moving over years. The day had twisted like the house: Nina, Veitch, Jordan, the live show, the massive media pile-on. It was not his story any more, but he had been the first to break it.
Hadn’t he left a light on? Perhaps the electrics had gone again? God, he was so tired. He could sleep for a week. Tomorrow, Monday, there would be more of it.
There was a small, solar-powered downlight that registered movement screwed to the side wall of the house, and when it lit up he saw the side return was open. He was starting to get annoyed at the version of himself that had left the house the previous day. He had not been hurried; he could not excuse himself by saying he knew what the weekend would bring. All lights off, side door open? His pushbike was visible, and that would probably get a drug addict thirty quid for his next fix. He was asking to be burgled, and he was lucky no one had tried.
He pushed the moped’s kickstand downwards with his foot and left it on the drive, walking carefully forwards in the dark towards the downlight, as he removed his crash helmet. Now his ears were uncovered, he heard the distant whoosh of the sea. He had always told friends and family never to walk in the garden in darkness because you could easily go over the edge and kill yourself on the rocks below. He turned on his phone light to make sure he did not suffer that fate. The garden was supposed to last another hundred years, and then half of it had disappeared one afternoon, so he could not always be sure the lawn ended where he had left it in the morning.
