He stands back as we all lean in. Parts of the initials are missing, but we make out an M a C and an L.
‘It can’t be…’ I say, the words falling away. Inside my head, facts from his letters press against each other: my name, my address, new home, new job, love of history, the missing ring, the salad cream… the way it feels like he’s writing to me.I know you’ve got a soft spot for history, so here’s a bit of mine.‘It can’t be me… I wasn’t even born, but it—’ I lean forwards again. ‘Is it me?’
The tips of my fingers are grazing along the lines. I reach forward and pull away more old posters, paper clutched in my fist.
‘Let’s not go jumping to conclusions.’ Spence drags his hands through his hair but even though he’s trying to be the voice of reason, there is no denying the similarities between the woman looking off into the distance, into the future waiting for her. ‘It’s pretty worn and…’
‘I need to find him, Spence.’ I grab onto his forearm. He looks down then meets my eyes. ‘Was it me he…?’ I swallow, shaking my head, so many theories tumbling over my rational thoughts.
‘She just looks similar to you. That’s all.’
He’s right. It isimpossible.
So why does it feel like I’m looking at my own reflection?
14
MICHAEL
10 June 1985
I once heard that some folk interpret words in colour. Names and places come in different tones. If I were to describe the colour of my emotions right now, as I stand on the kerb facing a dilapidated concrete block of four garages on Pinewood Road, it’d be the brown inside the yogurt cup I use to wash the nib of my brushes. Murky as shite.
A blast of wind throws more dead leaves against the bottom of the building. It’s not a place that stands out; it’s more like the type of place you’d walk past and instantly forget. Easy to do, I reckon. I turn and look across the road. There is a neat park behind trimmed hedgerows: wide-open green fields, a large bridge hunched over the twist of the River Severn. Rich, tall trees, standing as proud as you like from dark, fertile soil. If this was Alice’s address, she’d have a right gorgeous view.
I turn back to the spot where her front door should be. Mildew and green moss are creeping up through the concrete base, the corrugated roof is rusting, the wind rattling through the gaps. There is a strange pull in the pit of my stomach, likeI’ve been here before. I shake the thought away. Places like this are all over the shop.
Kate kicks a clot of weeds with the toe of her trainers, her blonde curls escaping their ponytail.
‘I don’t understand…’ The address she gave me was wrong. I swallow down the lump of… what? Embarrassment? Failure?
‘Mike,’ Kate says, finally looking up and folding her arms. ‘I hate to say it, but…’
I unfold the chip paper from my pocket and squint at the number. ‘Maybe I read the number wrong?’ I hold the paper between us, the wind nipping the edges. ‘It could be a zero?’ Kate gives the paper a fleeting glance as I add, ‘or a six?’
Kate untangles a bolt of hair from the green plastic hoop of her earring, not replying.
I scan the rest of the street. There are houses further along the road, tall town houses with gable frontages and neat lawns. ‘She could have got the number wrong? She was only just about to move…’
Kate meets my eyes, chews the inside of her cheek. ‘Aye. Maybe. I say this knowing how wonderful you are, but could you have misread the signs?’ Her eyebrows rise in question. ‘You’ve had a tough time lately and, well, you’d had a few pints and, you know…’ She shrugs, trailing off.
My mind whirs as I shuffle through the memories of that night. I know what we had was real. Don’t I?
Alice’s handwriting stares up at me, the edges of each word precise and sharp, despite remembering the way the blue eyeliner was blunted on one side. I picture how the red polish of her nails caught the street light as she held it, her smile, the buzz of connection I’d felt. My eyes move from the electric blue of her address to the muted blue-grey metal shutters. Even if she was blowing me off, I have her ring. At the very least, I need to get that back to her.
I nod. ‘That’s as maybe, but I still have her ring. I need to return it.’ I ignore the look Kate gives me.
My eyes scan the houses up ahead and I begin walking.
‘Wait up!’ Kate follows me. ‘What are you doing?’ I nod towards the row of houses.
The thud of our feet mixes with the sound of leaves rustling in the trees. I look up at the first house. ‘I’m going to knock on some doors.’
‘Oh no…’ She snatches the paper from me. ‘You are not going to do that, Mike.’ Her eyes are wide as she folds the paper into her back pocket. ‘Do you know how creepy that is? You’ll be like that bloke inTaxi Driver.’
Her words stop me in my tracks. I drag my hands through my hair. Is that how she sees me right now? Obsessed? The thought is too hot to swallow down. What the hell is wrong with me?
‘You’re right.’ I let out a long breath.
