the trickiness of time. He thought they’d be able to fix things once enough time had passed. But time also had a way of running out.
Just like he was passing out, losing consciousness. His friend, not Matt, the other one – the darkness – embracing him.
Only to let go again in the middle of the night, the darkness outside almost matching the oblivion he was rising from. Waking up when he heard noises, sounds that his rational mind would have told him were people in the next room, or in the corridor …
Except, when he looked over into the corner of the room he thought he saw someone there. A shape.
‘Who …who’re …?’ he managed, but there was no reply. His hand, still wrapped around the practically empty bottle of whiskey, tightened its grip. If this was someone here to rob him, they’d really picked the wrong night.
However, as the figure moved closer, further into the room, he recognised its delicate features. A mixture of him and Jules, the figure holding out her hands – a different kind of darkness staining the middle of her chest. Opening her mouth, though he didn’t want to hear what she had to say:
‘You left me when I needed you the most. You left me …’
Not him putting words in her mouth now, but Julie’s from earlier, recycled.
‘You left me,’ she kept repeating over and over. ‘You left …’
Jake put his hands to his ears, still holding the bottle in one of them so that it stuck out at an odd angle. ‘No … No!’ he shouted, then when the voice wouldn’t stop, he threw the bottle at the opposite wall. But he couldn’t even get that right, and instead of smashing it just bounced off and hit the floor.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said for each accusation. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘You left, you left, you left …’
‘I know, I’m sorry.’
The darkness, or this darkness at least, wasn’t his friend at all. It was showing him things he really didn’t want to see. His dead daughter getting closer and closer, so close he could see marks on her outstretched arms, and imagine the knife there sticking out. There was no getting away from today, from the memories, nor from what had happened.
‘No … please God, no!’ The tears were finally coming now, thick and fast. There was no holding them back at all. ‘No, I’m sorry. I … I can make it up to you,’ Jake said quickly, as if that would will the vision away. ‘I … I can … I can be there for you now, sweetheart.’
What was he saying? How could he be there for her when she was lying in that cold drawer with all the other corpses. What help could he be now? What use?
But that was the thing, he hadn’t been around when she’d needed him; hadn’t been a real dad to her. Hadn’t been there in the run-up to this, nor on the night of the murder itself when he should have been protecting her. (how, how could he have done that? She would never have let him!) It was all getting tangled up in his drunken mind, her words, Julie’s words, his; all mixed up and jumbled.
Except for one thing – how he could do something now. How he could help … Not to save her, because it was way too late for that – was probably too late even before he walked out of that front door … But to get to the bottom of this, find out what happened. Perhaps even avenge her. No, back to that stupid image of a knight on a white horse, riding to the rescue … not rescue, not this time.
It was there, though, that germ of an idea. Something he could do that wouldn’t leave him feeling completely useless. Something he could … And almost immediately, the image of his daughter faded, and he felt more at peace than he had all day – than he had in a long while. The worst thing he could have possibly imagined had happened, he couldn’t do anything about that now – there was no winding back time. So, moving forward, he had to get his head around what had happened. Knew what he needed to do, even though the police, even though Matt, had told him they were doing everything they possibly could.
And that thought, the thought that there was something positive Jake could do, sent him off to sleep again. Gave him the oblivion he sought.
Made the darkness his friend once more.
Julie felt numb.
There was no other word for it, she was simply numb. Still cold from visiting the hospital, frozen solid: as if she’d brought some of it back with her. She was sitting there on the couch where she’d been since she returned, the FLO having made her a cup of tea which had also probably gone cold by now because she hadn’t even touched it.
She knew she shouldn’t be doing it, but she was going over and over the events of that day in her head. Like picking at a scab, except even if she left this one alone it would never, ever heal. And she felt cold, numb, like it hadn’t really happened to her but someone else.
Opening the door and seeing Matt there, a figure from the past. Then realising what it meant – some kind of trouble, definitely – and finally realising just how big that trouble was. Not being able to hold herself up, Greg catching her. Strong, solid. Supportive.
She just hadn’t been able to take it in, couldn’t believe it even as they were talking about it in that living room. Not their Jordan, it couldn’t be. They’d made a mistake. And Bobby? No … it couldn’t be. He’d seemed so …
And it had popped into her head at that point, his face. The other person who needed to know. No sooner had she asked whether he’d been informed than he was there, at the door and in the house. A ghost of relationships past.
Still as handsome as she remembered him, the man she’d fallen in love with when they were just kids themselves. Who she’d loved even when he walked out through that door after that final massive row that had broken everything. The row to end all rows, and she was glad of that at least because she was so, so tired of the circular arguments over Jordan. Why couldn’t he just see that she was going through what so many girls of her age went through? That one day it would all be over, she’d get her head together and they’d be the best of friends again? Instead of which, they’d hardly spoken to each other in all this time: so much wasted time. And now it was too late.
It was the reason he was there, standing in front of her. ‘Jake … Oh, Jake.’ She could barely get the words out, couldn’t make her voice work properly. All she’d wanted then was for him to take her in his arms and tell her it would all be okay, that it wasn’t really happening at all. That it had been a bad dream and they were still together and their daughter wasn’t really …
There’d been a moment when she thought he was actually going to move forwards and do that exact thing. But he wasn’t moving because of that, he was moving out of the way of her husband, who – quite rightly – was joining her. Who wanted to be with her for this, knew she’d be even more upset once Jake arrived. Greg was there, holding her close again, making sure she was all right. Probably wanted to make sure she didn’t keel over again.
Jake was doing the same thing as her, couldn’t believe what had happened – and it wasn’t long after that the accusations had begun, same as before. Interrogating her about Bobby, wanting to know what she was even doing out, for Christ’s sake! Like she was still a child. Why did everything always have to be her fault, Julie had thought. Jordan was a grown woman, she made her own decisions; had done for a long time, if Jake would just wake up and see it. Telling them they should have been vetting who Jordan saw? Absolutely bloody ridiculous!
Matt had done his best to referee, but her back had been up. She’d wondered then, and not for the first time, whether it was possible to love and hate someone at the same time. In equal amounts. ‘This is not my fault,’ she’d told Jake, locking eyes with him. But did she even believe that herself? Perhaps she should have been keeping a closer eye on her