30
JACK
October 15 . . .
Nick Abraham’s mother, Sheila, had turned out to be difficult. No wonder her son had such an attitude. He’d learned from the best. She’d rambled on at length about how she’d welcomed Jen like her own daughter, but Jen had deceived all of them. What she’d done to them all, especially to Sheila . . .
Jack had pressed her for information concerning the time that Jen left Nick.
“I suppose we got off to a bad start. I tried so hard to make it up to her, but she wouldn’t have anything to do with me. I gave up in the end. There’s only so much you can do, isn’t there? I don’t know what she was thinking, but then, she didn’t know how easy she had it. How could she have walked out on my Nick?”
It was as though she was trying to say the right thing, but her words didn’t ring true. The concern didn’t show on her face. There was a meanness about her, from her small, piercing eyes and thin lips. The mean-spirited and bitter were always unhappy, Jack had observed over the years. Sheila Abraham was no exception.
“How well did you know Jen, Mrs. Abraham?” Jack tried to keep her focused. But Sheila Abraham clearly saw this as an opportunity to air her dirty washing in public.
“Well enough to see straight through her,” she snapped. “Oh, she could turn the charm on, but she didn’t fool me. Still, Nicholas sees that now. He’s better off without her.”
“Did you know Jen was pregnant?” Jack gritted his teeth. He had endless patience, more than most, but this woman was pushing even him.
“Yes.” She sniffed. “It would have been disastrous. She was too selfish to be a mother. Maybe it was God’s way . . .”
God’s way? Jack couldn’t believe what she was saying. “And what about her second pregnancy? Did you know about that?” He knew it was unlikely, but Jack couldn’t help himself. He watched with satisfaction as at last the vindictive Sheila Abraham was stunned into silence.
“I expect she made it up,” she said at last. “Don’t believe everything she tells you. She’s a schemer.”
Jack sat back, silent. Apart from the fact that he could see where her son’s less-than-charming personality came from, this was a complete waste of time. Sheila Abraham was one of those blinkered women who thought only about themselves.
* * *
It was his first formal meeting with Evie Sherman. He wasn’t sure whether to call her Jen or Evie. He wondered if she’d recognize him from when their paths had crossed while walking.
“Jack Bentley.” He held out a hand. Tentatively, she shook it. “I think we may sometimes walk in the same part of the woods. I live a couple of miles on the other side.”
She frowned at him, unsure.
“I’ve seen you at a distance. I walk with my black Labrador.”
“I’m sorry.” She shook her head.
Then, as her eyes met his, behind the fear and uncertainty, Jack saw something else. Physically she was fragile—there was no doubt about it—but inside, he sensed steel. Then, as he watched, it was as if the fog lifted momentarily from her imploded, uncertain world. Evie remembered something.
“She has a pony.” She turned agitatedly to Abbie. “Can I borrow your iPad?”
“Of course.” Abbie went out to the kitchen and came back with it. “Here.”
He watched as Evie fumbled. Abbie caught his eye, but Evie managed to Google and somehow find what she was looking for without too much trouble.
“You’ve clearly done this before,” Abbie said quietly.
Evie ignored her. “This is it.” Her hands were shaking slightly and her voice was animated as she passed the iPad back to Abbie so that she could see the image of the soft gray-brown toy with mournful eyes and a fluffy mane. “It’s exactly like this. Except Angel’s pony, called Pony, has only one ear.”
“I’ll make sure it gets passed on. Also . . .” Abbie hesitated. “Is there any chance you might have told Nick’s mother about Angel?”
“No.” The word came out instinctively. It was an honest, gut feeling, Jack noticed. His own experience of Sheila Abraham told him she wasn’t someone whom anyone would confide in. Evie seemed sure. “We didn’t talk. She never liked me. After Nick and I split up, she wouldn’t have wanted anything to do with me.”
“Do you know why?” Abbie was frowning.
Evie was silent for a moment. “I wondered if she was one of those jealous, possessive mothers. You know . . .” She glanced at Abbie, then at Jack. “The kind for whom no woman is ever good enough for their beloved son.”
It happened. Jack had come across a number of women who saw their son’s lover as a threat.
As the light seemed to go out in her eyes, Evie’s hands started to shake. “How do people do this?” Tears were rolling down her cheeks as she turned to Abbie.
Jack could see Abbie swallowing as she reached for Evie’s hand. “You hold on to hope. . . .” She looked at Jack, then back to Evie. “Really tight . . . because sometimes, it’s all you have.”
Jack could feel the strength in her words. As she spoke, he saw the expression on Evie’s face change.
“We’re doing all we can.” He spoke quietly, but with as much conviction as he could muster. “I know, right now it’s really hard.” He paused. “You have all these memories coming back, and a lot of them don’t make sense, but you mustn’t let this incapacitate you. If you do, you won’t be able to help Angel.”
He watched Evie blinking at him. But Jack was right; he knew he was. She had to rise above this, the desperation, the agonizing worry, which didn’t go away, which wanted to cripple her, and somehow find the same strength he’d somehow found when Josh was in the car crash. The human spirit had an instinct for survival, even when it seemed impossible, when the world was crumbling around you. And only when she summoned that strength could she think clearly. Start to make sense of what was already coming back to her, to examine every detail she remembered of the minutiae of her life, before it was too late.
Evie got up and walked over to the window, where she seemed to be engaged in a battle with herself. Then she turned round to face us.
“Oh God . . .” She looked agitated again. “I don’t know if this will make sense, but I need to talk about Nick again.” She looked at Abbie. “This isn’t like before, when I talked to Charlotte.” She spoke fiercely, her body tight, as she stood there. “I can’t explain how, but I know it’s different. I need to tell you, Abbie . . . both of you”—she glanced at Jack—“everything I’m remembering right now, before I lose it again.”
They needed to let her talk. Jack could see how urgent this was for her, how frightened she was of losing it all again.
Glancing at Jack, Abbie nodded, then got up, reached into her bag for a notebook, then got her phone. “Do you mind if I record this, like last time?”
Relieved, Evie nodded.
“Right. And like before, if you want to stop at any time, just say.”
Evie waited for her to set the phone to record. “Where do I start?”
“You and Nick,” Abbie said. “How you met, where you lived, why you parted. Other people in your lives—like family or ex-lovers, anyone who might have been jealous of you. People who wanted to break you up.”