Page 126 of Into the Dark
She sits up then, a wide smile. “I ’ave. I wrote to him in the army, and he wrote back. Took a while to hear from him as he was posted abroad—didn’t think he would—but then I got a letter in the mail.” She looks so happy about it that I gather it was a good letter. “We’ve talked on the phone, and he sends us emails and things. He lives in Florida now with his wife, an American girl he met in the army. They have five-year-old twins: Jacob and Jasper.”
Jake has nephews and a sister-in-law. Jake has a family. Caleb has cousins, aunts and uncles, grandparents. Our child has cousins, an uncle and aunt on Jake’s side. I feel extremely emotional about it. This was a good thing. Coming here and meeting with Susan, it was a good thing.
“Jon said Jake stopped replying to his letters, and when he tried again the letters got returned. He didn’t know what else to do,” she tells me.
“He only said that they lost touch.”
We’re both silent for a long time before she speaks again. “ He looks like he’s doing just fine. Looks like both of them did fine without me.”
I round on her again. Fine? A children’s home and prison and then some unsavory tutelage from one of the most dangerous men in London? Fine? If he turned out fine then it was in spite of all these things, tall odds stacked against him. He was forced to make difficult choices—choices she has no bloody clue about.
I get why to you I should have made different choices… Everything I’ve ever done, every bad choice I ever made, was worth it the night I met you…
My anger fades quickly, burning through me and out into the soft autumn breeze. I’m here to try to mend bridges, not build walls even stronger.
“Everyone needs a family around them—it’s how we learn how to love unconditionally,” I say, turning back to face the view. “I think he’ll be happy to know Jon tried to look for him.” I’m sure he will. I hope he will. “And he’ll be pleased to know he has nephews. They’re around Caleb’s age.”
Susan brightens again. “They look so much like Jake too. When he was a baby, beautiful blonde curls. He was such a beautiful baby was Jake.” She looks at me. “He’s still my baby in lots of ways, you know. I wanted to try to sort things a little with him before I went. And if I can’t sort it then I need to know he’s okay before I go.”
“Where are you going?” I turn to face her.
She takes a long, deep breath as she drinks in the view.
“I’m dying,” she says simply.
Since Freddy’s place is in Stratford it makes sense for me to pick Jake up and drive us there. It also means I don’t have to answer any questions about why I’m not drinking again.
I haven’t stopped thinking about Susan. Not just in relation to Jake and how I’m supposed to tell him his mother is dying, but the tragedy of it all. She’s still so young. Forty-seven is too young to die—far too young. Her cancer is progressive; they found it late and it’s spreading. It’ll spread further without the proffered radiotherapy, which she refused. She’ll have the surgery but not the rest, she said. Something about watching a favorite aunt lose her hair and strength only to wither and die anyway has haunted her for life. But I know as well as anyone that they need to try to shrink it with therapy first. Without treatment she’ll die. In just months, maybe. I consider whether, if by some miracle I do manage to change Jake’s mind, he can convince her to have the treatment she needs. It’s all a very large “if.” Because I have no clue if this new information will make any difference to him. Didn’t he say she’s already dead to him?
One thing has changed though: there’s now a time limit on this reconciliation I’m attempting.
I pull up outside Jake’s building and ring him to let him know I’m downstairs. He appears a few minutes later talking agitatedly into his phone. My tummy flips in the usual way it does at the sight of him. He opens the door but doesn’t get in right away, leaning on the door as he finishes his call.
“Yeah, I know. I’m seeing him tonight…now. Yeah, I doubt it. Okay, I have to go—” He hangs up and climbs in, stretching across the car to kiss me softly. He smells fresh and clean and tastes faintly of spiced apples. “Hey,” he whispers against my mouth. “Missed you.”
“Mmm, you too,” I reply. “How was your night with Caleb?”
“Good fun. He missed you too.” He rolls his eyes, but it’s playful. “Did you get your work stuff finished?”
“Most of it, yes. Reviewing applications isn’t fun though. Not when your mind isn’t on it.”
“Hmm. And what was your mind on?” He reaches out to stroke my thigh.
When I turn to flash a smile at him I let my eyes linger on his mouth for a moment or two in an attempt to convince him he was exactly what I was thinking of. Not his dying mother. Or his baby… “Wouldn’t you like to know, Lawrence? So, which way?”
Jake directs me via the Limehouse Link out of the center of town and then north toward Newham. The traffic is busy as we merge onto the A11, but we’re still pulling up to Freddy’s a lot sooner than I’d have liked. A large, well-designed property with a gated entrance, adjacent to an old church, greets us at the end of an affluent street lined with large, expensive-looking family cars. Freddy Ward, as well as looking like one, also lives in a street habituated by bank managers.
Freddy’s is by far the most ostentatious of the houses on Torrance Mews, just a short drive from Olympic Park. It could easily be featured in one of those home design programs—all angles, glass walls, and split-level living. It’s not my kind of house, but it’s impressive all the same. I can’t help but think of where the money came from to pay for it.
“Wow,” I remark as we pull up in front of the closed gate.
Jake grunts, unimpressed.
The gates begin to open as we near them, and he directs me to pull up in front of the double garage. Parked, we sit in the car silent for a few seconds, Jake staring up at the house, deep in thought.
“Are you worried?” I ask.
When he turns to me his face softens. “Nah. It’ll be fine.”