Andrew
Martine wanted to talk to them. She settled Val and Andrew in his parents’ living room.
‘One of the items we found on Jason was a bus ticket. We traced the bus that it was issued on and recovered CCTV footage.’ Martine spoke slowly, with a sing-song tone, as though they were children.
Val nodded, her mouth slightly ajar, tongue tucked into the side of her teeth, a familiar gesture of avid concentration, her eyes eager. She’d never had much patience, Andrew knew. She was quick and competent and swift to pass judgement. Her own strong work ethic, her fierce intelligence, her certainty meant she’d little time for people who floundered. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear; she was still lovely, he saw, even with the dark circles under her eyes and her hair tangled. She had a Nordic type of beauty, with her white-blonde hair, lightly tanned complexion, eyes a grey-blue like sea ice. He could sense her impatience singing in the air.
‘The investigating team have examined the tape, and it now appears that the incident began on the bus.’
‘What happened?’ Val demanded.
‘Three youths, matching the descriptions you have given us, can be seen behaving aggressively towards Luke Murray. This was on the lower deck. Jason, who was travelling upstairs, intervenes when he comes down to get off the bus.’
Val covered her mouth. Andrew swallowed.
‘At that point Jason was pushed away and Luke ran off the bus, followed by the three youths, and then Jason.’
‘Can you see who they are?’ Andrew asked, hope giving him a rush of energy. ‘You’ve got them on film.’
‘The images aren’t brilliant, but they will be a great help to us. We may be releasing stills along with the e-fits after the holiday.’
‘Why wait?’
‘People are away, the papers don’t come out Christmas Day and Boxing Day’s a Sunday. We want to maximize the impact, reach as many members of the public as we can. How are the arrangements coming?’
Andrew saw Val react to the clumsy change of topic, a little roll of her eyes and a blink before she replied. ‘Okay, thanks. Thursday the thirtieth at midday.’
Jason’s funeral.
They moved back home.
‘Stay till after Christmas,’ Andrew’s mother had begged. ‘You don’t want to be on your own.’
But Val was adamant. They went on Christmas Eve. Beforehand, Colin had spoken to Andrew, offering to make a visit, check the place out.
‘The chair.’ Andrew saw Jason tipping forward, the shocking stain glistening on the back of the armchair.
Colin blanched. ‘We’ll get rid of it. Check the fridge and that. Mum’s putting together some groceries.’
‘I can shop,’ Andrew said.
Colin smiled and shook his head. Big brother. Andrew felt a rush of affection and gratitude. He used to joke with Val about how dull and predictable Colin was, never putting a foot wrong, never veering from his chosen path, but now he relished that dogged, undramatic reliability.
He and Val arrived at lunchtime. Andrew felt selfconscious, exposed and raw, like the fleeting sensation on emerging from a darkened cinema into the bold glare of daylight.
‘Oh, look,’ said Val. Their fence was a riot of colour, a shrine to Jason. Andrew parked in the drive. There was nothing to see on the lawn; the snow had long since melted, and with it the stain of Luke’s blood.
‘Come and see,’ she said, walking round to the pavement. There were flowers in cellophane wrapping, some already withered, blackened by frost, and cards and trinkets, ribbons and photographs, pools of wax on the ground where candles had melted, a red glass lantern still glowing crimson from the guttering flame inside. The wind was cold, ruffling and crackling the shiny wrappers of the flowers and the scraps of paper. Someone had used a hammer-tacker to staple some of the cards up, though fragments of Sellotape were visible too. Andrew guessed it had been Colin. Thoughtful, organized.
They read all the cards, though many were illegible, the writing blurred by the rain that had fallen. Some of the names were familiar: friends from school, friends who’d known Jason since National Childbirth Trust coffee mornings, since nursery. There were even a few from people Val worked with at the town hall. Somebody had taped a packet of chewing gum to the fence. Val made a little sound as she pointed it out, halfway between a snort and a sob. She had hated Jason chewing gum, both because of the mess when he left it stuck to the side of his bin or she found it trodden into the carpet, and also because of the sight of him chewing. ‘It makes you look sloppy and insolent,’ she’d said on one occasion. Jason had cracked his gum by way of reply and Andrew had laughed and earned a reproachful look from Val.
