A Dark Matter Episode 40

Jenny stared at the table as Dorothy explained to Hannah about the money, Rebecca and her daughter, Simon missing for years. Silence as Jenny dug her fingernail into the grain of the wood.

“So Grandpa was sleeping with her?” Dorothy gave an exaggerated shrug. “It certainly puts one’s grief into perspective.”

Jenny stretched her neck. “We don’t know anything for sure.”

“We know he lied.” Dorothy fixed her eyes on Jenny. “It’s hard for you, he’s your dad, and he was my husband. But we can’t be blind to these things.”

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough to drink?” Jenny said.

Dorothy swallowed hard. “I’m your mother.”

“I’m just saying.”

“The number of times I had to pick you up off the floor as a teenager, off your head.”

“That’s a long time ago, Mum.”

“I never understood your constant need to mess yourself up,” Dorothy said. “Gran,” Hannah said.

Silence in the room. Eventually Jenny spoke. “Anyway, like I said, we don’t know anything about Dad for sure.”

“We will,” Dorothy said.

Hannah frowned. “How do you mean?” Dorothy looked from one to the other of them. “I gave Thomas DNA samples to compare.”

Jenny sat up. “Samples from who?” “Your dad and the Lawrence girl.” Hannah sucked her teeth. “How did you get a DNA sample from a girl you’ve only met once?”

Dorothy finished her drink. “I went back and got it.”

“How?” Jenny said.

Dorothy turned, her gaze steely this time. “I just did.”

Jenny drank. “Christ.”

Silence for a moment broken by Schrödinger purring as he came in the room. He approached Dorothy then went to play with the bottom of the curtains.

Hannah spoke to Jenny. “Speaking of lovely men, how’s your adultery case?”

Jenny stared at her drink then smiled. “He’s an artist.”

“What?”

She pulled her phone out of her pocket and went to the camera roll. She got up and handed it to Hannah, who flicked through them.

“He goes to a studio after work,” Jenny said. “And paints these.”

“How did you get into his studio?” Dorothy said.

Jenny pictured kicking the door in and felt a twinge of shame, heat rushing to her face. Was this who she was now? Angry and violent, barrelling her way through life.

“A sculptor let me in to look around. I said I was interested in renting a space.”

“They’re cool,” Hannah said, tapping Jenny’s phone screen.

“I know.”

Hannah passed the phone to Dorothy. “And that’s it?”

“So far. He goes for a drink afterwards at the shore in Leith. Chats to the barmaid, but not chatting her up as far as I can tell.”

“And his wife doesn’t know?” Dorothy said.

“This is his dirty little secret, apparently.” “Why would he not tell his wife?” Dorothy said.

Floral structures

Jenny took the phone back and looked through the paintings. A tree made of spinal vertebrae, fingers for fronds, merging into alien floral structures.

“Maybe he’s shy,” she said. “Or scared of ridicule.”

“Are you going to tell her?” Dorothy said. “I haven’t decided yet,” Jenny said. “I want to stay on him a bit more, see if there’s anything else.”

It was only as she said it that she realised it was true. There was something about Liam that interested her, apart from the paintings. She thought about all the men in Mel’s life, her own ex-husband cheating on her.

Liam was just another guy, of course. But maybe he wasn’t. If you think every guy is the same, doesn’t that condemn them to being so in your eyes? She was going round in circles. And if you dug deep enough couldn’t you find some dirt, something you didn’t like about anyone, including yourself ?

She thought about her dad, the lies Dorothy thought he’d told. She remembered once when she was 10, she was playing aimlessly in the storeroom out back when she knocked over one of the boxes of unclaimed cremation remains.

She stood and stared at the ashes spread across the floor, then walked out to the garden and kept playing, cartwheels on the grass, a skipping game.

Later her dad wandered out and confronted her about the mess and she lied, felt the rush of blood to her cheeks, such a giveaway.

Instead of shouting at her, he lowered his voice, always a bad sign, and gave her a pep talk about the importance of honesty and taking responsibility for your mistakes.

She felt her cheeks flush again now as she remembered it, and thought about Jim’s honesty, whether he had taken responsibility for his actions.

She looked up. “What about your old guy in the Hermitage?”

Dorothy shrugged. “We’ll see what the cameras throw up but I’m not convinced. My gut tells me he’s imagining it.”

Hannah frowned. “He seemed pretty sharp to me.”

“Maybe.”

Dorothy went to the other whiteboard and looked at the funeral jobs. Gina O’donnell had been wiped away, cremated and gone.

There were still four names up there, one body to pick up, two in the fridges downstairs and a fourth in the viewing room, ready for tomorrow’s ceremony.

Jenny saw William Baxter’s name, the call she’d taken. He was in the fridge. She thought of him, cold and naked.

She pictured herself crawling into the adjacent slot in the fridge, lying down in the cool air, slowing her metabolism until there was nothing to measure, no heartbeat or pulse, no brainwaves or thoughts, nothing left of her except dead cells and lifeless matter.

If you dug deep enough couldn’t you find some dirt, something you didn’t like about anyone, including yourself?

More tomorrow.

A Dark Matter by Doug Johnstone is published by Orenda Books, as is Black Hearts, his latest in the same series. www.orendabooks.co.uk