‘A couple.’ Stephen was cool as a long island iced tea. James Bond. Mr Frosty. I was almost starting to feel sorry for his father. Almost. ‘You see, my mother left you some money and I’d like to know why. Also…’ He looked at me and gestured to my handbag. ‘May I?’ When I offered it up, he pulled out the big brown padded envelope and held it out to Trevor. ‘She had this in the back of a wardrobe for you. I needed to pass it on.’
Trevor took the envelope and stared at it. When he lifted his head, his eyes were shining with tears. ‘Left me money? What do you mean? Is she…?’
‘She passed away last year.’ Stephen swallowed hard but I doubted Trevor noticed.
‘How? Was it cancer? My wife, she’s got—’
‘I’m sorry your wife’s ill, but no, it wasn’t an illness. It was an accident. And when they read the will, she’d left you £1297.78. We didn’t know where you were to let you know.’ He slid his hand into the pocket of his trousers and pulled out a business card. ‘This is the solicitor to get in touch with. So, just tell me why she left you money and I’ll be on my way.’
‘I – I don’t know.’ He shook his head. ‘I’m so sorry, Stevie.’
I felt Stephen flinch next to me. Now I got why he didn’t like having his name shortened like that.
‘You’ve got no idea? None at all? It’s a very specific sum of money. And I’m really struggling to wrap my head around why she felt she owed you anything. At all.’ The angry edge was creeping back into his voice. I put my hand on his knee.
Trevor shook his head in despair and wiped absently at a tear that had escaped his eye. ‘She was a generous woman…’
Stephen’s breathing was starting to speed up, his muscles bunching beneath my hand, like he was going to explode, and I knew he wouldn’t want that.
‘Maybe it would be a good idea to give him your contact details?’ I spoke quietly to Stephen. ‘In case anything comes back to him later?’
‘I suppose.’ He gritted out. ‘Is it worth me doing that?’
‘Yeah. Why not? I’ll think on it and get in touch if I figure it out. It’s the least I can do. I mean, I wouldn’t even take the money. It’s just with Sandra ill, every cent helps…’
Stephen nodded and asked me if I had a pen. I grabbed my notebook and he wrote out his current address and phone number in slashing, slanted handwriting that threatened to rip the paper. He stood and gave it to him. ‘I’m going to be here until the end of August.’
Trevor took it and looked up at him. ‘God, look at you. Little Stevie,’ he said wonderingly. That was the kind of thing a distant uncle or old family friend did when they saw you after ten years. Not a dad who’d abandoned you. ‘Are you going now?’
‘I said I wouldn’t take up much of your time.’
‘Right. There’s nothing else you want to talk about?’
Stephen squinted at him, like he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing and hearing. ‘If you’d wanted to know anything about me, you should’ve stuck around or at least kept in contact. You chose not to do that. I’ve done my duty according to what my mum wanted and now we’re done.’
Trevor frowned and opened his mouth to say something, but Stephen didn’t wait around. He walked out the door and I scuttled after him, caught unawares by the sudden exit, scrabbling for my bag and jogging to catch up with him as he started down the road.
‘Stephen. Stephen, are you okay?’ I grabbed his arm and he stopped.
‘Yes. Yes. I’m fine.’ He nodded and took a deep breath, setting his shoulders back as though a weight had been lifted from them.
‘Are you sure? You didn’t even get the answer you wanted. Didn’t you want to hear him explain himself? I know it wouldn’t change anything, but he at least should have saidsorryto you. I can’t believe it.’
‘I don’t think it would make any difference to how I feel. And why should I do anything that might help clear his conscience. No.’ He put his hands on my shoulders with exaggerated gentleness, like he was making an extraordinary effort to contain his anger. ‘I’m okay, Noelle. We found him. I met him. I passed on the things my mother left him. It’s done. I can forget about it now.’ He smiled reassuringly.
‘Okay…’ I wasn’t convinced. Despite all the body language and his tone of voice, his eyes were blank inside. ‘What now then?’
‘Nothing—’
‘Wait. Wait!’ His father was behind us, walking fast, the envelope still in his hands.
Stephen stiffened and stayed where he was but didn’t say anything until Trevor reached us.
‘This isn’t mine it’s yours.’ Trevor held out the envelope, his hand shaking a little. The opening was torn.
‘It was addressed to you.’
‘I know, but it’s yours.’ He repeated and shook the bag at Stephen again. ‘It’s every birthday card I sent you. Postcards. Some magazines. I sent you stuff for years. And it looks like she didn’t want you to see any of it.’
