‘It wasn’t’
‘I didn’t owe any money. You took loans out in my name.’
‘If you’d just’
‘If I’d just what?’
‘That’s in the past.’
He clamps his lips together but I feel like I need some sort of answers.
‘Where did you move to?’ I ask, hoping for something.
He shrugs again. ‘Does it matter?’
‘YES!’ I’m shouting, unable to keep it in. I’m gripping the chain of the swing so tightly that the links are imprinted into my palms. ‘All this matters.’
Ben sighs and now it’s him that wants to turn away. ‘Can we stop talking about the past and think about the future?’ he says.
It’s so outlandish, so ridiculous, that it takes me a few seconds to take it in. ‘Future?’ I say. ‘What future? Everyone thinks you’re dead. I have a copy of the death certificate. You can’t just come back.’
‘I don’t need to. I have another ID. I’m not Ben Peterson, I’m Peter now.’
I actually laugh at that and it’s not fake or forced. It explodes in a guff of air. ‘That’s the name you chose? How long did you have to think about it?’
He shrugs.
‘Stop shrugging!’
He lowers his shoulders, seemingly chastened. I wonder if everyone has these types of traits that follow a person through their life. Whether there’s something I do that annoys everyone else.
‘I didn’t choose the name,’ he says. ‘When you get an ID, you get what you’re given. The point is that I don’t need to come back. We can be together as Lucy and Peter. Ben is dead.’
He says something else, but it’s lost among an exploding firework. The explosion crackles along the sky, finishing with a series of smaller fizzes. When it’s over, Ben is no longer speaking.
‘Does your mum know?’ I ask.
He doesn’t reply, but, when I turn to him, he shakes his head. ‘I couldn’t tell her,’ he says. ‘I thought about it. I wanted to.’
‘You stole her coat from her washing line?’
I watch his eyes narrow, probably wondering how I knew. If it is that, then he doesn’t ask.
‘I wanted to feel closer to her,’ he says, not seeming to realise how creepy it sounds. How creepy all this sounds. ‘It’s not her I’m back for,’ he adds.
‘You’ll keep letting her think you’re dead?’
‘Ben is dead. I think it’s kinder. Don’t you?’
‘Don’t bring me into this.’
I push myself up from the swing and step away. Ben mutters ‘don’t’, but that’s not the reason I stop and turn. A horrible suspicion is starting to settle.
‘What did you mean “ease me into it”?’
There’s a pause and Ben has his lips pressed together.
‘Tell me,’ I say.
‘I couldn’t just turn up at your door and say, “Tada! It’s me”.’
‘What else?’
I know him better than I realised. He stares at the floor. ‘I enjoyed the chase,’ Ben says. ‘It was like the old days. I was trying to prove to you that I wanted you. It was fun. Didn’t you enjoy it?’
He glances up and I can the sincerity in his thoughts. He really believes the last week has been enjoyable. I close my eyes and can see the CCTV stills from the bus. They’re imprinted on my memory. Ben was the man in the cap from the bus. The one who was in only a single picture.
‘Why did you give me the money?’ I ask.
He starts to shrug and then catches himself. ‘I wanted you to enjoy your life again,’ he says. ‘I hated seeing you live like this.’
‘Like what?’
‘Poky flat, rubbish job. It’s no way to live, is it?’
I want to be furious with him. He doesn’t think it’s an insult but it is. I’m not happy with my life – but that isn’t because of my flat, or the people. It’s because everything I earn goes into paying off rent or his debts. It is a miserable way to live – but I’m also trying to change it.
‘I like a lot about my life,’ I say. ‘I have friends. I’m studying for my future. I have a job interview tomorrow morning.’
He snorts. ‘What? I thought you were working at a supermarket? You can’t be happy doing those jobs? Come off it.’
Ben doesn’t seem to know I no longer work there. I suppose my downfall at Crosstown was all my own. ‘It’s a means to an end,’ I say.
‘You don’t need that now. You have me.’
‘You left me. You stole our savings.’
Ben bites his lip again. ‘Bygones…?’
It’s my turn to snort now. It’s hard not to. Ben barely responds.
‘You put up the posters, didn’t you?’ I say.
He doesn’t answer.
‘You made me email you.’
‘I didn’t make you do anything.’
‘I was trying to be honest! You had me chase around and arrange a meeting and then you didn’t turn up.’
‘I wanted to see you,’ he says. There’s something about the pathetic tone to his voice that makes me believe him. ‘I didn’t know if I could hold off until now,’ he adds. ‘Being close to you kept making me want to say something. I almost opened the apartment door to you so many times when you were in the corridor. I almost walked into the café. I kept stopping myself because I wanted it to be tonight.’
‘Why tonight?’
We lock eyes and there’s a moment in which I realise he doesn’t understand what the past five years have done to me. There’s an obliviousness, a lack of realisation.
‘Because it’s your favourite time of the year,’ he says.
‘It’s not. It’s the time of year when my boyfriend died and I realised he’d taken out loans in my name. It’s the time of year when everything fell apart. When I realised I’d been lied to over and over.’
He sucks in his cheeks and stares at the floor.
‘I’m happier with Billy,’ I say.
The reply is under his breath, so quiet that I barely catch it. ‘That mangy thing.’ He spits the words and suddenly I know.
‘You poisoned him, didn’t you?’ I say.
Ben shrugs. Again. ‘You don’t need him now you have me.’
I look back towards the hall, where Billy and the other dogs will still be hanging around in their corner, going about their evening while protected from the bangs overhead. There’s such innocence there that I can barely square it with everything out here. It’s darkness and light.
‘Did you attack Harry?’ I ask.
‘Is that his name? He’s not right for you.’
It’s not an answer, but Ben speaks like it is.
‘You got the idea from Alex.’
Ben spins, his shoulders tensed, fists balled. ‘Don’t say his name.’
For the first time since coming outside, a ripple of fear teases its way through me. It’s dark and there’s nobody else around. I could scream but won’t be heard over the music from the hall. I look across towards the party, hoping people will be starting to leave and head along the path. But there’s no one. Just us.
I take a step away from the swings, towards the hall. It’s only a simple movement – but Ben pulls himself up from the swing and stretches out a hand as if to take mine. I move another pace away.
‘I’ve been planning all this,’ he says. ‘Well… not all of it. I didn’t know about the party until the flyer came under my door. I wanted it to be special. I did all this for you. I messed up five years ago, but I’ve put it right. I have money – lots of it. It won’t be like before.’
‘Life isn’t all about money.’
‘Not all about money – but it helps. Look what you’ve done with it this past week. I wanted to show you that. We can be happy.’