‘You only think the person is a double if they’re to your left.’
Her eyes start to well up.
‘As I say, it’s a rare condition,’ Ajay repeats, noticing her discomfort. ‘Very rare.’
She doesn’t know whether to be pleased or frightened. The thought of no cure for Capgras isn’t great. Nor is the prospect of seeing Rob as a double for the rest of her life. But at least it might explain what’s been happening to her. Her own brain injuries from the accident were all on the right hemisphere, which controls the left part of her body, including her left eye. Does she only think Rob is a double when he’s in her left field of vision? When she dropped the mug of tea on Saturday morning, he was on her left. And at Truro station, when the woman approached Rob… he was to Kate’s left too.
63
Silas
Without speaking, Silas sits down next to his son in the hut in the forest, wincing at the pain in his knees as he pulls his legs up and wraps his arms around them. The last time he sat like this was in the cubs more than forty years ago, trying not to look up Akela’s skirt.
‘I just want you and Mum to be together,’ Conor says after a while.
Silas closes his eyes. ‘It’s not that easy,’ he says.
And he doubts whether it would fix anything in Conor’s life if they did give it another go. His problems run far deeper. Mel blames him for not being tough enough on their son when he was younger. Silas tried to explain that it was hard to play the disciplinarian when you were feeling guilty about being an absent father, but it never washed.
‘Have you even tried?’ Conor asks, rocking more violently now.
Silas senses the anger beneath the surface. He doesn’t want to do or say anything that might provoke it further.
‘It needs us both to want to get back together and I don’t think Mum—’
‘Mum wants it,’ Conor shouts, interrupting him. ‘She told me.’
‘OK,’ Silas says, taken aback by Conor’s sudden outburst. He’s glad they are up here in the woods, far from anyone. ‘So Mum wants it.’
Neither of them says anything. Silas closes his eyes and becomes aware of a nearby buzzing. He looks up and sees a wasp nest in the far corner, under the green corrugated-iron roof. A mass of delicate, beautiful swirls, like one of the big brown-sugar meringues that Mel used to make with Conor when he was little.
‘When did she tell you she wanted us to get back together?’ he asks.
‘Yesterday,’ Conor says. ‘When I phoned her to say goodbye.’
From the train track. Silas remembers seeing the missed calls from her, the ease with which he’d ignored them. Was that after Conor had called her?
‘I heard what happened,’ Silas says. ‘And I’m glad you didn’t go through with it.’
‘Are you really?’
Conor is calmer now, more reflective, his body no longer rocking.
‘Of course I bloody am,’ Silas says. ‘What made you want to do it?’
‘You?’ Conor says.
Silas winces. It’s painful, like a knife between the ribs, but a part of him knows that he needs to hear this if the two of them are ever to patch things up.
‘My shitshow of a life,’ Conor continues.
‘If you’re in trouble…’
‘Trouble?’ Conor laughs. ‘I’m not a child any more, Dad.’
‘There’s always a way out, that’s all I’m saying.’
‘Not from this there isn’t.’
‘From what?’
Conor remains silent.
‘I’m not interested in the boat fire,’ Silas says, worried that he might be overplaying his hand. He’s learnt to keep back how much he knows, at least when interviewing suspects. But this is his own son.
‘You’re a cop,’ Conor says. ‘Of course you’re interested in the boat. That’s why you’re here – in the village.’
‘I came here today because someone saw you – recognised you from the missing person posters I’ve been putting up everywhere.’
‘You’re lying. I saw you two nights ago, down by the boat. With the firemen.’
So Jake was right: his own son is an arsonist. He lets the thought sink in. Conor must have been watching the boat fire unfold from a safe distance. How did it come to this? His own flesh and blood. Thank God no one was injured.
‘OK, so I was here that night because of the fire,’ Silas says. ‘As a cop. I happen to know the owner of the boat, Jake. The man I was talking to down at the railway just now.’ Silas pauses. ‘The same man who saved your life.’
Conor looks up at him, seemingly shocked by the revelation. Silas lets the implications sink in for a few moments before continuing.
‘But I’m here today as a father, to find my son. Your mum and I, we’re… we’re worried sick about you. Been looking for you everywhere. Both of us.’
He’s not good at this, talking so openly about his emotions. It’s why he’s always declined Mel’s requests to attend joint counselling sessions.
‘So why didn’t you ring Mum back yesterday?’ Conor asks quietly.
Because she only ever gives Silas grief. Bucket-loads of it. Conor must have called her again later in the day, told her he was safe, no longer feeling suicidal.
‘You’re right,’ Silas says. There seems no point in arguing. ‘I should have called Mum back.’
‘Then you’d have known that your own son nearly killed himself yesterday.’
Silas closes his eyes. ‘We need to get you help,’ he says. ‘For whatever… difficulties you’re in.’
Conor reaches for a cigarette from his pocket.
‘Here, have one of mine,’ Silas says, pulling out his own packet.
Conor hesitates and then takes one, studiously avoiding any eye contact.
‘We can get you out,’ Silas says quietly. ‘That’s all I’m saying.’
‘You don’t know these people,’ Conor says, lighting up with a match.
‘Oh, I wouldn’t bet against it.’ Silas lights up too. ‘I’ve met some pretty objectionable individuals over the years.’
He feels happier talking about police work, on safer ground.
‘These people are from London, Dad. They don’t give a fuck about anyone. One mistake and you’re dead.’
Silas knows Conor is right. Rural knife crime has soared since county lines got a toehold.
‘Life means nothing to them,’ Conor continues.
‘And these people, they asked you to torch the boat?’
Conor nods.
‘And threatened to kill you if you didn’t?’
Conor nods again. ‘I hung around till I saw the bloke living on the boat had got off.’
That was good of him. ‘It’s coercion – not your fault,’ Silas says. ‘I see it all the time. And the courts understand.’
‘The courts?’ Conor looks up. ‘You arresting me?’
‘Of course I’m not. I’m just saying you’re not automatically to blame.’
Silas gets to his feet and looks out through the door to the grassy area outside, his back to Conor.