We paddle hard, the current in our favour as the river snakes its way through the landscape, widening along the way. The banks on either side are becoming further apart and the wind whips across from one side to the other, battering us as it does so.
‘How far are we going?’ calls Alfie. ‘My arms are killing me. Can’t we stop?’
I rest the shaft of the paddle across my lap and turn to look at my son. ‘I want to put as much distance between us and Tris as possible.’ I look beyond Alfie at the other kayak we are still tugging. ‘We can get rid of that now.’
‘We’ll ditch it in a minute. Let’s stop for a rest now.’
‘OK,’ I concede. ‘We’ll stay in the kayak though, keep to the river in case Tris turns up in his car. I don’t want to be at a disadvantage. We can let the current take us along for a while.’ I move the paddle to place it lengthways down the kayak between our two seats. Alfie does the same with his. The sky ahead is grey and the temperature has dropped. ‘I don’t like the look of those clouds up there.’
‘Doesn’t look good from where I’m sitting either,’ says Alfie.
I shift round on the seat of the kayak so I am now facing him. His voice sounds strange. Dark, like the sky. Cold, like the temperature. Hard, like the rocks that line the riverbank. His arms are resting on his knees. His long limbs scrunched up in the boat. His back is hunched and his head dipped, but under his thick lashes his eyes are fixed on me. He reminds me so much of Darren.
‘You OK?’ I ask. I lean forward to rest my hand on his arm in a comforting gesture. One that shows no challenge or confrontation. I’ve seen that look on his face before, rather too often of late. It comes and settles when he is brooding, when his mood is dipping and when I feel he is at his most volatile.
Alfie moves his arm a fraction, enough for me to know he doesn’t want my sympathy. He is cross with me but I don’t know why. We eye each other for a second or two but it is me who speaks first in an effort to dispel whatever ill feeling Alfie is experiencing. ‘I haven’t had a chance to ask, but how did you get here? And what exactly are you doing here? Why come all this way?’
‘That’s a lot of questions.’
‘Like I said, I haven’t had a chance to ask you.’
The kayak rocks gently in the current of the river as it carries us along. I have a sudden memory of rocking Alfie in a cradle when he was a baby, whispering soothing words to calm the angry little soul that he was. He’s always been what I would term high maintenance, even before Darren died, but there was love there in those days. Something I’m aware I haven’t seen in my son for a long time. I wish I could do something to help him. So many times I have questioned myself and my parenting of him as a youngster. Have I done something to turn him into this displaced, angry young man? All I’ve ever wanted is to love him, but he’s never wanted that. Not from me, anyway. Darren was the one Alfie always sought approval from and, as was his due, he received it. They were a little club of their own at times, Darren and Alfie, but I never minded. I always thought of it as a father-and-son thing and it gave me immense pleasure, knowing they were so close.
Alfie sits up straighter and stretches out his legs. His fingers drum on his knee. ‘I got the train to Aberdeen and then hitched a lift to here.’
Hitched a lift? I bite down on the urge to lecture him on the dangers of hitch-hiking. He is being particularly vague and there is an edge to his voice. He doesn’t want me asking questions. However, I have him trapped in the boat, he can hardly storm off. I decide to push my luck. ‘You hitch-hiked?’
‘Sort of,’ he says nonchalantly. ‘I got a lift with Tris.’
‘With Tris?’ Surprise pitches my voice in a higher-than- normal range.
‘For God’s sake, Mum! Will you stop getting so freaked out by everything I say!’ Alfie glares at me. ‘It’s your birthday, right? I knew from Ruby that Tris was coming up here, so I tagged along. I wanted to surprise you.’
I eye my son cautiously. He’s not shown any interest in my birthday since Darren’s death. Hasn’t even wished me happy birthday, let alone given a card or gift. I can’t help privately questioning his motivation today or the effort he’s gone to. ‘Well, you’ve certainly surprised me,’ I say. ‘What was Tris like when you were driving up? Did he seem agitated? Did he say anything about Joanne?’
‘He seemed normal. Said he could do without the drive, but Joanne had insisted.’
‘Was he cross with her?’
Alfie gives a dramatic tut to emphasise his annoyance. ‘Can you stop with all the questions about Tris. Like I said, he seemed normal.’
‘You do realise what’s happened, don’t you?’ I ask. ‘And that Tris is probably involved in some way.’
‘What are you now, some sort of detective?’
I rub my temples with my fingertips. I want to get up and pace around, but obviously it’s impossible in this little kayak. Even on open water, I feel blocked in. Deep breaths keep my rising hysteria regulated. I speak again, this time more controlled. ‘I know you couldn’t have realised what Tris had done, but you need to know … he’s dangerous. We have to get to the police station and tell them. They’ll want to talk to you about Tris. We can ring Seb and you can talk to him first. He could tell you what sort of thing to expect.’
‘Firstly, I’m not a fucking child, so stop treating me like one. I’m quite capable of talking to the police. And secondly, do you seriously expect me to speak to that wanker?’ says Alfie, his lip curling into a snarl. ‘I don’t think so.’
I look at my son, forcing myself not to admonish him for his language. My heart is heavy at the sheer amount of hate he harbours. I shouldn’t have mentioned Seb. I had momentarily fantasised that Alfie would go to Seb for help and end up having a breakthrough bonding moment, where he’d finally accept Seb and realise he’s a good guy. How perfect that would be? We could all have our happy ending.
It’s nothing more than a fantasy though. Alfie is never going to accept Seb – and where does that leave me? I can’t expect Seb to carry on the way we have been. He comes and stays with me on his days off, tiptoes around the house when Alfie’s there, gallantly ignores Alfie ignoring him and has even, at my behest, kept quiet when Alfie’s been rude to me. Although, the last time that happened, Seb did say he wasn’t sure how much longer he could bite his tongue. He also said that he wouldn’t be able to live under the same roof as Alfie.
I can’t say I blame him. I wouldn’t want to either. Equally, I don’t want Seb witnessing the sort of disagreements I have with Alfie. I feel so ashamed. My only hope is that, assuming Alfie does go to university, things between us might improve. I cling to the thought that life could get better.
The kayak gives a lurch to one side and then the other. The weather has closed in without me noticing and the water has become choppier, the gusting wind propelling us downriver. The current has picked up too and we are moving faster now. Drops of rain begin to speckle my face. The river is a dark grey, a mirror image of the rain-filled clouds above us. And there is the sound of the river churning and turning as it tumbles over itself and bounces off rocks and boulders which jut out along the way.
Taking a good look around, I notice that the river has narrowed, thus increasing the pressure of the water now being forced through a smaller gap.
‘I think we’d better start paddling,’ I say, all thoughts of home life without Alfie relegated to the back of my mind. ‘The river turns up ahead and there’s no way of knowing what to expect, but we should be prepared. Cut that other kayak loose now, it will hold us up.’ Alfie doesn’t move. I pick up my paddle. ‘Alfie, we need to paddle. Cut the kayak free.’
Still he doesn’t move. ‘You’ve not asked me what your birthday surprise is? Aren’t you curious?’
‘What?’ I’m struggling to work out why, at a time like this, my birthday present is suddenly an issue.
‘Well, aren’t you?’ He smiles at me but I see no warmth in his face.
‘What’s going on?’ I can’t hide the caution in my voice.
‘I’m about to give you your birthday surprise.’ The smile drops from his face and he fixes me with those blue eyes of his, so like Darren’s. For the first time in two years, Alfie opens up to me and I catch my breath as I read his soul.