Page 60 of The Absence of You
“Grab me a beer while I work.” He rolls his sleeves up and gets to work while I head to the kitchen.
By the time I get back to the office, he’s sat with his feet up on my dad’s desk, the safe door wide open. I couldn't have been gone more than a couple of minutes.
“Holy shit, man, that’s got to be a record. One of these days, you’re going to have to show me how you do that.”
“Nah, if I did that, you’d have no reason to keep me around. Need you to need me for something dude.” He swings his legs down and comes to stand next to me. I know he said that in jest, but the truth is, I’ve always held something back from our friendship, and for a moment, I feel bad that he’s picked up on that. I really should let him know I appreciate him for more than just his safe breaking skills. His unwavering loyalty for one thing. But that can wait until later. I have more pressing issues.
Inside the safe are a couple of bundles of cash, my parents’ passports, and a couple of pieces of my mother’s favourite jewellery. On the shelf above is a large thick manilla envelope. Please God, say there’s something in here that can put the prick away. I turn it over in my hands. It’s completely plain other than a company logo printed in the corner. Asher already has his phone out, googling the name.
“G. F. Davies and Co.,” he states.
“Never heard of them.”
“According to their website, they’re private investigators.” I frown. Usually if my father needs information, he comes to me to source it. There isn’t much I can’t find out about a person online if I dig deep enough, so it surprises me a little that he’d pay out for a P.I’s help. Conscious we’re running out of time, I empty the contents out onto the desk. A mixture of photos and documents spill out in front of us and as the subject of them becomes clear, my blood runs cold.
“What the fuck?” states Asher.
“I’ll fucking kill him.” I spit out through gritted teeth.
Later, when I’ve been through every fucking thing in that envelope, twice, I’m shaking with rage. I want to rip his throat out. But my anger isn’t the only emotion I’m struggling to contain. I’m utterly devastated for Dahlia.
My father has some bastard stalking her. Obviously looking for something he can use to keep us apart. He has recent photos of her at school, at work, nights out, driving even. And there’s paperwork detailing all the major events in her life since her birth. Detailed hospital records of minor accidents, that on their own might not add up to much, but combined, reek of being a child of an alcoholic parent. Age 9, Playground fall, broken wrist, Age 11, Hot water burn from kettle, Age 13, Burn from oven. There’s also a more recent record of a hospital attendance that has me ready to storm up to Liverpool to hunt down the fucker responsible, and chop his fucking dick off. Age 18, Bruising to neck, assault. After I’ve dealt with my father, I will find out exactly who laid their hands on my girl and they’ll wish they were dead by the time I’ve finished with them.
I wish that violation of her privacy was the worst thing in this envelope, but it’s not.
The words on the document in front of me will be forever seared in my mind. This single sheet of paper explains, in black and white, the reason for Dahlia’s father’s absence in her life.
It’s a copy of a court order from eighteen years ago. It states that Joseph Boulton had received a life sentence after being charged with the murder of Roger Boulton. Dahlia’s dad has been in prison for murdering his own father since before Dahlia was born.
For years we speculated about the reasons he left, and if the truth wasn’t so awful, it’d be comical how far off the mark we were.
She’d never fully accepted her mum’s story about why he wasn’t in their life, but this? Fuck, this will gut her. It’s not even the fact he’s in jail. Dahlia is strong. I know she could come to terms with that, but Dee and Rosie have lied to her for her whole life. Obviously, there is no good way to deal with this type of thing. I’m sure there isn’t a handbook on telling a child their dad is incarcerated for murdering their grandad. But even if there was, it’s unlikely lying about it completely would make the top ten of recommended ways to deal with it.
I let out a long breath and shake my head, wondering again how the hell Dee and Rosie have managed to keep this from her for so long. If Dahlia had done any proper digging into her dad online, or even made enquiries into her grandfather’s death, she’d have eventually stumbled on this information.
I curse Dee and Rosie. They let her spend her whole life wrongly believing her father had chosen to leave because she wasn’t enough. They must have realised, that in and of itself, was damaging, not to mention how Lia will feel when she finds out her mum and grandmother have lied to her all this time. It’s arguably worse than the truth.
Stark realisation dawns on me.
Because haven’t I done exactly the same thing? Lied, or at the very least, omitted the truth, in an attempt to avoid hurting her? Fuck. I am in no position to judge anyone else’s poor decision making.
She deserves so much better than this from all of us and things need to change.
As much as I’d like a do over, I’m realistic enough to know I can’t have one, so I focus on what I can do. My father can’t know what I’ve uncovered yet, so I make copies of the documents and put the originals back in his safe.
Back in my room, I load up my laptop and try to find out some more information. There isn’t much detail of the court case in my father’s folder. Just the basic facts. I need to find out why Joseph killed his father and make sure there isn’t even worse to uncover. People don’t just go around killing their parents for no reason. But after a fruitless search, it’s clear there’s nothing online. There is nothing on any of the news sites, local or national, and every time I get so far with the criminal records, I get blocked by a sealed file notification. It’s odd. Most criminal proceedings are public record in the UK unless there’s a minor involved or a national security matter. Joseph was an adult, and it seems to be domestic in nature, so the stonewalling I’m getting is suspicious. Helps to explain how Dee and Rosie have managed to keep it from Dahlia though. If I didn’t have the copy of the sentencing details in front of me, it would be like the whole thing hadn’t happened. There will certainly be more information somewhere, but it may take me some time to find it. Eighteen years ago, not everything was online, so I may need a trip into the city to find the hard copies. I’ll ask Asher to come with me. His name opens the kind of doors mine doesn’t. If those documents exist, between us, we’ll find them.
Chapter Forty-Seven
DAHLIA
“Iwant the truth. Mum, please, I need to hear it all.” After nearly a week of talking through my feelings alone with Dr Jenson, we’re having our first joint counselling session. I’d spent the night tossing and turning. I wasn’t going back to Dee’s without trying to talk to her about this again. The last thing I want is to undo all mum’s hard work towards her recovery, but damn it, my mental health is important too.
“Dahlia.” She’s pleading with me to let it go, but my mind is made up.
“Mum, there’s more to this than you’ve told me. I know it. I’m an adult. You’ve been hurt by my dad, but this is my history too.” She flinches at my statement, and I can see the indecision warring on her face. I turn to Dr Jenson.
“She’s talked to you about this hasn’t she? Please? Don’t you have a duty of care for your patients? I thought this whole journey of recovery with my mum meant honesty and facing up to things?”
