40
A moment passed with only the stamp-stamp of their boots and the whisking noise, back and forth, of stout fabrics rubbing as they strode forward.
‘I suppose I should cough to the crazy favour,’ Roisin said. ‘I need to give you context first. What I’m about to tell you is absolutely confidential, and otherwise known only by Gina and Meredith.’
She launched into an account of Hunter, of break-up fights, and mounting suspicions. She concluded, nervously, with her idea that Sesso might hold a clue.
Matt listened to it all in silence.
‘You mean one of the wait staff at Sesso might have had an assignation with Joe?’ Matt said.
‘Yes,’ Roisin said.
‘OK. What’s the favour?’
She noticed he did not declare this unlikely, let alone impossible, but then, there was a fair bit of pre-existing enmity.
‘You could, with your networking ability and general waitress-whispering skills … ask them?’
Roisin was glad they were side by side, as she’d be embarrassed to look him in the face. They were passing the church, which had probably not heard anything this stupid since it had been built in the 1200s.
‘Sesso’s servers are young. I doubt anyone who was there two years ago will be there now.’
‘That’s a good point.’ Roisin wasn’t going to haggle. She wondered if this was indeed certifiable behaviour, as Gina and Meredith had tried to tell her. She was almost relieved to be told this wasn’t viable.
‘However, their front of house, Rick, has been there donkeys, and I need to be working my contacts at the moment anyway. I’ll have a drink with him and do some subtle fishing.’
‘Oh! OK. Thanks.’
‘Thing is, Rosh. While we’re being frank, and given Joe is your ex …?’ Matt glanced at her for corroboration, and she nodded. ‘I didn’t only leave the Brian Club because of tension with Gina. Gina was eighty-five per cent of it. Joe was at least the other fifteen.’
‘I’m … not surprised.’
‘I don’t know what I did to upset him, but at some point, he decided I was the enemy. I thought him revelling in the blow-up between me and Gina was really low.’
‘Yeah, I agree.’
‘If I wasn’t doing such a good job of making myself unpopular in the group, I’d even wonder if he wanted to push me out.’
‘Funny you say that; I thought it was a tactic to give Joe cause to leave.’
‘Not left, though, has he?’
‘Mmmm, not yet. Fair point.’
‘This makes helping you easier and more complicated at the same time. I don’t really fear potentially ruining a friendship that doesn’t really exist any more. That’s the easy part.’
‘I see that.’
‘But it’s harder for me to say I’m not partly motivated by spite. I’m not wrestling with my conscience.’
‘You know what, Matt, I shouldn’t have asked you.’
‘No.’ Matt stopped walking to look at her, a fine mist of almost-rain clinging to his face and hair like dew. ‘I don’t mean to make you feel bad. I want to be totally honest, that’s all. I’m not neutral here and I think that’s better said out loud, even if only between us.’
‘I see what you mean. Thank you.’ Roisin sounded steady but she felt deeply uneven.
She felt like she’d hired a hitman. Her initial shock and anger at Hunter having dissipated, the fog had cleared and she could see the size of the ask. Not only in implicating Matt – in what she was doing, full stop. If she went behind Joe’s back to try to catch him out, enlisting friends as P.I.s, then trust was gone. Good faith was gone. A chunk of the moral high ground had gone.
After the Benbarrow confrontation, it was an eye for an eye, Biblical fury. Now she was less sure she wanted to get down and roll in the dirt. Joe could justifiably be livid. But Joe had stolen one of her most intimate secrets, her parents’ open marriage, and televised it. She didn’t go to war; he did.
‘Do you think I shouldn’t do this?’ Roisin said.
Matt paused. ‘It’s not about what I think. What do your instincts tell you?’
‘My instincts tell me …’ Roisin took a deep breath. ‘There’s something big about Joe I don’t know. When our life together worked, I couldn’t see it. In that fight over Hunter, everything started to look different. This is probably the only opportunity I’ll have to check up on him. I don’t want to wonder what the truth of my twenties was, for the rest of my life.’ She looked over at Matt. ‘You know when an idea is reckless and stupid, but you know in your bones, from the very first moment you have it, you’re going to act on it? Any time spent debating it is pointless. It’s merely therapeutic. It won’t stop you.’
‘I do know those ideas,’ Matt said, with a broad smile. ‘I might specialise in them. Right then. And if there’s nothing to find, this doesn’t matter, Rosh. If there is something to find, then his feelings don’t matter.’
‘There’s the terrible third option: there’s nothing to find, but he finds out we were trying.’
‘I can’t give you one hundred per cent assurances, but I’ll be super discreet. I work in the plonk business after all, I have reason to be in a bar. Also, in that worst-case scenario, I’d be fine with being the fall guy. We could leave you out of it entirely and say I was digging.’
‘No. I’d never do that to you,’ Roisin said. ‘I asked you to do it – it’s on me.’
‘It’s a joint enterprise,’ Matt said. ‘We better shake. A moment to live on in infamy, witnessed only by some squirrels.’
He presented a hand and Roisin put hers into it.
As they trudged on, Roisin asked herself – and she couldn’t believe she was only asking herself this now – how she’d feel if Matt returned with solid evidence that Joe had played away.
Deep down, she still thought it was impossible. Counter intuitively, her search made her look like she believed the worst of Joe. In actual fact, she needed it proven for the opposite reason. She couldn’t really believe it until there was proof.
What if he had done it? How would she confront him? How do pathological liars behave when the searchlight finally catches them fully square in its glare, and there’s nowhere to hide?