The Unasked Question
1
CHAPTER 1:
"Where do you think you're going?"
"To change," John's mutters gloomily as if he has been waiting for this.
All through the drive back from school Raymond Dixon has said nothing. He drove and fumed and thought, turning the events of the day over and over again in his mind. His anger remained but as he drove it turned into an icy cold force that dissected, examined and analysed everything. Several times his wife had to tell him to slow down. Desperately she tried to start conversation with both of them. She talked about John's races, his trophy, the Headmaster, other cars on the road, the weather, anything at all except Steven Carter's speech. Raymond had said nothing and John had made a few half-hearted, vague replies. In the end she gave up. Now they've reached home and now Raymond has decided it's time to speak.
"That can wait."
"John needs a shower," Veronica says, fearing what will happen.
"All in good time". Raymond ushers them into the study. He sits at the desk, Veronica to one side, near the French doors, John in front of him. He stares at his son as if trying to read his face.
"I want the truth," he begins and is instantly shocked by the fear in his son's eyes. "You lied to me."
"I did not," John replies morosely. Clearly that accusation is not what frightens him.
"You did," Raymond states categorically. "I'm not a fool John, I can tell when you're lying."
"I did not lie."
Raymond stares at him patiently. "John, John, John. What do you think I do all day? I've seen far better liars than you, and broken them."
"I'm not on trial," John protests.
"I never said you were. All I want is the truth."
"Raymond..." Veronica says, wanting, somehow, to break the atmosphere of interrogation. It's very rare that Raymond acts like this out of Court but she has seen it happen. In the end he usually gets a truthful answer.
"We have to know Vee," he tells her quietly. She knows he is right but she too is puzzled by John's desperately concealed fear.
"John, Steven Carter did come to this house."
"He came to drop off a book."
"'He came to drop off a book.' That's what he said."
"But he knew so much about the house," Veronica remembers. There is an infinitesimal, but detectable, pause while John searches for an explanation.
"I showed him round."
"And let him stay the night."
"He didn't."
"He told his parents he did."
"I can't help what he told them," John protests. His father gives him a withering glare of disbelief. That glare has unnerved many a prisoner in the dock and judge upon the bench.
"I'm surprised at you John."
"Why?"
"I'm surprised you're not trying to protect your friend."
"He's not my friend."
"But you lent him a book."
"That doesn't mean anything," Veronica interrupts.
"Doesn't it? Why did you say you didn't know him?"
"I didn't."
"You did. At the track."
"I meant I didn't know him well. He's not in my year."
"You let him come here."
"I lent him a book. I'm Head Boy! I've got to help."
"What was it?"
"I forget."
"Why didn't you want me to know?"
"Know what?"
"That he'd been here."
"He's not the only one I've lent books to," John says, avoiding the question.
"Maybe not, but he is the only one who's stood up on Prize Day and told the world he's gay!"
"John can't help that," Veronica objects. Raymond barely notices. Something he has said has caused John to wince in pain. What was it? The speech?
"He looked at you," he remembers. Every instant of that speech is emblazoned in his memory.
"He did," Veronica corroborates.
"He looked everywhere," John protests.
"But he looked at you," Raymond says slowly and precisely.
"I wasn't the only one there. He could've looked at anyone."
"He looked at you," Raymond repeats.
"There were lots of us on that side of the hall. Maybe it was Dave. I don't know who. How could I?" John demands, panic clear in his voice.
"And he's not your friend."
"I told you."
"Why didn't you want us to know he'd been to the house?" Raymond asks again. Why does he find himself avoiding a line of questioning? Is he scared that he already knows the answer?
"I never said he hadn't."
"You acted like you'd never heard of him."
"I wasn't thinking. I was getting ready for the race."
"Does running stop you thinking?" Raymond demands incredulously.
"I was concentrating on it. If you don't concentrate you'll loose."
"You lost."
"I wasn't concentrating."
Raymond pauses. He has to control his instinct to attack. John isn't a hostile witness in Court. He is his own son. But he has to get to the bottom of this.
"I don't believe you John."
"Raymond!" Veronica protests. John may not be telling the whole truth but that's not the same as lying.
"Why didn't you want us to know he'd been here?" Raymond perseveres.
"I forgot."
Raymond gazes at his sullen son. This isn't the way to get to the truth. If John is lying then either he is lying to protect Steven or is he lying to protect himself. For the first time Raymond permits himself to seriously consider the latter. What would he be protecting himself from? Did Steven stay the night? Probably. Steven's behaviour was too innocent and his attempts to cover for John too obvious. Does that mean what it has to mean? What else could it mean? Can he put that question to his own son?
"Is there anything you want to tell us?" Raymond asks gently. John withdraws further into himself. There are a few minutes of awkward silence.
"Did you know..." Veronica asks, more to break the silence than for need of knowing.
"Know what?" John demands. The fear in his eyes scares her.
"...about Steven Carter," she continues, finishing the question. John sinks further into his chair. Now he is slumped in his chair, staring at the top of the desk.
"Is that why you didn't what us to know he'd been here?" Raymond asks.
"No!"
"John, either you're lying to protect him or he's using you as an alibi," Raymond states bluntly. "Which is it?"
"I'm not lying."
"And he's not your friend," Raymond repeats, his tone indicating that both statements are equally untrue.
"I told you."
"Yes. You told me," his father says quietly. There is another painful pause.
"You've lied before," Raymond reminds him.
"I have not."
"You have!" Raymond snaps, draws a deep breath and regains his outer calm. This is an old matter, one he has never sorted out. Intuitively he knows it is linked to today's events. "That weekend you said you stayed at Kevin's."
"Which weekend?" John evades.
"The Ball!"
"I stayed at Dave's."
"Did you?"
"Ring Dave and ask him," John challenges.
"He'll substantiate your alibi. He'll do that for you 'Boss'."
"It's not a lie."
Again Raymond's instincts tell him his son is lying.
"Raymond, please," Veronica interrupts. "I'm sure he's telling the truth." Raymond can't help wondering who she is trying to convince, him or herself.
"I am," John says almost inaudibly.
"I hope you are," Raymond takes a deep breath. There's no point in continuing this interview. It could do more harm than good.
"John remember we're your parents," he continues in a softer tone. "If you ever want to talk to us, about anything, anything at all, we're here for you." John gives no reaction. Raymond can't be certain whether he really saw that flicker of fear, perhaps even hope, his words have brought to John's eyes.
"You had better go and change," he says, ending the discussion. John gets up without speaking.
"Don't forget your trophy," his mother reminds him.
John stares at the golden cup standing on the carpet next to where he has been sitting. It glitters as the light of the setting sun shining through the windows hits it. A look of disgust is clear on his face. Disgust? Or self-disgust?
"I don't want the damn thing," he says bitterly and races out of the study. His parents can hear his feet pounding up the stairway.
"I'm worried Vee," Raymond says apprehensively.
"Why Raymond?"
"John may be telling the truth..."
"Of course he is."
"He's hiding something, I don't know what, but he's hiding something," Raymond continues thoughtfully.
"He's seventeen Raymond. Of course he's hiding something," Veronica says with a brittle laugh. "Try to remember what it was like to be his age."
"That's probably it," Raymond agrees, not wanting to alarm her. He wishes he could understand exactly what John is hiding. Somewhere there is something fundamentally wrong. No not wrong, misconstrued, and he has a damn good idea what it is.
THE END
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