The Half Life of Stars by Louise Wener Page A

it. She was very persuasive. I think this programme might have influenced Daniel.’
    ‘He wouldn’t eat in a basement,’ Kay says. ‘Daniel hates anywhere cramped.’
    ‘Yeah,’ says Michael, helpfully. ‘It was a really shabby place. Not the kind of place you’d expect Daniel to go.’
    ‘Look,’ I say, glaring at him. ‘That’s exactly my point. It wasn’t his usual kind of place but he liked it; he actively sought it out. Who knows how he first stumbled upon it. Perhaps one of hisclients took him there. The food is really authentic. They do this amazing tuna sushi…otoro, it comes from the belly of—’
    ‘ Claire , we don’t need to know the entire menu.’
    ‘Daniel hates tuna…he does. He’d never so much as have it in a sandwich.’
    I wipe my eyes. I take a deep breath and try again.
    ‘Listen to me a minute. What if this programme was on when he first went in there? What if it somehow caught his eye. Maybe he went back from time to time because he found the restaurant quaint or unusual. And when he became depressed, this programme, this waitress, her story…perhaps he found it intriguing, maybe it began to make some sense to him.’
    ‘He wasn’t depressed. How many times do I have to say it?’
    ‘Is this what you think, Claire? Honestly? That Daniel ran away because of a TV show?’
    ‘I don’t know, Sylvie. I’m not sure. I’m just thinking we should tell the police.’
    ‘Tell them what? That Daniel got fed up of eating in expensive restaurants. That he sometimes liked to eat somewhere cheap? That some bored waitress likes to make-up tall stories to keep her customers amused? She’s probably seen you on the TV. She’s probably read about us in the papers. She’s taking you for a fool. This is her idea of fun.’
    They sigh with disappointment and pain, every one of them. And why shouldn’t they? It’s new year’s eve, I’ve called an emergency meeting at my mother’s house, promised them something significant and delivered nothing. I could back things up by telling them about the letter, but not with Kay here, I don’t want to hurt her. And I can’t very easily tell them about the pills: not without admitting that I stole them; not without making Kay look foolish. I should have worked all this out before rushing over here. I should have made some kind of plan.
    ‘Well, it seems like you’ve had quite an evening,’ my mother says. ‘It seems your imagination has run riot. And what a pleasure to see you again, Michael. You were always a great influence on my daughter. You always gave such wonderful…support.’
    There’s nothing left to say, no new evidence left to dig through, so everyone gets ready to go. Kay’s heading back to her friend’s house with Julian, and Sylvie is seeing in the new year with Gabe. I stand up to leave along with them but my mother is looking at me strangely. I know what this means; she wants me to wait behind for a moment so she can give me a proper telling off.
    ‘Not so fast,’ she says, icily. ‘Sit down and talk to me. Not you, Michael, you can wait outside.’
    ‘In the cold?’
    ‘You have a coat don’t you?’
    ‘Yep…yep. I have a coat.’
    ‘Pity.’
    ‘Come with me, Michael,’ says Robert, gently. ‘We’ll leave the girls to it. I have some hot coffee in the kitchen.’
     
    The good news is she hasn’t had a drink yet; the bad news is, she’s just about to start. She twists open a fresh bottle of gin and waits for its tight seal to snap apart. It’s clear from her face, she half relishes this process, half loathes it: loves what it will do for her, hates that she’s under its control.
    ‘What else do you know?’ she says, simply.
    ‘Nothing,’ I say. ‘What do you mean?’
    She glares at me.
    ‘Come on, I’m not an idiot. I know you have more than you’re letting on.’
    She has this knack with me, this odd mind-reading arrangement. If only I had it with her.
    ‘What is it?’ she says, stiffly. ‘Was