But nobody was listening and the meeting moved on to logistical matters around filming and sound systems.
At the end, Jenna broke away from Lawrence, who was eager to monopolise her, to catch up with Jason’s mother.
‘Excuse me,’ she said. ‘Do you mind? I mean, I was really sorry to hear about your son. Was it him who did the mural, on the wall over there?’
She nodded.
Now that Jenna was close, she
could see the lines and broken veins on the woman’s face, that made her look older than she was. Her badly bleached hair didn’t help, either. If only her eyes were less red, though, they could almost be his.
‘Drugs are killing this estate,’ said Jenna. ‘And the kids who grow up here. I’m thinking of sponsoring a project to help vulnerable youngsters in danger of addiction. Would you mind if I came to see you, to talk about your son?’
‘I told you. He ain’t no drug addict. He never took a thing, since he was a teenager. Took a shitload, back then, mind. Oh, he was a terror.’
‘Could I, though?’ Jenna persisted gently. ‘I’d like to know more about him. Perhaps I could help.’
‘Well, I don’t see how. But all right then. Flat 5, Cloke Court, by the shops.’
‘Later today? In about half an hour?’
‘The house is in a state. I ain’t been too well lately.’
‘I don’t mind. It’s fine.’
‘All right then. But don’t judge me.’
‘I promise I won’t.’
It was difficult to get away from Lawrence, who seemed hell-bent on taking her out to lunch, but Jenna pretended to want a private word with Kayley and he gave up and left, promising to call her later.
‘He’s a bit full-on,’ remarked Kayley, once they were safely hidden away in her tiny office. ‘I couldn’t go with a Harville, though. Not that I’m trying to tell you what to do.’
‘He’s been chasing me since I got here, but I’m not really interested.’
‘So, what was it you wanted to talk to me about?’
‘Oh, do you know what? It’s completely gone. Sorry, Kay. It’ll come back to me. I’ll call you. Mind if I go out the back way? Thanks.’
She was free and clear. She watched Lawrence’s car negotiate the roundabout and take the high road out of the estate, then walked up to the shopping precinct.
A few of the teens who’d been at the public meeting sat around on the low wall by the off-licence, laughing, and flirting and showing off to each other.
Jenna skirted them, careful to keep herself out of view, and took the service road behind the shops to the small complex of square, low-rise flats that sat, ugly and squat, on the dried grass between them and the pub.
Cloke Court had a shopping trolley by the security door and two of the six flats were boarded up. Number five, when she was buzzed in, was at the rear of the building on the first floor, overlooking the pub car park.
This was where Jason grew up, she thought.
The front door was cheap wood, scratched, and the hallway smelled of stale cigarette smoke.
When his mother answered the door, she showed Jenna into a cluttered living room. It would have been just like any other place occupied by a person who had given up hope – dirty and neglected – if not for the remarkable artwork on the walls. Jason had painted the view through the window, over and over again, but each time it was different. In one version, the pub was a palace and the car park a gorgeous garden. In another, strange, zombie-like figures roamed the landscape. The pictures were so varied and so fascinating that she forgot to say hello to his mother until she coughed, and spoke.
‘You see what I’m saying? Talented.’
‘I’ll say. These are incredible.’
‘I’d make you a cuppa but the kettle’s on the blink. I’ve got Coke. Or something stronger.’