by C J Morrow
‘He said that was why you couldn’t come to our wedding.’
‘Robin. Eh? What can I say?’ I don’t think Caroline cares what he’s said, or not said, about anyone. ‘Anyway, eat and drink your fill before these old buggers swoop on it. You’re paying the bill, after all.’
‘Who are all these people?’ Dad says.
‘Some are distant family, you know the sort that crawl out from their caves for a funeral. Some are the olds from the sheltered housing. I thought it might be jollier with more people. His teacher friends are over there if you want to talk to them.’ She pushes her plate into an empty space on the table, grips her wine glass and wanders off in search of a refill.
‘Is she drunk? Already?’ Mum’s voice is censorious.
No one answers.
‘She’s coming over.’ I watch as Carly detaches herself from her friends and heads straight for me. She’s beautiful, like Robin. She has his slim build, his hair. She is so obviously his daughter.
‘Hello,’ she says to me. ‘We didn’t get a chance to talk.’
‘No.’ I want to turn and leave, right now. Then I remember that none of this is her fault. ‘We didn’t. I’m Juliette, Robin’s wife.’
‘I know. Caroline told me.’
‘I thought she was your grandmother,’ Mum snaps, her tone judgemental.
‘She is. She doesn’t like being called granny. You know…’
‘Not really, dear.’ Mum picks up a plate and starts to fill it. She nudges Sally to do the same.
‘Caroline says you’re at university?’ I feel the need to know more, however painful.
‘Yeah. Finishing soon. Yay.’ There’s a false little smile, she’s trying so hard to be jolly. Aren’t we all? Well, not jolly, civil.
‘Well, I hope you do well.’
‘Me too. I sort of owe it to dad. I didn’t really want to go. He persuaded me. And I’ve really enjoyed it.’
‘That was good of him.’ Mum is back and butting in. She won’t have forgotten how he dissuaded me from going to university.
‘Yeah, I’m really lucky. He’s been helping me with the costs, no student debt for me, thanks to Dad.’ She sniffs and waves her hands across her face to fight away the tears, then she smiles, putting on a brave face.
I feel the knife in my heart. I want to tell her that I’ve been helping with the costs too, that I’ve probably paid the lion’s share. Instead, I force a smile. The polite part of me knows I should ask what she’s studying, what she plans to do when she finishes, but I just cannot bring myself to ask.
‘I should get back to my friends. It’s been nice meeting you.’ Sensing my discomfort, my misery, she leans in for a brief air hug; she has more empathy than her father.
‘You too, Carly,’ Mum says for me as I smile inanely at Carly’s retreating form. She even has Robin’s walk.
Mum pushes plates at me and Dad.
‘I’m not hungry.’ I push the plate back at her.
‘You may not be, but that little one in there probably is.’ She pats my middle. ‘Anyway, you’re paying for it.’
I catch Mum and Sally talking about the funeral in Mum’s kitchen the next day. I’ve let myself in and I creep along the hallway, listening as they dissect the horrors of the previous day.
‘Nothing surprised me. Nothing.’ Mum’s voice is pure vitriol.
‘No.’ Sally agrees.
‘I always thought he was a shit. Always.’
‘Yes.’
‘A liar. A liar from the very beginning.’
‘You were right,’ I say and Mum and Sally jump as they turn to cast their guilty stares at me; caught in the act. ‘Carry on. You’re not saying anything I don’t feel.’
‘Have you had breakfast?’ Mum changes the subject.
‘Yeah. At Sally’s. Really, you don’t need to stop. You can’t say anything that can make it any worse. He was a liar. You always said that, Mum. He had this whole other life going on before me and during me.’
‘The lying little shit,’ Mum mutters as she comes to me and wraps her arms around me. ‘Never mind, it’s all over now. No more lies.’
‘Yeah.’ I hug her back and let the tears flow. They flow for me, for the life I thought I had, for the life I might have had. They even flow for Robin. My mind is in turmoil. Caroline. Robin’s father. First wife. Carly. What next? No more. Please no more.
Mum has no tears for him. She had always had the measure of Robin and she had been right all along.
There’s a knock on the door and Stephen appears.
‘You ready?’ he asks Sally.
‘Is that the time? I hadn’t realised. Hospital appointment.’ Sally jumps up. ‘Pre-assessment before the actual op. I’ve been offered a late cancellation and I’ve jumped at it. Could be any day now.’ She grabs her jacket from the chair.
‘You okay?’ Stephen takes over from Mum and hugs me. ‘I’ve got to take Mum but maybe we could do something later?’
‘Something?’
‘I don’t know. Walk in the sunshine, get some fresh air. It’s not raining today.’
‘Yeah. Good idea.’ I sound vague because that’s how I feel. Vague. And bewildered.
‘You haven’t got any other plans?’
‘No. No. I might go back to bed, I didn’t sleep well. I’ve got a headache.’
‘Well, wait for me to come back. We’ll do something together.’
‘You don’t have to stay with me, I could be up there hours.’ Sally pulls on her jacket and starts down the hallway.
‘Just as easy to stay,’ Stephen calls to Sally, kissing me lightly on the cheek before following her to the front door.
After they’ve gone I have a cup of tea with Mum. We don’t talk, just sit in silence, both staring, both lost in our own thoughts.
‘Can you take anything for your headache? Paracetamol?’
‘I already have. It’s going off now.’ I think about going to bed but the prospect of lying there, not sleeping and just churning everything over doesn’t entice me.
‘Oh, I bumped into Chloe’s mum when I went to Asda last night. Chloe’s doing a lot better.’
‘Is she? What was wrong with her?’
‘She had a bit of a breakdown after …’ Mum’s voice falters. ‘Madeleine… you know.’
‘Poor girl.’ That explains why she wasn’t answering her phone.
‘Yes, not helped by all that nasty business.’
I screw my face up in question. ‘What’s that?’
‘Phone calls late at night from a withheld number and threatening messages. She had to get a new phone number.’
‘I tried ringing her old number. That explains it. I want to talk to her.’
‘Better not.’ Mum gets up to clear the cups away. ‘Leave the poor girl alone.’
‘But she might know something. About Mads,’ I add.
‘Leave it. The police spoke to her. Took her to the station and everything. Quite traumatic. Just leave it.’
‘Okay,’ I promise, and I will for now.
‘Mum, do you know where Robin’s death certificate is? I need it for the bank and stuff.’
Mum stops and stares at me. Is she thinking, trying to remember where’s she put it? ‘No, Stephen sorted it out, thank God. Me and Dad…’ Her voice fades away as she shudders.
‘Maybe it’s at the house, I’ll ask him later.’ I change the subject. ‘I think I might go back to bed.’
‘You should. Take it easy. It’s been nonstop shocks since you came out of hospital. And you’re pregnant too. Have you made an appointment with the doctor about it?’
‘No. Too soon.’ I get up, give Mum a quick kiss and escape before she can start nagging about prenatal care and vitamins. Me having a baby seems unreal, almost a fantasy. Just like the life I thought I had.
Back at Sally’s I go up to Stephen’s room and flop on the bed. As expected, I don’t fall asleep. My mind churns. I flip through my growing to-do list. I should tackle more of i
t.
I will go to my house. I call a taxi, grab my jacket, and, just as an afterthought I fish the black, blood-splattered handbag out of the drawer and stuff it inside my big handbag. I might as well take it back and add it to my others. It’s Chanel and it seems a shame to throw it away. I doubt I’ll ever use it again, but maybe the blood will clean off, maybe I can sell it on eBay.
There’s a lot of my life I would like to get rid of, sell off.
I find Robin’s death certificate quite easily, in an envelope in Robin’s in-tray – that almost makes me laugh. Stephen, bless him, has had the foresight to get several copies too. I must reimburse him for the cost.
I start going through Robin’s desk, I’m pretty sure the bottom drawer, the one with suspension files hanging in it contains bills and household paperwork.
I’m right, and thirty minutes later I have all the documents I need; Robin’s need to be in control means that everything is neatly filed and annotated. I find our wills, straight forward; everything is left to me. No mention of his other family.
I start with my car insurance and make the phone call – I soon wish I hadn’t bothered, it goes on and on. But, at least they are already aware of the accident, it’s on the national database. When I finally finish the call, fully aware that the claim is only just started, I feel drained of all energy. I cannot bear to call anyone else yet. In the meantime, I can drive Robin’s car, they said, except I can’t, not with a cast on my leg.
In the kitchen, I wonder if the milk Stephen brought is still in the fridge and still drinkable. A quick sniff tells me it is.
I take my tea upstairs with me, together with my handbags. I have some wet wipes upstairs that might get the blood stain out. They don’t but I try cold water in the bathroom then dab it with toilet roll; it’s definitely working. More water and it’s clean. In my bedroom, I get the hairdryer on it and when I’ve finished it’s as good as new.
I remember when I got this bag, I didn’t want it especially, but Robin insisted. It was very expensive. He paid. I’ve hardly used it, last time, before that day, was at Belton’s staff Christmas Ball.
I check the bag to ensure it’s empty. I don’t want to sell it full of snotty tissues and cloakroom tickets. A quick couple of pictures on my phone and it’s on eBay. There, done.
I feel a weight move from my shoulders.
‘First of many,’ I say aloud, grabbing another bag and a pair of boots. They’re going too; I never chose them, I never wear them.
I go into the spare room we use for storage and find a box. The bags and boots get consigned to the box and are joined by more. The selling box, I mentally label it. I don’t find much in my handbags, the odd pen, an old lipstick – they go in the bin.
Just as I throw another bag onto the pile I glimpse the Chanel bag that started this cathartic spree.
‘Side pocket,’ I say, grabbing the bag and unzipping the forgotten compartment. I pull out a scribbly envelope.
For your eyes only stares at me and I feel panic rising in my chest.
I shake.
This is it.
The letter.
My hands hover over it.
I wish I wasn’t alone.
Downstairs the front door opens and closes.
I am not alone.
I am being burgled?
My heart is thumping in my throat.
I stand up and scrabble around for my phone, finding it under the laden selling box. I still have the letter in my hand, I stuff it into my jeans pocket. I’ve taken so many photos and been on eBay so many times that my phone is flashing low battery. It’ll let me make an emergency call though, won’t it?
It will. I lean on the windowsill as I dial 999, imagining that my voice will not be heard downstairs if I’m facing outside. I’m asked to choose the service I need when I see it.
Stephen’s car.
On the driveway.
I end the call.
The carpet on the stairs is thick, it masks my steps as I descend.
‘Hello,’ I say when I find him in Robin’s study, his back to me as he is going through the items I’ve laid out on the desk.
He freezes, just for a moment, then turns and smiles.
‘I thought you might be here when you weren’t at home.’
‘Yeah. You know.’ I shrug. ‘Spur of the moment thing. Is Sally done at the hospital?’
‘No. She’s going to be ages. She’ll message me when she’s ready.’
‘How did you get in?’
He blinks several times as though I’ve asked something stupid or the answer is so obvious that he can’t believe I’m asking.
‘It wasn’t locked.’
‘Oh God. Wasn’t it? I thought it was.’ I really need to concentrate on what I’m doing. ‘I didn’t hear you knock.’
‘I rang the doorbell, maybe the battery’s flat. Then I tried the door. And here I am.’ He lifts his arms up as though he’s a magician. ‘I see you’ve been sorting your documents out.’
‘Yeah.’ I slide around him and plonk myself on the desk chair. ‘Sorted out my car claim. That’s one off my list, dozens to go.’
‘Baby steps.’
‘Yeah. I know.’
‘Any sign of the mysterious letter?’
I’m about to tell him but then I don’t. I want to read it on my own. I want to know if it is from Mads and I want to decide alone whether I’m going to share it with Mum and Dad if it is.
‘No. Then I decided to sort out my handbags and shoes.’ I don’t tell him that I rang 999.
‘Really?’ He laughs. ‘I suppose that’s a good diversion.’
‘Something like that.’ I laugh now. I can see why Stephen, or anyone really, would think it’s a waste of time when I have so many other things to do.
‘I can take you home if you’re ready?’ He reaches for the keys he obviously dropped onto Robin’s desk when he came in.
But I grab them first. I hold them behind my back. A look of irritation flashes across his face, then it’s gone.
‘You want to play silly buggers? Okay.’ He tickles me under the arms. Fortunately, I’m not very ticklish. When that doesn’t work he grips my arms behind my back and tries to extricate his keys. I grip them tighter, laughing. He stops, smiles, then comes in for the killer move, a kiss. One hell of a kiss; even though I’m sitting down my knees go weak. This is why I was leaving Robin. ‘There,’ he says. ‘I’ve been wanting to do that for so long.’
‘Yeah.’ I’m almost breathless.
‘Keys.’ He holds out his hand.
I drop them into his grasp, sweeping my eyes over them as I do, it’s a casual, unconscious act. I notice the gold one, longer than the rest, I remember its sharp-edged feel in my hand.
He gets a message from Sally just as we arrive at her house, he drops me off and turns around to go and pick her up. I stand on the kerb and wave him off before letting myself into her house. I creep up to my bedroom – Stephen’s bedroom – and, even though I know I’m alone, I close the door behind me.
The letter is even more crumpled since it’s been screwed up in my pocket. I smooth it out. My hands are shaking again. Should I go next door to Mum, open it with her? No. It could be rubbish. Or it could be upsetting. Why was it in my handbag? I must have had it that day, in the car, in the accident.
I have the vaguest memory of it. Reaching into the glove compartment for tissues. That’s where I kept them. Stephen had said I was upset when I left, I remember, I was; we’d just cremated my little sister. It was my car but I wasn’t driving. I also remember that. I do.
And that’s where the letter was. Stuffed in the glove compartment. We were rowing about it before I had even opened it. But it had already been opened. Robin had opened it.
And now I must open it.
For your eyes only.
Dear Etty
If you’re reading this letter then it means something horrible has happened to me.
If you’re reading this letter
it means Chloe has had to send it to you. It’s addressed to your work so Robin won’t get it first, cos I know he’s like that. I’ve put for your eyes only on it so your assistant won’t open it.
A wave of nausea engulfs me, I breathe deeply until it passes.
And I can’t text you or email you, cos he will read them too, cos he goes through your phone.
Does he? Did he? What had Robin told her? I didn’t know he read my messages or my emails.
I’m in love with Stephen. We’re a couple. He loves me.
I read this line several times. Has she put the wrong name in? Does she mean Robin? Is that any better?
We’ve been together since the summer when Stephen was over from Canada. As I’m writing this Stephen is making arrangements to move back here for good.
I flick back to the top of the letter, she has dated it; it’s just after Stephen came back from Canada permanently. She definitely means Stephen. I am so confused.
Now that he’s back we’re going to be together, in our own house and everything. I’ve wanted to tell you cos I know you’ll understand cos it’s only the same age difference as between you and Robin, but Stephen says it’s better to wait until it’s all settled, until I’m sixteen otherwise he’ll get done for sleeping with a minor, but I wanted to, it was my idea. He says we’ve got to win Mum, Dad and Sally over too. Lol.
Is this true? Or is she fantasising?
But now Robin has found out and he’s mad. Stephen says that Robin hates him and doesn’t want him to be happy and that’s why he’s being nasty. Stephen also thinks that Robin wants me for himself. Robin has emailed me. He says that if I tell you or try to be with Stephen that he will kill us both.
My heart thumps in my chest. I do not know what to believe. This is definitely from Mads, her handwriting is so familiar to me and so is her signature. But it cannot be true, any of it. She must have been delusional.
So, if you get this letter and something has happened to me and Stephen, go to the police and tell them it is Robin.
Love and kisses xxxxxx and I hope this never gets sent.
Mads.
I read the letter over and over.
I am shaking with shock and fear and I don’t know what to do.