‘Of course she hasn’t,’ Alan replied.
‘It’s all about the vibe you give off,’ Gideon said. ‘I think she knows what’s what with me. You have to be firm with her.’
‘I bet he was rock hard,’ Brandon said.
Lucy snorted into her wine. And Julia couldn’t stop her laugh.
‘Shut up,’ Alan said. ‘I know she’s been in your room late at night.’
His annoyance only amused her.
‘Just a shoulder to cry on,’ she said. ‘Genevieve lacks female company. All her friends are male.’
‘I bet they are.’
Julia ignored him. ‘Lucy’s hardly here and her sister’s got no patience with her.’
‘How do you know that?’ Brandon asked.
‘She told me herself. She …’ Julia stopped.
‘She what?’ Gideon asked.
Julia glanced at Brandon.
‘Did she say something about me?’ he asked.
It was best to say nothing, change the conversation. And yet, she was curious to know Brandon’s side of the story.
‘Ruth thinks you take advantage of Genevieve. Letting you stay for free.’
‘You don’t pay rent?’ Alan asked.
‘And giving you money,’ Julia said.
‘Services rendered?’
‘Hang on a minute.’ Brandon showed how serious this had become by letting go of his can and placing it on the grass. ‘Hang on. Let’s get this straight. It’s just until I get a job, and I’ll be paying her back.’
‘Do you think Genevieve would let anyone else fall behind on their rent?’ Alan asked.
‘I had to pay two-month deposit and a month in advance,’ Julia said.
‘Me too,’ Lucy said.
‘You obviously look untrustworthy,’ Alan said. ‘I only paid one month. Gideon?’
‘Nothing. Pay as I go.’
‘That’s not fair,’ Julia said.
‘None of it’s fair, when he’s living here for free,’ Alan said.
‘I’m going to pay her back. Anyway, it’s different for me. I’m nearly family. My old man’s best friends with one of her cousins.’
‘That close?’ Alan said.
‘Fuck you,’ Brandon said. ‘At least I don’t have to go around bragging about nearly making it in the sack with some woman ten years older than my mother.’
Alan sat up straight.
‘I’ve got a girlfriend,’ he said primly.
‘Who no one’s ever seen.’
‘Because I don’t want to bring her to this dump.’
Brandon looked hurt and puzzled. As far as he was concerned, Alan was his mate. His changed attitude was sharp, sudden and inexplicable. He didn’t know, as Julia did, that Alan looked down on him. Now Gideon had turned up – a businessman, better educated and older – Alan no longer took the trouble to hide his contempt.
Lucy drank her wine and watched on in amusement, as if this were some spectator sport. Julia’s amusement was mixed with a mild dose of guilt. She felt complicit in Alan’s treatment of Brandon. She should never have mentioned what Ruth had told her. On the other hand, Alan would probably have used anything to attack Brandon. He’d done it to impress Gideon, to show he wasn’t friend to some drunken scruffy oaf. Julia knew, because she had the same impulse.
What Gideon saw, she couldn’t tell. He observed their squabble without changing expression and waited for a pause in their argument before asking, ‘What about you two girls, anyone?’
He asked in a casual manner, not conveying any particular interest in their love lives.
‘I’ve just started seeing someone,’ Lucy said.
‘And you, Julia?’
She stared at the grass, trying to think of a good answer. ‘I’ve just come out of a long-term relationship,’ she said. ‘I’m not really looking.’
She tried to see Brandon’s reaction from the corner of her eye. He was taking a swig from his can.
Gideon arched his back and stretched his arms to the sky.
‘I was thinking of going into town, looking around, maybe go to the cinema,’ he said. ‘Is anyone joining me?’
‘I wouldn’t mind getting a drink,’ Brandon said.
Alan looked at Brandon, then at Gideon. ‘Suits me,’ he said.
‘Girls?’ Brandon asked.
‘Not me,’ Lucy answered. ‘I’m going to stay here and catch some rays.’
Julia didn’t want to go with just the boys. ‘I’ve a busy day tomorrow.’
‘Your loss,’ Brandon said.
Gideon was watching him, or more accurately, watching him watching Julia. Had something been said? Julia looked away.
‘Have fun,’ she said.
At around half past eleven, Julia heard them come home and exchange muffled guffaws and calls of ‘night then’. No woman this time.
The house fell silent. She rolled onto her front and looked at the dark hump of the Downs directly opposite. She longed for home, her mother’s house, somewhere safe, where she understood what tomorrow would bring. An unease she’d not felt since her first few nights in the house crept over her. Something was gnawing at her consciousness, and every time she drifted towards sleep it rose up, then dwindled the moment she turned her thoughts to it.
At three o’clock she switched her sidelight on and opened a book, but unable to concentrate on the pages, she decided to get up and make a mug of warm milk, Audrey’s recipe for a good night’s sleep.
Barefoot and wrapped in a cotton dressing gown, she padded down to the kitchen. She placed a saucepan of milk on the hob and sat, waiting at the kitchen table, staring at her reflection in the French windows. The door opened and a figure appeared behind her. She spun around. Gideon came into the kitchen, wearing just pyjama bottoms, his eyes puffy from sleep. He gave her a weak smile.
‘Didn’t mean to startle you,’ he said.
Julia still felt tense. His state of undress created a fake intimacy and she made a conscious effort not to look at his naked torso.
‘I didn’t realise anyone else was up,’ she said.
‘Me neither,’ he said. ‘Couldn’t sleep?’
She shook her head. ‘You?’
‘Dehydrated. Too much lager with Brandon. My mouth’s like the Sahara.’
He didn’t sound drunk.
‘Did you have a good time?’ she asked.
‘Not bad. We went to the cinema to see The Crow, then went for a few drinks at The Ship.’
‘Any good?’
‘The pub?’
‘The film.’
‘Not really my thing. I wanted to see Bitter Moon but was overruled.’
Julia smiled. ‘Polanski? Genevieve would love it, but I can’t see it being Brandon’s type of thing.’
‘I’d hazard a guess you’re right.’
She noticed he’d yet to pour himself that glass of water.
‘What do you like?’ Gideon asked.
‘Old film noir, like Hitchcock. I think my favourite modern director is Almodóvar.’
She didn’t know why she said Almodóvar – she’d only watched one of his films and not from choice.
‘Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown was amazing.’
The pan of milk began to simmer. Julia went to the stove. She was turned away from him when he said, ‘You should come next time, so I can have an ally on the film choice.’
‘I think it’ll take more than my recommendation to get Brandon to watch anything with subtitles and without guns.’
She stopped, suddenly self-conscious. If Brandon had told Gideon about their liaison, she’d look like a bitch, slagging him off behind his back. Then again, what had he been saying about her?
Gideon went to the sink, filled his glass of water, downed it, then refilled it. Julia poured the milk into a mug and stirred in the sugar. Gideon watched her as he sipped his water.
‘Is that a cure for insomnia?’ he asked.
‘There is no cure,’ Julia said. ‘Getting up a
nd making a mug of warm milk is a distraction from the torture.’
‘You don’t sleep well?’
‘No,’ she said.
Not since she’d split up with Christian. She couldn’t remember a bad night’s sleep before that. Moving to Guildford had made it worse.
‘I usually sleep like the dead,’ Gideon said.
‘Not tonight.’
‘Except when I’m dehydrated. I guess I’ve got an exceptionally clear conscience.’ He looked at her, waiting to be contradicted.
‘Or a mind incapable of acknowledging guilt,’ she said.
‘Or that,’ he said and yawned. He put his glass in the sink. ‘See you tomorrow. And I’ll check what’s coming on at the cinema and work on Brandon about the joys of Almodóvar.’
‘Night,’ Julia said.
Gideon shut the door softly behind him. Julia strained to listen to his footfall, but he was silent as a cat.
She sat and drank her hot milk, pushing her hair out of her face. It had fallen out of its night-time plaits. She must look a mess, with her untamed hair and cheap cotton dressing gown. Perhaps Genevieve was onto something with her turbans and silk pyjamas, making bedtime into a fashion statement. Julia decided that she would at least get some new pyjamas and a kimono-style dressing gown in silk. Well, viscose was more her price range – whatever, she would look more elegant about the house.
Why did she care about her appearance at this time of night? It was then she realised what had been nagging at the back of her mind. He was taller and older, his features more defined, but Gideon reminded her of Christian. Was it a good thing or a bad thing that she’d noticed another man? She was supposed to be escaping Christian, not falling for his facsimile. She wasn’t going to make the same mistake with Gideon as she had with Brandon. Not unless you’re sure you’re going to marry the guy, Pearl had said.
She wanted to ring Pearl now, at half past three in the morning, and tell her. As it was, she finished her milk, rinsed the mug and returned to bed.
And anyway, she knew what Pearl would tell her. Gideon was nothing like Christian. Julia was seeing what she wanted to see.
Chapter 32
2018 – Bronzefield
I’m being held at Her Majesty’s Prison Bronzefield until my trial. On remand, the days are slow and the food inedible. My first night’s incarceration reminded me of my first night in Guildford. The same hollow dejection I’d felt when my mother drove away, like a young child abandoned on a foreign shore. The girl placed in the cell with me only looked eighteen. Her scowl, the only reply I receive for my ‘Hi’.
She scared me. I worried she was in here for violence, a little ironic considering the charges against me. Later, when the lights went out, the bed started to shake as she sobbed into her pillow.
I climbed out from the bunk.
‘Hey,’ I say and touch her arm. ‘I know it’s tough. Is this your first time away from home?’
The sobs increased.
‘It’s OK to be scared,’ I say. ‘Do you want to talk about it?’
She pushed the pillow off her head and turned to me.
‘I miss my mum,’ she said.
‘Me too,’ I told her. ‘Me too.’
Grace – I learnt her name the next day – isn’t a bad sort. She’s had a few bad breaks and has been led astray. Her respect for me increases when she learns I’ve been charged with murder.
‘You don’t seem the type,’ she says. ‘He must have been a bastard.’
‘I can’t talk about it,’ I say.
Ridding the world of a bastard and helping some of the longer-established women with their GCSE maths keeps me from being bullied.
Pearl visits as often as she can and always ends up bursting into tears. I haven’t the heart to tell her not to come again because her visits make me feel worse. Andre managed to visit once and provided a welcome dose of gallows humour. Sam’s not come. So, I’m left with Audrey. She’s suitably formal for the occasion. A navy skirt with a light blue navy blouse. No perfume, no lipstick, just a swish of blusher – rouge. She surveys the room with mild bemusement. The unkempt state of some of the visitors is incomprehensible to her.
‘They could at least wash their tracksuits,’ she says.
I hush her. She doesn’t have to live with these women whose loved ones she’s eyeing with horror.
Rudi has directed Audrey to hire another of his university friends, Ralph Williams QC, to act in my defence.
‘Who’s paying for him, Mum?’ I ask. ‘Please say it’s not Pearl, because I could never pay her back.’
‘I’m paying, well your father, stepfather, is really. And there’s no need to repay us.’
I clench my fists. ‘Robert would never agree to part with that sort of money, not for me,’ I say.
‘Oh, he’s agreed.’ Audrey looks pleased with herself. ‘I can be very persuasive.’
Something’s not right.
‘Mum, what’s going on?’
‘All right then. I told him I’d leave and damn well ask for a divorce if he wasn’t prepared to support my daughter.’
‘But you never …’ I try to find a tactful way to phrase it.
Audrey saves me the trouble.
‘I never stand up to him. I’m a Stepford wife.’
‘That’s not what I said.’
‘No, Julia, for once you’re right. I have never stood up to him. Put up with God knows what, but enough is enough. He can go on as many “golfing weekends” accompanied by one of his carousel of secretaries—’
‘You know about that?’
‘Really, Julia, do you think I’m stupid? Well, maybe I am, but not that stupid,’ she says. ‘Don’t sit there with your mouth hanging open – it makes you look gormless.’
Dumbstruck would be closer. And it takes a few moments to follow Audrey’s command and close my mouth.
‘But you’d never actually leave him,’ I say.
‘Yes, I bloody well would,’ she says.
Audrey has sworn more in the last minute than in the entire forty-seven years since my birth.
‘He must believe you – a barrister,’ I say. ‘I don’t even know how much they cost. But we’re talking remortgaging the house, right?’
‘Not necessary. We’ve plenty of savings. I’ve always been very frugal.’
‘I was thinking about Gideon.’
‘You need to think about yourself.’
‘You believe I’m innocent then?’
‘Irrelevant,’ she says with a swish of her hand. ‘I know you, Julia, and I know you think I’m overly critical, but I’ve never thought you were a cruel or wicked person. And if you played any part in this – no, I don’t want to know – but if you did, I’m sure he deserved it.’
‘Wow, Mum.’
This is a new Audrey I’ve never seen before, defiant, bold and fierce in my defence.
She looks around the room before she leans towards me.
‘You know, Julia, it might be a strange time to tell you something like this, but I realise it’s something I should have said before. I really am very proud of you.’
Chapter 33
1994 – Guildford
Monday had been a dog of a day at Morgan Boyd. Julia’s boss had been in a foul temper, finding fault with everything.
His nit-picking meant she had to skip lunch and work late. Heavy clouds over Guildford made it much darker than it should have been at seven-thirty in July. And the moment she did step outside, it started raining, torrential summer rain that poured down so hard it rebounded off the pavement. By the time Julia arrived home she was drenched from head to toe and completely famished. Only then did she remember that all she had was a Lean n’ Low lasagne and some limp broccoli, the first day of her new diet.
A light shone from the dining-room window, which was at the front of the house and overlooked the drive – one of Genevieve’s private rooms. Julia had never been inside. The rain blurred the figures, but she could make out Genevieve, and
a man whose bulk made her certain it was Brandon.
She couldn’t be bothered to use the side door and Genevieve would never know. As she stepped into the hall, the warm rich smell of sweetness and spices hit her nostrils. Her stomach growled in response and she could hear laughter coming from the dining room.
‘Dominic was just the same,’ Genevieve was saying. ‘Go on, have some more.’
‘Don’t mind if I do.’
It was Brandon.
For one moment, Julia considered knocking on the door, in hope of an invitation to join them. The lure of real food overriding her desire to avoid Brandon. What was it they were eating, duck?
While she hovered outside, the door opened and Genevieve came out. Surely her wretched state would move Genevieve to extend the offer of dinner.
‘Goodness, Julia,’ she said. ‘Did you come in the front door? And on a day like this. You’re soaked to the skin. Go and dry yourself off. You’re dripping everywhere. The rug will be ruined. I suppose I’ll have to mop all that water up now. Pudding will have to wait.’
‘Sorry, Genevieve.’
‘Humph.’
Julia trudged upstairs to the landing and when she heard Genevieve go into the kitchen, she shook herself like a dog drying its coat, hoping to leave as much water damage as possible.
In her room, she stripped off and wrapped herself in a towel. It was at times like this she missed being at home. Audrey, who lived in perpetual fear of her loved ones catching pneumonia, would have been up with a bowl of soup by now.
She dressed, wrapped her hair in a towel and went back downstairs to the sound of more laughter from the dining room. In the kitchen the warm spices mixed with much sweeter smells coming from the oven. Julia peered through the glass door. It looked like Tarte Tatin. She put her ready meal in the microwave. She couldn’t be bothered with the broccoli. It pinged, just as Genevieve came in with a platter, carrying half a duck and a few roast vegetables. Genevieve barely ate, Brandon must have demolished the rest.
‘I like a man with a good appetite,’ she said. ‘And it’s so nice to have someone to cook for.’
Any hopes Julia had that Genevieve might offer her the leftovers were dashed by her reaching for a Tupperware box.
‘There. That will be enough for Brandon’s lunch tomorrow. I’m going out with Edward.’
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