The Man I Married

by Elena Wilkes

  ‘Paul!’ I shouted.

  He had his head down and was marching off ahead.

  I shot a look at the car. Its indicator winked, signalling she was pulling in.

  She parked, killing the engine, and reached down to pull on the handbrake. Her eyes never left me; they followed me intently as I hurried past.

  I glanced back. Did I know her? There was no acknowledgement or smile, but then suddenly with a punch to my heart, I realised why she’d seemed so familiar.

  The woman from the market.

  The girl in the photograph.

  It was her. Older, but not so changed that I couldn’t tell. I looked again, longer this time, and she stared straight back.

  ‘Paul!’ I had no choice but to run after him. There was no way he was going to stop. ‘Paul!’ I caught up and grabbed his arm. He went to swing me off but then checked himself. He was breathing heavily.

  ‘What’s going on?’ I didn’t let go of his arm. He didn’t speak, only stared away into the middle distance. I shook him; I wasn’t giving up.

  ‘None of this feels right. What is going on?’

  He paused for a moment. ‘I shouldn’t have said those things.’ He gazed over my head, his face stony. ‘It wasn’t fair.’

  ‘I’m not talking about that.’

  He glanced at me.

  ‘I want to know about the girl… that woman.’ I tried to sound assertive. ‘I know something’s off. Please just tell me.’ My anxiety level thumped inside my ribcage. I was dreading what he might say.

  His eyes narrowed. ‘What girl? What woman? What are you talking about?’

  I knew how dangerous this was. I was going to have to tell him about the photograph.

  ‘If I said Caitlin, would you know then?’ I watched his face. ‘There’s a woman in the car back there. It’s the girl in the photograph in your drawer—’

  ‘Photograph? I have no idea what you’re going on about!’ I heard the aggression but I saw his eyes flicker warily.

  ‘I shouldn’t have looked, but—’ I took another breath. ‘In your drawer. I found a photograph of a girl, an old one. But I’ve seen her. Once at the market and now she’s back there – In a car.’ I pointed over my shoulder. ‘I just want to know what the hell is going on?’

  He stood for a moment staring at me and then I saw him swallow. ‘Really, honestly, you’re barely making sense.’

  ‘She’s there, outside your flat, sitting in a car. She just pulled up. Come and see if you don’t believe me…’ I was emboldened with anger. ‘Come on! I’ll show you!’ I stalked off, suddenly aware that he wasn’t following. I didn’t care. I was going to prove my point if it killed me. I hurried along the line of parked cars, peering into each empty driver’s seat until I’d gone further than I meant to. I turned, puzzled. He was following slowly behind.

  ‘She was here. Right here,’ I gestured. ‘I think it was a red car, but I can’t see it now. I didn’t see her drive past—’ I looked off up the road and back again.

  ‘Well she’s clearly not here now.’ He sighed, irritated.

  ‘Oh, come on!’ I walked back along the line of cars again, and then glanced up and around as though she would appear out of nowhere. ‘She wouldn’t just turn up by accident, would she?’

  ‘Lucy. What are you saying?’ He sounded quite calm now. ‘What are you suggesting?’

  I wheeled round to face him. ‘What the hell do you think I’m suggesting?’

  He glanced at the houses to see if anyone could hear, but that infuriated me even more.

  ‘You’ve fucked up, haven’t you? Letting me stay at your flat. Is that what all this aggression is about? Have you had to make excuses as to why she couldn’t come round? Is that what’s happened? Has she come to check up on you?… Have I just sussed what’s really going on?’ I spat the words.

  He only stared at me, saying nothing.

  ‘The past is so tedious, isn’t it?’ I mimicked him. ‘Too right. We don’t want to dwell on past relationships, do we Paul? That’s because they’re not past, they’re in the present.’

  The words left my mouth and I heard them like an echo coming back. I had no idea where the fury had come from. I sounded like someone else, the emotion tight and high in my throat.

  Paul said nothing for a moment. ‘You know what I said before?’ He looked away. ‘About seeing stuff that isn’t there? About making stuff up?’

  My anger faltered a little.

  He looked away and briefly closed his eyes. ‘Well I suppose the good thing is, now I know.’

  ‘Know what?’ Something drained inside me.

  ‘I’ve done nothing but try and look after you.’ He stared at me blankly. ‘I’ve supported you when other people would’ve let you sink. I’ve treated you like a princess and what do you do? You invade my privacy. You think it’s okay to go fucking prying.’ He blinked rapidly. ‘And you want to know about that book, do you?’ He tipped his head questioningly. ‘Well that book was a gift. A surprise… For you.’

  I flinched.

  ‘Knowing what I know now, I suspect there was no woman driving past in any car.’

  ‘She wasn’t driving, she had parked—’ I knew I sounded ridiculous.

  ‘Oh for God’s sake!’

  I stood, mute and completely spent.

  ‘Think about it, Lucy. If there was a woman, why would you immediately assume it’s something to do with a girlfriend of mine from nearly twenty-bloody-years ago? Are you off your head? How likely is it, do you think, that I have been seeing someone for twenty years?’

  My brain tumbled.

  ‘Go on. How likely?’

  ‘Not likely.’

  ‘A bit louder.’

  ‘Not likely.’

  He studied me for a few seconds and then his eyes darted back to the flat. He licked his lips slowly.

  ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—’ I started.

  ‘No.’

  ‘I was being absurd. I saw something and made a connection that was just barmy.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Will you forgive me?’

  He paused and surveyed me coolly.

  ‘What does that look mean?’ I could hear the whine.

  ‘It means, how about you go back to your own flat for a while?’

  My heart shrank.

  ‘So we both get a bit of time to think.’

  Think?

  ‘So may I have my keys back?’ He stood there with his hand out and waited. My fingers fumbled for the keyring in my bag and I tried to detach it. They wouldn’t budge. He sighed, annoyed, as the ring split painfully under my nail and I yelped. He made no offer to help but took them and turned to cross the road.

  ‘Paul—’ My hand came up but he didn’t even hesitate. I watched him walk up the path to the flat, jangling my keys in his fingers and pushing his way inside. I stood on the pavement feeling bereft and utterly, utterly stupid.

  I considered all kinds of things: running after him, begging, ringing him, staying right here outside until he was forced to come out and talk to me, but I knew none of it would work.

  I walked, not caring where I might be walking to. I had done this. I had made this happen. I had behaved like a stupid teenager; I had shown how immature and pathetic I truly was, and now I was paying the price.

  * * *

  I sat on the tube, dully watching each station name roll in and then roll out again: Chalk Farm, Camden Town, and then we shunted slowly into Mornington Crescent. The engine ticked and whirred to itself, and with it, my own tiny heartbeat drummed softly as some vague old anxiety pattered beneath my ribs. You spoil things Lucy. You can’t help yourself. Things are fine, it’s just you, Dan’s voice murmured quietly. Things could be great, but you have to throw a spanner in the works. Do you have a problem with men or something? I glanced up and realised I was being casually observed. A thin man sitting opposite occasionally allowed his gaze to bat over my hair and face, and I was suddenly conscious of how I must lo
ok. Swollen paunchy face from crying, hair like a knotted nest. I had no makeup, no hairbrush, no nothing.

  I looked away, catching my reflection in the glass. I was right: I was a state. I saw the dark mass of hair, the heart-shape of my face, the deep-set shadows of my eyes, and in the strange distortion, the photograph of that girl reflecting oddly back.

  Did I look like her?

  I straightened my neck and tilted my head. Possibly.

  I tried to think rationally. Twenty years ago he’d liked a girl, and I looked a little like her. Maybe he just liked a ‘type’ and I fitted? Was that so terrible?

  I realised I’d let crazy thoughts run amok in my head. In reality, Paul had been pretty straight with me. He hadn’t tried to play games – I had just been so scared of what happened with Dan happening again…

  I glanced up at the tube map and guessed we were coming to Euston. I wasn’t going to do as he said. I wasn’t going to walk away. He wasn’t Dan. Paul wasn’t a mistake. I had messed this up. I had. No one else. So now I had to try and put it right.

  * * *

  The road was quiet and I looked up. Each massive bay window mirrored only clouds. I wondered if he was up there looking down at me right this minute, relieved and thankful that I’d come straight back.

  I walked steadily up the steps. I heard a slam somewhere deep inside. Suddenly the door was flung open and a young bloke went to push past me.

  ‘Sorry!’ he panted and ran down the path. I glanced at the slowly closing gap and placed my hand in it. I looked back once and then stepped over the threshold.

  The hallway was silent. I stood at the foot of the stairs and peered up. I had no idea what I was going to say. I made my way up, feeling silly and ill-prepared now, listening to my footsteps, slow and steady, as I wound my way up to the top. His door was slightly open as though he’d popped out.

  ‘Paul,’ I said softly, but there was only silence in return. ‘Paul?’ I touched the door with one finger. It swayed slightly and then the gap yawned and a tiny sound escaped from the back of my throat. The room was in complete disarray: the leather seat cushions were slashed and hanging from the couch, great rips in the back of the sofa showed the poor pale wooden skeleton beneath. There were violent splatters of brown coffee across the floor and up the walls and the kitchen cupboard doors were wrenched from their hinges. Shards of smashed porcelain and glass littered the floor.

  I took a tentative step forward as a sound sent me wheeling round.

  ‘Good, isn’t it?’

  Paul was standing in the doorway to the bedroom. He stared at the scene as though not really comprehending what he was seeing. He leaned against the frame and rested his head wearily. ‘It could only have taken them a matter of minutes to do this. They must’ve seen us leave.’

  ‘Who? Who did this?’ I stared at him.

  He shrugged as though he couldn’t have cared less. ‘I have no idea. Maybe you were right. Maybe it was Gould. Who knows? It could be anyone: some opportunist druggie looking for cash, or kids, maybe?’ He raised his hands helplessly and let them fall. ‘The police probably won’t know either. They say they’ll be here in a minute, but I doubt that too.’

  ‘Has anything been taken?’ I looked round, horrified.

  Paul only shrugged wearily. ‘Nothing as far as I can tell, which, I suppose, points to Gould doesn’t it? The most valuable thing was that.’ He waved at the mess of glass on the floor and I suddenly realised where the spray of glass had come from.

  ‘Oh no! Your clock!’ I crouched to look. The dented face lay on the hearth. Its bald and exposed inner workings lay bruised and bent amongst the scatter of broken porcelain.

  Paul only gazed mutely at the chaos.

  ‘If you mention Gould’s name they’ll have stuff on file though, won’t they?’ I looked quickly up. ‘About that day in Camden.’

  ‘Which is why I’m not going to mention your name.’

  ‘You won’t?’

  He regarded me steadily. ‘I’m not involving you. Because despite the fact that you think I’m a cheating, despicable, manipulative, lying no-good piece of shit, I also happen to care about you more than anyone else ever has or ever will. Protecting you is my first, last, and only thought.’

  A sudden tide of emotion rushed through me.

  Paul sighed and gathered himself. ‘If this is Simon Gould’s doing then he’s just put his own head in a noose. His DNA will be all over this stuff and the police will easily find him. It also means that he’s transferred his attention from you to me… Which is great for us.’ He pulled a wry face.

  Us. There it was.

  ‘So then.’ He tilted his eyes. ‘Let me ask the obvious question. What are you doing back here?’

  In that second I couldn’t tell if he was annoyed or pleased. I took my chance and shrugged non-committally. ‘Well, it looks as though I’m here to rescue you.’ I waved at the broken furniture. ‘My place was never quite as posh as yours, but it’s a damn sight posher now.’ He didn’t respond. ‘But it’s completely up to you of course. You can stay at mine as long as you need to – Or at least until you can get the professionals in to sort this lot out. The offer’s there.’

  I tried not to show I was nervous. He didn’t move for a second. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking, if he was still angry or not, would agree or not – but then he turned and went into the bedroom. I could hear him dragging cases out. I was flummoxed and taken aback. I went and stood in the doorway. He had the suitcase open on the bed and was pulling things off their hangers. I was amazed.

  ‘You sure you’re okay?’

  I realised the room hadn’t been touched. Odd.

  I watched the side of his face. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking or feeling.

  ‘Yeah, yeah. Fine. Just give me a few minutes on my own, would you? I need to get my head round this before the police get here.’

  ‘Sure. Of course.’

  I went back into the lounge and stood amongst the wreckage. It was like a nightmare. I thought about telling Viv – I still hadn’t heard from her about the phone I’d handed in. But now this. Jesus. My hands came up to my face as I looked at it all – then something really odd struck me. The jacket that Paul had been wearing was hung neatly on the back of the dining chair. My brain accepted yet questioned the ordinariness all at the same time. It appeared such an odd thing to do – the notion that he’d walked into a wrecked flat, taken his jacket off and bothered to hang it up seemed strange? There was something else… My eyes glanced over at the mantelpiece. I’d noticed it but not properly registered. The marble was completely bare – swept of everything as though a giant arm had just ploughed through the whole lot, yet… The sand-filled souvenir stood up like a little lone sentinel, a little glass lighthouse in all its muted pastel layers, welcoming me to Colwyn Bay. A solitary survivor in all that devastation. Impossible, yet there it was.

  Chapter Seven

  I made myself scarce when the police eventually turned up, but Paul said the guy in charge was barely interested anyway. He got the paperwork for the insurance sorted, and a team of people came in to begin clearing up the damage. He went online and ordered new furniture: exact copies of the old stuff, even from the same shop. He didn’t seem at all concerned that the clock was irreparable. I was more upset about it than he was. He appeared to accept the break-in almost as though it was just ‘one of those things.’ We picked up our relationship exactly where we had left off.

  The last week in May had produced several sudden hot days that had taken us by surprise. My flat felt small and stuffy and he decided he would work from the office in town ‘to give us both more air’, he’d grinned. It made it so much easier. I thought I’d be territorial, but I wasn’t. He fitted right in as though he’d always been there. The weekends were ours: going out to dinner or the cinema. Drinking wine and talking. This was the life I’d been waiting for. I just prayed it didn’t end.

  * * *

  ‘I’m back at work next M
onday.’ I grimaced.

  We were lying naked on the top of the bed, our heads where our feet should be, our heels on the windowsill side by side, waggling our toes. The sky was pink and pale blue like the inside of a seashell.

  ‘Not looking forward to it?’

  ‘No.’ I gazed up at his chin, studying the tiny commas of black hairs, each in its own pocket, watching how the muscle ticked and moved as he spoke, the tiny flinches at the corner of his eyes as the light changed.

  ‘I just want to stay here and do this all day.’

  ‘It’s funny, y’know, lying here like this. I’d forgotten what it felt like.’ He laughed a little and spread his toes in the breeze.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Lying on a bed the wrong way round.’ He scratched his chin and the stubble made an unpleasant sound. He cast an eye at me. ‘It’s a weird thing to do, isn’t it?’

  ‘So this is something you’ve done quite often then?’

  ‘Eh?’ He looked at me, puzzled.

  ‘You said you’d forgotten, implying you’ve done it before.’ I was grinning at him, but I knew, deep down, I could feel a soft prickle of insecurity.

  ‘Are you being arsey?’ He pulled his head back to look at me, smiling.

  ‘No,’ I chuckled. ‘I was just pulling your leg.’

  ‘Don’t do that.’ He looked away, his lips formed a thin, hard line.

  ‘Do what?’

  ‘Lie about your feelings.’

  I stared, slapped down, at the rectangle of summer sky, concentrating hard so that his words wouldn’t hurt me.

  ‘Look, I understand… I get it. I totally understand how you feel, but you’re too—’

  My body steeled itself, waiting for the blow, telling me I was too insecure, or over-sensitive. I closed my eyes.

  ‘—beautiful to ever be worried about stuff like that.’

  They dropped open.

  ‘Which is why I want to marry you.’