He listened, and then he went off upstairs to the toilet, stayed there a few minutes before he came back. I knew he was thinking about it, but when he reappeared I could see the spinelessness written all over his face.
“I can’t do it.” That’s what it boiled down to, unvarnished and simple. He spread out those podgy hands, palms upward. “Sorry.”
I intercepted him at the door, grabbed on to his coat sleeve. “You’re a fucking coward,” I hissed, careful to keep my voice down, but pouring as much venom into my tone as I could. “I won’t forget this, and nor will Kas. Just wait until he hears about what’s happened here.” They were empty words, of course; I had never visited Kas and didn’t plan to, couldn’t risk having my equilibrium rocked in that way, but he didn’t know that.
He shook my hand off with ease and glared at me, and for a brief nauseous moment I realized that he was still much stronger than I was and that if he wanted he could knock me out in a second. But he just shook his head and broke away, then made his exit through the back door. I stood there listening to his footsteps plodding away down the walk, and then there was silence.
Something built in me then, the kind of wild fury I hadn’t felt in years. Everything I’d planned was slipping out of my fingers and I could see it, literally see it, all falling to the floor and smashing around me. My vision was blurred and there was only this white-hot anger and the need to do something, do something. My hands were shaking. I lit a cigarette, and suddenly I thought about how easy it would be to let it fall onto the rug and set it alight. And how easy it would be to do the same thing in the next room, and the next, while Jade was sleeping upstairs, and then to wait just long enough before I called 999. It wasn’t a well-thought-out plan. But in that moment it came to me with such blinding, shining clarity that it felt like the only thing to do. And so I did it. And it was real, the heat and the light and the terror. I didn’t have to fake it.
By the time Alex came home and I’d stumbled out of the building, my chest was sore and my heart was thumping like crazy and the tears came to my eyes without prompting, and when I saw him there he looked so aghast and confused and bereft, and I looked at him and thought—yes, I love you, I love you and you’re worth all of this. I’m not an idiot—I knew it would be hard for him, losing her. But I’d be there for him and I’d never leave him, and he’d never be able to do without me ever again.
But of course it didn’t work out quite like that. They got her out, like a cat with nine lives. I sat there in the hospital with my painted smile and my prettily crossed legs and doted on her, and I blocked it all out of my head, because I knew that if I didn’t I’d lose control completely and I might just reach out my hands and tear the fabric of it all apart into shreds until there was nothing left.
* * *
• • •
THE TAXI ROUNDS THE CORNER and starts up the main road. We’re almost there. I take a few deep breaths, calm myself. Crazily, I wish I could talk to Alex. I want to tell him everything and to share all the panic and frustration of the past few days with him. Impossible, obviously, considering the subject matter, but that’s what love is. Wanting someone to know you, and all your secrets.
I’d been wanting to tell him about the past for a long time. I’d reinvented myself, but that doesn’t mean that I’d forgotten. When something is part of you, part of the blood that runs through your veins, not sharing it with the person you love more than anything else feels wrong. It drove me mad sometimes, lying there next to him and thinking that he knew so little about me—not even that, but that he actually knew completely the wrong things, that I’d just fed him a load of lies. After the fire, that feeling grew and grew. Maybe it was coming so close to death. I’d stayed in the house longer than I’d meant to, not realizing how slow and fogged my reflexes had become with the heat. The veil had been twitched back and it made me vulnerable, less able to bear things on my own.
There was only one problem. Let’s just say I’m aware that to an impartial observer, “Sadie” might not come out of this story looking too likable. I wouldn’t have expected Alex to understand. Or more accurately, I didn’t trust him to—no, not even him. I would never trust anyone enough. Also, if I was going to tell him my story, it would have involved going into some detail about my obsession with another man . . . not the sort of thing any husband wants to hear, and if I wanted him to understand properly then I couldn’t really downplay it.
I hadn’t solved this dilemma, but it all came to a head sooner than I’d imagined. Alex startled me when he pulled out the photo of Kas and Rachel. Stupid of me to have kept it, of course. But it was a snapshot in time, that photo. I’d taken it in the early days, before it all fell apart, when I was starting to believe that Kas and I could really have something, and maybe even that Rachel and I could build some bridges. I liked to look at it sometimes, when I was on my own. Just to remind me of how it was.
Anyway, I knew in that moment that I’d have to tell Alex something—he’d forced my hand—but I couldn’t tell him the truth. Like all my best ideas, it came to me quickly, a brilliant moment of clarity. I could tell the story, just from a different angle. I would reinvent myself all over again. And when I reached for my new self, Rachel was there waiting for me.
I hadn’t thought about her too much over the past few years. Maybe it hurt too much. She was my sister, after all, and part of me could never quite believe that she’d betrayed me. I’d hung on to a few old things of hers, out of what can only have been sentiment, I suppose, but I never tried to find her. I doubt I could have in any case. And anyway, I tried to imagine it a few times, and I realized that when I thought of coming face-to-face with her, I had nothing to say. Or too much, maybe. In any case, not the right amount.
So it surprised me, how easily I slipped into her character. It was as if she’d been under my skin the whole time and all I had to do was scratch my surface and out she popped. It was easy to see the situation from her perspective, play up the sense of hopelessness and fear and the bitterness against Sadie. After all, it’s not like I didn’t get plenty of that from her in the old days. In a way, it was satisfying, becoming her. Alex certainly took to her; I could see him instantly casting me in the role of wronged victim.
In the meantime, I carried on with the messages from Jaxon. I created a little teenage falling out—he was suspicious, thinking that Jade was faking her hospitalization in order to avoid meeting up with him. We’d smoothed it over, but now I need to step it up again. As the taxi pulls up, I take the spare phone from my bag and send another text, then make sure to put the phone on silent. And that’s my cue. I swing out of the taxi and walk up to the hospital, my steps steady and sure.
* * *
• • •
SHE’S SITTING UP in her hospital bed, anxiously jabbing at her phone. She looks quite fragile: her skin almost translucent, her face without makeup shockingly stripped back and revealed, the large dark blue eyes clear and shining.
I stand in the doorway, waiting a few seconds before I step forward and speak. “Hi again.” She starts, looking up at me, still clutching her phone. I can see at once that she’s struggling to act naturally, to focus on anything except the message she’s just received, and that those eyes are actually shining with tears. “What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Nothing,” she begins to say, but her voice is strained and choked. She drops her gaze, staring at the bedsheet.
I come forward into the room and sit down next to her. “Is it this boy? Jaxon?”
She glances up at me quickly. “I didn’t know you knew about that.”
“Your dad told me.” I don’t want to say too much. I’m not sure how much Alex knows about the whole thing; he only mentioned it yesterday, briefly and cryptically. So I just smile sympathetically and stroke her hand. “Has something happened?”
Jade takes a breath, and she’s clearly wondering if she trusts me enough to open up
to me. The answer, under normal circumstances, would probably be no. But she’s upset, and I’m the only one here, and perhaps she knows that I’ll be less strict about this than her father. Because I’m not her mother. On some deep dark level, she knows I don’t really care.
“He’s just texted me,” she says quietly. “He’s saying he’s still not sure if I’m making it up about being in the hospital, and he thinks I’m just playing with him. This is so—so frustrating. I don’t want him to come here and see me like this. But he’s going to lose interest, and I don’t want . . .” She breaks off, rubbing a fist angrily across her eyes.
“I understand,” I say firmly.
“Really?” She shoots a slightly suspicious glance in my direction, wiping away the tears.
“Of course.” I pause, wondering whether to continue, but the mood feels right. “Look, the reason I’m here is that last time your dad and I visited, the doctors said you were pretty much ready to get out of here. He’s out tonight, so I was going to suggest that you come back with me to the hotel and we could surprise him. But maybe . . .” I let the silence stretch, as if I’m weighing it up. “You do feel better, don’t you?”
“Ye-es . . .” she says cautiously.
“Well,” I continue, with studied reluctance, “perhaps . . . you could suggest to this guy that you meet up tonight. We could go there first, before going back to the hotel. I could take you, wait somewhere nearby so that I know you’re safe.”
Jade blinks slowly, her lips slightly parted. I mentally chastise myself; I’ve put this on her a bit quickly, not given her time to catch up. When she’s absorbed what I’ve said, there’s a faint spark of excitement in her eyes, but her overriding expression is one of concern. “I don’t know,” she says.
I cock my head to one side, press my hands together. “Have I misunderstood? I mean, if you don’t want to, that’s fine, but . . .”
“It’s not that,” she says quickly. “It’s just . . .” A blush has appeared on her cheeks and she isn’t quite looking me in the eye. “I look awful,” she mumbles eventually. “I haven’t got any decent going-out clothes here, I’ve got no lipstick or blusher or anything . . . I don’t want him to think I can’t be bothered to make an effort.”
I want to laugh with sheer relief. “Is that all you’re worried about?” For a moment I deliberate launching into an impassioned speech about how a boy should love you for what’s inside, but I change my mind. Who am I kidding? “I can help with that,” I say decisively. “We’ll stop by the hotel on our way and I can fix you up.”
“Really?” Jade says, more eagerly now. “Well, in that case . . .” She smiles, unable to stop herself. “I’ll text him now. Argh, I can’t believe it! Do you think it’ll go OK?”
“I’m absolutely sure it will,” I say, standing up. “Let me go and find the doctor now, and get you a discharge form.”
It takes longer than I anticipate to track down the right person and the right form, and I can see the doctor isn’t sure about this plan. He points out that they were envisaging Jade being in for a few more days, to be certain that she’s ready. But I stand firm, telling him that there’s a birthday surprise for her father and that she can’t miss it. We’ll bring her in for another checkup later in the week—even readmit her if necessary—and it will all be fine. “Now, where do I sign?” I say brightly, and although I can tell he still isn’t convinced, he also knows that he has no right to prevent me.
As I’m walking back toward Jade’s room I check my spare phone and see that she’s sent Jaxon a text. Hey babe, I promise I still want to meet. I can actually do this eve if you wanna?!! I’m getting out of here.
I pause to send back a suitably encouraging reply. serioussss?? of course babe. I cant meet til bit later but meet u in portslade? I can’t imagine Jade being too fussy about the location for her first date, and I have a place in mind. Stick to what you know.
She’s already out of bed and tugging on her boots when I return, and she beams up at me, clearly raring to go.
“Ready?” I ask, and there’s an inexplicable lump in my throat.
She nods and stands up to face me. She stumbles slightly as she does so, her legs still a little weak, and I reach out to steady her. The room is very still, a shaft of late sunlight falling through the slats of the window and shining on her face, making her look like an angel.
“Thanks for doing this, Natalie,” she says quietly. “I really do appreciate it. I know you understand what it’s like . . . what it’s like to be in love.”
And it’s true. I do.
ALEX
SEPTEMBER 2017
The hold music seems to last forever. My nerves are shredded with the waiting and I’m on the point of hanging up and dialing again when it abruptly cuts out. “Hello?” I recognize the clipped tones of Dr. Rai. “Mr. Carmichael? I understand you’re calling about your daughter?”
“Yes,” I say. “I just want to speak to her, please.”
The doctor clears his throat, and when he speaks again his voice is a little diffident. “Jade is no longer here at the hospital,” he says. “She left earlier this evening, along with her mother. It was contrary to our advice, but her mother was quite insistent. I assume there has been some kind of breakdown in communication and that she hasn’t managed to inform you?”
For a few seconds I’m silent. My throat is suddenly dry, and I have to force myself to speak. “Stepmother,” I say at last.
“I’m sorry?” the doctor begins to say, but his voice is already fading from earshot as I pull the phone away and stare at it, then press the button to hang up.
When I turn around I see that Rachel has followed me outside. I don’t know how long she’s been standing there, but it’s clear she can tell by my expression that something is very wrong. Her eyes are searching and anxious, huge in her pale face. She puts out a hand and touches my arm, silently asking a question.
“They don’t know where she is,” I say. “The hospital. My daughter isn’t there anymore. She’s gone with my wife.”
Saying it aloud makes it real. I realize with a sick lurch of terror that these words don’t sound as innocent as they should. “Come on.”
I set off down the esplanade, Rachel hurrying behind me, and as I do so I call Natalie. Her phone rings, but goes to voice mail. The familiar lilting message kicks in: Hey, this is Natalie. I’m not here right now, but I’ll get back to you. The sound of her voice is briefly reassuring—its untroubled normality. This is my wife, I remind myself. I’m letting myself get carried away with the strangeness of this situation. Whatever Natalie is doing, she’ll have her reasons. Surely, it will be OK.
“Hi, sweetheart,” I say. It’s an effort, but I force myself to sound calm. “I’ve just spoken to Dr. Rai, and he tells me you’ve taken Jade home. Bit surprising—can you give me a ring and let me know what’s going on? Speak soon.”
I hang up and keep on, turning a corner up the street that will lead us to the hotel. “I expect they’ll be back at the room where we’re staying,” I say to Rachel. “I’ll just go straight there.”
“Right,” she says. Her face is still very pale, her hands clenched into fists at her sides as she walks and her hair unraveling from the bun piled on top of her head and falling around her face, making her look more like Natalie. “I’ll come with you, and wait outside. If they’re there, just don’t come back out. I’ll wait for a while, and then go away.”
“You don’t want to see her?” I ask. “You’re sure?”
She says nothing, just shakes her head and keeps on walking. For an instant, something that looks like pain flashes across her face.
It doesn’t take long to reach the hotel at the speed we’re going, and I pause outside for a moment to catch my breath. “Okay,” I say. “I’ll go in and find them now. I’m sure they’ll be here. So if I don’t come back, then . . .” I trail off. A go
od-bye feels sudden and premature, but I don’t know what other parting shot there can be, and after a moment I just raise my hand in a vague gesture of farewell, not quite looking her in the eye. She nods, and leans back against the wall, turning her head away.
I hurry across the hotel lobby and climb the stairs, fumbling in my pocket for the room key. I try to regulate my heartbeat, take some deep breaths. I tell myself that in a few moments all this will be over. I’ll be able to hold my daughter, and to look into my wife’s eyes and let her know that I know the truth now, and that I’m ready to look past all the things she’s done before and find the person I love still waiting there. I want us to settle down, all crowded together on the bed, and watch something tame and harmless on the television before ordering room service and maybe going for a short stroll before bed. These thoughts are flashing in my head, bright flares of hope, as I unlock the door and push it open.
I see at once that the room is empty, but I don’t want to believe it, so I go inside and circle it stupidly, looking in the bathroom, calling Jade’s name. The edge of the bed is crumpled, as if it’s been recently sat on, and a wave of heat emanates from the shower cubicle, warm droplets of water still clinging to the glass screen. Someone has been here, very recently. I turn back into the room, and that’s when I see Jade’s mobile, with its distinctive pink casing, lying on the floor by the bed. I bend down swiftly to pick it up, but of course it’s locked, and try as I might, I can’t remember the pin code. My head feels soft and fuzzy, my thoughts mashing up against one another like cotton.
The Second Wife Page 27