by Clare Boyd
He stared at me as he bowled across the room to stand by Ilene’s side. ‘Who’s this, then?’ he asked Ilene, kissing her, open-mouthed, while reaching for a box of teabags. I wanted to gasp in shock. It was like watching a grandson and his grandmother in a sexual tryst. This young man could not possibly have been Jason Parker’s father.
‘She’s thinking of renting across the road,’ she answered him, as though I was no longer there.
‘We’ve got to be at Mike’s at eleven.’
She put her hand out to take my empty glass. Her gaze was no longer searching. She had moved on from me to her young boyfriend’s needs, and to Mike, whoever he was. I must have imagined her suspicion of me. Perhaps she was suspicious of everyone in equal measure.
‘Thank you so much for this. I’m so sorry for disturbing you,’ I said, handing her the tumbler.
‘No harm done,’ she said, and she followed me out of the kitchen.
No harm done, but nothing gained either. Why had I come here? It wasn’t clear to me now. I had discovered very little that satisfied me, other than how much I disliked her, and, possibly, that she had moved here twenty-three years ago to be near to Jason when he had started at Exeter, which suggested they had been close. But why no photographs anywhere?
Our three souls would never meet here today. Ilene Parker’s had been barricaded in by her anger, and I guessed she would never place a hand of forgiveness anywhere near my head. If Sophie and I confessed, I imagined she would want us to burn alive, let alone in hell. I loathed myself for coming here, for cheating her out of her right to the truth once again.
On the way out, I noticed that the door to the bedroom was now wide open.
And there, on the chest of drawers, I saw what had been missing from the rest of the house. There were multicoloured fairy lights draped around a cluster of photographs of a sandy-haired, narrow-eyed boy. Baby snaps and school photographs crowded for space around a burnt-down candle. Dozens of greetings cards were slotted in and around the frames as though he had died only yesterday.
Ilene must have noticed my staring.
‘That’s my son,’ Ilene said softly. She ducked into the bedroom to pull a photograph of the same boy, as a teenager, from the chest of drawers, to show me.
As soon as I clapped eyes on his face, I became rigid. My bones fused under my flesh. Those eyes. I would remember those pale, thin eyes forever. And that grey skin that was pulled back across his features, tight and mean. Forever imprinted on my mind.
I was pinned to the spot by his ghostly presence, just as I had been pinned to the bed once, and I experienced a sucking sensation in my stomach. It was horror and shame, pulling out my insides. I reeled back from the photograph as though swerving away from his outstretched groping. But he was dead. I was safe.
I hurried out, glancing behind me one more time, to see that face in the largest colour photograph. It brought back a series of sickening flashes, over which I heard Ilene Parker’s voice echo around my head. Most likely she was saying goodbye, and I responded as well as I could, somehow finding a way to walk with forward momentum, promising to knock on her door when I moved in across the road.
This last spineless lie, this final sidestepping, almost knocked me down. I would never knock on her door again. Not now I knew; not now I recognised who her son was.
Chapter Twenty-One
Sophie watched Diana, Izzy and Dylan being told off by the lifeguard. Dylan had narrowly missed jumping on top of an old lady who was doing lengths with a shower cap on and plastic bags tied to her ankles. Naomi stood up from the viewing platform, where she and Sophie sat, and gesticulated at the three children, wagging her finger.
Sophie pulled her down to sitting. In the light of what Naomi had just told her, the children’s antics were irrelevant. They spoke in whispers, although the distorted, amplified noises from the Saturday swimming pool crowds would have soaked up their voices even if they’d been shouting at one another.
‘You did what?’ Sophie hissed.
‘I went to see her.’
Instantly, Sophie’s right palm began to itch.
‘Who picked up the kids?’
‘Charlie. I told him I was working in Devon.’
‘Are you insane? He could have checked.’
She brought her face close to Sophie’s. ‘It was him. It was Jay.’
‘I know.’
Naomi’s pretty eyes became hollow shadows. ‘You knew?’
‘Yes.’ Sophie breathed deeply. ‘Do you feel better about it now?’
‘Better?’ she spluttered.
‘You’re sure Ilene Parker believed your story?’
Naomi avoided answering. ‘Was it a terrible coincidence, Sophie? Please tell me it was a coincidence.’
‘You’re sure she didn’t suspect anything?’ Sophie asked, also sidestepping.
‘No! She didn’t suspect a thing.’
‘She didn’t suspect a thing,’ Sophie said, repeating Naomi’s words, as though allowing them to settle.
‘If she suspected anything, she would have asked me more questions. She wasn’t interested in me.’
But Sophie could hear tears in her voice, and saw how fast her fingers tapped her knees.
‘I told you not to go.’
‘I wanted to know what she was like.’
‘Did you find out?’
‘She was horrible.’
‘Good.’
‘That doesn’t matter any more.’
‘I think it does,’ Sophie said.
Naomi dug her fingers into Sophie’s upper arm and whispered urgently at her, ‘Sophie, please tell me you didn’t see who it was before… before…’
‘I told you what happened. I saw a man and you distracted me and the car swerved,’ Sophie said, turning her eyes from the pool to Naomi.
‘I didn’t see him at the party…’ she said, shaking her head.
‘I did. I saw him when I was having a smoke outside and I told him to leave.’
Naomi was aghast. ‘You saw him there and you never told me?’
‘I didn’t want to bring it all up for you again. I was protecting you, Naomi.’
Naomi’s fingers clamped over her plump thighs like claws. ‘Oh my god. Oh my god. I can’t believe this is happening. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to think.’
‘For starters, I think you need to leave that poor woman alone.’
Naomi shot out of her seat. ‘Dylan! Stop that right now!’ she screamed, and sat down again.
‘Don’t tell my son off like that,’ Sophie snapped, the panic bursting out for a second.
‘He was about to jump on that old lady again.’
Sophie exhaled, scratching at her head. ‘He would never do that.’
Naomi laughed. Sophie resented that. Naomi’s ups and downs were beginning to grate on her.
‘Promise me you won’t go and see her again.’
Naomi bit her lip. ‘No. No. I can’t. Not now.’
‘We’re in this together, remember.’
‘Together?’
‘Yes.’
‘We are not together at all.’
Sophie was wounded. ‘Why do you say that?’
Naomi shoved her hands under her thighs. ‘If you’d seen that shrine for… for…’ she began, but she didn’t finish.
‘Going to see her was the wrong thing to do,’ she replied calmly. ‘Now you’ll never get her out of your head.’
Sophie’s gaze ran over Naomi. She was swollen. Her flesh had reacted to the news like an allergy. The hourglass, full figure, usually dressed in cinched-in wrap dresses or elegant blouses, was hidden under a frumpy jumper, making her look plump. Sophie realised that Naomi had not wanted to confess for Ilene Parker’s sake. She had wanted to confess for her own sake, like a man telling his wife about an affair he had years ago, to ‘get it off his chest’.
‘Think of how you hated him once, Naomi. Just think about that.’
‘I can’t think
about that!’ Naomi cried.
A child, who had been running along the poolside, looked up at them.
‘Keep your voice down,’ Sophie hissed. ‘Don’t you realise, you’ve had a life because of me. That man almost ruined yours but he’s dead now, and you have everything you could ever dream of. Don’t blow it all up now.’
Naomi’s mouth opened and closed again. And then she repeated, ‘I can’t think about that.’
‘Okay. Good. Don’t ever think of it. Put it all away, just as I have done,’ Sophie said, standing. ‘We’d better get them out.’
Naomi stayed sitting.
Sophie bent down and whispered in her ear. ‘I won’t let you do anything stupid. Just think of life without those two girls.’
Naomi took her eyes off the children for long enough to show Sophie how frightened she was. ‘Don’t threaten me.’
Sophie laughed at her. ‘I was talking about life in prison, without them.’
‘Fuck off,’ she snapped back.
Sophie spied Adam from the door as he put one black bin bag into the boot of his car. She hated Sunday evenings, when he would leave for Kingston.
‘Is that all you’re taking?’ Sophie asked.
‘That’s the last of it.’
With a start, Sophie realised that he had been emptying the shack of his possessions over the previous weeks, gradually, stealthily. A bag of stuff last weekend, a lamp the other, two picture frames another. Until now, she hadn’t noticed how much had gone. There was so much she hadn’t noticed about him throughout their marriage. It made her feel angry with him.
‘You’ve always been sneaky.’
He slammed the boot. Simultaneously, there was a loud rattling bang that came from the garage.
‘Where’s Dylan?’ he asked.
Both of them ran to the source of the noise. The red corrugated door of the garage was clattering and squeaking.
Sophie’s heart was in her mouth. If he had damaged the Giulia, she didn’t know what she would do to him.
Adam and Sophie darted in through the garage side door and peered into the gloom.
‘Dylan? What are you doing?’ Adam shouted over the banging.
When Sophie’s eyes adjusted to the dark, she saw that Dylan was wielding the axe and hitting at the rusted lock on the garage door.
Adam squeezed past the car, yelling at him to stop, and managed to wrestle the tool out of his hands. ‘You must never play with this, understand me?’ Adam shouted.
‘I want the big door to open so that the car can come out!’ Dylan screamed, thrashing about, reaching out for Sophie, squirming out of Adam’s arms and into Sophie’s. ‘I want to drive in the blue car with you and Mummy! Just as you promised, Mummy!’
Sophie carried him outside and soothed him. ‘It’s okay. Calm down. Calm down,’ she whispered in his ear, feeling his limbs flop. ‘We’ll get someone to open the lock and we’ll have a drive with Daddy soon, okay?’
‘But Daddy’s going forever! He’s leaving us!’ he wailed, sobbing into Sophie’s shoulder.
Sophie looked over at Adam reproachfully. See? She was saying with her eyes. See what you’ve done?
‘How did you get into the garage, Dylan?’ Adam asked, sounding angry, setting Dylan off crying again.
‘Through the door?’ he wailed sarcastically.
Sophie could feel the lump of the keys in his shorts pocket. They dug into her stomach. ‘He must have taken the keys from the peg in the house. He likes playing in there sometimes,’ Sophie explained.
‘Promise me you won’t go into the garage without asking Mummy first, yes?’ Adam said, nuzzling into Dylan. Sophie could smell Adam’s hair. It was fresh, like a barber shop. Unfamiliar. She wanted to take a chunk of it and rip it out of his head.
She began walking to Adam’s car, clutching Dylan, who was getting too heavy. ‘You had better get going.’
Adam stood at the open car door, looking at them both. She couldn’t read his expression. He might as well have been looking at a painting of them on a wall. He then took a hairband from his wrist and tied his hair into a bun. Sophie thought of Deda’s disparaging comment about men with long hair and she smiled. Adam smiled back, having misread her. His teeth looked whiter than ever against his olive skin.
‘I’m coming to collect you on Friday, Dylan, that’s only three days away! We can go out in the Giulia then, how about that?’
Sophie shook her head at Adam. ‘I’ve got the Wilson girls that night.’
Her stomach fluttered at the thought of her plan for Friday night with Izzy and Diana, or, more accurately, her plans for Naomi. A surprise for all of them.
‘Saturday morning, then,’ Adam frowned.
‘Can we go out zooming around in the blue car then, Daddy?’ Dylan said, perking up.
‘Yes, we’ll take her for a spin then, we promise,’ Adam said.
Sophie stroked the hair from Dylan’s sweaty forehead. ‘If you’re late, you’ll miss out. I can’t hang around waiting.’
His white teeth disappeared. ‘See you at ten next Saturday.’
She watched his car go and then looked over at the dent in the red garage door. She would fix that and they would go for a spin. It was time.
Before then, she had to fix Naomi.
Sophie knew that every Friday, ever since the two Wilson girls had started school, Charlie came home from work early to meet them at the gates, unless they had playdates or parties or special events.
This Friday was going to be one of those special events.
* * *
14.23, Friday 20th April
[email protected]
SUBJECT: pick-up this afternoon
* * *
Hi Charlie –
* * *
Naomi forgot to tell you I’m picking the girls up this afternoon and taking them to the cinema with Dylan. Lucky I texted her with a reminder! Could you email the school for me to tell them? Naomi would do it but she’s stuck in this awards ceremony and asked me to ask you!
* * *
Sorry for short notice.
* * *
Sophie x
* * *
14.35, Friday 20th April
[email protected]
RE: pick-up this afternoon
* * *
Sounds fun. All done.
* * *
Are you dropping them back or do we need to pick them up from yours?
* * *
Charlie
* * *
14.37, Friday 20th April
[email protected]
RE: RE: pick-up this afternoon
* * *
I’ll drop them back. See you then. Sx
* * *
‘Hi, Diana!’ Sophie called out across the playground, waving. ‘Come on, Dylan. Hurry up.’
He was lagging behind her, but she wanted him by her side when she approached the teacher.
Diana beamed at her. ‘Hi, Sophie. Where’s Daddy?’
‘Daddy forgot to tell you I’m taking you and Izzy out to the cinema with Dylan today.’
‘Yeah!’ Diana cried, giving Sophie a hug around her hips before saying hello to Dylan.
Sophie took Diana’s rucksack.
‘I’m so sorry, could you hold on a second, please?’ the teacher said, holding Diana’s shoulder proprietorially, scanning down a list of names on her clipboard with a hot-pink nail. She had the looks and manner of an air stewardess.
‘I’m Sophie King. Charlie said he’d email, but he may have forgotten.’ Sophie ruffled Diana’s hair, but her teeth ground together. She was worried that Charlie had forgotten to email, or worse, that he and Naomi had spoken, that Naomi had refused permission. It had been one of the potential risks. Dylan clung to her leg and scratched at his elbows, as though he, too, knew how dicey her plan was.
‘Mummy forgot to sign my permission slip for confederation sports yesterday,’ Diana said.
‘That’s unlike your mummy, isn’t it?�
�� Sophie replied.
‘This is my mummy’s BFF, Mrs Figgis,’ Diana told her teacher.
‘I’m afraid I’ll still have to check with the office before we can let you go, Diana. I’m so sorry.’
Mrs Figgis did not look sorry.
Sophie’s heart pounded beneath her ribs, but she smiled, pretending to be unfazed, looking at her watch. ‘I understand.’
While Mrs Figgis was in the office, Diana mooched at Sophie’s side, sticking her head inside Sophie’s billowy sleeves.
‘Daddy’s taking me in the blue car tomorrow,’ Dylan declared.
‘That will be fun,’ Diana said earnestly. Sophie noted how smart she looked with her stripy tie and tartan kilt. Their school uniforms were classier than Dylan’s. Overall, it was a better school, with its Ofsted Outstanding in every category, and a forest school. Sophie had tried to get Dylan into this school, but their address was half a mile out of catchment. It had been typical that Naomi had won the postcode lottery without even trying.
The teacher returned.
‘All done, that’s fine, Mrs King, the office hadn’t seen the email. You can go, Diana.’
‘Bye, Mrs Figgis,’ Diana said, taking Sophie’s hand, while Dylan trailed behind.
‘Goodbye, Mrs Figgis,’ Sophie said.
They did not have to go through the same rigmarole at the other corner of the playground with Izzy’s teacher, who had been briefed by Mrs Figgis.
When the two girls and Dylan were strapped into her car, Sophie turned the ignition on. Triumphantly, she brought out the three chocolate bars from the glove compartment and handed them round. How ironic, that Naomi would fear more the stranger in the white van who might lure her girls away with sweeties.
As she turned left out of their school, rather than right towards Guildford, where they would usually go to the cinema, Sophie hoped that Diana would not notice. She might have been old enough to know the way, but in fact, none of the children noticed.