by Imogen Clark
‘Come on, Stace,’ she said. ‘Stupid little bitch isn’t worth it.’
‘I think it’s time you two left, don’t you?’ repeated Clio so confidently that it was all I could do not to applaud her. ‘You can come back when you’ve stopped picking fights. Until then you’re not welcome.’
Clio pointed towards the door and the two women backed off. As Stacey left she flicked a dirty middle finger at me, just as Eddie reappeared. He took in the situation with an experienced eye but didn’t say a word. Clio nodded in my direction to check that I was okay and then went back to the bar.
I sat back down, fighting to get my breathing under control. As the adrenaline ebbed away I was left wanting to cry like a baby but I couldn’t do that, not in front of Marlon. He sat down, too, but he pulled his chair up closer to mine and reached out to take hold of my hands, which were still shaking.
‘Are you all right?’ he asked, and he sounded so concerned that it made me want to cry even more.
All I could manage was a tight little nod, but I smiled at him and hoped he could see that I was grateful. The sketch was still sitting on the table in front of us. Marlon picked it up and whipped his pencil out of his pocket. Quick as a flash, he added a few strokes to the image and then turned it round for me to see. Now I had a crown of laurel leaves on my head, like an ancient Olympic champion.
45
MELISSA – THEN
Melissa liked her job in the King’s Head. Granted, it wasn’t as exciting as working in Newcastle had been back when she’d first met Ray, but it got her out of the house now that Leah was old enough to look after herself, and the money came in handy. Punters were punters the world over and Melissa was good with the crowd that stumbled in there, no matter who they were. She put people at their ease, or so Eddie the landlord said. Ray had once told her that she was good at her job, too, and she had never forgotten, treasuring his praise like a precious jewel. There weren’t many things that she did well enough for others to pass comment on: she wasn’t bad at ten-pin bowling and she made a mean raspberry trifle, but that was about it.
But what about being good at the important things in life? Melissa wasn’t so sure about that. How good a mother was she, for example? Melissa considered this as she ran a damp cloth over the optics in the empty bar. She was certainly better than her own mother had been, so that was something, at least; not that her own mother had set the bar very high.
Leah was a credit to her and Melissa was immeasurably proud of her daughter, even though she wasn’t sure how much of Leah’s success was actually down to her skills as a mother. Leah was old enough now to leave school if she wanted to, but she’d stayed on and was taking her A-levels. To be fair, this had been Leah’s own decision. If it had been up to Melissa, Leah would have left at sixteen and got a job, like she’d done, but Leah had been determined to stay. Melissa struggled to understand her daughter’s attitude. She could see absolutely no point in battling on at school a minute longer than you had to, but Leah saw things differently. In fact, now Melissa came to think about it, many of the great things about Leah – that she wasn’t on drugs, didn’t have a baby or two in tow and was still living safely at home – were mainly down to Leah herself. They broke the mould when they made her, that was for sure.
Melissa felt her throat thickening as she thought about the strong-minded, independent young woman that her daughter was becoming. Her pride was always tempered by the fear that Leah would soon be leaving Whitley Bay with barely a backward glance to go and make her own way in the world. Maybe it had been a mistake to have only one child? If there had been others still growing up at home, then perhaps Melissa wouldn’t have had this terrible premonition that she was about to become redundant.
But then who was she trying to kid? There was no way that Melissa could have coped with any more children. She’d been totally overwhelmed by the one she’d had, mainly because she’d done most of the work herself. Despite Ray’s promises that he would be at home more, that he’d be able to pick and choose his jobs as he became more senior, things had never turned out that way. If anything, she and Leah had seen less of him as his work became more and more demanding. The pride that she’d felt at Ray being the best bodyguard on the books had waned a little over the years, and they argued about it more and more often. Just this last year he hadn’t been at home for her birthday in May. It wasn’t the first birthday he’d missed (and he wasn’t always around for Leah’s, either) but this time something in Melissa had snapped.
‘I thought we could go out for dinner on Monday,’ she had suggested as they washed up after tea.
It was a test, of course, to see if he had remembered. He had. He was good with anniversaries and birthdays.
‘Your birthday,’ he replied. ‘That’s a nice idea. Bit of a difficult day for restaurants, though, Monday. Where were you thinking?’
Melissa hadn’t got anywhere in mind, really. She’d have been happy just to go to the pub and have a few drinks, but Ray wasn’t keen on that kind of thing. He said he didn’t like mixing with the locals because he always felt like an outsider, not having grown up in the town like they all had.
‘And I can’t bear to think that you might have had liaisons with any of them,’ he always said. He’d emphasised the word ‘liaisons’, making it sound quite mysterious, but Melissa knew that he just meant sex.
Melissa said nothing. He was right. There were very few men of her age in the pub that Melissa hadn’t slept with, or at least snogged at some point in her youth. That was just the way it was in a small town. Everyone had history. And you forgot about it after a while because it had been a lifetime ago, but Ray had never seemed to get the hang of it and eyed any man they met with suspicion.
So, when they went out, they generally went to eat rather than to the pub.
‘There’s that new bistro by the bingo hall,’ Melissa said. ‘I bet that’s open on a Monday. I’ll find out, book us a table.’
Then Ray had taken his trusty blue notebook out of his back pocket and flicked open to the relevant page. Melissa hated that book. As far as she was concerned it brought nothing but heartache and irritation.
‘That would be perf—’ he said. And then, ‘Oh, hang on.’ He frowned as he ran a finger down the page. ‘The thirteenth. I’m in Glasgow that week. I’ll have to go on the Saturday to get there and set up before the client comes in late Sunday night. I’m so sorry, babe.’
‘But it’s my forty-fifth,’ protested Melissa.
It wasn’t a particularly significant birthday, but it had a five on the end so it felt a little bit momentous.
‘I know, princess, but I can’t change it. Let’s have an extra-special celebration the week before. Or after. You take your pick. And I’ll buy you the biggest bottle of champagne in the place. You can have bubbles like you’ve never had them before. Even your bubbles will have bubbles!’
He gave her that smile he always gave her, the one that could still make her insides turn to jelly, but this time it didn’t work.
‘Oh, for God’s sake, Ray,’ she protested. ‘Do you have to go? It’s my bloody birthday. I don’t ask much, do I? I put up with your stupid job. I’ve virtually brought our Leah up on my own . . .’
Ray looked hurt at this and opened his mouth to object, but Melissa pressed on, her anger building with each accusation.
‘You never want to go out with my mates. We see no one. And now you can’t even be bothered to be here for my bloody birthday. It’s crap, Ray. Really crap. What kind of marriage is this, anyway? I’m stuck here day in day out dealing with all the shit, and you waltz in when it suits you, take all the glory and then bugger off again.’
She was being unfair. Ray’s job was what kept them afloat. He paid for almost everything for her and Leah and he’d bought the house all those years ago, so she hadn’t had any of the day-to-day worries that her friends had. On top of all that, she’d known the score when she’d married him. But right now she didn’t care about any of that. She wanted to
hurt him, just like he was hurting her by missing her birthday.
‘I’ve had enough,’ she screamed at him. ‘You can bloody well ring that office and tell them that you can’t work. And then you can take me out for dinner.’
She was crying now, tears borne of frustration bursting hot from her eyes.
Ray, however, didn’t even flinch. ‘I am sorry,’ he said in controlled tones, ‘that you are disappointed, Melissa, but I have a job that week and there is nothing that I can do about it.’ His face was completely blank, emotionless, calm. He didn’t even raise his voice. ‘If you don’t like it then I can leave, we can get a divorce. Is that what you want?’
No! No, of course that wasn’t what she wanted. Ray was her world, and she was happy to take what she could get of him. It was just . . .
Melissa threw her arms around his neck and convulsed into his shoulder. Ray stood motionless for a moment and then he wrapped his arms around her tight, the way he always did.
‘I’m sorry,’ she gulped through her tears. ‘It’s just so crap.’
‘I know it is, baby,’ he said soothingly. ‘But it is what it is. And at least I do come home. What if I was on the rigs or in the army? I wouldn’t be home for months on end.’
Melissa nodded, her tears and snot smearing his clean shirt.
‘And I’m really sorry about your birthday but I’ll make it up to you. I promise.’
And he would, Melissa knew. Next time he was home there’d be flowers and a box of Milk Tray chocolates and a bottle of fizz and she would feel like a princess all over again.
The lunchtime trade had gone, and there were just a couple of the regulars left in the tap room. Melissa went through to the lounge to clear the glasses. She took her portable radio with her. Eddie didn’t like her to have it turned on when they were busy, but it kept her company in the quieter periods. ‘Driving Home for Christmas’ was playing even though it was only November, and Melissa found herself humming along. The start of Christmas seemed to get earlier each year. Eddie had refused to even contemplate tinsel in the pub until the second week of December, but Melissa was hoping that she’d get to decorate the big tree that always stood in the corner of the lounge. She wasn’t quite sure what the pecking order was for the job, though. Maybe one of the more long-standing barmaids also had their eye on the task?
Melissa swept up the few remaining glasses, happily accompanying Chris Rea. She liked the idea of driving home for Christmas. It wasn’t something that she’d ever done, living all her life in the same place. She couldn’t even drive. But maybe one day . . .
Someone had left a copy of the Chronicle carefully folded open at the page they were reading. Melissa looked around, but there was no one to claim it. Whoever it belonged to must have finished with it. She picked it up. She’d have a flick through when she had her tea break. Melissa didn’t follow the news generally, but the local paper sometimes had things that interested her. As she folded it in half to slip into her jeans pocket, an image caught her eye. It was a man smiling broadly at the camera. He was holding a violin in one hand and shaking someone else’s hand with the other. He was wearing one of those long posh jackets with the silly tails. Her eyes flicked up to the headline.
‘New Leader for Apollo Philharmonic.’
She peered more closely at the grainy black and white photograph and then at the caption underneath. ‘Conductor Frazer Howard congratulates new leader Charles Montgomery Smith.’
Well, this must be Ray’s half-brother. No one had told her that he played violin. Fancy her Ray having a brother with such a poncy job. The idea made Melissa smile to herself. She looked again. He looked so much like her Ray. She’d thought it before when that Grace had shown her the photos of her family and now, again, she was taken aback by how alike the two men were. They could probably pass for one another, not that her Ray would ever be seen dead playing a violin. But it was kind of eerie, the resemblance. This Charles had his hair swept back, whereas Ray wore his more over his forehead. And Ray didn’t own a suit like the one Charles wore. Then Melissa noticed something. Seeing it there knocked the air out of her lungs so fast that she toppled back on to the padded bench. Her head was spinning as she peered at the photograph again.
Sticking out of the sleeve of Charles’s jacket was the friendship bracelet that Leah had made all those years before. Even though it was only fashioned from cotton threads, it had lasted because Ray took it off when he went to work, leaving it on the shelf in the bathroom at home. He’d told Leah that it was too precious to wear every day, even though all the love that she’d plaited into it made it super-strong.
And now here it was, around the wrist of her husband’s brother. But how could it possibly have got there? It made no sense.
Unless . . .
Melissa’s chest closed up. The room started to cave in around her and the atmosphere became very thin. She couldn’t get her breath. She had to get outside, out into the fresh air or she’d faint. Swaying as she walked, she made it to the back door and out into the beer garden. Here the air was cold and damp, a fret swirling round from the sea. Melissa leant against the wall for support, resting her forehead against the cool bricks, the newspaper still in her hand. The vile idea that had taken root in her mind was now growing like a cancer, but it couldn’t be right, could it? It was an impossible thought. She must have got hold of the wrong end of the stick. And yet she didn’t know what else to think. This was a picture of her husband. She was certain of it. He was wearing clothes that she didn’t recognise and was in a situation that she knew nothing about, but there was no doubting the friendship bracelet or indeed the evidence in front of her own eyes. The paper might say that he was Charles Montgomery Smith but Melissa knew that it was wrong. The man in the picture, the man that the paper named as Charles Montgomery Smith, was Ray Allen, her husband.
46
MELISSA – THEN
Somehow Melissa got home. She told Eddie that she needed to leave, mumbling something about a migraine, and then stumbled her way back to their little house by the sea.
The house felt cold and empty when Melissa opened the front door. There was nobody at home. Leah had been invited to a party and had gone to her friend’s house straight from school to get ready. Ray was due back later on. She had planned a cosy night, just the two of them. She’d even bought some nice chicken Kievs to have for tea with a bottle of wine that was now chilling in the fridge.
Melissa headed straight for the kitchen without even taking off her coat and retrieved the bottle. She opened it and poured herself a large glass, which she drank almost in one. Her brain was working overtime. What did she have in the house that would prove who Ray was? They had no passports – there had been no need for them, as they didn’t take holidays abroad. Melissa had never seen any paperwork, either – no bank statements or credit card bills. She had always assumed that Ray dealt with all that stuff at his office.
His office? But there was no office. He was a bloody violinist. Her husband played the bloody violin for a living. Melissa could feel bile rising in her throat. She made it to the kitchen sink just in time as the wine and what was left of her lunch reappeared.
Unperturbed, she wiped her mouth and poured herself a second glass and sat at the kitchen table to think. It took a few moments for her mind to clear enough for her to even begin to think in straight lines, but as the fog slowly cleared, she started to see clues. Ray was away so much. He had always told her that this was his work, but what if that was a lie? Well, it clearly was a lie. He wasn’t a bodyguard at all, but a musician. So where was he when he wasn’t with her? He could hardly have been living in his car. He must have another house somewhere.
And then slowly, Melissa remembered Grace. Her husband was called Charles. Melissa had seen a photograph. She tried now to picture it, but it had been such a long time ago. All she remembered was that Charles looked a lot like Ray. So, had Ray or Charles or whatever he was called been duping Grace, too? She had turned up with th
at cock-and-bull story about them being sisters-in-law, but maybe she had really believed that. After all, when Melissa had told Ray of her visit, he had concocted that story about his half-brother Charles. No wonder he’d been so determined that the two women shouldn’t meet. He must have been terrified that if put together, they would have worked out his secret.
Melissa poured herself another glass of wine and moved through to the lounge, looking out at the street where the pale autumn sun was sinking behind the buildings opposite. She was thinking more clearly now and suddenly it all fell into place. It was obvious. When Ray wasn’t with her he hadn’t been working away. He had been calling himself Charles and living with Grace and her children. His children.
Things were starting to make sense. That second time Grace turned up, she’d been different. Melissa thought about how much older she had looked, about her own pride at how much better she herself was ageing. Well, that was no surprise if Grace had worked out what her husband had been doing. In fact, the only reason Melissa still looked so fresh-faced was because she was stupid and had been living in ignorant bliss. The idea made her feel sick.
She remembered how quiet Grace had been that day, not a bit like the first time she’d visited. And how she’d reacted when she saw the only photo that Melissa had of her, Ray and Leah all together. Grace must have realised the moment she saw that photo. How stupid she’d been, Melissa thought. All these years her life had been a total fiction and she’d had no idea.
Melissa’s mind was too full of it all, so she let it close down and just sat listening to the sounds from the street outside: children playing and being called in to eat, dogs barking, cars coming and going, the hubbub of ordinary people getting on with their ordinary lives. Two hours ago, that had been her. Now nothing would ever be ordinary again.
By the time Ray arrived, the light outside had faded entirely, and the room was filled with the sodium glow of the street light.