‘It’s a crystal whiskey tumbler. So you don’t have to drink out of that toothbrush glass anymore.’ I chuckle to show I’m teasing and Alex gives a weak smile.
‘Very considerate of you, Katie,’ he says, and in the same breath he adds, ‘You could wear a nice summer dress tomorrow, get togged up a bit. You’ve lost enough of the pregnancy weight now, surely?’
I’m stunned and I don’t know how to answer that, so I say nothing.
‘Going to be hot tomorrow,’ he adds. ‘Scorchio! I’ll pour myself a Scotch,’ he says, leaving the bottle I gave him on the table. ‘It might be unlucky to open this before the day of my birthday.’
I knit my eyebrows, wondering how Alex can think nothing of unwrapping his birthday present before the actual date, but draw the line at opening the bottle itself.
‘That glass will have to be washed out before I use it.’
I’m not sure if he expects me to get up and wash the crystal tumbler for him. I stay seated.
Is Alex disappointed with his presents? Or does he just want me to be disappointed by his reaction? Deep down, I think he’s gutted I remembered his birthday at all. Last year I remember him doing a countdown in his emails: three more sleeps … two more sleeps … one more sleep. We’d only been in touch for a little while and it struck me as touching, albeit childish.
This year he hasn’t mentioned his birthday once. Perhaps he was hoping to pick a fight. I used to think Alex couldn’t handle difficult situations very well. Now I’m beginning to think he thrives on the drama. He’s only really happy when he’s angry.
When he has drained his glass of whisky, he yawns and says, ‘I’m going to turn in now. You coming?’
I stifle my own yawn. ‘I’m just going to read a chapter or two, then I’ll be up,’ I answer, anxious to avoid a repeat of last night’s performance.
I take my novel from the coffee table. I’m too tired to concentrate really, but I read a few pages and hope that will have given him enough time to nod off.
Before making my way upstairs, my eyes are drawn to the bottle I bought Alex, which is still in its box on the coffee table. I study it for a moment, still confused about Alex’s nonchalance. Then I pick it up and take it over to the cupboard where Alex keeps his whiskies, to tidy it away.
When I open the cupboard, I look at the bottle labels. I notice he only has Scotch whiskies. My mum’s dad wouldn’t touch Scotch whisky, although he swore by Irish whiskey. My mum often said “a wee dram” was my grandfather’s panacea for every ailment and disease. Maybe it’s an acquired taste, or maybe Alex simply prefers Scotch. Perhaps Irish whiskey wasn’t a good choice.
While I’m pondering this, a small packet catches my eye. I almost don’t see it. It’s tucked behind some twelve-year-old Glenfiddich. A box of pills. At first, I’m amused by the thought that Alex would keep paracetamol or aspirin in the same place as his whiskies. The hangover cause next to the hangover cure. Then it strikes me as odd that Alex would keep headache tablets in the whisky cupboard instead of in the bathroom cabinet with all the other medicines.
I open the box and pop one of the pills out of its blister to examine it. It doesn’t look like a painkiller to me. It’s green for a start. Has Alex hidden these tablets here? I read the name of the drug on the packaging. It doesn’t mean anything to me. There’s no leaflet inside the packaging. I have no idea what this medicine is for. I decide to Google it, but then I remember I’ve left my phone charging in the bedroom.
I wonder briefly if Alex is taking performance-enhancing drugs, but I dismiss the idea. He has always been very anti-doping and can’t abide cheats. It’s more likely this is for a common complaint. Like hay fever. Or an embarrassing one. Like haemorrhoids. I’m making a mystery out of something that’s banal.
All the same, I think it might be better if Alex doesn’t know I opened this cupboard, so I put the packet of pills back exactly where I found it and I put the bottle of Irish single malt back down on the coffee table where Alex left it. Then I tiptoe upstairs to bed.
Chapter 12
~
The sun is shining on the morning of the barbecue. Alex is in good spirits and Chloe is gurgling in his arms as he sits in the kitchen, chatting to me. Leaning against the worktop with my arms folded, I watch them together, but somehow I can’t quite catch their carefree air.
Observing Alex with Chloe, I wonder, not for the first time, why his ex-wife refuses to let him near their daughters. I understand that it might not have been plain sailing being married to Alex, but he really is a wonderful father. Perhaps I should try and track Melanie down. If I tell her Poppy and Violet have a sister, maybe she’ll change her mind about keeping them from seeing their father.
It’s as if Chloe knows she’s in good hands now her daddy’s home. She’s so much calmer this morning than she was when Alex was away at his mother’s. She cries a lot less and seems happier when it’s her daddy who is taking care of her. Either she prefers him to me, or she can sense that he knows what he’s doing whereas I still feel like I’m fumbling inexpertly every time I take my baby girl into my arms.
I wish I could say the same for me, that I’m calm when Alex is around, too. But I’m not. Far from it. He’s having the opposite effect on me. I seem to be in a permanent state of anxiety. Soon I won’t be able to remember what it felt like not to feel anxious. To feel safe and adored, instead of scared and despised.
Alex is going for a long run before checking in on Sandy. He calls me over and gently transfers our daughter, who is now sleeping, into my arms. Then he bends down to tie up his shoelaces. His chair scrapes as he stands up, startling Chloe. Alex pecks me on the cheek and then blows a raspberry on Chloe’s hand before he leaves. Chloe starts to wail just as the front door bangs closed. The spell is broken.
I stand up and position Chloe on her tummy across my arm. When she screams even louder, I rock her. I talk to her, but my soothing voice and words are as much for my benefit as hers.
My family arrive at the Old Vicarage before I’ve had a chance to get dressed. I’m overjoyed to see them again. My father doesn’t even look at me; he goes straight for Chloe, who, by now, has cried herself to sleep.
‘You’d better get used to it.’ Julie laughs. ‘Once you have a baby, no one pays attention to you anymore.’
‘It’s the same when you have a dog,’ my dad says, still engrossed in his granddaughter.
‘So, what would you like to do today?’ Daniel asks me. ‘Do you want to go out with Julie while your dad and I look after Chloe and the boys? Or do you need help with something?’
Julie has obviously briefed Daniel on his mission for this weekend.
‘Well, actually, we’re having a barbecue this evening. There’ll be quite a few of us. I could do with a hand. I need to make a lot of food.’
‘OK,’ says Daniel. ‘All hands on deck then.’
‘Where’s Alex?’ Julie asks, as if she has just noticed he’s absent.
‘Oh, he’s out training and then he’s going round to his mother’s. She had a bad fall.’
‘Poor Humpty,’ says Daniel, who knows I’m not that fond of Sandy.
‘And he left you to get everything ready for this evening?’ Julie asks incredulously. I see everyone’s gaze on me – even Dad has torn his eyes away from his granddaughter – and I feel my cheeks go red.
‘Yes, well, no … it’s his birthday today.’ Seeing disapproval written all over Julie’s face, I add, ‘The barbecue was sort of a surprise party, really.’ The lie comes effortlessly out of my mouth and sounds so convincing I almost believe it myself. ‘I invited his friends ages ago.’ I’m shocked by my own mendacity. Why am I making up excuses for him? Because I’m embarrassed, I suppose. Or ashamed. Or both.
‘How many of us are there?’ Julie asks.
‘Twelve. The six of us, five of Alex’s friends and Alex of course.’ I realise I have counted myself with my family instead of with Alex. That seems a bit strange.
‘And Jet. That makes thirteen,’ Archie says.
‘Unlucky for some,’ says Daniel.
‘Not for us,’ I say, sounding more sure of that than I feel. ‘This has to be perfect. I think Alex is a bit grumpy about turning forty. I want to cheer him up.’
‘Let’s get to work, then,’ Julie says.
I get showered and dressed while Daniel makes everyone tea and then we all busy ourselves in the kitchen. Oscar and Archie prove to be young chefs in the making and I’m very impressed. Julie informs me they’re addicted to The Great British Bake Off. Daniel also turns out to be a big help.
Chloe alternates between sleeping very deeply, despite the noise we’re making, and squalling. When she cries, nothing seems to pacify her. Dad patiently walks up and down the hallway with her, singing lullabies to her as she screams in accompaniment.
I’m worried that she might be sickening for something, but Dad assures me that there’s nothing I can do. Babies cry. Fact. Exception: she doesn’t cry so much for Alex. I almost wish he were here. I feel oddly comforted that my dad can’t do anything to calm Chloe, either.
By mid-afternoon, we’ve nearly finished the preparations. Daniel offers to see to what’s left while Julie and I go into Keswick. Julie wants to buy Alex a birthday present and I want to buy a suitable sundress for this evening. I’ve lost several pounds since giving birth to Chloe, thanks to Alex’s special diet, but I’m still at a stage where my pre-pregnancy clothes are a bit too tight and my maternity clothes are now way too big.
When we get back home, Alex is feeding Chloe while talking to Dad and Daniel in the sitting room. Archie and Oscar are playing electronic games.
When Julie has greeted Alex and asked after his mother, she turns to Daniel. ‘Don’t we have a rule?’ she asks, nodding her head in the direction of her sons.
‘We do,’ he says, ‘but they’ve been so helpful I thought we could bend it a little.’
‘Rules are made to be broken,’ Alex says.
‘You’re quite right, Alex,’ Julie agrees. Daniel raises his eyebrows at me in surprise.
I go upstairs to get ready for this evening and when I come back down, only Oscar and Archie are in the sitting room. They’re concentrating on their screens and don’t notice me.
I make my way out to the garden, where four of Alex’s guests are standing with my family while Alex serves everyone drinks. I spot the pram in the shade of the damson tree. Chloe must have fallen asleep.
‘You look lovely, darling,’ Alex says loudly, admiring my new dress and walking towards me to take his place at my side. ‘Come and meet everyone.’
Alex shoots me one of his meaningful looks. Sometimes their meanings are lost in translation. But not today. Today I’ve got the message loud and clear. His look says: We will make the right impression. We’ll show everyone that we’re the perfect couple. But to make sure there’s no room for misunderstanding, he grips my arm just a little too hard as he steers me towards his friends. Or maybe it’s my imagination.
‘You already know Mike and Sarah …’
‘Hi.’ I lean in as Sarah makes a ‘mwuaah’ sound somewhere near my cheek, leaving me relieved that she won’t have left any of her lipstick on my face. Alex has a bright red SWALK mark on his cheek, I notice with amusement. I don’t feel the urge to rub it off. Mike gives me a big hug in greeting.
‘This is Stacey and––’
‘Hello, I’m Tom,’ says the man standing next to Stacey.
I’ve seen Tom and Stacey before. I can’t think where. They make a strangely assorted couple, it seems to me. She’s about average height, but he’s very small and she’s probably taller than him even without those wedge-heeled shoes. She has a mane of brown wiry hair, held back by a thick Alice band, whereas he’s completely bald. He has a handsome face and she’s rather plain. He has lovely eyes; hers are hidden by her sunglasses.
I make polite conversation with Tom, admiring my sister and Daniel, who are chatting away to Mike and Sarah easily. I feel self-conscious and clumsy. I’m out of practice at making small talk. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Stacey making a fuss of Jet.
‘You look like you could do with a drink,’ Tom says. ‘You’re the only one who hasn’t got one.’
We head over to the kitchen table, which Daniel and the boys carried outside earlier so that we could put all the food on it and let everyone help themselves to the buffet.
Tom and I chat amiably for a while. He claims he’s a boring accountant, but he strikes me as interesting and cultivated. I’m only half-listening to what he’s saying even so, as I’m still trying to remember where I’ve seen him before. I almost make the mistake of asking him. But then it comes to me. At the pool. The day I heard Alex’s voice and made Vicky hide in the café with me until he’d gone in for his swim. He was with Mike and Sarah, Tom and Stacey.
I eat a couple of canapés and then cram a mini sausage roll into my mouth.
‘Stacey wants a dog,’ Tom says, watching her playing with Jet and talking to my dad. ‘She doesn’t want babies yet because she’s still competing. She’s been on about a dog for a while.’ He’s smiling fondly. ‘I’d better go and make friends with your dad’s Lab. Excuse me.’
Realising I haven’t touched the drink that Tom poured for me, I bring the glass to my lips and take a sip of the chilled champagne. And then a gulp. The bubbles explode in my mouth, and for a second I feel like I’m in my own blissful bubble.
Until Alex saunters up to me and bursts it.
‘Better not eat too many crisps,’ he says. The expression on his face belies his jovial tone of voice. When I scowl, he adds, ‘Just saying. You’ve still got some pregnancy weight to lose.’
Julie walks by us at that moment, but she doesn’t appear to have heard Alex, who follows her with his eyes.
‘If you’re not careful, you’ll end up with an arse like that sister of yours.’ He squeezes my bottom. ‘It’s the only thing about her you could call generous.’
I think Daniel has overheard, though. He doesn’t turn round, but I see him stop in his tracks briefly, ever so briefly, as he walks behind my sister across the lawn.
Oblivious to Daniel, Alex gives a guffaw that, combined with the words he has just uttered, leave me feeling chilled to the bone despite the warm summer evening. He nudges my arm, making me spill some of my champagne. ‘Only joking!’ he says. ‘I know, it was a bit below the belt.’ This makes him laugh even more. ‘See what I did there?’ At that moment, to my relief, his phone goes.
‘Oh, I’ll come and let you in,’ I hear him say before he strides into the house, pushing his phone into the back pocket of his ripped jeans. I reflect bitterly that Alex hasn’t really got ‘togged up’.
A minute or so later, I hear Alex’s voice behind me. I hadn’t seen him come back out and I jump.
‘Katie, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.’
I turn around to see a blonde woman who’s a bit younger and a lot smaller than me. She looks like she’s dressed for the beach, in denim shorts and silver sandals, showing off legs that are both toned and tanned. She’s got a low-cut top on, which matches her baby blue eyes. She smiles sweetly, revealing teeth so white they probably glow in the dark. In short, she looks like a less dainty and more muscular version of Barbie.
‘This is Becca,’ Alex says.
‘Kaitlyn,’ I say, holding out my hand formally as my mind races with questions. ‘Pleased to meet you.’
‘Becca is a top triathlete,’ says Alex over his shoulder as he walks away to fetch her a drink.
‘Rebecca Brown?’ I ask.
‘That’s right,’ she says. ‘How did you know that?’
‘Oh, Alex has mentioned you once or twice.’
Alex reappears at my side and hands Becca a flute of champagne. She’s holding two wrapped gifts in her hands and she hands him one of them in order to take the glass.
‘Happy birthday, Alex.’
He rips the gift paper off and scrunch
es it into a ball. It’s a bottle of Scotch. Alex makes such a fuss about it that I have a flash of myself snatching the bottle from his hands and hitting him over the head with it.
He reads the label out loud. ‘Highland Single Malt Scotch Whisky. Blair Athol.’
‘The distillery’s near the Grampian Mountains, where my gramps lives,’ Becca informs him with a little giggle.
‘I know it, actually. Well, I recognise the name. And the logo with the otter,’ Alex says. ‘Thank you so much, Becca.’
I can feel myself frowning, but neither Becca nor Alex notice. I look around for an escape route, someone to go and talk to, but I spot Julie and Daniel making their way towards us. I’m trapped.
‘And this is for you,’ Becca says, thrusting the other present into my hands. ‘Well, it’s for the baby, really.’
‘Oh. Thank you.’
I open the card first. There’s a printed message and Becca has written underneath: To Kaitlyn and Alex, Best Wishes on the birth of your Beautiful Baby. Love, Bexxx. I suddenly see her text message to Alex in my head. She signed it the same way. I open the present and look at the picture on the box. It’s a beautiful handmade wooden mobile with princesses and flowers. I make an appreciative oooh sound.
‘It’s for the baby’s bedroom,’ Becca says, unnecessarily.
‘I’ll put that on Chloe’s cot tomorrow,’ Alex says, taking the box from my hands. ‘It looks easy enough to assemble.’ Turning to me, he adds, ‘It’s high time we made a proper bedroom for Chloe, don’t you think?’
Each time I’ve suggested making Chloe’s bedroom into a nursery, Alex has come up with excuses. ‘We don’t know whether it’s a boy or a girl.’ ‘But it’s already a perfectly decorated girl’s bedroom.’ ‘We don’t have any free time at the moment.’
My breasts suddenly start tingling and I look down. A squeak of horror escapes my mouth. I have two big round wet patches on my dress.
‘Oh dear,’ I say, feeling Alex’s eyes on me. ‘Small emergency. Please excuse me.’ Embarrassed, I walk briskly towards the house. As I reach the back door, I turn my head and see Alex staring after me. It seems to me he can barely disguise his disgust.
He Will Find You Page 13