He Will Find You

by Diane Jeffrey

  I’m blinking back tears as I go upstairs to my bedroom. With getting everything ready for tonight, I completely forgot to express my milk and now it has leaked all down the front of my brand-new sundress. Now what am I going to wear?

  Rummaging around in the chest of drawers, I find a long, colourful T-shirt that I’d forgotten all about among the non-maternity wear. When I’ve expressed my milk, I wriggle into my black jeans, leaving the button undone and pulling the T-shirt down to hide it. My hands are shaking so much that I don’t think I could have done up the button even if I was slim enough.

  Feeling strangely disconnected from my body, I walk slowly down the stairs. Julie appears at the bottom.

  ‘Ah, I was just coming to see if you were OK,’ she says. ‘Now let’s go and see if they’ve left us any food. And champagne.’ Taking my arm, she leads me into the garden.

  Outside, Alex is handing around plates of food. Everyone seems to be standing in a group around him, drawn to him like a magnet. We walk over to join them.

  ‘You look just as beautiful in that top as in your sundress,’ he says, putting his arm around my shoulders, ‘and just as beautiful as the day I met you again after all those years.’

  Sometimes he says all the right things and I remember why I fell in love with him.

  ‘Aww,’ Sarah says.

  ‘I didn’t realise you’d known each other before,’ Stacey says. I’m glad she ended her sentence there. In my head, though, I finish it. Before your one-night stand.

  This is all the encouragement Alex needs. He tells his captivated guests about how we fell in love; about the friend request I sent him on Facebook, about our emails and phone calls and FaceTime conversations. He says he had a crush on me at school, which is news to me. I thought it was the other way round. I suspect he’s embellishing our story to make our marriage appear unblemished. Or to make our wedding seem less precipitated. He tells everyone how well we get on with each other, how we’re made for one another.

  He doesn’t mention the part where he got me pregnant in a hotel room in Exeter, although I’m sure everyone here knows that bit. In this version of our love story, I moved up here because we could no longer bear to be apart.

  Alex is on his best behaviour for the rest of the evening. Apart from the remark he made earlier about my sister, which I’ve put down to a clumsy joke on Alex’s part, and, of course, the glitch with the sundress, the whole barbecue party seems to have been perfect. Perfect for everyone, but especially for Alex.

  When all the guests have gone, Alex and I clear up the leftover food and decide to leave everything else until tomorrow. I follow him into the sitting room, where he pours himself a drink from the bottle of Scotch Becca gave him for his birthday. The bottle I gave him is still sitting on the coffee table. I don’t say anything; I don’t want to ruin the mood. I’m still feeling a little high from the champagne. I sit down on the sofa.

  ‘That was a great evening, wasn’t it?’ His tone is light, and at first I think he’s on the same wavelength as me, thinking the same thoughts as me. He doesn’t look angry; he doesn’t even sound angry. But then I notice the way he’s hunching his shoulders and pursing his lips. I can tell he’s mad about something. I can feel it. In my gut. A familiar squeeze, as if by an invisible hand inside me. In the room, as if there’s an electric charge. Or an explosive charge.

  He starts to pace up and down the room. His fury is a time bomb, set to go off. If I make the wrong move, he’ll blow up. If I can find the right thing to say, maybe I can defuse the situation.

  ‘Your friends are lovely, Alex,’ I hazard.

  For a second or two, he looks at me and I can see recognition in his gaze. But then he disappears behind dead eyes. It’s too late.

  ‘My mum said you were a two-faced promiscuous bitch,’ he hisses. ‘I didn’t believe her at the time.’

  His words hit me harder than if he’d punched me.

  ‘I wouldn’t listen. We had a huge row about it. You came between my mother and me.’ He has started to shout. ‘I should have known she was right. After all, you slept with me on our first date. And you weren’t even bothered about using protection.’

  ‘Alex, that’s not how it happened, and you know it!’

  ‘I saw you. I was watching you. You followed Tom around like a dog tonight; your tongue was practically hanging out of your mouth.’

  So, that’s what this is about.

  ‘I had to stand around and put up with it while everyone saw you making a fool out of me.’

  ‘Alex! Stop!’ I screech so loudly that he does stop for a moment. ‘You’re being ridiculous. I’ve just given birth – to your baby – and the last thing on my mind is sex. With you or anyone else for that matter. How can you possibly imagine that I want to sleep around? I’ve been unfaithful once in my entire life. With you, not to you.’

  ‘But you were flirting.’

  I open my mouth to argue, but then an image bursts into my head. Me, sitting at the kitchen table, looking through Alex’s phone. I suddenly feel hypocritical. I’d been quick to wonder if Alex was cheating on me with Rebecca and he has just accused me of trying to seduce another man under his nose. We were both mistaken. We’re both in the wrong.

  The big difference is that he got mad and called me names.

  Alex has a vacant look on his face. It’s over. He’s calm again. Until the next time. But I don’t want there to be a next time.

  ‘Alex, I can’t put up with this anymore,’ I say softly. ‘I’m going to go back to Somerset with my family tomorrow.’ I’m not certain I mean this, but I don’t have the strength to go another round. ‘For a little while, at least.’

  ‘No, Katie, don’t do that,’ Alex begs. ‘I didn’t mean any of it.’ He sits down on the sofa next to me and takes my hand. I notice a tear snaking its way down his cheek. ‘My ex-wife was a complete nymphomaniac. She slept with many of my friends. I was always the last to find out who she was … seeing.’

  I want to say something, but I don’t know what, so I wait for him to continue.

  ‘I tried so hard, but I simply wasn’t good enough for her. I wasn’t enough for her.’

  His whole body is racked with sobs now. I pull my hand away and put my arm around him. He lies down across my knees. My hand hovers for a second or two, but then I run my fingers through his hair.

  ‘Melanie left me … on my birthday.’ I only just make out the words as he spews them into my lap. ‘I’m paranoid now. I ask myself every day, if I wasn’t good enough for her, how can I possibly be good enough for Katie? I’m terrified of letting you in sometimes because I’m afraid I’m going to lose you. If you ever leave me, I’ll lose another daughter, too. I can’t go through that again.’

  I still can’t find anything to say. Alex doesn’t truly believe I love him, I realise, not because he doubts me, but because he thinks he’s unlovable. He seems so convinced he’ll wreck everything between us that he waits for the damage he has caused to prove him right.

  ‘I love you, Katie. I couldn’t live without you. I wouldn’t want to. I’d rather die.’

  I rub his back with one hand and finger the medallion around my neck with the other while I let Alex’s words sink in. They instantly bring to my mind his suicide attempt all those years ago after his girlfriend had broken up with him in Australia. I don’t think that’s what’s going through his head, though. I don’t believe he’d try to end his life if I left him. In fact, I’m sure that’s not what he meant.

  ‘Alex, you can’t hurt me just because you’ve been hurt,’ I say. ‘It’s not an excuse.’

  ‘I know. You’re the last person on earth I want to hurt, Katie. I’ll do better. It’ll get better. I’ll get help, see a therapist, whatever it takes. I don’t deserve you,’ he continues, ‘but I want to become worthy of you. You make me a better person most of the time. Please say you’ll help me learn to be that person all of the time. All I want is to make you and Chloe as happy as you make me.’


  ‘You were vile tonight,’ I say, but I’m caving in.

  ‘I know.’ He sits up, sniffing. ‘I shouldn’t drink so much. It brings out the worst in me.’ He lowers his head, looking suitably sheepish. ‘I didn’t mean what I said about your sister. Julie is one of the most generous people I know. I’m just jealous because I’m an only child and you’re so close to her.’ He dabs his nose with his bare forearm. ‘I’m fucked up, aren’t I?’

  ‘Anyone would be with what you’ve been through, Alex,’ I say.

  I don’t add what I’m thinking. I hope he’s not so messed up that he can’t be patched up.

  I get up and fetch him a tissue. As he blows his nose loudly, I think about what he has said. The one word he should have said, but didn’t, was ‘sorry’. The words ‘I love you’ roll off his tongue easily, but he seems to find it almost impossible to apologise. Not that sorry would make it all OK.

  I’m well aware Alex uses words to berate me and belittle me. He chooses his words carefully when he wants to cajole or control me. And he invariably finds the right words to inveigle his way back into my heart.

  I work with words, or I used to, I reflect. That’s my job; that was my career. And yet, I’m falling for this. I’m falling for him all over again. I should know better by now. But I’m letting him talk me into getting back onto this endless rollercoaster ride with him.

  As these thoughts chase each other around in my head, Alex kisses me. A slow, tender kiss. I don’t stop him. I can’t decide if I’m strong or weak.

  Chapter 13

  ~

  On my way back from dropping Julie off at Windermere railway station, I feel a little empty, a little scared and a lot homesick. My sister was a big help and great company while she was staying and now she has left, I’m filled with uncertainty. Can I do this by myself? Can I look after Chloe properly? I was very tempted to get on the train with Julie.

  As I pull up in front of the house, I sternly remind myself that I’m not alone. I have Alex. He’s such a good father. It all comes naturally to him. I’ll get the hang of this parenting thing, too. Eventually. And as for feeling homesick, well that’s just ridiculous. My home is here now, at the Old Vicarage. Julie and Daniel brought up everything I’d left at Dad’s, and I’ve unpacked my stuff and tidied it away. It’s comforting to see my books on the shelves and photos of my family on the windowsills. It still doesn’t feel quite like home, but I’m sure it will. One day.

  I get the pram and Chloe out of the car. As I open the front door, Chloe starts to cry at the same time as the phone starts to ring. I rush to pick up the handset and then come back to push the pram to and fro as I answer the call.

  ‘Hello?’

  There’s no one there. Or rather, if there is someone there, they aren’t saying anything.

  ‘Hello?’

  This hasn’t happened for a while. I hang up, feeling slightly relieved as this leaves my hands free to pick up Chloe. But I also feel flustered. Who is calling? What do they want? Do they only want to speak to Alex? Or are they trying to spook me?

  If the caller is trying to unsettle me, it’s working. A thought troubles me. Could it possibly be Alex who is behind these calls? He never seems to be at home when I get them. Is he playing some sort of warped mind game? Or just checking up on me to see that I’m home, where he likes me to be? I shake my head, as though to dispel these illogical thoughts.

  At least half an hour later, when Alex arrives home after this morning’s long run, Chloe is still wailing. Alex barely has time to set foot in the hall before I thrust our baby into his arms.

  ‘I want to take her to the doctor’s.’

  ‘Is that really necessary?’

  ‘Something’s wrong with Chloe, Alex. She cries too much.’

  ‘All babies cry too much.’

  My dad also said something like that, I recall now. He and Alex have both had lots of experience bringing up baby girls. But I’m not convinced. And although Julie seems to agree with nearly everything Alex says, even she was surprised by how distressed Chloe is at times.

  ‘It’s probably colic,’ Alex says. His firm tone of voice indicates that this is the end of our discussion.

  I’m worried about starting an argument with Alex, but I’m more worried about my daughter. ‘She’s always either in a deep sleep or screaming at the top of her lungs,’ I say. ‘She’s never just awake and contented. I want to take her to see a doctor.’

  I’m being demanding, and that’s not the best way to talk Alex into doing anything. He has been lovely since the barbecue. The whole week Julie stayed at the Old Vicarage, he was wonderful to both of us. I think he really believed I might go back to Somerset with her, so he has been making an effort to keep his bad moods at bay. Now she’s gone, there’s less risk of me going home. Alex knows that. I need to tread carefully. I look at him with what I hope are pleading eyes.

  ‘OK. If it will make you feel better, we’ll make an appointment with Dr Irving.’

  Dr Irving has been Alex’s GP for years. Since Alex was little. He’s also a close friend of my mother-in-law’s. He’s getting on a bit, and on the two occasions I’ve been to see him, the word ‘doddery’ sprang to mind, but he’ll do nicely.

  ‘Thank you,’ I breathe.

  My relief is short-lived.

  ‘But he won’t be able to see us so late in the morning and the surgery is closed on Saturday afternoons,’ Alex adds. ‘We’ll have to wait till Monday.’

  Alex gets a bottle ready and feeds Chloe, and she calms down and falls asleep. He flashes me a smile that’s only slightly smug.

  ‘I’ll put her in the cot and then I’d better take a quick shower,’ he whispers, leaning forward to kiss me on the cheek. I’m still not feeling reassured, but Alex has everything under control.

  I follow him into the hallway. As we walk past the locked door next to the cupboard under the stairs, I realise I’ve never asked Alex where it leads.

  ‘Alex, what’s through that door?’ I ask, pointing.

  ‘It’ the cellar.’ I’m slightly behind him now and I can’t see his face, but it sounds as if his voice is strained.

  ‘Why don’t we use it?’

  He pauses a beat too long and I know I won’t believe his answer even before he gives it. ‘I lost the key some time ago and didn’t see the point in calling in a locksmith.’ Then he mutters a few sentences I don’t quite catch. Something about ‘unnecessary expense’ and ‘a room that serves no useful purpose’, I think.

  He doesn’t turn around as he heads upstairs with Chloe in his arms. I’m not sure how long I stand there, at the bottom of the staircase. I’m not sure what’s going through my mind. Everything is misting over.

  I sense it coming. I am suddenly swamped by a fear so intense I can hardly move. My legs buckle under me and I sink down onto the stairs. I can’t think straight, but instinct tells me to put my head between my legs. Suddenly two hands are around my throat, strangling me, choking me. I know they’re imaginary, but they feel so real that I claw at my neck, trying to loosen the vice-like grip. I’m losing my grip. I’m losing my head.

  Just when I think I’m going to black out, I manage to catch a breath. My heart is still thumping way too fast, but it feels now as though it will stay inside my chest instead of hammering its way out of my body.

  I break into uncontrollable sobs and after a few seconds I hear Alex’s voice. He’s right behind me on the staircase. I didn’t hear him come down. How long has he been there? He sits down behind me with his legs either side of me. He wraps his arms around me and holds me against him. I pull his arms down from my neck so that his embrace is around my chest instead. I can feel the rise and fall of his chest against my back and my heartbeat gradually slows down. We stay like that until I stop crying and start breathing normally again.

  ‘Stay there. I’ll be back,’ he instructs. He gets up and squeezes past me on the stairs. I watch him take his mobile out of his jeans pocket as he makes his way
into the kitchen. He closes the door behind him. I can hear him talking, but I can’t make out what he’s saying.

  He isn’t gone more than a minute. ‘Doctor Irving has made an exception,’ he says, coming back into the hallway. ‘He’ll see us at one o’ clock.’ His tummy rumbles. ‘We’ll have to eat lunch afterwards.’ He directs this sentence at his stomach and when he looks up, grinning, I manage a weak smile in return.

  Alex goes upstairs to fetch Chloe. I get up and walk gently towards the kitchen to get a glass of water.

  Just as we’re leaving, the landline phone goes. I look at Alex.

  ‘Leave it,’ he shrugs. ‘Probably some telesales bollocks.’

  ‘Alex, someone rang earlier.’ I grab his arm. ‘But they wouldn’t speak to me. It wasn’t the first time.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it. We hardly use the home phone anyway. Don’t answer it. Or unplug it altogether if it bothers you.’

  Alex is right. I’d more or less dismissed the calls myself until I got worked up over them today. And even so, I wouldn’t have given them another thought if the phone hadn’t just rung now. It’s not as if there have been that many calls. Three at most.

  Something else occurs to me on the way to the health centre in Grasmere. Alex can’t be the one making these calls as he was with me when the phone went just now. He could feasibly have rung from his mobile without me seeing, I suppose, but that thought is just too far-fetched.

  When we arrive at the doctor’s surgery, Dr Irving leads the way into his consulting room. He slides into his black leather chair and Alex and I sit down in uncomfortable metal chairs opposite him.

  The GP peers at me with watery blue eyes through rimless glasses. ‘Let’s start with you,’ he says, leaning across his desk towards me. I can smell garlic on his breath. I sit back, trying not to wrinkle my nose. ‘Alexander tells me you had a panic attack.’