The Betrayal

by Laura Elliot

  ‘The blood disease she had was hereditary.’ He picks up my thoughts. ‘She didn’t want to risk passing it on to another generation so we never had children.’ He uncaps another beer and passes it me, shrugs aside the enormity of what he’s revealed. ‘Everyone has a story. What’s yours?’

  ‘One marriage on the rocks and four grown-up children.’ It’s possible, it seems, to condense my life story into a single sentence.

  ‘You must have married young.’

  ‘Seventeen.’

  ‘That is young. What made you decide to end it?’

  ‘What makes you think it was my decision?’ I ask.

  ‘I can’t imagine it was the other way around.’ He raises his bottle in a salute to me and waits in the stillness that settles between us. I feel mildly flattered by this assumption. But who did or did not end our marriage is no longer important. What matters is what followed. Lies of intent. Lies of omission.

  Daveth’s hands are blunt and strong. I imagine them on my body, trailing, stroking, probing, the glide of his lips between my breasts. This longing is sudden, shocking in its intensity, and gone just as fast.

  I lean over the rail of Eyebright with its bright, fluttering bunting. There should be room here to lance my memories. To fling the past into the frozen depths so that it can never again reflect back at me.

  Time passes. I feel the light touch of Daveth’s hand on my back.

  ‘It usually happens on a trip like this,’ he says. ‘Whatever we’re running from catches up with us sooner or later.’

  ‘You’re right.’ My eyes feel heavy, the skin puffed and red. I think of his wife, that vital force stubbed out so young. How did he cope with her death? Did he run towards the first woman who opened her arms to him, as my father did? I doubt it. He survives on the good memories whereas I’ve focused on the bad ones, used them as my defining touchstone.

  ‘I’d better turn in,’ I say. ‘We’ve a long trip ahead of us tomorrow.’

  ‘See you in the morning then.’ He gathers the empty bottles into a refuse bag and allows the starless night to close around us. Float planes glide low over the harbour. The sky is too bright to view the northern lights. I’ll have to wait until later if I want to see them. Will I still be here? The vastness of the scenery bears down on me. The rocky permanence seems eternal but time has a chisel that never stops chipping. I’ve no idea how my life is going to change, only that it must. It always does.

  I can’t sleep. There was a moment with Daveth when everything could have changed. He knows the preciousness of moments. He could have been my bridge over loneliness. Why did I let it go? My breath deepens as my hand slides downwards and comforts me in this narrow bunk. Relief is swift, sharp, unsatisfying. And Karin Moylan remains a mind flash… flash… flash… framed within glass. A tableau I can’t banish. Jake’s shirt draped like a wanton veil over her arms. The bloom of sex on her skin.

  CHAPTER 31

  JAKE

  The Bare Pit was a popular place to hear new bands. Reedy and Feral had attracted a sizable number of fans, and there were fans from the young Shard days. Couples in their late thirties, early forties, babysitters organised for the night. The support act was concluding, the crowd swelling. Soon Shard would be on stage. Jake rocked on his toes, wiped sweat from his forehead. How could he have forgotten the fear before each performance? He read texts from Ali and the twins, wishing him luck, and spoke briefly to Brian, who had arrived with Peter Brennan, his one-time next door neighbour from Oakdale Terrace.

  He thought about Nadine. Phantom pains. She asked him once if they would suffer from them. He had not heard from her since she left for Alaska but he had seen the photos on the Eyebright website. Three of them in short sleeves and sunglasses, standing on the deck of the Eyebright, bunting fluttering above them as they headed down the Gastineau Channel. Nadine’s red hair was hidden under a bandana and Stuart, looking lean and fit, had his arm around her shoulders. The man on her other side was a forty-something with a sturdy, muscular frame and a ruddy, outdoors complexion. She was right about the phantom pains. They were bound to happen, especially on a night like this.

  His nerves disappeared when he began to sing. It was like riding a bike, like sex, like everything that, once learned, brought instant recall. He was sweaty and hot, fevered with the thrill of playing before a live audience. Like the pre-performance nerves, he had also forgotten the magic of the adrenaline rush. He noticed Mik Abel among the crowd. He grinned widely and gave Jake a thumbs up. The odds of Mik remembering five strutting teenagers he once managed had been remote, or so Jake thought when he contacted him with Shard’s demonstration disc of Collapsing the Stone. It turned out to be a wise move. Not only did Mik remember the band but he had produced the album.

  The ‘Collapsing the Stone’ video flashed on the screen behind the band. Maggie Doyle-Childe. Feral’s wife and a music video maker, had filmed Shard on a ghost-estate. The band looked grim and menacing as they stood among abandoned sewage pipes and cranes, the smashed windows of half-finished houses staring outwards like blank, reproachful eyes.

  The audience stood around the stage or sat on high stools as the night club reverberated to the music of Shard. Karin Moylan, in black jeans, tight and satiny, moved from the midst of the crowd onto the dancefloor. Her see-through blouse had loose fluttery sleeves and the cropped-top she wore underneath moulded her breasts in a swirl of blue. As she moved in and out of the flashing laser beams she looked as if she was preparing to fly. A man joined her on the floor, his snake-like dance movements contrasting with her fast, almost frenetic steps. Each time the music stopped she rested her head against his shoulder. She seemed oblivious to Jake yet she was there as a taunt, each move designed to trigger memories of the hot, sex-drenched nights they once shared. Each gesture designed to show she had lost no time replacing him. He must focus on the music. Tonight, Shard was all that mattered.

  The audience applauded, whistled, stamped their feet, roared for more. After three encores, when he was finally free to leave the stage, he ordered a drink at the bar. People slapped his back and congratulated him. Karin was nowhere to be seen. His mood slumped, the shock of her appearance finally hitting him. Brian and Peter told him the gig had been fantastic then hurried off to party elsewhere. Mik Abel sat beside him and discussed the tours he hoped to line up for the band.

  The club was almost empty by the time Mik left. The other members of Shard had also gone home when Jake went backstage to collect his guitar.

  ‘How are you, Jake?’ She was waiting for him when he emerged from the storage room. The plume of perfume was instantly familiar, her voice hesitant and low. ‘I couldn’t leave without telling you how brilliant Shard was tonight.’

  ‘I’m glad you enjoyed it.’ He had kept busy since she left, forced himself to stop checking his phone in case there was a text, a missed call. What would he do if she contacted him? His mind had swung between one scenario where she rushed headlong into his arms and another where he resolutely turned his back on her. Now, standing before her, he had absolutely no idea how to react.

  ‘You never contacted me,’ she said.

  ‘Did you really expect me to... after the note you left?’

  ‘We both said hurtful things to each other that night.’

  ‘That’s true.’

  ‘You accused me of deliberately causing trouble between you and Nadine.’

  ‘You certainly did that.’

  ‘But not deliberately. What happened was a dreadful accident. I’d switched on the light without thinking… and I’d never have asked to go back to your apartment if I’d thought for a minute that she’d be home so soon.’

  ‘She didn’t arrive too soon.’

  ‘That was Liam’s fault. He said Monday, not Sunday.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter now.’

  ‘It matters to me. Nadine used to be my friend. Did you really believe I’d go out of my way to hurt her?’

  ‘I didn’t know what to
believe.’

  ‘I forced you to choose between us. I’d no right to do that…’ She paused, touched his arm. ‘That’s why I’m here. To apologise for making such a ridiculous scene that night. I should have contacted you the following day but I didn’t think you’d want to hear from me again.’

  ‘You should have allowed me to be the judge of that.’

  ‘You’ve no idea how much I’ve missed you, Jake. Can you forgive me?’

  ‘That guy with you…’

  ‘Liam. We’re friends, nothing more than that. He told me Nadine is in Alaska. Was I responsible for her leaving?’

  ‘No.’ He shook his head vehemently. ‘I’m responsible for driving her away. I didn’t want to hurt her. But I did.’

  ‘It’s impossible to go through life without hurting someone,’ she said. ‘She hurt you when she decided to end your marriage. I hurt you when I left your apartment that night. You hurt me when you followed her. I could go on and on. Hurt’s a thread that needs a sharp snap every now and then. Will you hang up on me if I ring you next week?’

  ‘There’s only one way you’ll find out,’ he said.

  Was he mad to restart something with so many echoes, so many unasked questions? He knew the answer. He had written his name on her arm once but she was the one who had branded him.

  CHAPTER 32

  Karin was still sleeping when he pulled on his tracksuit and moved silently from the bedroom. The front gates of Sea Aster screeched as he pushed them open. He must remember to oil them. The house and grounds needed constant attention, one chore leading to another and demanding more of his time each week.

  He jogged along Mallard Cove. The air was filled with a sea-weedy smell, slightly rank but not unpleasant. The ducks were still sleeping, heads tucked under wings, and the swans formed ghostly silhouettes as they glided through the hazy air. He breathed evenly, his body moving to a relaxed rhythm. When he reached the remains of an old jetty he sat on the stone surface and recovered his breath.

  Reactions to the gig had been amazing. Bookings were coming in and tours being planned into the future. Shard could become the poster band of the recession, Mik Abel believed. The ‘Collapsing the Stone’ video had received numerous hits and Jake’s songs, chronicling the destruction of an economy, were being discussed in print, on radio and on music blogs. Everything was so immediate these days.

  Karin was possessed by that same immediacy. This time it was all or nothing. Soon after the Shard gig she presented him with the key to her apartment, boxed and tied with a red bow. She had watched, a half-smile playing around her lips, as he felt through the layers of tissue and his fingers closed over the cold metal. His first inclination was to hand the key back. It was too soon for such an exchange but he had promised her a relationship and this was her commitment to it. He used Eleanor’s ownership of Sea Aster as an excuse for not being in a position to give her a key to his apartment. It was a weak excuse but she seemed willing to accept it for the time being. What she was not willing to do was hide in the shadows of his family life.

  ‘It’s the perfect opportunity to introduce us,’ she said when Jake casually mentioned that he had booked a meal for two for Eleanor’s birthday. Over the past fifteen years she had celebrated her birthday in Louisa’s Loft with the family, Nadine and Rosanna, Ali, Brian and the twins, the eight of them sitting around the circular table in the centre of the restaurant. Gradually the numbers decreased and this year it would be just the two of them. He imagined Eleanor’s eyebrows rising, her acerbic comments or, worse still, her chilling silence if he introduced Karin to her. The idea was unthinkable.

  ‘It’s too soon to meet,’ he said. ‘We have to take one step at a time.’

  ‘What step is that?’ Karin asked. ‘As far as I can see we’re not moving at all.’

  The sun rose beyond the distant viaduct, a dazzling rim that streaked a crimson vertebrae across the sky. He had better return to Sea Aster. Karin was an early riser. In Alaska there was no dawn to watch, he thought, just a midnight sun to blood the opening of a new day.

  ‘Where were you?’ She was sitting up in bed, tousled and pouting, when he returned.

  ‘On the estuary watching the dawn.’

  ‘You should have woken me.’

  ‘I didn’t want to disturb you.’

  ‘Was it beautiful?’

  ‘As always.’

  ‘We should have been watching it together.’ She sounded wishful. ‘That’s what lovers do. But there’ll be other dawns we can share.’

  * * *

  The stage was bare, their equipment packed. Reedy, Hart and Daryl had already left. This was the lonely moment, the dazzle stripped away, lasers, strobes and spotlights switched off, microphones silenced. The only musical note was the clink of glasses being cleared away.

  Feral stopped packing her equipment and glanced curiously across at Jake. ‘You and Karin watching the dawn together,’ she said. ‘I never realised you were such a romantic.’ She zipped her main drum into its cover and headed for the exit.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Jake lifted an amplifier and followed her outside to the carpark where their two vans were parked.

  ‘We bumped into each other on Grafton Street yesterday. She twisted my arm to have a coffee with her. She’s really into you.’

  ‘I guess.’

  ‘What about you?’

  ‘It’s not that straightforward.’

  Feral slammed the back door closed. ‘As far as she’s concerned, it is. She talked about you the whole time.’ She grinned. ‘I can’t pretend it was the most fascinating conversation I’ve ever had in my life.’

  ‘Why ever not?’ He feigned indignation to hide his uneasiness. Why would Karin lie over such a trivial issue as a sunrise? ‘What else did she tell you?’

  ‘Oh, this and that. Woman talk.’ Feral took out her keys and climbed into the van. ‘She strikes me as a woman who gets what she wants. Just be sure you want the same thing.’

  ‘That sounds like a warning.’

  ‘You’re a big boy, Jake. If you can’t look after yourself by now it’s too late to take cover.’

  He watched her drive away. One night after band practice she had stayed behind in Sea Aster and played music with him. Unlike Maggie, who was a staunch gay rights activist, Feral was content to drum her way through life. She told him that night how they had met on a Greyhound bus that was bringing them from Boston to New York. As a love story it lacked excitement but sparks had flown and that was that. Their future sealed.

  Two years after that summer in Monsheelagh he would look out from the stage and recognise Nadine instantly. She had waved from the crowd and smiled, he remembered it was a hesitant smile, as if she was uncertain he would remember her. He smiled back and held her gaze for the remainder of the song. He had sought her out as soon as the band stopped for a short interval. A moment of recognition, their future sealed.

  A melancholic yearning for the early years of their marriage swept over him. The sleepless nights, the dazed periods of bliss when their children were asleep and they could finally collapse onto the old sofa, laughing as they reached for each other. But those years had a sepia tinge and he found it increasingly difficult to recognise himself as that young, hassled father, or the brittle husband who had moved to Bartizan Downs, smugly convinced that his future had a graph that could only rise.

  CHAPTER 33

  The circular table in Louisa’s Loft had been taken over by a noisy family group and Louisa, the plump, friendly proprietor, seated Jake and Eleanor at a table for two. She took their orders, removed the menus and placed a jug of iced water before them.

  ‘It’s sad when a family falls apart and there’s only you and I left to celebrate my birthday.’ Eleanor sighed heavily and gazed out the window at the view over Howth Harbour.

  ‘We haven’t fallen apart,’ Jake protested. ‘Children grow up. They leave home. Old people die. It’s called life.’

  ‘And wives leave their husbands
,’ she reminded him. ‘Nadine sent me a book for my birthday. Two Women in the Klondike. I’ll read it when I retire.’

  ‘It’s going to gather dust, then.’ He attempted a joke but Eleanor’s sense of humour had never tallied with his.

  ‘Probably,’ she replied. ‘I’m far too busy to even think of retiring.’

  ‘You should relax for a change and kick back your heels. Remember what the doctor – ’

  ‘Foals kick back their heels, Jake. Since when have I ever displayed the slightest equine tendencies?’

  ‘All I’m saying is that it’s time to let some of the younger members in First Affiliation do the heavy lifting for you. You’re sixty-seven now.’

  ‘What would you like me to do?’ She tapped her fingers off the table. ‘Dribble on my chin and shuffle into a nursing home on my Zimmer?’

  ‘Of course not. I didn’t mean…’ A long night stretched ahead. He needed to bite down hard on his tongue. ‘Any word on the planning permission for Sea Aster? It’s taking forever.’

  ‘Bureaucracy. Don’t talk to me about it.’ She was on her favourite hobby horse and Jake, relieved, filled their glasses with wine.

  The restaurant door opened and a woman entered. Dainty feet in ankle boots, a slim-fitting leather jacket and a short skirt hugging her thighs. He sloshed the wine as he set the bottle back on the table. One step at a time, he had said. Karin had obviously decided to take that step on her own. Her mobile phone was pressed to her ear as she approached the reception desk. She ended her call and spoke to Louisa. Eleanor was still complaining about delays, ineptitude and the wastage of taxpayer’s money. Her words scattered above his head as Karin followed Louisa towards a vacant table.

  ‘I don’t believe it.’ She stopped beside him and raised her hands to her cheeks. ‘Jake Saunders! It’s been so long. My goodness… how many years?’ Her voice lilted with astonishment. ‘It’s so good to see you again.’