by L. V. Hay
‘Putting you through to a customer-service advisor,’ the robotic voice continued. ‘You will be answered as soon as possible. Please stay on the line, your call is important to us.’
Three muzak versions of Taylor Swift songs later, a bored-sounding Scottish man came on the line. ‘Hello, how can I help you today?’
‘Your computer thing’s not working, I need to pay our bill.’ I hardened my voice, just in case he tried to sell me something.
But the man on the line seemed as uninterested in conflict as me – he didn’t ask for details, or argue. ‘Name and account number, please,’ he said.
I gave them. There was some tapping, then nothing. I thought I’d been cut off. But then the man spoke: ‘Aye, your bill’s been paid already.’
‘When?’
The man made no attempt to stifle a yawn. ‘Today.’
Now I was really irritated. ‘Then you guys have made an error. I’ve just come home and we have no power.’
No reply, but instead, more tapping. ‘That’s right. Disconnection. A Mr Sebastian Adair requested it this morning.’ Then he quoted the maisonette’s address and account number.
This made no sense. Why would Sebastian disconnect the power? ‘That’s my husband, but I don’t understand why he’s cut our power off…’ An odd, sick feeling had formed in my belly.
There was another pause. ‘There’s a note on the system. You’ve moved out, it says.’
‘No we haven’t – we still live here!’ I gestured angrily at Denny and myself, even though the guy on the other end of the line could not see us.
And then a connection formed in my brain. My stomach lurched now and I emitted a low groan. I knew exactly who’d done this.
‘All your calls are recorded, right?’ I said. ‘Can you tell me what time you received this disconnection request?’
Utterly unflustered, the guy on the end of the phone tapped away again, and then said, ‘Eight twenty-eight this morning.’
A flash of the big, red digital clock in the staffroom appeared in my mind’s eye. Sebastian could not have possibly have made the disconnection request – he’d been leading the back-to-school staff meeting at that time. So, if a man had called the electricity company, paid our bill and had us disconnected, that left only one other option.
Maxwell.
What the hell was he playing at?
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
7 June 2018
Hi there, my son Dennis Stevens is in Year 2 and tells me there is a school fête soon. He brought me a letter, but I’m afraid I threw it in the recycling by accident. If you could let me know the date and times, I would be most grateful. Best wishes, Maxwell
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
28 June 2018
Dear Mr Stevens, please don’t worry. I can confirm our school fête is later than usual this year – Saturday, 14 July, 10 a.m.–3 p.m. This is to accommodate the upcoming school inspection we are expecting before the summer holidays. Should you require any more information about the fête (including bad weather contingencies, parking details and a PDF school map you can download), please check the school blog and/or our Facebook page and Twitter feed. Many thanks, Rosanna Taylor
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
28 June 2018
Thank you Rosanna, this is most helpful. M
Thirteen
With the electricity reconnected, the gravity of the situation hit me. Maxwell had somehow got hold of a key, been in our house … That was bad enough, but his actions once he’d got inside seemed to hint at some even darker intention. Like Sebastian had said, he hadn’t trashed Denny’s room, but he’d wrecked all our stuff. For a neat freak, that was deeply out of character. Then he’d cut off the power. Knowing Maxwell as I did, I knew his game: he wanted to show us who was in charge. Were we in danger? I pushed this thought out of my mind. No. Maxwell might be many things, but he was not a psychopath. These were just mind games, to freak us out. And they were working.
I wanted Sebastian. When I’d discovered the issue with the electricity and Maxwell, I’d left a voicemail and several texts on his phone. All to no avail. Sebastian rarely checked his phone – one of his few annoying habits. I opened a bottle of wine to calm my nerves.
Two glasses later, he finally appeared.
‘Where have you been?’ I took his briefcase from him automatically, like the good little wife. I stared at it in my hands. Now what? I dithered, then shoved it next to the boots and shoes by the coatrack.
‘At work. Where else?’ Sebastian undid his tie, sinking onto one of the stools by the breakfast bar. He grabbed his phone from his pocket and started scrolling through.
‘Something happened…’ I turned to the sink, not able to look him in the eye. ‘You might have been right about the break-in.’
I waited for him to catch up on his texts. ‘Oh, it was you messaging me…’ Then: ‘Wait – Maxwell did what?’
I turned back towards him and, leaning against the countertop, I quickly filled him in on all the details. I said that I guessed Maxwell must have taken one of our bills off the fridge then pretended to be him and disconnected us.
Sebastian’s expression grew more puzzled. ‘But Denny lives here, too. What’s the point?’
I shrugged. ‘He loves mind games. I guess he knew we’d put it back on again, straight away. He’s just messing with us. Reminding us he can do whatever he wants.’
Sebastian massaged his forehead, as if he was warding off a headache. ‘Maxwell has a key?’
‘Presumably,’ I replied, discomfort crawling across my skin like a million spiders.
I hated the idea of Maxwell being in our space without our knowledge, going through our things. The congratulations cards were still on the mantelpiece from our engagement, waiting to be replaced with our wedding cards. Maybe Maxwell had looked through our gifts, too, made comparisons with the ones he and I had received for our wedding. What else had my ex seen? An image of the medicine cabinet flashed across my mind’s eye: my contraceptive pills; sexual lubricants; a jar of massage oil. I shuddered. Then hot fury replaced my uneasiness. How dare he?
‘How the hell did he get a key?’
I could hear the hot anger in Sebastian’s voice and I winced.
He saw me do so and raised both hands. ‘I’m not blaming you. I know you wouldn’t have given him one.’
Relief filled my chest. I didn’t want to argue. ‘I suppose he must have taken one from the key rack last time he was here to collect Denny. Copied it. Easy enough to do. Then replaced it without us realising.’
‘Right.’ Sebastian stood up, shoulders back, arms bent at his sides, hands curled into his fists.
I knew instantly what he was planning. Before he could move towards the stairs to storm back out, I blocked the way.
‘Don’t go over there all guns blazing,’ I said. ‘That’s exactly what he wants. You’d be playing right into his hands.’
Sebastian seemed to wilt. ‘You’re right.’ He sat down again, swiping the screen of his phone. He put it to his ear.
‘You’re not ringing him?’ I said.
‘No…’ He waved me away, turning as whoever he was calling answered. ‘Ah, hi – your website says you do twenty-four-hour lock replacements?’
The tension in my body seemed to unfurl as I heard him book the locksmith.
A young, red-headed man with tattoos and an eye-watering fee appeared on the doorstep half an hour later. As I bathed Denny, I listened to Sebastian lay out exactly what we’d agreed upon.
‘So, a new front-door lock, plus a chain, plus a deadbolt and locks on all the windows. Gotcha,’ the locksmith said, dragging his heavy tool kit towards him. I heard him test his drill. ‘This place’ll be like Fort Knox when I’m done. No one will be getting
in.’
He was surprisingly speedy. By the time I had Denny in his pyjamas and had read him a story, the locksmith was putting the finishing touches to the new bedroom window locks. Denny wanted to investigate what was going on, but I told him to stay in bed and look through his comic books. With the drill finished, he’d drift off soon enough.
The young locksmith bid us a hearty cheerio, and Sebastian saw him out before joining me on the sofa in the living area. He had a bottle of white wine on the coffee table, a large glass already poured for me. Grateful, I took it and knocked back a large swig.
‘Safe now,’ Sebastian said. ‘He can’t get in again.’
I nodded, resting my head on his shoulder.
I could not, however, get the thought of Maxwell being in the maisonette out of my head. Brushing my teeth the next morning, I opened the medicine cabinet and regarded its contents, fury building inside me with the force of a volcano. When we were officially his family, Maxwell had given every sign that he didn’t want us – me, or even Denny, for that matter. Now he was trying to lay claim to us, get in the way of our new lives, playing stupid mind games with me and Sebastian. Who the hell did he think he was?
I brooded throughout the long school day. I barely acknowledged the pages of sums and sentences presented to me as I worked through my classes on autopilot. But, as I ate a sandwich in the staffroom and listened to Triss prattle on about some movie she’d watched, I made a decision. That afternoon, as soon as school finished, I would ignore my advice to Sebastian and pay Maxwell a visit myself. I dumped down my ham and cheese and fired off a quick text to my ex-husband:
You in about 4 p.m. today?
The reply was almost instant:
Yep
I have to see you, I started to type … then realised how Maxwell was likely to view it as some kind of declaration of need, or even love. I shilly-shallied over how to reply, before deciding I didn’t actually need to, then I put the phone back in my pocket.
As soon as the school bell rang for the end of the day, I gathered up my things and hurried out to the taxi I’d ordered; it was already waiting in the car park. I didn’t really have time for all this – I had marking to do and Denny to pick up at five. And I also worried that Sebastian might look out of his office window and see me furtively sneaking off to see my ex. But he didn’t know Maxwell like I did. I needed to show him I was onto his game; I had to demonstrate I was unimpressed and he was wasting his time.
Arriving in Maxwell’s road, I told the taxi driver to wait, then, shielded by the leylandii surrounding Maxwell’s ridiculously ostentatious house, I traipsed up the path and wrenched open the porch door. Maxwell must have been watching for me because he was opening the inner door before I could press the doorbell.
‘Lily, hi.’ He was dressed in sweatpants, his tone purposefully nonchalant, though his blue eyes roved up and down me like I was a particularly tasty morsel. I noted he was wearing a tight white T-shirt. Maxwell had a home gym. When he wasn’t working, he could lift weights for hours at a time. I could see the outline of his well-defined torso and pecs, the vee of sweat starting at his throat. But his body, like the rest of him, was purely decorative.
He indicated the hallway. ‘Come on in.’
I stayed where I was. ‘I don’t think so.’
Maxwell cocked his head. He leaned against the doorframe, folding his large arms. ‘So, why are you here, Lily … is it about Denny?’
White-hot anger pooled in my chest, but I took a deep breath. I needed to keep it in check. ‘You know what this is about.’
Maxwell’s brow furrowed. ‘I can assure you I don’t. Have I forgotten it’s my day to have him for tea? It’s not my day … is it?’
‘No. It’s not your day,’ I muttered through clenched teeth. ‘I don’t know what you were hoping to achieve, but this stops now…’
Maxwell stood up straight and held out both hands. ‘Look. I really don’t know what you’re talking about—’
I continued, regardless. ‘…Or your access for Denny will get very complicated. Do you hear me?’
Maxwell’s features slackened in shock at the threat, then twisted with exasperation. He was still trying to make me believe he had no clue what he was supposed to have done to us.
‘You can’t do that!’
‘Watch me,’ I hissed.
Maxwell’s confidence returned as quickly as it had left. ‘Sebastian put you up to this. He wants you both to himself. Well, that’s not on. Denny is my son, not his.’
I shook my head at him. ‘Sebastian is twice the father you were already and we’ve only been together five minutes.’
I saw pain shimmer across Maxwell’s blue eyes and shame lanced me sharp in the chest. There’d been no need for me to say that. As much as I thought Maxwell’s efforts with Denny were not good enough, I had said it to hurt him, to score points. That wasn’t me. I needed to rise above all this crap. I couldn’t let him drag me down to his level.
Suddenly sick of it all, I turned on my heel and strode down the pathway, grinding my teeth. I felt angry tears prick my eyes.
I opened the taxi door. The meter flashed as bright red as my mood. The driver regarded me to in the rear-view mirror.
‘Where to, now?’ he said.
I stared ahead, my thoughts still at my ex’s doorstep. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, swallowing down my loathing and resentment. I visualised a calm place: a stereotypical meadow, buttercups and birds, a bright-yellow sun on the horizon – a child’s drawing. It worked.
‘Back to Avonwood School,’ I said. ‘And then … home,’ and I gave him the maisonette’s address.
Fourteen
Sebastian locked the car and turned down the narrow alleyway, past the half-timbered buildings on either side, to the maisonette’s front door, only to see a figure ahead of him. The afternoon sun behind her, she was just a black shape, one arm raised in front of her to press the doorbell. On her wrist a collection of bangles; one of them caught the light and flashed, making him raise a hand to his eyes.
‘Hello…?’ he called.
‘Is that you, darling?’ Fran’s voice was light and airy as her perpetually neat form emerged from the shadows.
‘The one and only.’ Sebastian gave his mother a tight smile as she swooped in, air-kissing each of his cheeks. He dug in his pocket for his keys. ‘Lily not let you in?’
Fran’s eyes roved around the dark and enclosed alleyway, taking in the old beams threaded through the brickwork. ‘Oh, I’ve been standing outside a while. I don’t think she’s home yet.’
Sebastian checked his watch. That was odd; she and Denny should have been home at least half an hour ago. Perhaps Lily had been held up. ‘She should be here with Denny any minute. Why don’t you come on up?’
His mother looked towards the maisonette’s front door. ‘Well, only if you’re sure. I’ve got a little something for Denny.’ She indicated her oversized handbag.
Sebastian smiled, imagining some sweets in there for her new stepgrandson.
‘Lovely.’ He replied, opening the door for them both.
‘Hi honey, I’m home!’
Lily’s jokey tone filtered up the stairs ahead of her. The thunk of rubber-soled shoes heralded Denny’s arrival: he bounded up the stairs, dragging his school bag behind him. Lily’s head bobbed up above the bannister, into the kitchen-diner. She gave Sebastian a brilliant-white smile, then her expression froze, surprised, at the sight of Fran at the kitchen table.
‘Look who I found on the doorstep.’ Sebastian nodded a little pointedly at Fran, who gave Lily an awkward little sideways wave, like she was the Queen of England.
‘Fran! Lovely to see you,’ Lily enthused, homing in on Denny, who was shovelling three or four biscuits out of the barrel with his little hands. She grabbed two back, peeling his fingers off them. Left with one chocolate chip cookie, Denny bit into it and shrugged.
Lily stalked straight to the sink to fetch a glass of water. ‘I
t’s so humid out there.’
Across the table, Denny gave Fran a toothy grin. His middle two were missing. ‘Hiya, Mrs Adair.’
Fran fixed the boy with her best child-friendly smile. ‘Oh Dennis, no need to call me Mrs Adair. Why not call me Fran?’
Denny nodded. ‘Okay. But only if you never call me Dennis again.’
Sebastian’s stomach lurched. His mother would never have stood for such backchat from him as a child.
But Fran laughed, catching Lily’s eye. ‘That told me!’
Lily laughed too.
Fran put her large handbag on the table and unzipped it. ‘I have something here for you, if Mum says it’s okay…?’
Fran looked to Lily, who nodded readily. But her eyes narrowed as Fran pulled a box from her bag. Not sweets, then, Sebastian thought as he saw Lily’s eyes widen and her brows contract in a frown.
‘Is that a—?’ she began.
‘Phone!’ Denny interrupted with a squeal as he took the box. ‘Wow, thanks Mrs … Fran!’
He gave Fran a quick hug and then set to work opening the package. Fran watched him, grinning like a Cheshire cat.
‘Can I speak to you a minute, Sebastian?’ said Lily, her tone careful and measured.
She clambered off the kitchen stool and disappeared into the hallway that led to the bedrooms. Sebastian smiled at his mother apologetically and followed, Fran appearing not to notice him leaving, captivated as she was by Denny’s enthusiasm for his new gadget.
‘A phone? Seriously? He’s only six!’ Lily murmured. Sebastian saw that she was clenching her fists.
Sebastian kept his voice low. ‘She’s trying to do a nice thing. She wants to show she’s taking this stepgrandmother thing seriously.’
Lily grimaced. ‘I realise that and honestly, I do appreciate it. But a gift like this? It’s too big – and he’s too young!’