I Spy

by Claire Kendal

  ‘I don’t think anyone ever has.’ I picture my parents’ wedding photo. They look so shining and joyful, despite my grandmother’s sour presence. Did they find it easy? I will never know. Is that why I am the way I am, always trying to find things out, to compensate for knowledge that is impossibly out of my reach?

  Eliza looks down at her own lap, laces and unlaces her fingers. ‘Previous relationships, they form you, don’t they? Set your behaviours.’

  ‘They do.’

  ‘The things that went wrong with Zac’s previous girlfriend have made him’ – she searches for the right word – ‘extra-protective.’ Is she doing this on purpose? If she is, she is a wonderful actress. It isn’t lost on me that I could have said this very thing of Jane.

  ‘That must be hard on you both. Did he ever tell you what those things were? That went wrong, I mean.’ I’m not a bad actress either. That I can be so calm, so normal-seeming and unreactive, is amazing even to me.

  She shakes her head. ‘He won’t talk about her. He says it’s too painful. Won’t even speak her name. She – I think she may have killed herself – as best as I can piece it together. I do feel so sorry for her, but – you’ll think I’m a horrible person if I tell you this.’

  ‘I’m sure I won’t.’

  She takes a deep breath. ‘It’s hard, knowing I’m his second choice.’

  ‘I’m sure you’re not, but I’ve felt that too, before.’ Saying this makes me remember my initial jealousy of Jane. I can’t let myself harden towards Eliza, who may also be desperate for help. At the same time, I can’t trust her, either. How do I remain open, between these two states of mind? ‘I’m sure he loves you in your own right.’

  She lifts a shoulder in a half-shrug. ‘That’s what I try to tell myself. I’ve searched for information about her. All I found was a folder of medical articles. Mostly they were about breaches of electronic patient records – he was enraged by some scandal with that. But a few were about suicide in young women – he admitted he had them because of her, but that’s all I’ve ever got out of him. I’ve even gone through his drawers – I know it’s wrong.’

  ‘You’re not the first or last woman to do that.’ I know better than anyone how good Zac is at hiding his past. Did she find those articles because he meant her to, or is she playing with me, knowing full well that Zac’s supposedly dead ex-girlfriend is sitting in her kitchen? I am in a state of profound uncertainty.

  ‘Have you?’

  ‘Oh yes. With every man I’ve ever lived with.’ Never mind that Zac is the only one.

  She laughs. ‘Good to know I’m not alone.’ She takes a huge breath, then swallows. ‘Zac is a wonderful husband. And he’s amazing with Alice. I’m – tired today. Alice was up again most of last night. She hasn’t been sleeping well lately.’

  ‘Poor Alice. And poor you. Hopefully the iron will help her feel better, so you’ll both get more sleep.’

  ‘I’m sure it will. Plus, she’s especially unsettled when Zac’s away – I think she misses him tucking her in.’

  ‘That’s sweet.’ I feel as if a knife has twisted in my heart. ‘What does Zac do? I meant to ask.’

  ‘Ah. He’s a doctor. Cardiology. He’s not practising right now. Something went wrong. Honestly, he was in a kind of post-traumatic stress when he and I first got together.’ She’s giving me so much of the truth I am veering towards thinking she is sincere – that she can’t be playing some manipulative game. ‘These days, he offers himself as an expert witness in cases of clinical negligence. Basically, he advocates for patients. He’s on a kind of mission.’

  ‘It sounds as if he wants to do as much good as he can.’ I remember Zac’s intercalated BSc was in Medical Ethics and Law.

  ‘He hates oppression, hates it when powerful people do wrong and get to cover it up. The reason he’s in Edinburgh is to advise on a case. He works so hard. But do you know, he did the grocery shopping for me and Alice before he left? That’s how kind he is – he knew I was tired.’

  Positively heroic to buy sprouts and milk, I think, imagining him popping along to my flat to deposit the dead robin before he trundled off to the supermarket and the airport.

  ‘This poor woman in Edinburgh …’ Eliza tops up my coffee. ‘They missed all the signs of her skin cancer. It’s criminal.’

  ‘That’s awful.’

  ‘Zac won’t let them get away with it. He’ll expose them. Do you know, pretty much all of the competency reviews in hospitals are cover-ups. Internal stitch-ups. Zac always says, “If a plane crashes, you don’t get the pilot to conduct the investigation.”’

  ‘If a plane crashes, isn’t it rare for the pilot to be around to do that?!’

  ‘Yes, but you get my point.’ She tops up her own coffee too. ‘External scrutiny is crucial, don’t you think?’

  ‘Absolutely. Though it must be incredibly hard to be a doctor. The consequences of making a mistake are so serious.’ I wonder, not for the first time, if they could have intervened earlier, got my baby out earlier, if they missed some sign. Although what happened to me wasn’t medical negligence. What happened to me was Zac.

  ‘Anyway’ – she pushes her coffee cup way – ‘he’s on his way home now. He’ll be able to tell me all about it.’

  It is difficult not to jump up and run for the door. I make myself smile. ‘I don’t want to interrupt his homecoming.’

  She looks worried, but her face relaxes when she checks her watch. ‘It’s eleven. His flight doesn’t touch down until midday. He’ll have taken a carry-on, and his car’s waiting at the airport, so if everything is on time, he should walk through the door at one.’

  I would blow out air with relief in other circumstances. At the same time, my stomach clenches to witness this recitation of his minute-by-minute itinerary, remembering how I used to play it out in my own head.

  She seems to want to say something, grapples for the right words. ‘He can get – a bit – upset, when things are unexpected. I mean, when there are guests here and he’s not prepared.’

  This could be me, trying as delicately as I could to brief Milly on timings, so she’d be sure to be gone before Zac walked in. Milly always knew exactly what I was doing. Early on, she would call me on it. By the end, she had given up.

  There is a long wail from the baby monitor, which sits on top of one of the grey-green kitchen cabinets. The cry seems to echo, except that it grows louder each time instead of fading. I sit as if tranquil.

  Eliza stands, straightens her tan suede skirt, checks that her thin black sweater is properly tucked in. She is dressed for a casual lunch with the Queen, schooled in the Zac Hunter fashion playbook. ‘Won’t you come up and say hello? Alice would love that.’

  ‘Okay.’ I calculate that I still have plenty of time to be cleanly away before Zac walks in the door. Despite my vow to stop running, I am not ready to see him yet. Not like this. Not unprepared. And not behind the closed doors of this house, where his wife might be willing to aid and abet anything he does.

  Eliza’s court shoes click-clack on the tiles, and I squeak up the stairs behind her, past the ground- and first-floor landings, to the second floor. We pass what appears to be a nanny flat, though empty and unlived in. Then there is Alice’s room.

  Alice’s hands are clutching the top rail of her pale pink cot. She is standing on one foot. The other foot is beside her hands, as if she is planning to climb out. I realise now that the extra-paleness of her skin is from the anaemia. There is a tear, still perfectly formed, below her dual-coloured eye. When she puts her leg down on the mattress and lifts her arms, it’s all I can do to stop myself from stepping forwards. Those arms are for Eliza, not me.

  ‘Hello, funny girl.’ Eliza picks Alice up. The white forelock is gathered into its usual ponytail-spout. ‘Did you wake up grumpy?’ Alice nods once. ‘Do you feel better now?’ Alice nods again. ‘Do you want to say hello to Helen?’ Alice hides her head against Eliza’s chest, peeps at me, then lets out a squeal of l
aughter.

  Eliza looks at the open door of the bathroom, which is more white marble, from floor to ceiling. She turns to me. ‘Would you mind taking her for a minute? I’ll be quick.’

  ‘Of course. If she’s happy.’

  ‘Little limpet.’ Eliza peels Alice away and plonks her in my arms. ‘She loves you. She never goes to anyone.’

  Alice is so warm, and so light, and slightly damp after her nap. She smells of soap and warm bread. She smells the way my baby would smell. ‘Hello, mermaid.’ I sink into a rocking chair and settle her on my lap.

  Alice puts a hand on my face, caresses it with her fat fingers. ‘Tear,’ she says, touching my cheek. ‘Tear,’ she says again, proud of herself.

  I blink several times, very hard, and swipe at my eyes with a sleeve before the bathroom door opens and Eliza emerges.

  ‘Tear,’ Alice says again.

  Eliza looks puzzled.

  ‘This has been so lovely, Eliza.’ I tickle Alice beneath the chin and she giggles. ‘Thank you for having me. I wish I could stay longer, but I’m working this afternoon.’

  ‘Thank you for the book. You must come back soon. Or meet me and Alice in the park again. Won’t you?’

  ‘Of course.’ Alice is playing with my hair.

  ‘We can do it when Zac’s next away.’

  ‘Whatever works best for you.’

  Eliza lets out a little gasp and visibly jumps at the sound of the door opening downstairs. Then, there is a voice. ‘Eliza?’ It is a voice I haven’t heard in two years, and hoped never to hear again.

  Eliza’s face has drained of colour. I can feel that mine has too. If I weren’t sitting, I might fall. She shouts down to him, ‘Up in Alice’s room.’

  Alice climbs off me. She is practically dancing. ‘Daddy!’ She is laughing and smiling. ‘Want Daddy.’

  Daddy. He gets to be Daddy. I am nothing. I have no name. Even the one I was born with has been stripped away. My heart is thudding so violently I imagine it would be visible if I looked down at my own breast. I stand, amazed my legs don’t simply fold at my own weight, though my fingers are tight on the arm of the rocking chair. I can hear him coming up the stairs, up and up the stairs, his footfall still in my bones.

  ‘You get to meet Zac sooner than expected.’ Eliza attempts a smile, but it falters.

  He calls, ‘I changed to the early flight.’

  Eliza’s distress at Zac’s seemingly unexpected early return has me convinced that she doesn’t know who I am. If she does, she deserves an Academy Award. If she does, then she and Zac have planned this with chilling care, including the charade that he was in Edinburgh.

  But I don’t think this is a charade. She found out about Alice’s need for iron late yesterday. I know that was genuine, and by then she’d already said he was away. She isn’t handing me to Zac on a plate. More likely she doesn’t want him to catch her with a friend, or to imagine she has made any. He is doing to her exactly what he did to me all the time. Pretending to go away. Or actually going but returning ahead of schedule for a surprise ambush.

  Eliza’s hands are trembling. I nearly clasp them in my own to try to calm her, but she moves before I get the chance.

  ‘Daddy!’ Alice toddles off towards the door, and Eliza scoops her up. ‘Daddy now!’ Alice cries. She is squirming so furiously I don’t know how Eliza manages to keep hold of her. I can make sense, now, of how Eliza got the red mark on her cheek a couple days ago. ‘Want Daddy!’

  The footsteps pause on the first-floor landing. He calls up. ‘I wanted to see the two of you before my afternoon appointment. Let me take a quick shower, first.’

  ‘Daddy!’ Alice is screaming. She is pounding her fists against Eliza’s shoulders and arms.

  ‘Be right there, sweet girl,’ he says. There is the sound of a door closing.

  Thank God he is still germicidal. He can’t bear to fly without washing the air travel away as soon as he walks in the door, before touching anything or anyone.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Eliza says. ‘Daddy just wants to get all clean for us, after the aeroplane. While we’re waiting for Daddy, how about we go and try some of the special new medicine Helen brought you? We can have it with some juice. Shall we try apple?’

  ‘I’ll slip out, Eliza. Leave you time alone with your family.’

  Relief washes over her face. ‘Are you sure? I don’t want you to feel unwelcome.’

  ‘You’ve made me very welcome.’

  ‘He’s so – concerned – about my having friends. I think – I get the feeling maybe his previous girlfriend had friends who came between them. I know he wants the best for me and Alice.’ She is ten years older than I am, but suddenly looks ten years younger, and so vulnerable.

  ‘Daddy, Daddy, Daddy.’ Now the words are a happy chant, a game, each one stabbing me in the chest.

  ‘I’m sure he does.’ I kiss Eliza’s cheek, then the wriggling Alice’s, and make my voice light. ‘I’ll meet Zac when the time is right. I can see myself out – you have your hands full.’

  I practically fly down the stairs, cursing my shoes for squeaking, my heart pounding each time a foot hits the marble. When I get to the heavy front door, I can’t figure out how to unlock it, and I struggle for what seems like minutes but is probably seconds, my hands slippery with sweat, so this feels even more nightmarish, and my breathing comes still faster. At last, miraculously, the knob turns and I jerk the door noisily open, taking a quick look over my shoulder as I step into the sunlight, half-expecting a monster to be chasing me. But there is nothing.

  I rush along the gravelled drive, only to find that the black iron gates are closed. I let out a cry of despair, and decide I have no alternative but to climb them. I have both feet on the horizontal rail that runs a metre above the ground, linking the posts, and I’m trying to work out how I will manage to clear the spearheads that decorate the top, when there is a click and the gates start to swing open with me clinging on. Eliza must have realised I’d be trapped here, and pushed a magic button somewhere inside. I jump down, stepping quickly out of the path of the slow-moving gate. Then I slip through the gap and walk away as fast as I can without drawing attention to myself, though what I want to do is run.

  Then A Meeting

  Two years and one month earlier

  * * *

  Cornwall, Late March 2017

  The day we returned from London, I placed an announcement in the ‘In Memoriam’ section of the newspaper. I typed it all out on a burner phone with Internet access that I’d hidden behind the air vent in the bathroom. I named my fictional dear-departed Heidi Keyes Greenwood. My message read, I miss you every day. All I want is to see you again.

  Two days later, I found an announcement in the ‘Birthdays’ section, placed by Max Parkinson. HAPPY SECOND BIRTHDAY to Hillier Parkinson, with love from all the family. Xxx. It was not a hard code to crack. ‘Max’ was a version of Maxine’s already-probably-fake name. ‘Second’ meant in two days. ‘Hillier Parkinson’ was the park on top of the hill. ‘Xxx’ signalled 3 p.m.

  Two days later, at three in the afternoon, I walked through a small park at the top of a short hill. Few people came to this quiet place. Although close to the centre of town, it was hidden from view and not on a direct path to anywhere the tourists would want to get.

  The park was in the shape of an octagon, bounded by ornamental trees and shrubs. A gravelled path skirted the perimeter, with offshoots leading towards the centre, which was laid with tiles. The tiles were painted with botanical designs.

  At the park’s outer edge were benches. I aimed myself towards one and sat down on what was essentially a slab of concrete supported by blue bricks, putting the bag of delicatessen treats I’d bought a few minutes earlier onto the seat beside me. There were honey-roasted cashews; a salad of olives, sun-dried tomatoes and pasteurised feta; sourdough bread with fresh herbs; and chocolates stuffed with hazelnut praline.

  I was still waiting for my heart to slow down from the ef
fort of walking up the hill, when an old woman entered the park from the opposite side. She hobbled slowly until she reached my bench, then lowered herself onto the other end.

  I’d brought my phone, not wanting to draw Zac’s attention by leaving it behind again, and banking on the fact that there was nothing about a shopping trip and stroll through the centre of town to alarm him when he checked whatever tracking alerts he’d installed.

  I was about to say a polite and neutral hello to the old woman, to test a theory that she might not be an old woman at all, when my phone rang. I was not surprised to see Zac’s name flash across the screen. I hit accept and said hello.

  ‘Where are you?’

  As if you didn’t know. I made an effort at hyper-cheerfulness and told him the truth. ‘I’m sitting in the park. The sky is all clean and washed by spring, the primroses are out, and your baby girl is doing somersaults.’ I’d checked with Milly before I left, and she confirmed he was at the hospital. ‘Everything okay at work?’

  ‘Fine. How did you get there?’

  ‘I walked. Even pregnant women need regular air and exercise. As a doctor, you know that.’ I was very aware of the old woman, though she was studiously ignoring me.

  ‘You shouldn’t tire yourself.’

  ‘I can take a taxi home. I wanted to get a few things from the deli. I don’t feel like cooking tonight.’

  The old woman took an already-segmented orange from a plastic tub and put a piece in her mouth, leaving me in no doubt about her identity. Oranges were the recognition signal Maxine and I had decided on.

  ‘Glad to know I’m worth so much effort,’ Zac said.

  ‘I’ll pick up some steaks.’

  ‘Don’t bother. I need to go to London tonight.’ The line went dead.

  Good, I thought. Now I can eat my chocolate pralines without your fake-concerned comments about my putting on too much baby weight, and your pretend worries that I’ll be distressed when my body doesn’t snap back after she is born.

  The old woman had finished chewing her orange segment. ‘Nice afternoon.’ She didn’t change her voice.