She grabs some water, takes some to Casper and then races down the small staircase back to where she’d been scrubbing. The place had been filthy but she thinks she’s done a good job. She’ll leave the back windows open. There’s going to be a two-month-old in there, after all. She’s even found some baby-proofing things. Not that Thea is old enough to move anywhere, but – well – it’s the thought that counts. And she’s had more than enough thoughts about Liza. She doesn’t know what to do. She’s desperate to get in touch. She knows she must ring, or text, to find out about Jack. It’s probably the longest they’ve been without contact for over a year. And then she remembers with a sinking feeling she was meant to go over and see them. She feels sick and has a sense of loss, almost, about her friend and the purity of the relationship that they’d had only two days ago. She knows that Liza will be expecting to hear her voice.
She should stop thinking so manically and just do. Just pick up the damn phone. Apologise for not turning up or replying to her messages. But she is too scared. She is too scared that she’s going to fuck up Liza’s life even more. That she’ll let slip she saw Gav with another woman. A desperately pretty, younger woman. Coming out of an IVF clinic, laughing and looking like the Gav that she had once known before Jack had even been born. So carefree and fun. The Gav that would lean down and peck Liza on the nose or cheek every five minutes. The Gav that wouldn’t be eyeing her best friend’s every movement, making snide comments every time she opened her mouth, or tended to their children.
She’s also terrified she’s going to let slip what had really happened at The Vale Club. She sees Jack’s face in her mind’s eye. Then Priti and Charlotte G’s faces merging into one, indefinable blob. The investigation. Before the images can really take root, she picks up the dust rags and cleaning paraphernalia and bolts up the stairs to Casper.
‘Right, young man. We’ll head down to Chiswick. Franco Manca pizza?’
‘Pizza! Yes Mummy,’ he shouts.
‘OK. Great. If we leave now, we’ll be back and ready for bed before Daddy gets home. So turn off the telly, get your shoes on.’ For once, he does as he is told and she grabs the leftover money from her earlier shopping trip. Just as she goes to grab Casper’s coat, her phone pings.
It’s Ella. She knows it before she’s even read the message. She thinks how powerful Ella Bradby must be, imparting her energy through the damn phone waves.
Want to come over for a playdate? Drop by if you’re about. I’ve just been with Charlotte G. Seems there’s a lot for us to discuss! Wld be good to do it before we go back to school and we’re away tomorrow. E.
What on earth is she up to? Sarah thinks about Ella’s house. How desperate she would normally be to see it and how she’d revel in telling Camilla and Liza all about it. How much they’d gossip over her interior design (she thinks she has a fair idea already of what her house would be like) and the way Ella behaved when she was in her own space. Her next thought is that she could discuss the investigation with Ella. What they would say if they were asked outright. How they’d play it. She exhales with relief. Then she thinks about what else she might find at Ella’s – a chance to uncover any interesting things about Little Miss Perfect. See what life behind Ella’s closed doors is really like. Damnit. She wishes she hadn’t told Casper they’re going to Franco Manca.
The curiosity stops her in her tracks, as well as the overriding desire to get some sort of reassurance that if The Vale Club is going to look into Jack’s fall, everything will be all right. It’s like she’s going on a bad date, she thinks. She knows she should say no. She knows that she should be sensible – and she’s been sensible all her life. But now is not the time to start anything reckless. She remembers the way Ella had been at The Vale Club. The casual way she’d spoken up when Liza had asked if she’d checked on Jack. Yes. She saw him. The gleam in her eyes just after she’d said it. Damnit. And damn you, Ella Bradby. Maybe, just maybe, she could do some digging. This would be a fantastic chance. Before they get caught up in the Christmas fair. She could find out more about Ella’s secret. Shift the balance of power back into her court and then she’d go and see Liza.
Sarah looks up at Casper, her gaze pulled over towards the large canvas of her and Tom. Before her mind can hover over any alternative solutions and suggestions, her fingers have begun to type out their reply.
Yes! How lovely! she says, but then deletes it. She cannot appear too keen. We’ll swing by, she types. That’s better. And say a quick hello to discuss things. But have to rush back. Address? She’s careful not to add a kiss, either. Or maybe she should? Show her that she doesn’t care what she’s typed? Fuck it. She sends the message and then she waits. And waits. Casper starts to moan. She can’t leave the house just yet. She wishes she could send Ella a middle finger emoji. She’s got a frigging life to lead, doesn’t she know? But she sits down and pulls Casper onto her lap.
Once again, game, set and match Ella, bleeding, Bradby.
LIZA
The house is beautiful. Grey brick with huge white balustrades. The kind you see on the front of House & Garden magazine. There’s a big front lawn with a sculpture of a small boy right in the middle, and a vintage car parked up on the right-hand side. I’m absolutely desperate to text Sarah, she’d love the scoop on Ella’s home, but she hasn’t been in touch yet, so I leave it. I’ll wait until she gets in contact – if she ever does – and then I’ll tell her everything. She’ll be agog. The cellar and a huge, bloody great gym. In her house! There’s even a small, private school next door. I wondered why, then, they’ve chosen to send their children to the local state primary, which isn’t actually all that local?
I press the buzzer, amazed at how free I feel all of a sudden. No leaking boobs on account I’d just pumped enough milk to feed an army of babies before I’d left Gav in charge.
‘Liza, she’s going to need more please,’ he kept saying. ‘You don’t want her to go hungry, do you, just because you are in such a rush to go out?’ He was right, though. I was in a rush. I feel an inkling of the essence of me. I take a deep breath.
‘Ah Liza.’ The door opens but I can feel her presence, even before I see her face. ‘I’m so glad to see you. I didn’t know which one of you it was.’ I’m about to ask her who else she’s expecting, but before I can get much further, a suited man comes to take my coat and ask me for my order.
‘Order?’
‘Thank you, Barnaby,’ says Ella, sashaying through the hallway. ‘A pot of tea would be lovely. We’ll have it in the living room. Liza, follow me. The kids are out at the park with our nanny, so we’ve got a few minutes alone. They’ll be back soon.’
I follow her, drinking in the interiors. It’s not quite what I expected. More modern. Full of those new-fangled sculptures. A mesh hare in one corner. Beautiful, plumped cushions. Cosy throws everywhere. And wow, the artwork. Huge art-deco pieces. Bright colours that lift the room. There are photos of Ella with a girl that looks quite like her – long beachy golden hair, the widest of smiles.
‘Sister?’ I ask, pointing at one, but she doesn’t reply. Just focuses on trying to open a large sash window. There’s a baby grand piano, just next to a huge window facing the garden, dripping with purple flowers from the outside. I notice a silver-framed picture of a dog on the wall – Bramble: 2002–2017 it says. I jolt. Bramble. And before I can open my mouth, they start again – memories from that night. My heart constricts. Before I can say or do anything, I’m thinking about Ella and the time I’d bumped into her walking her tiny terrier. The moonlight glowing. The expression that had crossed her face when she’d seen me – a mix of fear and disbelief.
‘He died,’ she says, after she manages to pull up the window.
‘I remember him,’ I tell her, willing my pulse to slow down. I inhale some of the fresh air that’s filling the house. ‘Wow, it’s so beautiful in here.’ I walk around the rest of the room. A pony-skin rug fills up nearly the whole floor and then I take a step back to adm
ire a huge, black and white photograph on the wall behind the piano. It’s her, of course. Her unmistakeable stature. The quiet confidence and the way she holds herself upright – like she doesn’t even know her own beauty. It’s an image of someone so innately comfortable in her own skin that it’s never crossed her mind to be self-conscious. She catches me staring at it and then gives me a smile and pats the sofa.
‘Come, sit down.’
‘Thank you.’ I fall into the cushions, my body swallowed up by the soft material. ‘I can’t be too long. Thanks for asking me over. Gav’s at home. And it’s nice to be out of the house.’ I feel a stab of guilt. Jack has only been home for a few hours, after all. ‘I mean, it’s going to be a long road, so it’s good to have time to myself.’
‘Gav. What happened, there? You guys separated, right?’
‘Yup. Just after Thea was born.’ I don’t ask how she knows. I assume that word just gets around the school gossip channels. ‘But he’s still in the house. Weird set-up, I know. But, it works.’
‘Wow. That’s upsetting for you.’ Ella’s voice remains so flat it could be mistaken for sarcasm. ‘What happens if, well, one of you starts seeing someone?’
I’m surprised she’s asking such personal questions so early on in the conversation. But it seems like she doesn’t care for what’s right or wrong; she has her agenda and she sticks to it. I wish I could be more like that.
‘We haven’t really discussed that yet, at length.’
‘Why don’t you ask him to move out?’ For some reason, I don’t mind the questions. It feels refreshingly honest, actually. Instead of all the skirting around the subject that happens at the school gates.
‘Well, I don’t know. I guess it just came at a bad time, I suppose. I’d just had Thea. She was tiny. But we’d had some difficulties with Jack. When he was born.’
I look over to Ella for her reaction, but she doesn’t give any.
‘What kind of difficulties?’ She’s treading on dangerous ground here. What had felt like an innocent conversation now feels like more of an attack. Once again I think back to the last time I’d actually seen Ella, before she ghosted us all. I wonder whether she remembers it in detail. She’d given no hint that she had any recollection at The Vale Club. I wonder if what I tell her now is going to trigger her memories, or whether she’ll gloss over it all? Or perhaps she’s actually known all along and just wants me to admit it openly? I realise that my heart has started hammering again.
‘Oh just, you know. Stuff.’
‘So what happened? Got too much for him?’
‘Yes. And no.’ I think back to when it all did happen. And feel momentarily disloyal to Gav for letting people believe he was the bastard in all this. ‘Well, it’s a bit more complicated than that. Things got in the way.’
‘Oh?’ She leans forward and reaches for a biscuit, as though preparing herself for a night in watching television. ‘Poor you. What went down?’
‘Well,’ the earlier feelings of defensiveness melt along with her sympathetic voice. It’s just so hypnotic. The cushions are so comfortable. Her entire world is so comfortable, so far removed from my own, that I start to think: what harm could it do if I just trusted her for one minute? She has it all so sorted. She could give me some good advice. Maybe some of her luck would rub off onto me. God knows I need it.
‘It started right before my pregnancy. Before we’d even met at our NCT.’ I grab a fuchsia cushion and fold my arms over it. ‘He was already anxious about everything going OK. He was constantly questioning whether we’d be good parents. Gav had a screwed-up family life, you see. Wanted to make sure history didn’t repeat itself. And then, well, this is the difficult bit. Because it makes him look bad for leaving. Or me. I’m not sure which. But please, don’t judge.’
‘Of course I won’t.’ She takes a bite from the biscuit and leans even closer to me. I can hear her breath quicken ever so slightly. ‘I wouldn’t. I’ve had enough issues of my own not to judge others.’ Her face remains totally expressionless but she looks over to the far corner of the room, to a small collection of photographs. And out of nowhere she looks like she might cry.
‘Anyway,’ she sniffs. ‘Go on. You were saying?’
‘Well, I guess it all really kicked off after I had Jack. The rows. The change in our relationship, I guess. You know how it is.’
I’m sure as hell she doesn’t know how it is. But she nods and I think about asking her outright then – if she remembers seeing me all those years ago. But something stops me.
‘And that’s when it started. For me, at least. He came home one night and …’ I swallow, remembering the shame that had engulfed me. ‘It had been a normal day. Jack had the most awful colic. Those first couple of months …’
I take a deep breath, trying to drown out the memory of the constant screams. The way they jarred right down into my soul so that I feared I’d snap at any given moment. I shut my eyes.
‘Anyway, I was anxious. A first-time mum. Everything was a big deal. I was always second-guessing myself. So I never actually slept at all. That whole time. Jack had been making these noises in the night that I would convince myself were him taking his last breath. So I’d be up and down, leaning over his cot and holding my hand on his chest, to check it was rising and falling as it should be. So, that day I was doubly exhausted. And when Gav had left for work that morning – I hadn’t been sure how I was going to make it through the day. I had pleaded with him not to go into the office. That whole period from about three a.m., I had been terrified of him leaving me. I just knew that come eight o’clock, after he’d given me a bit of time to shower and change, I would be left by myself, and it would start all over again. That feeling. And well, we’re meant to feel so lucky. We are so lucky, I didn’t really feel I could say anything. And no one else seemed to be having any problems.’
‘I know that feeling.’ This time she looks like she really means it. You must be a bloody good actress, I want to say. ‘Go on.’
‘Well, I hadn’t slept for weeks.’ I feel the usual tightening in my chest. The sense that the room is being sucked of air. She tilts her head and gives me a quizzical look. I take a deep breath.
‘Gav did leave. Looking back on it, I don’t think he realised just how bad it was. He thought I was just bored. Or lonely. That I’d get used to it. Perhaps I didn’t explain it well enough.’
‘Shhhh, shhhh, it’s OK. You’re safe here.’
‘And then, I was all alone and Jack was screaming, screaming.’ I pull at a thread of cotton. ‘I don’t know if I can bring myself to tell you what happened after that.’ I hadn’t realised it but I’m shaking.
She removes the cushion and shifts up closer to me. I can smell her. An apple-y coconut smell.
‘We’ve all done stuff we regret.’
I feel myself starting to properly shiver. But just as I’m about to carry on, the doorbell goes. Saved by the bell, I think, except this time I really hadn’t wanted to be saved. Ella gets up and looks over at the clock on the mantelpiece, a confused expression on her face. She opens the front door and I immediately recognise the voice of the person on the doorstep.
‘Hello, we’re so grateful to have been asked for a playdate,’ she’s saying. ‘Casper, be polite. Use your words please. Say hello to the lovely lady. Ella. Her name is Ella. Can you say hello?’
I hear the pitch of her voice getting higher and higher. What on earth is Sarah doing here? She’d gone totally AWOL and now she’s here?
‘Oh wow, thank you,’ she’s saying. ‘Let me just give you Casper’s coat too.’ I hear Barnaby shuffling around. ‘Casper, just give me your arms,’ Sarah says, through gritted teeth. I want to get up and stop the awkwardness in its tracks, but for some reason I have no idea what I’m going to say. I’m just so annoyed that she hasn’t been in touch with me, or turned up to see me when we’d got back from the hospital, but has quite happily accepted an invitation to Ella Bradby’s house.
When sh
e walks back into the room, Ella appears totally unfazed. But then Sarah follows behind her, Casper looking cross. I watch as her entranced gaze travels the entire room, drinking in the beautiful contents, and then, as her eyes swing towards me, my stomach swoops. I know she’s going to feel bad that she’s been caught out. Too busy to have time for her best friend, but here she is. Standing in Ella’s sumptuous living room.
‘Oh my gosh,’ Sarah trills. ‘Liza, what a surprise. I’m so sorry.’ She shifts her weight from one foot to another. I notice she’s wearing her black boots, the ones she saves for going out, or for smart events. ‘I have been meaning to ring. I just …’ She swallows and looks down. ‘How is Jack?’
‘He’s OK,’ I tell her. I try and keep the irritation out of my voice but everything’s catching up with me and my legs start to wobble. ‘He’s OK. He’s with Gav. Ella just asked me over.’ I offer her the get-out, so she can explain what she’s doing here too, but she doesn’t.
And then I catch a look on her face, before she manages to hide it. A look that suggests she’s been caught out stealing, or worse. What the hell?
‘Ella, your house is beautiful,’ she says, swiftly changing the subject. ‘Where are Felix and Wolf? Casper is so looking forward to seeing them. Aren’t you, Casper?’ She yanks his hand a little too hard and he starts to whine. Oh God.
‘Oh well, they’re just in the park at the moment.’
‘Park? Didn’t you say come over for a playdate?’ I know she’s trying to act casual, to come across as all light-hearted. I know Sarah back to front. And I know how difficult this must be for her. But for the moment, I can’t help. I don’t have the energy.
‘Did I?’ says Ella. ‘Playdate? I must be going mad. The kids are out. Sorry. I’m just so used to, I don’t know.’ She waves her hand again and motions for Sarah to sit next to me. ‘Hey, Casper. Want a biscuit? That OK?’ she asks Sarah.
The Fallout Page 13