‘Oh, she was saying all sorts of stuff I couldn’t work out.’
‘Sure she’s not doing anything weird? Trying to come between us, show her power?’ There’s a sharpness in her voice that Sarah has when she’s scared.
‘No Sa, I just think she has everyone’s best interests at heart and I think she’s quite genuine. She’s got a good nature. And just wants to help. Mary said so. And others I spoke to.’
‘I dunno. I feel anxious around her. And like I said – I know she’s hiding stuff.’
‘I told you, I don’t want to hear about all that.’ I can’t believe I’m having to tell her this again. But she looks up at me with a gleam in her eye.
‘Then I won’t tell you about how I’ve been doing some research and the things I’ve found out on Facebook. I think it’s quite plausible that Ella has a love child with Rufus North. I think the child’s abroad. Somewhere. And I don’t think her family know what she’s up to.’
For a second I want to admit that she’s piqued my interest. Of course she has. But I can’t let myself get further involved in this game of Sarah versus Ella at the moment.
‘That’s crazy, Sarah – seriously … nuts. I – I can’t deal with that. I need to just focus on Jack right now.’
‘Yes. Of course. But I’m telling you again, Liza, there’s something amiss about her.’ She clenches her fists. ‘She’s up to something weird.’
‘Ah love, you’re just projecting. It’s because she’s ghosted you once. Probably don’t know where you stand with her. You know?’ I watch Sarah shake her head. Ella had ghosted everyone and I feel slightly mean for pinpointing it to Sarah – but really, I’m fed up with her obsession of trying to turn me against Ella. ‘But I think we’ve just got to accept that she’s different from us. She doesn’t have the same hang-ups. In fact, I don’t know if she has any at all. And as for hiding stuff – we all have stuff we want to keep quiet. Don’t we? But honestly, a secret love child is insane.’ My tone is sharp. It seems mean, and churlish, after all Ella has done for me, to entertain this kind of gossip. I think about the effort she went to with hiring Mary, with bringing all Jack’s potions and medicines, and really listening to me the other day at her house.
‘Fine,’ Sarah says. ‘But you’ll see. She is not who you think she is.’ She looks like she wants to say more but she sees my warning face and shrugs. ‘Anyway. I’ve got to go. Tom wants a quiet night in. Just rang me from work. He’s going to cook. Want me to bring anything down?’
‘No, thank you though.’ And she walks out. I notice again she sends only a fleeting glance in Jack’s direction. Nothing more. And when she does, she gulps back air and looks towards the front door. Strange. That’s the second time she’s done that.
When Sarah’s gone, I set Jack up with an audio book, feed Thea and put her to sleep. I text Gav and tell him that all is OK – that everything is under control – and I take pictures of the kids so he knows what’s going on.
Then I shut the door to the kitchen and go into my room – it’s the first time I’ve really sat in here in the daylight. I look around. Sarah’s added so many little touches that I hadn’t noticed before. There are two little photos on each of the bedside tables – one of me and her during our first night out after we’d had Jack and Casper. There are our two faces, cheeks squished together. She’s holding a sparkler and screwing up her nose, I’m holding up a champagne bottle. Crowds of people are behind us, strobes of flashing purple lights behind us. And then on the other side is a photo of Sarah and Jack together at the park. Gav had taken the photo. Jack had only been one month old. We’d gone for a stroll, with him in the buggy. I remember Gav clowning around, everyone laughing. How easy things had been back then. Before Jack had turned eight weeks old and disaster had struck. I think back to what I’d been like at the time. Fretful and worried. Sleep-starved. On the brink of a panic attack at all times.
I pick up the photo and stare closely. I feel happy looking at it. But then a sort of sadness closes around me and I find it hard to breathe. Sadness that Sarah had gone to so much effort to make me feel at home and I hadn’t appreciated, or even noticed, it. Nostalgia for times past.
Sarah had been through so much last year. ‘Well, everyone goes through shit like this,’ she’d said, shrugging her shoulders. ‘Don’t they? Just have to move on and ask for help when you need it.’ Except she hadn’t really discussed Rosie again. But I wasn’t going to make the same mistake. I pick up my mobile and dial Jan, the physio.
‘Hi,’ I say. ‘I was going to ask you earlier. It was just all a bit of a rush.’ I explain what I need. What Jack needs. A recommendation of someone to talk to about the trauma he has been through. Some sort of outlet so that he doesn’t suffer any mental and emotional consequences from the fall.
‘Of course,’ she says. ‘I’ll see how I can help. Anything for that cheeky little chappie. I’ve grown very fond of the boy.’
I begin to feel much, much better. Something has lifted. I feel better after my trip out. I feel better after seeing that old photo of Sarah and Jack. The memories of times when Gav and I had been a unit with each other. I do something I haven’t done in ages, and text him to ask if he wants to have supper.
I know the separation still stands. But – just as a family? I’ll cook. I’ll explain to him then about getting Jack some therapy. That he is traumatised and needs help and that I’ve already paved the way by asking Jan to help us find someone. We can spend the time discussing things as two adults. Something we’ve missed for a long time.
Sure, he replies. Sounds good. As a family. Hope starts to bloom in my chest.
‘Hey, buddy.’ I walk out back into the room where Jack is listening to The Twits. ‘We’re going to be OK. All of us. We’re going to be OK. You understand?’ His gaze moves towards me and for the first time in ages, I see him give an almost indeterminable nod. Only I, as his mother, would have known it was there.
I think about the look that Sarah gave me before her departure earlier. The look she had given Jack. How her silence towards him had prompted me to do something. At the time, something that had passed her features had made me feel uncomfortable. I’d dismissed it. Don’t be daft, I’d told myself. I’d put it down to Jack and the fact he was so desperately miserable. But then the more I replay the expression in my mind, the more I recognise it from somewhere. And then I realise – it’s the look she gave Ella, right after we’d heard Jack scream. I still can’t read it. But if I didn’t know better, I’d put a bet that there was horror in there. Horror, mixed with a flash of something, like guilt.
Now why, I think to myself. Why would that be?
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Hi George
Hope you are having a great holiday. No problem at all. I’ll do what you suggested and I’m about to interview Harry Framlingham from Savills, Chiswick branch, about the most expensive house in W3 being sold yesterday – just on the road up from The Vale Club. 2.8 mill. A positive piece.
Kind regards
J
SARAH
Once she’s dropped Casper off at the school gates, she makes a mental list of the things she needs to do today. Book Casper an appointment at the dentist (she’s been feeding him far too many sweets lately), do the washing and ironing and change all the sheets. She’ll Hoover too. Despite Helen coming once a week, the house still manages to look grubby after a few days. She normally loves Friday mornings. Her ‘housework’ day before Helen arrives when she tidies things and puts away the washing. (She had always complained when her mother had told her to tidy before the cleaner arrived. ‘Why would I do that? Surely that’s what a cleaner does?’ But now she knows.) She feels no pressure to do anything on Friday mornings, other than her task at hand. And she can put the matter of finding a ‘real job’, as Tom calls it, to the back of her mind. And as she’s thinking of a real job, she remembers she hasn’t done the Airbnb listing. Sh
e and Tom are having supper tonight and he’s bound to ask. She can’t hold it off any longer. She races to the downstairs flat and knocks on the door.
‘Ah, Sa, how are you?’ Liza looks agitated. She’s in an old, holey T-shirt and her hair’s scraped up in a bun.
‘Good, thanks so much. Just came down to take some photos for the Airbnb profile.’
‘Oh yes, of course.’ Liza doesn’t react in quite the way Sarah had expected. In fact, she doesn’t seem to react at all. ‘Go for it. Go right ahead. Jack’s tutor is here so I’ll go have a quick shower and get ready and you can do your magic. Thea’s just asleep in that room so if you could go in there last that would be great.’
After a beat, Liza continues: ‘Have you been to The Vale Club yet? They actually rang me just now.’
Shit. Sarah thinks about the social services phone call she’d put off earlier and how this is all getting out of hand. She hasn’t even been able to ring her mother back, who is now sending her frantic texts.
‘Sure they just want to look like they’re doing stuff but I know the press has been on to it – and you know how set Gav is on everyone saying their piece. So if you could chat to them soon that would be great. Then we can hopefully just move on.’
‘Fine.’ Sarah defies her voice not to waver. ‘That’s absolutely fine. Of course I’ll go later on. Just as soon as Tom gets back. Then I won’t have Casper pulling on me, wanting attention.’ She’s aware she needs to shut up. That she’s sounding a bit bonkers but she just can’t seem to stop. ‘You know how these children are.’
‘I do,’ Liza frowns at her and walks away. ‘OK, just going for that shower …’
Sarah watches her friend go into the bedroom – she looks at the way her shoulders slope, the shush of her slippers as she slides her feet unenthusiastically across the floor. It reminds her exactly of how Liza was acting after Jack had been born. And then, as she’s thinking about that, a vague memory of Gav floats into her psyche. A memory that she didn’t even know was there. It was something he’d said to her after Liza had gone AWOL, when Jack was only a few months old. He’d said: Perhaps it’s best for everyone if me and Liza separate. Then I can take Jack.
She must be imagining things, surely. Getting her times muddled up. But then she remembers how she’d laughed at him – telling him not to be absolutely ridiculous. Why would he want to take Jack? And he couldn’t punish Liza for feeling like crap. She had just had a baby after all. He’d gone silent then and looked close to tears. She’d put it down to things taking their toll on him but, looking back on it, perhaps this was when things had really started to change between those two.
She’d ignored the problem after that. She had a newborn herself after all. Tom had talked her down. Told her to focus on her own life. And Gav had never elaborated after all. But something now starts to ring alarm bells. Something she can’t get a firm grasp on.
Other memories from long ago start to surface. Gav ‘wetting the babies’ heads’ with Tom. Tom had come home slurring his words – he’d woken her up. Something about Gav. Liza. How something awful had happened. Very dishstreshing. Tom had repeated it over and over. He had stumbled on the carpet. But then the next day they’d argued about Tom not pulling his weight and they’d both forgotten about it. Had she missed something awful? About why Liza had gone AWOL, and why Gav had left? About why he’d stuck around to control her? Sarah’s mind is going crazy now. She doesn’t know what to think, and she’s still reeling from having caught him with another woman.
She hears the shower go in the main bedroom. Jack is doing his phonics. His tutor is holding up cards just above his eyeline and is distracted. She sees Liza’s phone on the table just underneath the lower-ground bay window, tantalisingly within reach. She takes her own mobile, lining it up as best she can to take a good photo of the flat. She extends her arms in exaggerated movements, just so the tutor has no doubt as to exactly what she is doing – she really will use it for the Airbnb site too – and she tells herself she’s not being so deceitful after all.
She sits on the table and takes some more pictures. But when she is sure that no one is looking, still holding her own phone up, she picks up Liza’s phone and presses the screen.
Never had a password, Liza would always tell her. Got nothing interesting to hide. Sarah has no idea what she’s looking for. Something. Nothing. Everything.
She scrolls through a few WhatsApps. She sees a conversation between Liza and Ella. She shouldn’t look. She knows she shouldn’t. But one quick glance wouldn’t hurt? Surely. Just a quick scroll. Just as her finger hovers over the screen, she sees a notification for an unread email from yesterday. Uber. Liza’s Uber account. Of course – she’d gone somewhere yesterday and she’d never explained where – other than to say she’d been to the doctor about her sleep. Seventeen pounds the journey cost. Hmmm. It must have been quite far away. Liza’s always moaning about how expensive Uber has got these days. But she can’t just have popped round the corner. Sarah pulls up Liza’s Uber app, whilst contorting her body into different positions to take pictures out of the window. ‘Ah lovely,’ she says out loud, desperate to keep looking at Liza’s phone but knowing she has to keep the charade up. ‘Sorry. I’ll be out of your hair soon.’
‘Not to worry at all,’ Liza replies. ‘It’s nice to have someone around.’
Sarah hears the water being turned off. The bang of the shower door. Jesus – she doesn’t have long. She holds off a few seconds, terrified Liza’s about to come out. When she hears silence again, she glances back down, still feeling sick at the thought of being caught out. Yet the urge to find out the information is too strong.
Marylebone? How peculiar, she thinks. What on earth could Liza have been doing in Marylebone? She thinks of all the boutique shops there on the high street. Nothing jogs her memory until her eyes fall onto the name of the actual street that Liza had visited. She enlarges the map that’s come up from Liza’s previous history and, bingo – there it is. Devonshire Street.
The name rings a very faint bell. She takes a mental note of the exact address and puts Liza’s phone back. She takes a few last pictures, and by that time Liza has reappeared from the bathroom.
‘Wow, that feels better,’ Liza says, brushing through her hair with her fingers. ‘Much better. Guess who’s coming over for supper tonight? I’m going to make a real effort. Not that anything’s happening, of course. It’s just the first time we’ve been together as a …’ She pinches the top of her nose. ‘Well, you know. Family. Family time.’
‘Gav’s coming to supper?’ Sarah hears alarm bells ring. ‘What on earth for? Are you letting him back in your life, just like that? After the way he’s been treating you?’ She spits out her words. Only when she sees Liza’s face does she realise she’s gone too far.
‘Treating me?’ Liza looks furious, her mouth set in a tight line. ‘Treating me? What about the way you’ve been …’ She stops. Sarah wonders what Liza was about to say, but she doesn’t know if she can bear to hear the answer.
She wishes she could just tell Liza why she is so anti Gav. She’s held her tongue up until now, but perhaps she should tell her about that pretty blonde lady, laughing along with Gav outside the IVF clinic. Just as she’s working out what to say next, she realises that Liza has almost reared up at her, the anger flashing in her eyes. Any tension between her and Liza has never blown up into a fight like this before – they’ve had unspoken hurts that, granted, have become more frequent lately, but they’ve always smoothed them over. Today, she’s going to have to be the bigger person. She has an agenda, and she has to stick to it.
‘Liza,’ she says firmly, adopting a school-teacher tone. ‘I’m just looking out for you. I don’t want you to get hurt. That’s all. You know that Gav’s been a bit off lately – more than off.’
‘You don’t want to hurt me?’ Liza’s raising her voice now, not caring whether Jack and his tutor can hear. ‘By pretending to know what’s best for me and Gav? If
you knew what was best for us, you’d be pleased we were hanging out together. But maybe you don’t want that for me. Maybe you want to keep things just as they are?’
Sarah takes a step back, shocked by Liza’s vitriol. Has she been harbouring these feelings towards her all along?
‘Look at you when we moved in. Being all huffy with him so I have to overcompensate. You think that’s best? Or is there something else at play here? Is there? Some reason you won’t even look him in the eye? You ask me to move in, which I’m grateful for, but then you act so weird that … Oh,’ she throws her hands up in the air, ‘fuck it. You tell me. What’s really going on here, Sa?’
Sarah feels very frightened. Something else at play? What’s really going on? Does Liza know more than she’s letting on? All these conversations she and Ella have been having on WhatsApp? She freezes. She can’t speak. That’s a good thing, she thinks. If she says anything else, she might incriminate herself. Best be silent. But she wants to weep for the direction her and Liza’s friendship seems to have taken – especially knowing that she only has herself to blame. She lets out a cry.
‘I’m going then,’ she falters, pausing just for a second to see if Liza will grab her hand, tell her not to be silly. But she doesn’t, and Sarah’s forced to flee.
She runs up the stairs back into the main house, great sobs coming out of her mouth, and switches on her computer. She’s darned if she isn’t going to find out what’s going on. At least then, perhaps she’ll be vindicated. Somehow. She types the address she’s just found into the Google search bar. At first, a map loads up. Come on. Hurry up, she thinks. Where the fuck has her friend been? And could her suspicions be right about Gav?
An image loads up in the side toolbar on Google Maps. A very discreet corner building, attached to a large house that’s painted black. Very strange. What the hell could it be? She zooms in, the argument with Liza sidelined for the moment. She sees a name on a dulled gold sign on the door. Hilda Zettenberg Home. Even stranger. For some reason her breath keeps catching, an impending sense of doom draped around her neck. She types Hilda Zettenberg Home into her search bar. The first search results make her laugh. She isn’t sure why. Shock? Disbelief? Nerves. But she continues to scroll down and down. And then she bursts into tears. She’s missed it. How could she have missed it? All this time? She thought she knew Liza back to front. She’s known her breakfast habits for the past five years. She even calculated her own cycle by Liza’s. But this? Nothing could have prepared her for this.
The Fallout Page 22