by Paula Daly
‘Better than Helena’s parents,’ he said.
‘Helena is your wife?’
He nodded. ‘Was.’
‘Do you keep in touch with them? Helena’s parents?’
‘I call every couple of weeks, just to check in. Helena doesn’t know. She’s pretty heavily medicated, so they look after her. I tried to, but she didn’t want me around in the end.’
‘She blames you?’
‘She blames herself. She wasn’t at fault, but it made no difference. She blames herself and, ultimately, I’m not exactly sure what happened to us. I couldn’t seem to help her, and she didn’t want me near her, so her parents asked me to move away. Reluctantly, though – it was a last resort. I tell people I couldn’t bear to be around anyone that knew about the accident, but it wasn’t that. My wife couldn’t bear to have me around any longer. I tried to do what was best for her.’
I nodded.
There wasn’t really anything I could say. The worst thing in the world had happened. His marriage had fallen apart as a result. There were no words of consolation.
‘Thank you for asking about Elliot,’ he said softly.
‘We all need to talk about our kids.’
‘Most people, even friends, assume I’d hate to talk. That it’s the last thing I’d want.’
I hesitated, not exactly sure how to answer. ‘I’m no expert,’ I said, ‘but the people I know who’ve lost a child do want to talk. Rather than causing pain, it seems to bring some comfort.’
He clasped his hands together and nodded.
I said, ‘You should see your face, by the way, when you talk about him. You become a different person. Your whole face shines.’
‘It does?’
‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘It does.’
The boys were edging closer to this side of the pitch. I glanced at the woman with the toddler, who was standing, hands on hips, waiting for me to reprimand them, so I didn’t.
‘I had the feeling I said the wrong thing the other evening,’ said Henry. ‘I thought I’d annoyed you and, though I really wanted to call, I didn’t think you’d want to hear from me again.’
‘You didn’t annoy me.’
‘No?’ He looked dubious.
‘The last few weeks haven’t exactly been plain sailing. And I suppose it was just the fall-out from that.’
‘Anything I can help with?’ he asked.
‘Thanks, but it’s over.’
He went to say something further and then changed his mind, sensing, perhaps, that whatever had been troubling me I wasn’t willing to share.
‘I think that’s why I was drawn to you,’ he said, after a moment, reaching across and taking my hand. ‘You know, when we first met?’
‘During the insurance assessment?’ I asked, surprised.
He went rueful. ‘I like to play my cards close,’ he said. ‘But I knew almost straight away that you wouldn’t try to fix me. You had your own shit going on, so you weren’t going to try and make everything better. Or ask stupid fucking questions about how I feel … I was attracted to that.’
I smiled at him. ‘How do you feel, Henry?’
‘Not so bad, actually.’
We dropped Ollie back at his mother’s and walked home, George carrying the football rather than attempting to dribble it along the pavement. Vince had left a bottle of the Portuguese white in the fridge on Saturday, so I opened it, pouring out two glasses, whilst Henry kicked the ball around in the back garden with George.
I watched from the open window.
Henry had an easy way with him. He wasn’t out to impress, nor did he try to get George to like him. He was casual. After a minute or so Henry picked up the ball and said to George, ‘You want to do something else?’ and George nodded. Henry told him he didn’t really like football either and I saw George smile coyly in response.
Then the two of them sat on the edge of the patio, shoulder to shoulder, and for a second I got a glimpse of what life could be like.
A glimpse of a future.
30
THE TEXT READ: ‘Are you free?’
I replied: ‘For?’
Scott wrote: ‘The usual???’
Me: ‘I’ve still not been paid for last time …’
And of course, then, he called.
It was now Thursday morning and I’d been avoiding Scott partly because of Henry partly because of my unease at his presence at the swimming pool, but mostly because I knew I needed to end the arrangement and I was too nervous to face him.
I’d sent Scott a couple of innocuous texts, given him a gentle nudge to chase up the remaining money, and he’d replied, telling me he was on to it; and again later, saying they’d had problems with the computing system at work. It was all sorted out now, money on its way, and so on and so forth.
But it hadn’t arrived.
‘Roz, huge apologies,’ Scott said breathlessly when I picked up, ‘I had no idea you were still waiting. I’ll draw out the cash. I’m terribly embarrassed. I hate owing money.’
‘That’s okay,’ I said evenly. ‘Money’s not as tight as it once was.’
‘No,’ he laughed. ‘You’ll have no further use for me soon. I’ll have to come up with some other way to lure you back.’
I laughed along with him, though when I looked at my reflection I wasn’t smiling.
‘So, how is everything?’ he asked. ‘You’re still busy at work, I presume?’
‘Always. You know how it is. I’ve had an offer, actually, to go back on my own.’
‘Oh?’
‘Yes, from a patient. A guy I’ve known for years has offered me premises. Affordable premises. And he doesn’t really want any money up front, so there’s no great risk involved.’
Scott was silent.
‘Scott?’
‘Sorry, sorry, I got distracted there for a moment. That’s simply wonderful news, Roz. I’m delighted for you.’ His words sounded hollow. ‘When will you get going on this new venture?’
‘A few weeks, I think. There are some renovations that need to be completed, but it shouldn’t take too long.’
‘Excellent. And what about Henry? How are things working out on that front?’
‘Okay,’ I said, non-committal.
‘Do you see it going anywhere?’
Strange how people think they have a right to know. I wouldn’t dream of asking how a person’s marriage was going, or their relationship with their mother.
Though I did suspect Scott’s inquiry had less to do with concern for my long-term happiness and more to do with finding out if I’d slept with his brother-in-law.
‘You didn’t think to mention he’d lost his son?’ I said carefully.
Scott cleared his throat. ‘Must have slipped my mind.’
I was about to reply when he said, ‘Why, is he playing the sympathy card again?’
Gut-punched, I nearly dropped the phone.
‘I thought he’d stopped with all that.’ He said. ‘I thought that the whole point of him moving back here was to put it all behind him. Anyway, it wasn’t like it happened yesterday. And he doesn’t like people to talk about it, so …’
I wasn’t quite sure how to respond.
Eventually, I recovered enough to say, ‘So, the money, Scott?’
‘Indeed,’ he said. ‘The money.’
‘What do you suggest?’
And he said, ‘How about I drop by the clinic with it in an hour?’
I turned on the windscreen wipers. The weather had changed abruptly. A fast moving storm was sweeping across the area and had everyone scurrying for their homes.
The wiper on the driver’s side of the Jeep was damaged. With each stroke it made a soft groan, then juddered, leaving behind a small patch of uncleared glass, obscuring my line of sight. I had to sit tall and slightly forwards in the seat to make out the road ahead.
I was on my way to the Coniston holiday home that Scott had rented for our convenience. I had declined his offer of stopping b
y the clinic, thinking it prudent to meet where we couldn’t be observed. And it occurred to me as we discussed the meet-up that we hadn’t fully made use of the place – perhaps as he had first hoped. I wondered if Scott was annoyed by this. If he was, he didn’t give the impression of being so. In fact, he brushed away my remark with a comment about how life had the habit of getting in the way of the best-laid plans.
Did I detect a certain brittleness to his tone? I couldn’t be sure.
I drove through the hamlet of Hawkshead Hill, past the Baptist chapel – a tiny church slotted right in amongst a row of neat, pretty, white cottages. The road climbed steadily until reaching the crossroads at the summit. Turn right for Tarn Hows, the spot at which I’d watched the sun go down, drinking beer with Henry. Head straight on for Coniston.
I descended slowly, the car buffeted by the crosswinds, and practised the beginnings of my speech.
I planned to tell Scott that we both knew our arrangement must come to a close. That we could not continue, things being as they were. It was too risky. Fate had planted obstacles in our way, in the shape of Henry, amongst other things, and this would be the end of what, for me, had been an enjoyable, not to mention lucrative, few weeks. But it was now over.
That should be all right, I thought. Say that, take the money, and run.
And Scott had alluded to the same line of thinking on the phone an hour ago. Just as he bid me goodbye he had laughed, saying that ours had probably been the most successful relationship of his life. He wished they could all be that simple, he said. We both got exactly what we needed out of it.
Ten minutes later, and I turned off the road. A branch had been pulled from a nearby oak and lay strewn across the track. I was upon it before realizing and decided to chance driving over it, rather than get out and hurl the thing over the hedgerow.
There was a hard clunk beneath the chassis, followed by a feeling of dragging a body beneath the car. A few yards further on and it must have released, as I was driving freely again. I didn’t get out to check. Always best not to know what damage has been done, I found.
At the end of the track the cottage appeared. Less picturesque than last time, it looked more like what it actually was: secluded, stark and a little shoddy.
There were no lights on inside. I stayed in the car and waited for Scott. The windscreen soon became misted so I got the engine running again, directed some of the heat upwards. Instantly, it was stuffy.
Lowering the window an inch, I heard a bell. It was ringing, faintly, and must have been positioned either on a yacht’s mast, or else on a buoy, out on the lake some way from the shore. The way it cried out at irregular intervals was eerie, evoking the image of the lone swimmer taken under the water in the opening scenes of Jaws.
I shuddered. And then there were headlights. A full beam hitting my mirror, blinding me for a moment. And the crunch of gravel. A car moving too fast and coming to a stop beside me in a partial skid.
I looked over. Scott lifted his hand and climbed out.
I hoped he might hand over the money and we could be on our way, but no. He strode towards the front door, keys jangling, and when I called his name he ignored me. So I followed.
Once through the door, his mouth was on mine and my weight was pushed against the wall. I had a hook in my back.
‘Thank God,’ he said breathlessly.
‘Scott, wait.’
‘I can’t wait.’
I tried to put some space between us. ‘Please,’ I said, pushing him away. ‘Please, just give me a minute.’
He took a step back and regarded me. His expression was worried, uncertain. Childlike, in a sense. He was the small boy waiting for the grown-up to explain exactly what he had done wrong.
‘I wasn’t expecting this,’ I began.
‘You don’t want to?’ he said, genuinely astonished.
‘I just—’ and I paused, trying to clutch at the threads of my speech. I hadn’t imagined this scenario. From his manner, from the impression he gave on the phone, I expected Scott and I would have a short conversation – cordial, civilized – in which we would both agree our arrangement was over. We would say goodbye. Perhaps kiss for old time’s sake. But it would be a kiss of fondness. A wish you well kind of kiss. Not the kiss I’d just had forced upon me. And certainly not followed by the look of utter dejection that was now on Scott’s face.
He swallowed.
When I still hadn’t answered, he asked, ‘Why are we even here then?’
I straightened my spine. ‘I came for the money, Scott.’
‘Oh,’ he said.
‘I thought you knew that.’
He gave a sad laugh and shook his head. ‘I misinterpreted. When you suggested meeting here, I assumed that you wanted to …’ He let the words hang.
I moved towards him. ‘I didn’t want anyone to see us together,’ I explained gently. ‘I thought if we met here then it could be private.’
He reached out his hand but, before he could touch my face, I took hold of it in mine. ‘You’re disappointed,’ I said.
‘Couldn’t we just—’
‘Sorry, we can’t.’
‘That sounds rather final,’ he said.
I blew out my breath. ‘Scott, you’re not really suggesting that we go on, are you? This whole thing, it’s too risky.’
‘Because of Henry,’ he said flatly.
‘Not because of Henry.’
‘Have you fucked him yet?’
‘No. But that’s not really your business.’ There was a flicker in his jaw, a slow, deliberate blink of the eyes. Instinctively, I shrunk back, and in the space of a second he was upon me again. Pushing me hard into the wall.
‘I don’t want you to,’ he hissed into my ear. ‘I don’t want you ever to fuck Henry.’
His mouth was on mine, and he was grabbing at the hem of my skirt.
‘Scott, don’t.’
He ignored my words.
His hands were rough, his breathing ragged. He pulled up my skirt and yanked at my knickers, making me yelp.
Then he pulled away to unfasten his jeans.
I stared at him.
‘What are you doing?’ I said coldly. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’
And he stopped.
He looked at me with a strange expression. Almost dumbstruck. As though he wasn’t quite with it.
‘I don’t know,’ he whispered.
I pulled down my skirt. Straightened myself.
‘I don’t know what I was doing,’ he repeated.
We stood in silence, both of us too shocked to speak.
I longed desperately to get out. To get away from the house. To get away from him. No one knew I was here. Not one person in the world knew where I was right now.
‘I’m sorry, that was out of line,’ he said eventually.
‘You think?’
‘It was the idea of you two,’ he said. ‘The thought of you being together is just too close to home.’
He had a look of hatred in his eyes that contradicted his apology. I swallowed hard, glancing towards the front door.
‘Scott, that’s exactly why we can’t go on,’ I said. ‘It is too close to home.’
‘And by that what you mean is you don’t want to go on.’
‘Why wouldn’t I, Scott?’ I replied sharply. ‘Think about it. Why would I not want to do it? This thing, this arrangement, has almost got me out of debt. I was close to losing my home before this. My son and I would have become homeless. And if I were to continue with what we’ve been doing – Christ, I could have savings. I could get somewhere in life again. But it can’t go on.’
‘Why?’
I held his gaze, but I didn’t answer.
‘This is a good arrangement, Roz,’ he argued. ‘No one is getting hurt. No one will find out.’
‘Things have changed. We are no longer two people, practically two strangers, coming together for mutual gain. There are other people involved now, and it’s
unfair.’
‘Who? Why is it unfair?’
‘Your wife. My sister. And yes, now there’s Henry.’
He flinched again at the sound of Henry’s name.
‘I don’t want to be found out, Scott,’ I said. ‘I want to end it before we do any damage to the people I care about the most.’
He hung his head.
I went to go on, went to state my case further, but he cut me off. ‘It’s okay,’ he said. ‘I understand. When you were buried in debt, you were willing to take the risk. And now that you’re not, you’re not. I get it.’
He handed me the money he owed me before reaching into his inside pocket and withdrawing a small, midnight-blue Dorothy bag. ‘I bought you this.’
When I didn’t take it from him, he said, ‘Please. It’s for you. Please take it.’
I loosened the cord around the neck of the bag. There was a box. Inside, there was a pair of earrings. Small, non-fussy diamonds in a white-gold setting. ‘They’re really pretty, Scott, thank you, but I really don’t—’
‘Take them,’ he snapped. ‘In fact, wear them now.’
Scared, reluctant, I did as he asked, lifting my hair away from my face.
He gazed me for a time, smiled, and then he shook his head, saying, ‘I really thought I’d have you for longer, Roz.’
And I replied, ‘I’m so sorry,’ as earnestly as I was able.
‘I didn’t imagine it would end this quickly,’ he continued. ‘I suppose I expected it would continue as long as I wanted it to.’
‘Did you?’ I asked carefully.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I did.’
I tried to smile. Tried to make light of it. I was conscious of keeping him calm. ‘You sound as though you thought you were buying me for life,’ I said.
Scott made as if to speak, but he hesitated.
Then he said, ‘I would do that for you.’
I dropped my head, embarrassed by his words. ‘I don’t understand.’
He reached out and took hold of my face. With his grip tight, he lifted my chin.
Squeezing hard, he stepped towards me, until his face was inches from mine. ‘I would take care of you,’ he whispered. ‘I’d take care of you for life, as you put it, if only you’d allow me to.’