by Jane Casey
‘We do regress when we’re together.’ I pulled a face. ‘I feel I should be apologising again.’
‘Don’t. It’s entertaining to watch you bicker.’
‘In that case, make some popcorn and pull up a chair. That’s pretty much all we do.’
Dec stacked another box on top of the first one. ‘Are you just going to stand there or did you want to help, mate?’ He was conveniently overlooking the fact that Chris had volunteered, and I opened my mouth to tell him off for it but Chris answered him before I could say anything.
‘Sorry. I – got distracted.’ He looked back at me again for a fraction of a second too long, then followed Dec into the hall. There was no mistaking what I’d seen in his eyes and I hurried away into the bedroom, catching sight of myself in the mirror as I entered the room. Drab suit. Wrinkled shirt. Hair that was, as usual, borderline insane at the end of a long and exhausting day. Nothing, as far as I could see, that would make a man look once, let alone twice.
‘Fuck it,’ I said to my reflection, and got on with trying to make the best of what I had for the sake of the one man I definitely shouldn’t be trying to impress.
I will freely admit that I lurked in my room until I was fairly sure they had finished moving things around. I had shed the suit and replaced it with jeans – to indicate that I wasn’t trying too hard – and a soft, clinging ash-coloured jumper that brought out the grey in my eyes. I had done what I could with my hair, and put on enough mascara to make me look vaguely awake without getting into panda territory. I had a flutter of anticipation in my stomach that wouldn’t go away – something like that feeling before you go out when you know you’re going to get drunk and misbehave and have a good time, even if you really shouldn’t.
And in half an hour Rob would be there.
I came out to find Dec lying on the sofa with his hands behind his head.
‘Is your little buddy gone?’
‘More like your little buddy. He was asking me about you. What kind of films you liked, what sort of work you did, that sort of thing. But don’t worry, I didn’t say anything about your job. He wanted to know whether you had a boyfriend.’
‘And what did you tell him?’
‘That I didn’t like to think about your love life and it was a total mystery to me, which, I might add, it is. I’m happy to keep it that way.’
‘And here I was hoping we could sit down and have a really good chat about it.’ I sat down on the arm of the sofa. ‘What’s up? I’d have thought you’d be dashing off home as soon as you could get away.’
He moved his head from side to side irritably, as if he couldn’t get comfortable. ‘Nothing. Have you talked to Mum lately?’
I didn’t need to be a trained detective to spot the connection. I poked him in the chest. ‘Dead giveaway. You’re worried that Mum has told me something. That means there’s something to know.’
‘There’s no getting anything past you, Maeve. Especially with those hips.’
‘Ha ha,’ I said serenely. ‘Back to you. What’s going on? You look like shit now that I see you up close.’ His face was puffy, as if he hadn’t been eating well or sleeping properly, and he looked pale.
‘Thanks a bunch.’ He rubbed his jaw, rasping stubble that was halfway to being a beard. ‘I’ve been having a bit of trouble with Abby, but I don’t want to talk about it. And if Mum says anything to you, just cut her off. She got the wrong end of the stick and now she won’t drop it.’
It would have been easier to persuade a pit bull to let go, as I knew well, but that was a conversation for another time. I was still reeling from the news that Declan and Abby were having problems. ‘Give me the short version if you can’t face the details. Who’s in trouble?’
‘Both of us.’ He dragged his hands down his face with a groan, pulling his skin so his lower eyelids sagged. I recoiled slightly at the red gleam of flesh. It was too reminiscent of the autopsy notes on Ivan Tremlett for comfort. ‘Basically, things aren’t going too well and we’re talking about a separation. Mum’s not impressed with us. She says we made a commitment and if we don’t care about it, or about her, we should stop and think of the kids.’
‘Hold on. Why do you need to care about Mum if you and Abby are separating?’
‘Imagine the phone calls, Maeve. Telling people. The family back home. What would they make of it?’
It was a perfect imitation and I couldn’t help laughing. ‘You’ve got to love her perspective on life. It’s not as if she and Dad have the perfect marriage. It seems to be based on mutual incomprehension and the healing distraction of Sky Sports.’
‘They don’t believe in divorce,’ Dec said flatly. ‘That means they’ll be together for ever. They don’t even know if they’re happy. That’s not what’s important. What’s important is staying together in case anyone thinks less of you for admitting you made a mistake.’
‘Why would anyone else care?’
‘Mum spends her time judging other people, even if she barely knows them – she thinks her pals are the same way. As if anyone in the family or out of it gives a crap about what me and Abby do.’
‘And what are you going to do?’ I didn’t want to hear that they were getting a divorce, but if that was what he’d decided, I’d support him and I hoped he knew it.
He sat up, swinging his legs off the sofa, and put his head in his hands. ‘Honest to God, I don’t know. Ask me another one, Maeve, because I can’t tell you. It’s up to Abby as much as me, and she’s not talking to me much at the moment.’
‘What happened?’
‘Look, I don’t want to go into the details. But Mum is gunning for Abby, so if she phones you, just don’t listen to what she says about her. She’s starting from the point of view that her son couldn’t be at fault, so she’s not the most impartial judge of what’s been happening.’
‘Okay.’
‘Is that it? No follow-up questions?’
I shrugged. ‘You don’t want to talk about it so you don’t have to. I’m not going to pry. It’s none of my business.’
‘That’s right. It isn’t.’ He’d been braced for a fight, and I could see his shoulders sag as he relaxed. ‘It’s not as if you know much about relationships anyway.’
‘I know more than you.’ I thumped him. ‘At least I’ve had more than one in my entire life.’
‘One-night stands don’t count.’
‘I’ve never had a one-night stand!’ A short-lived fling here and there, maybe …
‘You know what I mean.’ He waggled his fingers dismissively. ‘You haven’t ever been serious about anyone. You haven’t made a proper commitment. You run away from that sort of thing.’
‘I’d rather be a free agent,’ I said, keeping my tone light although I was stung by what he said.
‘That much is completely clear. No one gets to make a claim on you, do they? Not a boyfriend, not me, not Mum and Dad.’
‘Not this shit again,’ I snapped, seriously nettled now. It was an old conversation that we had never finished.
‘Sorry. I forgot you don’t like to talk about how you ignore your obligations.’
‘I don’t ignore my obligations. I just don’t seek them out. I’m not married, I don’t have kids, I don’t run around after Mum and Dad because I don’t live near them and I don’t get to see much of them because I work irregular hours. You are the complete opposite, but that’s your life, not mine. Don’t blame me because you resent the choices you’ve made. And how did this turn into a conversation about me? We were supposed to be talking about you and your marriage.’
‘There’s nothing to say.’ With Dec, there always came a point when I’d pushed him too far. He stood up, a big bear of a man, and like a bear, most dangerous when he was wounded. ‘The trouble with you is you think you know it all. You don’t have the first idea, Maeve. You can’t run away from reality for ever. One of these days, you’re going to have to think about settling down.’
‘Because it’s wor
ked so well for you.’
‘Because it’s what people do. They take a chance on being happy with someone else, and they hope it works out. You can’t live life in the expectation that it will turn out badly, or you’ll end up miserable and alone.’
‘Dec, that’s all I see, every day. People who thought things were going to be all right and ended up dead.’
‘Those are extreme examples.’
‘Well, okay, let’s take you. You aren’t exactly selling the alternative to the single life, are you? You look like hell, you’re exhausted and you’re fed up. Not appealing.’
‘At least I tried. You can’t even say that.’ He folded his arms. ‘Why are you all dressed up, anyway? Are you going out?’
‘No. Rob’s coming over.’
His eyebrows rose slowly. ‘Rob as in the guy you were sort of almost seeing a couple of months ago?’
‘Rob as in my colleague.’
‘And you’ve got the goods in the window because he’s your colleague.’
I tweaked the neckline of my jumper, aware that it was on the low side and suddenly self-conscious about it. ‘He’s coming over because we need to sort things out. It’s not going anywhere.’
‘Does he know that?’
‘He should.’
‘Because you’ve told him, presumably. And then you open the door looking like that? You can’t mess around with other people’s feelings, Maeve. You can’t have what you want and never mind what anyone else thinks. Rob’s a good bloke. Better than you deserve, I’d say.’
As he spoke, the phone rang. I leaned over to pick it up, knowing as I did so that I was probably making a mistake, wincing as the familiar voice rang from the receiver.
‘Maeve, is that you?’
‘Mum.’ I tried to make myself sound cheerful. Dec and I looked at one another, silently declaring a truce. Against a common enemy, we had to be united. ‘How are things?’
‘Have you spoken to your brother? Have you heard the latest? They’re splitting up, did he tell you that?’
Dec probably couldn’t hear what she was saying, but the tone was clear enough. He got to his feet, picked up his jacket and backed away in the direction of the door.
I covered the mouthpiece. ‘Where are you going?’
‘Home.’
‘Don’t leave me to this.’
In my ear, Mum said, ‘They should never have got married in the first place.’
‘I can’t help you.’ He opened the door. ‘Just don’t take her seriously. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.’
‘I’ll be in touch.’ I waved.
‘I could have told him she would have an affair.’
‘Sorry?’ I said into the phone, suddenly interested as Dec closed the door behind him.
‘Your sister-in-law. Did he not say? She’s been seeing someone else. For quite some time, too.’
‘Who?’ It was too much to hope I’d get a straight answer to that one.
‘Of course he’ll never say she was at fault but that’s just your brother being protective. He can’t see her for what she is. That little hussy.’
‘Mum, start at the beginning. I’m completely confused.’
‘If you’d been listening, you’d know. She’s having an affair with a married man – a parent from the girls’ school, if you don’t mind. And your poor brother is mortified. Not that he’s not at fault. The situation doesn’t reflect well on him either.’
‘I don’t see how it’s his fault if Abby decided to have an affair,’ I said weakly.
‘A marriage takes two, Maeve. Not that you would be aware of that.’
‘I am familiar with the concept of marriage, Mum.’
She came back at me like a striking cobra. ‘Well, you wouldn’t know it from the way you behave.’
‘Right.’ I took a deep breath. Give me patience. ‘This isn’t about me, Mum. Abby had an affair. You think that Dec is somehow to blame. So does he, for what it’s worth.’
‘Did he say that? The poor fellow. He’s very upset.’
Not least by the fact that his mother can’t decide which side she’s on. I looked at my watch and winced. I’d have to hope Rob was running late.
‘Look, Mum, tell me what’s been going on. I really want to know, and Dec wasn’t very forthcoming.’
It was the only invitation she needed. For the next fifteen minutes, my contribution to the conversation was limited to ‘Oh dear’, ‘Oh no’ and ‘Really?’ while Mum gave me a highly prejudiced and doubtless inaccurate account of a sadly predictable tale. Dec, working late a lot, trying to get his business on track in the face of looming recession. Abby, feeling neglected, stuck at home with two little girls. Except when they were at school, when she was free to meet and mingle with other mothers – and one stay-at-home dad, who was feeling a bit neglected himself. Neither of them thought it would do any harm. Neither of them thought they would get caught. Nor did they. It was Abby who, in a fit of conscience, broke it off and told Dec what she’d done, clearly expecting him to forgive her immediately. Things hadn’t quite worked out that way. It was typical of my brother to blame himself for not being able to forget what his wife had done, and typical of him to feel responsible for driving her away in the first place.
In all honesty, I didn’t concentrate too hard on the details. I was still thinking about what Dec had said to me about running away from commitment. I did want to find the right person and settle down, even if the thought of turning into my mum was exceedingly unappealing. But I also needed to concentrate on getting my career off the ground. A serious relationship with Rob was unthinkable. Not only would it be a massive distraction, it ran the risk of getting one or both of us thrown off Godley’s team. There was a rule about no relationships between team members – not difficult to keep to when the team was entirely composed of heterosexual men, as it had been until I joined. And I didn’t want to fulfil the stereotype of the keen young female detective who slept her way around the office.
There was Rob to think about, too. I had taken the view that we were both grown-ups – that as long as we were honest with one another, we could do what we liked and get away unscathed. It didn’t seem to be working out that way. I didn’t want to get hurt, and I didn’t want to hurt Rob, either. The tight, low-cut jumper was looking more and more like a bad idea. I went into my room and hunted for something less flashy while Mum moved seamlessly from, ‘I knew Abby was a bad choice – he should never have married her’ to ‘at least one of you got married. People are always asking me about you’.
‘Well, you don’t need to tell them anything. There’s nothing to say.’ I held up a long black crew-necked jumper with a hole in the sleeve, the kind of thing you put on when you’ve got flu and feel like death and need to wear something that matches your mood. Perfect. A nun’s habit would have been more alluring. ‘Look, I’ve got to go, Mum. I’ve got someone coming over for dinner.’
‘A man?’
‘Just a friend.’ I crossed my fingers, then uncrossed them. That was exactly what Rob was, after all. ‘A colleague. No one you know.’ If she knew it was Rob, she would get unreasonably excited. Weirdly, although he fulfilled none of the many criteria she had for potential husbands, she utterly adored him.
‘It would have to be someone from work. You have no life outside of that job.’
I rolled my eyes. ‘You’re right, Mum. Can I call you tomorrow?’
A short, wounded pause. ‘Yes. Make sure you do.’
‘I will.’ The promise sounded hollow even to my ears. I might call her, though. If I was in a masochistic mood.
I put down the phone, but before I could change, there was a knock on the door. With a muttered curse I went to answer it and found Rob standing in the hall, burdened with three bags of shopping. ‘How did you get into the house?’
‘One of your neighbours took pity on me.’ I took a moment to wonder who – Chris? – and he put down the bags. ‘Is this as far as I’m getting? Should I mak
e plans to cook out here?’
‘Sorry. Come in.’ He gathered up his things and strode past me as I reflected I needn’t have worried about changing my clothes – he had barely glanced at me. I waited until he was inside to ask, ‘Which neighbour?’
‘A female. Eastern European, if I had to guess. Nice smile.’
‘That’ll be Szuszanna. She’s Hungarian – works as a nanny, according to my landlord. I haven’t met her yet. All I can tell you is that she has a heavy tread and likes music from West End shows. It was the soundtrack from Carousel last night.’
‘Interesting choice.’
‘You haven’t lived until you’ve heard “You’ll Never Walk Alone” on repeat at three in the morning.’
‘Maybe she’s a Liverpool fan.’
‘That is always a possibility.’ I watched Rob walk around the living room, inspecting the furnishings, and found myself glad that it hadn’t been Chris who had let him in. In any comparison, Chris came off worse. Rob was lean and fit, a physical match for me in every way, where Chris was slight and wiry. Rob had confidence to burn while Chris was like an ever-hopeful but much-kicked dog. Beneath the easy manner, Rob was pure steel. Chris, on the evidence of his behaviour around my brother, was not. I felt sorry for Chris, sorry that he seemed to like me, sorry that I couldn’t imagine feeling the same way. And sorry for myself that I couldn’t and shouldn’t think that way about Rob. Friends. We are just friends. What I had been thinking, I assured myself, meant nothing, except that I was capable of appreciating him, in a purely aesthetic way. All of which went to prove that the road from self-awareness to comforting denial was a short and frequently travelled one for me.
Rob, oblivious to my emotional confusion, had finished looking around. ‘This is all right. Where’s the kitchen?’
‘Behind you.’ I pointed. It was little more than a cubbyhole off the sitting room, big enough for a basic cooker, fridge and sink and not much else.
‘If I unpack the shopping, there won’t be room to prepare the food.’ He looked at me accusingly. ‘Only someone who hated cooking would have rented this place.’
‘Brilliant deduction. What’s your next trick?’