‘It’s … David.’
‘David?’
Neither of us spoke again for a moment but it was he who broke the silence.
‘My dad said you were in town – your mum, she rang him. I … I wanted to invite you for supper.’
There was a feeling in my chest – apprehension or relief? In retrospect, I could not say for sure, but in that moment I felt my heartbeat quicken.
Did I feel their eyes watching me as I moved into the house? Did they sense, even then, that I would become a person of interest?
CHAPTER 31
Anna
It was the first time all evening that David had so much as looked at me, his eyes lifting as I walked back into the room, two steps behind Maria, her slender waist, in a close-fitting polo-neck, serving to highlight my girth. David’s gaze was glassy from the whisky, but that didn’t stop his eyes moving over her body as she crossed the room.
‘You found Maria, I see.’
He smiled, his gaze coming back to me.
‘Yes, it was a lovely surprise,’ I replied coolly, moving back towards my seat.
‘Surprise?’ He raised an eyebrow, his mouth twitching. ‘But I told you Maria was coming.’
Aware of the rest of the table having fallen silent, I worked hard to keep my voice even.
‘No, you didn’t, but it’s fine …’ I turned to Maria. ‘Honestly, the more the merrier.’
Jeff had positioned himself next to Clive at the head of the table. He was holding a knife in one hand, which he cracked against the side of a bottle, breaking an uneasy silence.
‘Right, everyone, attention please!’
For a moment I thought that David had let slip our secret, and that I was about to be serenaded, but David’s body language told me otherwise. Eyes positioned away from mine, he smiled tightly, keeping his body still, fingers interlocked, his elbows set on the table either side of his plate.
‘Anna, darling, do sit. This concerns you.’
Jeff motioned towards my chair.
Once I had lowered myself warily to sitting, Jeff began to speak.
‘It is my honour, as David’s godfather, to announce that after twelve months with those useless sods at Spanner and Watts – not to mention, what was it, four years at university …?’
‘I was doing a Masters!’ David returned Jeff’s humorous tone, but behind the smile there was something unsettling in his expression.
‘Oh really? I heard student life was too much to give up; you were just having too much fun … Anyway, after far too long, this fine young man has finally agreed to come over from the dark side, to his father’s firm …’
Before I could stop the sound from forming, I heard myself cry out.
‘No!’
All eyes turned to face me. My skin was scorching now and I imagined the heartbeats I had seen on the screen in the scan drumming faster and faster, until my whole body was shaking.
‘Anna?’
It was Clive, his face fixed on mine from the end of the table.
‘Is there something you would like to share?’
‘No … I mean yes, there is …’
I looked to David, but now he was facing the other way.
‘I … the reason I wanted … the reason we invited you here tonight is that we have some news of our own, don’t we, David?’
He turned to face his guests, his mouth held in a tight smile.
‘Anna is pregnant.’
He made it sound like it was something that had been done to him. Nothing to warrant celebration. For a moment there was silence and then May let out a whoop.
‘Bloody hell, didn’t take you long, did it? Gosh, how marvellous.’
Her eyes shone as she watched me, my face turning pale.
I could not look up. Why was David not saying anything? The irony of the betrayal I felt was not lost on me.
‘We’re having twins.’
My voice was sharp as I skidded on.
‘So you see, it just feels like a bad time to risk David’s job …’
‘Of course, I absolutely understand.’
Clive’s voice was matter-of-fact. If he was surprised, it did not show.
‘First and foremost, I’m sure I speak for us all when I say that this is truly wonderful news. I am utterly delighted.’
There was a warmth in his smile as I looked up, a hint of the grandfather he would become. He turned to David, whose face finally mirrored the gesture.
‘Yes, it is. We are extremely happy.’
May lifted her glass, as if she needed the excuse.
Clive tilted his glass slightly, holding my eye.
‘As for David risking a good job, there’s really no need to worry. Whose hands would he be safer in than those of his own family?’
The taste of the cigarette I had smoked the previous night rolled around my mouth when I woke the next day. My breath rasping, I imagined the thousands of tiny hairs that lined my trachea trapped beneath a layer of tar as I walked into the kitchen, which was spotless, Maria having insisted on quietly clearing the table.
‘It’s the least I can do,’ she had added when I told her not to bother. For a split second there was something about her face that made me want to cry on her shoulder, but instead I turned away and left her to finish as I made my way upstairs.
‘David, aren’t you going to speak to me?’
His face was obscured from view behind the newspaper when I entered the kitchen. He continued turning the pages of the Sunday papers slowly without peeling his eyes away from the financial supplement.
‘David, what’s going on?’
After a moment’s pause, he slapped the paper onto the table.
‘You’re asking me what’s going on?’
There was silence, and my hands gripped the countertop behind me.
‘How about you tell me, Anna?’
‘What do you mean?’
He shook his head.
‘Well, we could start with last night, how you were a complete embarrassment? How about the fact that you arranged a dinner party, invited my family and friends and then behaved like a fucking tramp?’
His venom was so shocking that I struggled to know how to respond. His words were slow and deliberate, and my whole face stung.
‘What are you talking about?’
‘You don’t know? Drinking like that, while carrying our babies …’
‘I had one glass!’
‘Smoking?’
A lump formed in my throat.
‘To forget one of our guests, then belittle her in front of the whole table … And then to shout when my godfather announces that I’ve been given an incredible new job … Anna, is that what you think being in a family is? If this is the kind of mother, the kind of partner you want to be – is that the kind of woman you think I want?’
His voice dropped away, so that the last part of the sentence was almost a whisper, almost as if I could have imagined it.
‘You know, sometimes I don’t know who you are any more.’
His words hung in the void between us.
I breathed in sharply, turning to face the counter, closing my eyes.
‘I just don’t understand why you’re taking that job.’
I said it as quickly and as devoid of emotion as I could manage, then flinched as his voice rose once more.
‘I’m taking the job because we are about to have a family and moving into the firm makes sense. What about that don’t you understand?’
‘But you said you would never work for him!’
There was a silence before David spoke again, more quietly this time, ‘What are you talking about?’
‘You said … before, years ago … when you were talking about what your father does for a living, you told me you wanted nothing to do with it. You wanted to make your own life; you didn’t want to live your life in his shadow.’
I still had my back to him but I could feel his body almost touching mine. I was not sure if he was
going to push me or pull me towards him, but then he spoke, his mouth pressed up to my ear.
‘Things change, Anna, don’t they? People change. Sometimes life doesn’t give you a choice.’
There was a pause, as if he had suddenly realised the full meaning of the words. ‘Do you have any idea how much I love you? This whole … this whole situation is blowing my fucking mind.’
He scrunched his hair into his hands, then gave me one final look and walked out, the whole house trembling as the front door slammed shut.
CHAPTER 32
Anna
Five Months Later
I could tell David was not home as soon as I stepped inside, placing the bags of food shopping beside the dresser in the hall.
The hallway creaked with the unmistakable absence of life; nevertheless, I called out his name, the only reply a tap dripping intermittently in the kitchen.
At my most recent scan, the doctor had taken delight in pointing out the toes curled into my ribcage. I felt them now, their physicality both reassuring and painful as I leaned against the doorframe, taking a moment to imagine what it would look like once the builders had completed the designs drawn up by a fashionable young interior architect we’d featured in a recent spread on modern living; the new floor-to-ceiling glass doors which I had picked out, sanctioned by David with only the mildest hint of concern.
‘I totally understand if you don’t want to,’ I had assured him as I broached the prospect of the redesign. ‘This is the house you grew up in, and …’
I had not mentioned his mother, I had not needed to.
David shook his head. ‘Whatever it takes, I told you …’
True to his word, he had managed to find builders who were prepared to work over Christmas. With Clive in the Maldives, where he was holed up on one of his ‘working holidays’, entertaining clients and flying out intermittently to meet colleagues in Sri Lanka and India, between luxury boat trips and spa treatments, the plan was to move into his central London flat while the work was completed, and we settled in with the girls.
The girls. To be honest, it was hard to imagine anything beyond the pregnancy itself, and the C-section which was planned for the following month. On cue, I felt the babies move, pushing against one another for space, the discomfort making me wince.
The prospect of Christmas was always dangerous, steering David towards questions I could not answer.
‘What about your dad? Would he want to come and stay? There’s plenty of room. It seems crazy we haven’t met yet.’
I rubbed my hand against my lower back.
‘I told you, he can’t get leave this year, but he’s planning a trip for next summer.’
The lie rang in my head as I fetched the bags from the hall, groaning as I bent over, a sharp pain tugging at my lower back.
Pulling out a stack of containers from the deli in Hampstead Village, I scooped a few spoonfuls from each pot onto a plate, eating my lunch at the kitchen table, musing on the merits of Elephant’s Breath vs Dimity for the kitchen walls. There was the temptation to go bold, especially in a room of this size, which could certainly take it. But classic is classic, as Clarissa liked to remind us on at least a weekly basis as we met to brainstorm issues for the months ahead. Besides, I had spent my life trying to fit in, not stand out.
Holding the plate under the tap to swill off the fatty residue, I had to use the full force of my wrist to get any kind of grip before finally the tap exploded with unexpected force.
‘Shit.’
Dabbing at the greasy water spattered across the dress David had picked out on a recent shopping trip, tiny blue flowers on white cotton, I cursed, reaching under the sink, pulling out a bottle of Vanish and turning towards the door.
Taking each stair to the first floor carefully, stopping to allow the stitch which pinched at my sides to subside, I moved into the bedroom, stepping out of the dress and pulling on a loose T-shirt. Turning to leave, my eyes flashed to David’s bedside table. The laptop had not been there when I left the house earlier that morning – and was now perched on the ledge, its low humming light flashing like a silent alarm.
Taking a step forward, I looked again and caught a memory of Clive at the desk in his study, in Greece. Surely not; but then whose else was it? David’s computer was at the office, being mended, and it certainly was not mine.
Moving reluctantly towards it, as if approaching an unknown animal, I ran my fingers over the smooth curve of the lid.
I paused for a moment, a limb clawing its way into my ribcage. The babies seemed to have jammed themselves into every available crevice of my body. I tried to think of them in the abstract, it was easier that way, avoiding the image of their fully formed bodies contorted inside my own.
Stretching my upper body away from my stomach, I pulled open the lid of Clive’s laptop, expecting to find a blank page, a box demanding a password to which I would clearly not be privy. But it was worse than that. I felt the shock hit me as I was met by my own eyes staring back at me, David and Clive’s faces beside me in the photo blotted out by a row of folders on the desktop; given the yellow dress I was wearing, the photo must have been taken at the party that night in Greece. Something about the image made the hairs on my arms stand on end. Allowing myself a moment to gather my breath, I sat more squarely on the bed, then there was a whirring sound as a series of emails flashed in the right-hand corner of the screen.
My hands, tingling with sweat, stroked the mousepad as Clive’s inbox opened up on the screen before me. My heartbeat rattling against my chest, ears keenly attuned to the throbbing silence, my eyes darted through a list of emails … The first was from Clive’s secretary, Moira, about the following month’s AGM. Warily, as if at any moment an alarm might sound, I watched the screen as I clicked open the attachment to a list of shareholders’ names and addresses.
Continuing to scroll down, my chest tightened as I spotted another message, dated three weeks previously.
Clive
I’ve been speaking to our boys, as well as friends in various territories following our rejection by the Dutch water police. There are a number of options at this stage, if we want to be creative.
The main storage companies in US/Singapore etc. no longer facilitate the use of caustic soda washes since local environmental agencies don’t allow …
Getting the shit on-land is proving tricky, also looking into possibility of boats disappearing in case it is an option worth pursuing.
Let me know your thoughts.
Ben
- – - Original Message – - -
From: Clive Witherall
To: Jeff Stonehouse
Subject: Update
I would like to be kept abreast of all developments in relation to the disposal as per our discussion this afternoon. C
I could feel the blood throbbing in my chest as I highlighted the rows of text, fingers shaking as I opened a new page in Google, logging into Gmail with the address Harry and I had set up together that day at his flat – the one we would use to share information. Entering my username and password, I opened a new message and pasted the highlighted text from Clive’s email into it.
Following his instructions, I left the message containing Clive’s email there for him to find when he logged in. Finally, my fingers still shaking, I scrolled up to History and deleted recent searches.
Breathing in, I looked back to the home page. Still, I could not shake my unease at how easily it had been done, scanning the screen for some sign that something was wrong. But all was as it should be. Exhaling heavily, I moved to adjust my position on the bed, and felt another pain in my gut, sharper this time, swiftly followed by another.
Crying out, I felt the corner of the bed I was perched on give way, followed by a spasm in my leg. Instinctively, I pushed myself backwards, sending the computer lurching from my lap.
‘Shit.’
I watched the computer hit the carpet, unable to move fast enough to stop it, the pain moving from
one side of my stomach to the other now. Gasping, leaning forward into the stabbing sensation, I grabbed the side of the bed with my hand, the other hand pressing down on the dull throbbing which moved steadily through my belly.
As I pushed myself to standing, I felt the gush of warm liquid down my leg.
Please, no …
Letting myself drop to my knees, I felt my breath quicken, the pain rolling from my belly to my back.
‘Hello?’
The voice travelled up the stairs as I trained my breath in and out.
‘David?’
Flooded with relief, I called his name again but my voice was weak and as I cried out I saw the white veneer of the computer flickering on its side, the screen still lit. My face, David’s and Clive’s, reflected in the glare.
‘Anna?’
I could sense him in the downstairs hallway, slipping off his shoes, placing his keys on the side table, glancing into the kitchen, spotting the bags of shopping on the table.
Teeth clenched, I pushed myself forward onto my hands and knees, sliding myself towards the laptop as David’s steps padded on the stairs leading to our bedroom.
The carpet chafing against my skin, I gritted my teeth.
‘Anna, are you up here?’
Sweat breaking out on my forehead, I reached out, my fingers fumbling across the mousepad, my whole body trembling with pain as I slid closer to the computer. As his footsteps reached the landing, I simultaneously slammed my foot down on the lid of the computer and tugged the duvet down from the bed, the effort of it causing me to cry out as the cover landed on the computer, a split second before David ran into the room, his face pale with dread.
‘Oh my God …’
He lunged at me, taking in the scene: my body curled like a foetus at the side of the bed; the pool of liquid. Reaching down to pick me up, he stopped, stepping back, scanning the room for a phone.
The Most Difficult Thing Page 16