‘They’re shipping records from what I can gather.’ I added, my voice quieter now.
‘I know what they are, Anna. I’m asking how you got them.’
‘When I was in Greece, the night that I found that receipt in Clive’s study … I went downstairs to get a glass of water, and when I came back I noticed the door to the cloakroom was jammed open, and there was Jeff’s briefcase with papers showing the codes. I—’
‘What the fuck, Anna – in Greece? How long ago was that, nine months? More?’
‘Jesus, Harry, I’ve had a few things to deal with myself, you know? It seems to have completely escaped your notice, but I’ve just given birth to the grandchildren of the man I’m supposed to be …’
His eyes scanning the pavement around us for signs of interest from passers-by, Harry leaned in. ‘I am well aware of that, Anna, but what the fuck is this? You could send me the receipt but not these?’
‘I didn’t know what they were. I didn’t realise they meant anything and, if you really want to know, I wanted to go through them first. I wanted to see if I could work out what they meant, first.’ I inhaled, and then made eye contact. ‘I wanted to impress you.’
There was silence while I let my words sink in: the pathetic truth.
Exhaling sharply, Harry buried his face in his hands. It must have been a minute until he spoke again.
‘I’m sorry. I know it’s been hard.’
‘Oh, you know, do you, Harry? You know what that’s like? You know what it’s like to wake up every morning and remember that your whole fucking life is a lie? You know what it’s like to spend every single moment of your life afraid that you’re going to say the wrong thing; you know how exhausting it is to have to think about every single thing that comes out of your mouth so that you can’t even have friends in case you let something slip? To be too scared to spend time with your babies, too scared to let your guard down in case you end up loving them too much to carry on? But all the time, you can’t stop – you can’t walk away. You’re trapped because everywhere you look there’s a wall, and you built it yourself and it’s too late so you just have to live with the lies and the constant fucking tiredness, and you can’t even tell anyone how shit it is, and the one person you can talk to – the person you loved so much that you gave up everything for him, can’t even be bothered to answer their phone. And you have no control over anything in your life. Not one fucking thing. Don’t you dare tell me for one second that you understand what that’s like.’
Loved. That was the word I had used. Past tense. The thought slowed me down.
‘Anna. I’m …’ He breathed in such a way that it convinced me for the first time that he was actually acknowledging how much I had sacrificed.
There was a note of genuine contrition when he spoke again. ‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I wasn’t in touch.’
He laid his hand on mine and when I tried to pull my fingers back they would not move. For a moment I pictured our hands, side by side, on the train to Brighton. He had never been before and I revelled in the opportunity to be the one to teach him something; something personal enough, but still safe.
That weekend was the first time I felt that he belonged to me, in the same way that I belonged to him.
I had booked the hotel, overlooking the sea. I woke up to find him sitting in front of the window looking back at me.
‘Hello,’ I said, self-conscious beneath his gaze.
‘Hello.’
As I pushed myself to sitting, he kept his eyes on me and I squirmed at the weight of his full attention.
‘What?’ My laugh was uneasy.
He shrugged. ‘Nothing. I was just thinking how astonishing you are.’
‘Oh please …’
‘It’s true. I just can’t believe how long it took me to find you.’
I heard voices from inside the house as I made my way back up the steps, taking a moment to compose myself. My fingers were clammy as I held the Mothercare bag in one hand, the other struggling with the door.
As I pushed the key to the right, I felt the pressure give way from inside. It was Maria, pulling open the door, Stella in one arm, her pink face contented, lips puckered. I felt my body soften as my daughter stretched out her arms.
‘I think she wants you.’
Maria made a gentle move towards me, smiling, as I dropped my bags to the floor. Stepping forward, I held out my arms nervously. ‘Ssshh …’
I took Stella’s swathed body in my arms, looking to Maria for reassurance.
‘That’s right.’
She nodded kindly.
Looking into my daughter’s eyes, their black-blue rims, I felt a rush of love followed by a stab of pain. Leaning forward, nuzzling my face in her neck, I breathed deeply.
‘There you are.’
David was standing in the doorway of the living room; his voice had a peculiar tone, and I felt my skin tingle in response.
‘I’m sorry, I was in town.’ I nodded towards the plastic bags at my feet. ‘The Tube was—’
‘It’s OK, I was just worried.’
He took a step towards me, his hand rising to his temple.
‘Anna, come in here for a moment, there’s someone I want you to meet.’
He took a step back, turning into the living room. I thought of the way he had looked at me, that first day on campus. His face now was almost unrecognisable.
I looked to Maria but her gaze was fixed to the floor.
‘Anna, I’m Dr Blackman.’
The stranger stood as I walked into the room, my eyes darting between David and the man poised in front of the sofa dressed in a faded white shirt and navy trousers, brown shoes scuffed at the toes.
‘Please, do sit down.’
‘It’s perfectly normal to experience difficulties in adjusting,’ Dr Blackman said, once we were all settled in the living room, his fingers locked together, elbows resting on his knees.
‘Even in the least chaotic of circumstances, becoming a parent can be bewildering … I mean, children don’t come with a manual, right?’
He looked at David as he said the last words, raising his eyebrows in a show of solidarity.
‘But when the birth is surrounded by trauma, it can be even harder to adjust.’
The doctor allowed a few moments’ breathing space. David leaned against the wall, nodding solemnly along, while I sat on the chair opposite, like a child.
My eyes roamed the room, desperate to avoid Dr Blackman’s face, my gaze settling on David’s mother’s painting, looming from above the heavy stone fireplace.
‘David tells me you’ve become withdrawn since the girls were born. Detached. He says you’re not eating, and that you seem joyless. Would you say that’s fair?’
He did not wait for an answer.
‘I hear you’re refusing to feed the girls. You’ve also become rather reliant on the painkillers you were given after the Caesarean? David says he found you a few nights ago, searching for them in the bathroom, that you were frenzied.’
His tone was firm but fair, like a teacher. There was no room for interruption, even when he paused for a moment, his voice softening.
‘David tells me you lost your own mother, when you were young.’
I looked across at David, whose face was fixed at a point somewhere in the distance. He lifted a finger to his eye, turning further away from me. Before I could form any words, Dr Blackman spoke again, leaning inwards.
‘He was worried.’ The tone was confidential now. ‘He is worried. About you, and the girls …’
I opened my mouth to reply. The girls were not in any danger. Did he honestly think I was a threat to our children?
I looked at David, but his face was still turned away from mine.
‘I think, if truth be told, that you’re probably experiencing some form of post-traumatic stress disorder, which is not uncommon after the sort of birth you’ve experienced. Combined with your own associations with losing your mother … It’s cer
tainly not something you need to be ashamed of, Anna. Frankly, I think it would be strange if you didn’t have some sort of reaction in the circumstances. What is important is that you get help.’
David, who up to now had been silent, shifted his position against the wall, pushing himself upright.
‘Dr Blackman and I were talking and we think it might be a good idea to get away for a while.’ When he looked up, his face was stained with tears but the eyes that looked back at me were dull as rock.
‘I’ve spoken to my father; he says we could stay with him in the Maldives. Get our own water-villa; I could work from there for a while. Maria could come with us, so we’d have plenty of help. I think it would do us good. A change of scene, sun, fresh air. Get away for a while …’
David’s voice drifted off.
‘We could have the work on the house done while we are away, too.’
My head felt light. I opened my mouth to speak but the room had moved on. The matter was settled. Obediently, I shook Dr Blackman’s hand. He and David exchanged words I could not hear as they walked towards the front door.
‘I appreciate it,’ I caught David saying before closing the door, the lock clicking back into place.
CHAPTER 37
Anna
The seaplane circled high above a turquoise sea, golden atolls dotted below like dusty jewels.
David insisted I take the window seat as we boarded the privately chartered flight, which glistened red and white at Malé airport against the heat rising from the tarmac.
I had objected at first as we climbed onto the plane, my eyes moving anxiously to the cots, which were already fastened in along the back row.
‘I’d rather not, David. I want to sit with the girls …’
‘Don’t be silly, they’re fine, Maria’s with them. And actually the back of the plane is the safest place to be, if there was an accident …’
I shot him a look, which he responded to by squeezing my hand a little too hard.
‘I’m joking. Look, you can’t miss this view, it’s absolutely incredible.’
Pockets of land, so tiny they were barely visible at first, emerged from a blanket of blue. The pale sea stretched below, punctuated by flashes of green and gold where reefs and sunlight collided.
The landing strip was little more than a thread of land bolted onto the Indian Ocean. As the plane prepared to land, David leaned into me, his breath stale from a day of travelling.
‘I told you, didn’t I? It’s not over yet.’
I turned to him, my hands gripping the sides of the seat, grateful for his renewed enthusiasm, and yet uneasy in a way I could not place.
‘It’s the wake-up call we all need,’ David had stated once Dr Blackman had left the house, his voice flat but sure. I had felt Maria’s eyes rise to look at me briefly as David left the room.
Perhaps he was right. In the weeks following Dr Blackman’s visit, things had certainly seemed to be lifting. Perhaps it was the antidepressants he had prescribed that were influencing my impression, but things felt more manageable at home; David, too, seemed brighter somehow, less weighed down by life.
Now, as the morning sun beat down on our heads, the sea unfolding across the horizon, I felt something akin to contentment, if not happiness exactly.
‘I thought this might remind you of Greece.’
David turned to me as the speedboat arrived to take us on the final leg of the journey.
‘You remember, don’t you? That day. The first time we told each other …’
I felt a prick of unease as he stared at me, his eyes unrelenting.
‘I still do, you know. Despite everything.’
I laughed uncomfortably, pushing my elbow self-consciously into his body, aware of Maria behind us with the girls.
‘What, I can’t tell the mother of my children that I love her?’
Smiling, I pulled my sunglasses over my eyes, the light too bright against the glare of the boat.
The speedboat cut across the ocean, towards a wooden jetty that snaked through the water on stilts. Across the shoreline, a series of shorter walkways led from the sand, each towards its own wooden hut on stilts, sprouting from the sea like an army of insects.
‘Wilson!’
The hotel manager was perfectly groomed, his age impossible to place. David greeted him like an old friend as he walked out to meet us. David led me by the hand, the wheels of the suitcase thrumming against slatted wood.
‘This one’s ours …’
Through the gaps in the wood beneath my feet I could see flashes of water, darting precariously in the morning sun.
I looked up as David unlocked the door, standing back to let me push it open, giving himself a full vantage point from which to soak in my reaction.
From where we stood, the far end of the hut was a curve of glass looking out onto the deck with its own private pool; the sides of the deck were shielded from view by a wall of bamboo, the sea beyond stretching out to an unbroken horizon.
Taking a hesitant step inside the hut, which was divided into four spacious areas, I took in the bedroom, all plush silk sheets and duck-down pillows adorning a four-poster bed, adjoined by a living area with a low wooden table laden with fresh fruit in a wide glass bowl.
Moving silently into the bathroom, I leaned my arm against a wall of floor-to-ceiling mosaic tiles, like thick cubed shells.
‘What’s through there?’ I asked, pointing towards a room adjoining the living area, separated by a shield of glass, with two raised wooden slabs looking out over the water.
‘That,’ David replied, pulling me towards him, ‘is our own personal massage suite.’
My breath tightened as I cast my eye around the rooms for any sign of a cot or highchair.
‘But where will the girls …’
‘They will be next door, with Maria. I think it’s important that you and I have time …’ He led me onto the wooden deck, which dropped away to open sea. Taking a step back, I felt David’s eyes on mine.
‘This has to be where it ends.’
Watching the muscles in my cheek tense, his eyes softened though the pupils remained still. ‘This resentment between us, whatever it is …’ He swallowed, collecting himself. ‘This is where we lay it to rest. A new start.’
I held my breath as he took a step towards me, my back to the sea. Raising my toes, imperceptibly, I found my body tense with adrenaline, the fight or flight response kicking in, as I wondered what was coming next. And then he took me in his arms and moved his mouth towards mine, holding my eyes with his all the while.
It was the first time we had had sex since the girls were born. I held my body defensively, afraid of aggravating layers of scar tissue, though the midwife had told me there was no need. David rolled off me once it was over and walked to the shower, the muscles in his calves stretching and softening again as he moved, like a cat’s paw working at a mouse.
Listening to the water falling from the shower, I was finally struck by the impact of the journey. Stretching out my body, I slipped out of the rest of my clothes, my body sinking into the mattress so that as I slept I had the sensation I was falling down a dark hole.
I woke to find David at the side of the bed. There was a look in his eye I could not identify, but when I blinked and met his gaze again he was smiling, rubbing my forearm with the side of his thumb.
‘Have you been taking the pills Dr Blackman prescribed?’
I shifted slightly away from him, nodding, trying to gather my thoughts, but before I could say anything else, David smiled and stood.
‘Good. Good, I just … Anna, listen, I know things have been … They haven’t been easy for either of us, but I just want things to get better.’
I watched his face and for a split second I imagined what could have been if I had never met Harry at all. The life David and I could be living now, a life that I knew, deep down, I would never have settled for.
‘I love you,’ I said, almost under my breath,
The truth was, I did love David. While I loved Harry for what he saw in me, for what he knew and didn’t judge, I loved David for what he did not know. I loved him for what he could never see, nor even imagine; for the version of me he had been so willing to believe – that for so long had existed, largely untainted, in his eyes. But I’m not sure I would have ever allowed myself the simplicity of being with someone like David, if Harry had not been around to cast a shadow. He was the yin to Harry’s yang. For any sort of equilibrium to exist, I had to have both.
‘I’ve always loved you, despite everything,’ David replied, his voice trailing off as he turned into the bathroom and locked the door.
I was caught off-guard by the tenderness with which Clive received his new grandchildren, later that morning. The way he stooped over their Moses basket, curling their tiny fingers over his own, his eyes glistening as he watched them, their faces fixed on the wooden fan which chopped silently at the air from the ceiling of the reception lounge.
‘Anna …’
Clive looked up approvingly, as David and I walked in through the high wooden archway and into the reception area where a young man in head-to-toe white cotton discreetly proffered a tray of teacups gilded with ornate white petals.
My hair was still wet from the shower, pulled away from my face, the way David liked it, my skin glowing with one of the moisturisers lining the his-and-hers basins in the bathroom.
Dismissing the bellboy with his hand, Clive turned to us as we approached, both arms held out. Overcome by emotion, he took us in his arms in turn, me first, so that my head pressed against his armpit.
‘I’m so sorry it’s taken so long,’ he said, pulling back after a moment, turning to David. ‘I wanted to come sooner but things have been …’ He held David’s eye for a beat before looking back towards the young waiter, who was returning with a bottle of champagne and three glasses.
‘We’ll take it in the bar.’
Clive leaned down to pick up the Moses basket. David put an arm on his father’s but Clive dismissed him. ‘I might be old but I am not too old to carry my own grandchildren.’
The Most Difficult Thing Page 20