I concentrate, searching for honest answers, knowing if I force it, the memory will not come. As before it recedes, becomes an invention of the present rather than a recounting of the past. I must be patient, wait for the triggers, because they’re true and reliable. But the memories are like flashes of colour, constantly alluring, I cannot resist them, a moment of technicolour which evaporates before me as I reach for the truth; a burst of sun shrouded by the rain.
I open my eyes; traces of early morning sunlight warming the room, creating patterns on the ceiling. I watch the rise and fall of my husband’s chest; the gentle sound of his breathing. Then he wakes too, turns to me and smiles, an easy smile, no trace of deceit; as though the last year had never happened.
‘Jo, are you okay?’ Rob’s voice is thick with sleep as he rubs his eyes.
‘No, Rob. I’m not okay,’ I reply, climbing out of bed. ‘Just go back to sleep.’
Downstairs the barn is quiet, almost ghostly, as if it waits too, a hushed anticipation. I open up my laptop and type an email to Rose. Her reply comes back immediately, although perhaps I shouldn’t be surprised, she’s been my sole confidante since I found out about Anna two days ago. Is that all it’s been? Forty-eight hours. I look up at the ceiling, listening for Rob, imagining him turning over in his sleep, but today isn’t about Rob. For now, he can wait. Today is about Nick, although poor Rose doesn’t know that yet, her response that she ‘can’t wait to see me for the get-together’ stabbing at my conscience. I look at the tiny cuts inside my wrist, running my left thumb across them. They’ve almost healed over, but not quite.
The drop-in centre is already alive with activity when I walk in, Rose spotting me from across the room, a length of paper towel draped across her forearm. ‘Jo! Jo! Over here!’
I negotiate a rowdy table of young men, who call out to me by name as I walk by, and beyond that a subdued collection of mature volunteers who barely acknowledge me.
‘How you doing?’ Rose asks, frowning with concern. ‘Have you confronted Rob yet?’
‘Is Nick here?’ I ask her, returning her kiss on the cheek and ignoring her questions. She smells fresh and floral, like talcum powder.
‘On a call,’ she says, passing me a tray of brightly coloured biscuits to add to the buffet table she’s arranging. ‘But he’s promised he will join us soon. I think he’s keen to see you.’
‘Oh?’ I ask, taking a deep breath to calm myself.
She’s fanning sheets of paper towels next to the stack of plates. ‘You know how much he likes you,’ she replies, turning away.
Rose is the main organiser of this ‘get-together’ it would seem, me her co-opted helper. ‘I can’t stay long,’ I tell her again, opening the bag of crisps she’s handed me and tipping them into a bowl. ‘Just a few minutes.’
‘Well at least have a glass of elderflower,’ she replies, pouring some of the warm fizz into a plastic cup. ‘And don’t go before you see Nick; he’ll kill me if you do.’ She laughs. ‘Oh here he is.’
The office door has opened and Nick is walking towards us, calling ahead, ‘Jo! Great to see you.’
The sight of him now, in context, is too much, all the muddled pieces beginning to fall into place. I thought I knew what had happened in his office, but I wasn’t certain, not until now, his hand raised to wave at me. I place the drink down before I drop it and back away from Rose. ‘Excuse me. Sorry,’ I say as I push past the two filled tables.
‘Jo?’ Rose calls after me. ‘Where are you going?’
‘I have to leave,’ I tell her, not turning around.
‘Jo!’ Nick shouts. ‘Wait! Don’t go. We need to talk.’
I speed up, stumbling into the table by the entrance, knocking the neat piles of leaflets into one another, and then Rose is rushing to my side, holding me up as though I might faint and for a moment I wonder if I will, the blackness fogging my thoughts as I hear Nick, repeating my name over and over as he approaches. I shake Rose off, frantic to escape, but then something leaps out, an image on a leaflet, familiar to me: a woman’s face covered in bruises, the word ‘No!’ emblazoned across her raised palm. I snatch it up, turning around just in time to hold it up to Nick’s startled expression.
‘This!’ I shout at him, the background noise dying away. ‘This!’
‘Jo.’ Nick reaches out to grasp my wrist, but I back away, recoiling at his touch and sheltering in Rose’s abundant embrace as she gathers me to her. ‘You’re upset,’ Nick says, ‘Come into my office, we can talk. Sort this out.’
I look up, aware now of the silence which has fallen on the room, all eyes turned to us. People have got up and are moving closer, whispering to one another.
‘You want me to go in there?’ I ask him, waving the leaflet in the direction of his office. ‘So you can close the door again? Just us two? No means no, Nick!’ My hand shakes as I hold the leaflet up for all to see. ‘No means NO!!!’ I scream at him.
He stares back, his blue-grey eyes cold, anger deep within now resurfacing. I remember that look, know what it meant, and I grasp Rose’s hand in mine.
‘Watch what you’re saying, Jo,’ he warns me. ‘That’s tantamount to slander.’
‘You said it was a misunderstanding, that you’d got the wrong end of the stick. But it wasn’t a misunderstanding, was it?’ I tell him, stepping forward and shaking my hand free of Rose’s. ‘We’d agreed to be friends, but you didn’t want that. You wouldn’t take no for an answer. You forced yourself on me, Nick.’
‘Jo?’ Rose moves between us, her arm around me again. ‘Can you tell me what’s going on?’
‘Ask him!’ I tell her. ‘Ask him!’
Everyone waits for his response, but it never comes; he simply turns away and walks back across the room, pushing his way through the parting throng and then slams the door to his office.
The moment the door closes everyone speaks; the young lads encircling us, the older volunteers too, so many voices, questions. Someone is even banging on Nick’s door, demanding he come out or they will go in.
‘Jo, go next door to the café,’ Rose says, pushing away Badger who is trying to comfort me. ‘Just go, okay?’ I nod. ‘I’ll be there in ten minutes. Alright?’
I pick up my bag from the floor and try to walk out, the voices blending into a chorus of a thousand questions around me, barring my way.
‘Out of her way!’ I hear Rose shout as I try to push my way through.
I just need to get outside, to breathe in fresh air. I stagger to the door and open it, almost falling outside.
Rose arrives at the café as promised, within ten minutes. She checks on me, then orders us both a syrupy glass of frothed milk to replace the pot of untouched tea in front of me. I cannot stomach anything, not even the glass of water she presses into my trembling hands.
‘What about Nick? The drop-in centre?’ I ask as she sits down, the table rocking dangerously as she shifts herself into position.
‘Nick’s gone home and Sue has the keys to lock up, don’t worry about that.’
‘What did he say?’ I ask, sipping the tepid water. It tastes metallic and I place it carefully back down.
Rose is scant with the details, but tells me she instructed Nick to leave at once, his protests met with her insistence that if he didn’t she’d report him to the police then and there. I smile weakly back.
‘Maybe I encouraged him,’ I tell her. ‘There was a previous time when I instigated something; a kiss, maybe more . . .’
‘This is not your fault, Jo. Trust your instincts. If you didn’t consent, then it’s . . .’ She stops herself. ‘You’ve had quite a time of it,’ she says, covering my hands with hers. ‘If I’d known, Jo. If only I’d known. I wish you’d told me at the time. When did it happen?’
‘I’m not sure, but not that long ago.’ I squeeze her hands but then withdraw mine, her touch, anyone’s in fact, unwanted right now. ‘We have to do something, Rose. We have to stop him doing this again.’
‘
And we will,’ Rose says, stilling me with a gentle hand on mine as I try to get up. ‘Sit down, Jo. Tell me everything.’
I look down at our clasped hands as I tell Rose what I can recall of that moment in Nick’s office, only glancing up once I’ve got to the part where I’m running away from him. Her face is stricken, her free hand wiping her dampened cheeks, the tears still falling. ‘I got away in time,’ I reassure her. ‘I’m okay.’
‘I remember that night,’ she says. ‘You’d just told me you were leaving Rob. I was trying to persuade you not to give up the drop-in-centre and Nick arrived, said you couldn’t leave, he wouldn’t let you. He told me to go, leave you two alone in his office, and you said it was okay. I knew something was wrong,’ she says. ‘I’m so sorry, Jo. I didn’t trust my instincts. Nick was so charismatic, so in-charge all the time. I think I was a bit overawed by him.’
‘This truly isn’t your fault, Rose. He was clever. He fooled us all.’
‘Do you know if you reported him to anyone at the time?’ she asks, gathering herself. ‘The police? Head office?’
‘I don’t think so,’ I tell her. ‘Surely the police would have contacted me . . .’ I wonder again if Rob might have deleted any emails relating to the drop-in centre, but it seems more likely I chose to ignore what had happened with Nick; so much else to contend with. ‘I’d remember if I did,’ I reply. ‘Wouldn’t I?’
As Rose talks about contacting the charity who run the drop-in centre, to see if there’s any record of my complaint, she tells me how Nick seems to have no friends left in the City, no one who would donate to his good causes.
‘I wonder now if something happened there too,’ she says, apologising to me again. She’s clearly upset that her intuition let her down. ‘He’s been offered a role at Anderson’s, some sort of troubleshooter he called it; don’t suppose they’ll want him once this comes out. You can still report him to the police, you know?’
‘I can’t deal with this now, Rose. I have so much else to sort out. Do you understand what I mean?’
‘Of course,’ she says. ‘Leave it with me and I’ll find out what’s going on. If you did report him then Head Office will have a record of that, but like you said, it seems unlikely; he’d have been removed before now. They’re very hot on this kind of thing; zero tolerance, and too right!’ She smiles at me. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll get him bloody suspended at the very least,’ she says, flashing those pink gums at me. ‘Never liked him, stupid spiked-up hair and leather jacket.’ She attempts a smile through more tears.
‘I’m leaving Rob this Sunday,’ I tell her. ‘Can I come to yours afterwards, around lunchtime?’
‘Of course,’ she replies. ‘You don’t even need to ask. Stay as long as you need to.’ She squeezes my hand again and wipes a single tear as it runs down my cheek.
‘It’s his birthday,’ I say, looking out of the window.
23
Twenty-Three Days After The Fall
The rain is lashing against the landing window, a storm rolling in off the hills. I stand at the top of the stairs and look down, listening to the voices in the kitchen below. I can hear Rob’s voice above the others, garrulous, no trace of regret or shame. He’s happy, despite everything. Oblivious to the truth which has returned. He has squared away the deceit within himself, absolved by the days which have passed since my fall. Surety has come and he thinks he’s got away with it. But the last year happened. It cannot be changed.
Maybe on some level I chose, as he did, to bury the parts of the past which had broken us apart, but the memories were always inside us, a few recovered, many not. Even as I woke up on the hallway floor, Rob’s voice in my ear, I think I sensed something wasn’t right, a dissonance between the life I imagined we still had and the one we’d led for the last year. We have destroyed one another; there’s no going back. And yet . . . I hesitate, my foot on the top stair, listening to the voices below me again, Sash’s excitable tone melding with her father’s, then Fin’s, much quieter so I have to strain to hear him. They sound so normal, as if I could walk into the kitchen and join them at the dining table, enjoy their company, still live that life. Then I hear Thomas’s reply to Rob, the barely concealed disdain in their exchange. Sash’s laughter, placating them both, and Fin’s soft tone in response. Could I have found a better way? Taken the kids aside, a lunch for the three of us? Warned them. Somehow explained. But they both colluded with their father, kept secrets for him. I couldn’t take that chance. Not this time.
I take another step down; the point from which I fell? I look back up to where we’d argued, my grip now tight on the bannister, the stairs below vertiginous, as though I might fall once again, but this time I won’t be able to get up. Would that be better? Some kind of release? I steady myself, take a deep breath as I look behind me again, imagining Rob reaching out as I fell. Could he have saved me, if he’d tried harder? I close my eyes, will the images to return, and for the first time since my fall I am able to conjure the memory I’ve been waiting for: the missing piece of the puzzle.
Rob is behind me, begging me not to leave, he’ll do anything, he says, his hand reaching out to me. I step away from him. He can’t stop me now, he can’t. There’s no excuse. I don’t want him any more, there’s nothing left. Nothing worth fighting for. I abandon the photos I’d been trying to remove from the wall. I just need to get away from here, from him. My foot slips, just a little, an inch too far from the tread. I reach out to Rob, my hand outstretched.
I open my eyes and stare at the top of the stairs. He was there, right behind me. He was close enough to take my hand and save me from falling.
Rob smiles at me as I walk into the kitchen and I almost pity him his lack of guile, except of course he’s only innocent of the fact he’s been caught, not the crimes themselves. He’s seated at the dining table; our guests too, Sash and Thomas, Fin and Ryan. The sight of the kids defeats me. I’m so close now, the wait finally over, but I feel myself losing my resolve. Rob’s opening a bottle of Prosecco. Our family tradition. His birthday. He calls me across to join them. I shake my head, say I need to check on the food. Thomas catches my eye, a smile spreading across his mouth, the lips curled around our secret.
I lean against the island for support and turn away, opening the oven door to stab the roast beef with a meat thermometer. Sash is talking to me now, calling across that she will have some meat, for the baby, but Thomas won’t, not even the gravy. Panic is welling inside me, threatening to escape. I close the oven door, inhale and exhale as the memories come back once more.
I’d run from Nick, from that drunken kiss I’d initiated, run until I reached the bar. I’d wanted to see Sash, sober up, a friendly face, but she wasn’t there.
‘Jo!’ Rob is at my side, supporting me as I lean against the island again. ‘You look so pale, sweetheart. This is too much for you. Sit down.’
‘No!’ I tell him, shrugging him off. ‘I need to go to my car, get your present.’
I hadn’t realised the storm had gathered such force, the rain heavy now, the wind knocking the breath from my lungs as I run to my car and open the boot, feeling around in my overnight bag until my new phone is in my palm. I hold it up, the metallic pink incongruous against the grey sky, sheltering the screen as I press Anna’s name on the short list of contacts. Come on, Anna. Pick up! Please pick up! The phone pressed tight to my ear I look across at Ryan’s car, rusting bright orange, then Sash’s beside it, pale blue, then next to that Rob’s, a beast of a car which had contained another secret.
I couldn’t have known for sure, not until I had the opportunity to check, but Rob’s car was the only place I hadn’t looked. My chance came yesterday just as I’d begun to wonder if it ever would, time running out. Rob was going to the wine merchant’s, buying Prosecco for today, so I suggested he take my car, so much easier to park a small car in town. I watched him go, waved him off in fact. It was early, the sun hadn’t burnt the mist from the hills, the gravel crunchy beneath my bare f
eet, the metal of the car door icy to my touch. As if to issue a warning show of strength, the wind had taken the heavy door from my hand and wrenched it free of my grasp, snapping another nail on my right hand, bloodied where it had torn. I sucked on that finger as I sat in the passenger seat of my husband’s car, a taste of blood on my tongue, and a memory of how I’d tried to claw at Rob’s face and hands when I’d attempted to leave him before came back. It would not be like that this time; I would protect myself.
The supposedly broken phone had been hidden behind a stack of CDs, barely a mark on it, nothing more than surface scratches. I wasn’t surprised, but it was still a disappointment to be proved right. I wondered if it was even in my hand as I fell, trying and failing to recall where it was that night; probably in my handbag or next to our bed, forgotten as we argued and easily retrieved when Rob returned from the hospital alone. Maybe he’d meant to give it to me and changed his mind, or perhaps even then, as I lay alone and confused in my hospital bed, the idea of concealing my past, and his, had begun to form. I switched it on, relieved when the screen lit up, and checked through the messages; some from Rose, and of course Nick, his texts increasingly aggressive in tone. I erased them, eager to get to the saved voicemails, but Nick’s voice had sent a chill through me as I’d shivered in Rob’s car. Knowing Rob must have heard the messages had left me breathless. He would have assumed Nick and I were lovers, and yet he still wanted me to stay, and had done everything he could to save our marriage. In some ways his single-mindedness and quick-thinking, deleting emails from the web and hiding my phone, was impressive; but of course it wasn’t, it was opportunistic and despicable; an appalling breach of trust. Unforgivable.
I hold my pink phone to my other ear, away from worst of the wind, begging Anna one last time to please pick up before I end the call. Anna’s either ignoring me, or already on her way. I close my car boot and something catches my eye at the far end of the drive, a dumpy woman, her gait ungainly. She must have left her car in the lane as we’d planned. She’s dripping wet, the rain a deluge now.
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