The Art of Unpacking Your Life

by Shireen Jilla

  She sank back down. She felt the glow of friendship and, yes, even contentment. Julian got up abruptly and moved round the table in her direction. She tried to catch Luke’s attention to avoid Julian’s eye. She didn’t want to engage with his snappy sarcasm. Luke tried to move his chair back in the sand, but ended up tipping it over. He struggled to right it. Connie moved to help him. They both stood up awkwardly and wandered towards the bar.

  Sara sighed. Julian took Luke’s place to her right, leaning in to her, smiling. ‘Sara, you need a good shag.’

  She rolled her eyes at him to show she could take the joke. ‘What? Are you volunteering?’

  Normally, Julian would have batted it back, but he frowned. ‘On a serious note, Sara, I am worried for you.’ He gently prodded the tablecloth to make his point. ‘That crime reporter Alistair Bent has waded in. It sounds serious to me. You are following it, aren’t you?’

  She yawned elaborately, but her heart was accelerating. ‘Alistair’s a prat. He’s only tweeting because The Times will never print his rubbish.’

  ‘I’m not sure. He insists that new evidence is going to come to light.’

  It needs to be a serious piece of evidence, Mrs Sutton.

  ‘Has he got any ideas?’ She feebly batted back.

  Sara could see Joanne Sutton’s cool eyes when she first took her through the sequence of events that early morning when Jade disappeared. By then Sara had been briefed, the Suttons were charged, Joanne Sutton was on bail and her story sounded highly rehearsed, even scripted.

  Only Sara didn’t see it. Her gut told her the exhibits were weak: her DNA on the teddy bear in the Range Rover boot and a signed witness statement from a neighbour who saw the Suttons leaving in Nigel Sutton’s Range Rover the previous evening without Jade. The neighbour would buckle under cross-examination. It was a dark night, there was no street lighting on their lane; and there were tall poplar trees between the two houses.

  How can you be sure of what you saw?

  Of course, there was the risk the jury would believe her, but it was tiny. They had the best Scenes of Crime Officer, Lee Pattinson. He had scrutinised the Suttons’ house, her Mini, his Range Rover. After twenty-five years, nothing escaped him. He only came up with a minute blood clot on the side of the Suttons’ bathroom. It was Jade’s blood. What did that prove? Pattinson’s inadmissible opinion was Jade hadn’t slept in her bed for several days, before the morning when the Suttons reported her missing. Of course, the large quantity of sleeping pills in Joanne Sutton’s bathroom cabinet was noteworthy. But there was no proof that they gave them to Jade.

  The jury would be in line with Sara’s junior, John. How likely was it that a middle-class couple living a comfortable, happy life in shiny Pangbourne would murder their only daughter? If they had, where was the body? The police had done an extensive, repeated search, the most intense ever carried out in the UK. They had combed West Berkshire and all the surrounding counties, followed up on every lead that Jade’s beautiful face had prompted.

  Julian cut across her thoughts, persisting: ‘He predicts a high-profile retrial.’

  ‘Does he?’ she said automatically. ‘He’s wrong about the Jade Sutton case,’ Sara continued. Arguing always gave her confidence. ‘What new evidence could come to light? Look, you would need the bloody body in their garden.’

  Sara was unavoidably pulled back to that day in their garden. Joanne Sutton didn’t eat any cake. Sara could have told that from her figure. She waited for Sara to finish her second slice to the point of pressing down the last crumb with a forefinger and licking it bare. When she had finished, Sara was forced to return to the seriousness of the situation. She ate desperately to buy time to figure out Joanne Sutton.

  Had she lured Sara to Pangbourne under false pretences?

  After his massage, Luke had made a conscious decision to avoid being alone with Connie. It was the best solution. When his chair slipped, she suggested they went to the bar. He hesitated, but she touched his arm and pointed to Matt, who was already there on his own. Luke relaxed and followed Connie through to the bar. Matt was balanced on the nearest barstool.

  ‘Luke, Connie.’ His face brightened.

  ‘Where’s Katherine?’ Luke asked instinctively.

  ‘Hit the sack. It’s stressful.’ Matt groaned. ‘For her and for me.’

  ‘It will be worth it, Mattie,’ Luke insisted.

  ‘Luke’s right,’ Connie added.

  Luke glanced at her quickly.

  Matt didn’t seem to notice. ‘Can we collapse on those sofas over here?’

  They slumped down. Luke consciously took the end of Matt’s sofa, leaving Connie alone on the beige one. Connie said nothing. She had that dreamy, faraway look.

  Matt lurched up from the sofa and touched her lightly on one knee. ‘Penny for them?’

  She shrugged. ‘Nothing. A little drunk, a little tired. But Matt, I am worried about you and Katherine. It’s hard on both of you.’

  Matt sighed. ‘Yes, it is Connie. It’s a madness. Can you believe it’s me having a surrogate child? How did I end up here?’

  He ruffled his hair, which made Luke smile. It was such a familiar gesture.

  ‘Via Manhattan.’

  They both laughed.

  ‘And the bloody IVF clinic.’ He groaned. ‘I haven’t told you, but we tried IVF three times.’

  Luke squeezed his shoulder. ‘Tough.’

  ‘Well, we are too old to adopt. So here we are.’ He bowed his head. ‘The question is: what if it doesn’t work out?’

  ‘It will, Matt,’ Luke said, he hoped reassuringly.

  He sighed, ‘Actually, things aren’t great. First, I got a call from the hospital – Dawn has pre-eclampsia and she’s gone in for an emergency C-section.’

  ‘Oh my God, Matt,’ Luke said. ‘Why didn’t you tell us sooner?’

  ‘I told Dan.’

  They both looked at Matt and then glanced at each other.

  ‘I haven’t told Katherine. I know, Connie, please don’t start.’ He held up his hands. ‘It’s in the hands of the gods. What good would telling her do? Can you imagine her worry and stress?’

  Luke spoke first. ‘I understand, Matt.’

  ‘There is no right or wrong about these things,’ Connie said calmly.

  ‘There certainly isn’t,’ Matt agreed. ‘It’s a roller coaster. You can’t imagine what it’s like having Katherine pumped with hormones, making her crazy and exhausted. Not to mention the joy of squirting your load into a sample pot.’

  ‘Horrible.’ Luke wanted to say something more supportive. He gave him a hug.

  ‘She was pregnant each time but never ended up keeping a baby.’

  Connie took his hand. ‘But you are still so strong together. You must share what’s going on with her.’

  Luke was jealous of Julian all over again. Did Connie and Julian really talk? They must do. What else held them together? He had always believed that they had better sex than she had with Julian. It wasn’t vanity. He knew it in his gut. She married Julian for a long list of his dynamic qualities. Sex wasn’t on it.

  ‘You know, Connie,’ Matt sighed. ‘You are right, objectively. I’m the lawyer, but subjectively all I want is to keep Katherine. I love her.’

  ‘I’m not sure that you keep her by lying to her,’ Connie pursued.

  Luke blushed. He lied to Emma. He said he loved her when he didn’t. He had never told Connie he loved her. He took it for granted that they had a deep-rooted understanding. Only they didn’t. He never stopped thinking about how much his silence had cost him. Early on in his relationship with Emma, he made a conscious decision to say he loved her. He couldn’t express himself the way he had with Connie. He was instinctively distant from Emma. She knew his declaration was far from the truth.

  Matt shrugged his shoulders with a certain resignation. ‘Anyway, let’s change the subject. Luke, what’s it like being a full-time dad? Enlighten me.’

  He eyed Connie bef
ore answering. ‘Wonderful and challenging.’

  Matt laughed. ‘Only you could sum up something momentous into three words. Hah. I’ve missed you, Luke.’

  Connie stared at him. ‘You don’t feel awful taking them away from Emma? I know you can be flexible with your work, but she was at home with them. She is their mother. You have made all three of them suffer.’

  Luke wanted to shout at her. You have no idea what you are talking about. Right now, he wished she was Sara, or even Lizzie.

  Instead he said, ‘Connie, it’s complicated.’

  ‘Well, explain it to us.’

  Matt looked away. He had never been very comfortable with the two of them together, Luke recalled. They had had a sparse shorthand that left Matt lost.

  ‘Julian, do come and join us,’ Matt said loudly.

  Luke followed Matt’s gaze to Julian looming in the doorway. He looked down. Julian wandered over. Connie gave that irritatingly over-bright smile she reserved for Julian.

  ‘I’m ready to hit the sack. Constance?’

  ‘Oh, I thought I’d stay up for a bit. We’re catching up, aren’t we? If you are okay with that? We can’t call the children again until the morning, though Lou and Rolo are bound to be up…’

  Luke watched her doing that charade she did with Julian. Julian made Connie talk too much. Luke was convinced it was because he made her nervous and insecure.

  ‘Sure, why not?’ Julian said. ‘Good night, diehards,’ he added with an exaggerated wave.

  Connie waited until Julian was no longer visible through the window to get up from her sofa. ‘I don’t want to miss anything – I need to be nearer to you both.’

  ‘Hang on, lovely, you sit here,’ Matt insisted. ‘In between us: a rose between two thorns. I’ll take your seat.’

  Luke shifted slightly up the sofa away from Connie, but she moved towards him. ‘I would love to see Ella and Finn again soon. What are they like now?’

  Luke smiled. ‘Ella is tall and elegant – she always wears dresses. She is strong with a great sense of humour. She’s really wonderful,’ Luke paused savouring the thought of her. ‘Finnie is quiet and self-contained. He loves building anything but particularly Lego.’

  ‘Like you,’ Connie gave her half-smile. ‘Has he got your old Lego set?’

  Luke nodded and smiled back. Finnie was like him. After a particularly gruesome night with Emma, Luke was in the bathroom trying to aim antiseptic spray down on to his lower back when Finnie had walked in. Luke had rushed to cover himself with a towel. Without saying anything, Finnie had picked up the spray, moved the towel Luke was using as a shield and sprayed his back for him. It had been such a tender but terrible moment. He had realised his children were fully aware of what was going on. He wasn’t saving them pain by staying with Emma.

  He finally spoke. ‘It’s tough, but we are pulling through together. They are with my parents this week, having a great time on the farm.’

  Connie slid her hand over his. He had to look up at her. Those blue eyes had been part of him for three years.

  ‘It must have been awful. Divorce, I couldn’t do it.’ Connie quickly turned to Matt. ‘And for you too, poor Matt. Of course.’

  At the mention of his name, Matt lurched up. ‘Luke, mate, I love you, but I desperately need to get some sleep. I’ve got a big day tomorrow.’ He leaned over to squeeze his shoulder. ‘Emma didn’t deserve you. And we all love you. I do want to talk to you about it properly. We will, okay, mate?’

  Luke gave him a half-wave. ‘Don’t worry.’ He got up.

  Matt pushed him back down. ‘Hey, I don’t want to break up the party. I’ll see you tomorrow. Come what may.’

  Matt had been his foil at university with his blustery good humour and down-to-earth chat. He had filled the gaps. Now Matt was gone, Luke sat in silence. He knew Connie would feel less obliged to talk. She too could sink into silence. He thought of her wedding present, which had saved him. He believed in the inevitability of his fate, particularly at that moment.

  She gave them a vast canvas of grey waves painted as if the artist, Andrew Pollock, was himself in the water. Luke never lived by the sea, but he was drawn to it. Connie and Luke spotted some of Pollock’s first paintings in a gift shop in Clifton. Luke fell in love with Pollock’s art. They had no money, even though the artist’s work was relatively cheap at the time. By the time he was engaged to Emma, Luke was already extremely wealthy. He could have commissioned a series of Pollock’s paintings, but he forgot about his work and how happy it made him.

  Connie dropped the painting wrapped in a brown paper and a huge purple velvet bow into his office. She didn’t leave a card with it. Luke wanted to keep it in his office but he brought it home with him. It had been a stupid move.

  Emma lifted the canvas off their open plan kitchen wall, propped it against the lower kitchen cupboards and took a knife from the block and punched it through the canvas. He raised his hand as if to try and stop her, but he knew there was only one way to do it. She wanted him to fight back and he could never give her that satisfaction. He remembered her words: ‘Does this hurt? Do you finally feel something?’

  The next morning, Luke started divorce proceedings. He asked his divorced business partner for the contact details of his lawyer. Luke told the lawyer what Emma was doing to him. He was the first person he told. Forty-eight hours later, Luke had a preliminary injunction in place and temporary custody of his children, pending the court case. He rented an empty house near the office. The following Saturday, he went with Ella and Finn to Lots Road and bid for a houseful of furniture.

  ‘One more?’ Luke spoke hesitantly into the silence between them.

  ‘Yes, why not,’ Connie said quickly.

  Luke leapt up to find the barman. He was in the storage room behind the bar, getting changed into a pair of jeans. He gave Luke a friendly wave and suggested he help himself, as he was getting changed to leave for the night.

  He heard Connie’s giggles and looked up with a self-conscious smile.

  ‘You’re not a student now. What are you doing?’

  He grinned back. ‘The barman told me to help myself.’

  They both laughed. Luke was beginning to relax. He sat down closer to her this time. ‘Yours is large, after that comment.’

  ‘Thanks. Are you trying to get me drunk?’

  ‘Not difficult,’ Luke bounced back, ‘Only you can’t steal my glass.’ It was their joke after that first formal dinner. Luke was grateful when she smiled broadly.

  ‘Connie, thank you for organising this trip. I love it. I might marry a giraffe next.’

  They giggled. Connie stopped first. She rubbed her hand along his arm. He tried hard to look unaffected by her touch.

  ‘Luke, tell me what happened with Emma. I thought you were well suited and happy.’

  He frowned. He didn’t want to talk about Emma. He wanted to enjoy being with Connie. She was watching him, the way she did. She read him as if he were transparent glass. His emotional nakedness in front of her excited him.

  He put his elbows down on to his knees and rested his hands on the back of his head. ‘Connie.’ He mumbled, ‘It was my fault.’

  She looked solemn and dreamy, how he always thought of her. ‘It was never your fault, Luke.’

  They stared at each other, digesting what she had said.

  ‘Yes it was. I never told you that I loved you. I don’t know why.’ He hadn’t meant to talk about them. He didn’t want to start this conversation. It couldn’t lead anywhere positive. ‘My big mistake.’

  Connie blushed and looked away.

  Luke pursued it. ‘Julian said he loved you immediately, didn’t he? If he hadn’t, you wouldn’t have left me.’ Stop. Why are you doing this? You are friends again. Don’t ruin it. She’ll leave you sitting alone and unhappy.

  Connie didn’t leave, but she didn’t answer the question. ‘For the record, I should never have ended it the way I did. I always have felt deeply ashamed about
it.’ She turned to lightly touch his knee and quickly added, ‘Not that it matters now, of course. It was a long time ago.’

  ‘It was a long time ago,’ he echoed.

  ‘Luke, tell me about Emma.’

  He remained resolutely silent. Luke felt a deep yearning for her and a huge sense of loss. She leaned back against the arm of the sofa. She took off her shoes and bent her knees up. Then she waited. She didn’t say anything. It was the great joy of Connie, she always knew when he needed silence. It was a tremendous relief, like the end of a migraine.

  ‘Okay. So tell me, Luke.’

  ‘Tell me why you put up with Julian’s affairs, and I’ll tell you about Emma.’

  Luke could see from the wrinkles tightening around Connie’s eyes that he had overstepped the line. But he wasn’t worried. She knew him well enough to know the question wasn’t a gratuitous tit for tat. Luke wanted to know why Connie let Julian get away with it. What hold did he have on Connie that had eluded him?

  ‘It’s complicated.’ She paused.

  ‘I know.’ It was complicated with Emma. He couldn’t begin to unravel it.

  ‘I was Julian’s first girlfriend. He had never slept with anyone before me. He focused entirely on his future, even when he was a schoolboy. Then he became powerful and realised many women found him attractive. It flattered his ego.’ She looked up brightly.

  Luke shook his head. ‘You are giving me his justification. I’m not interested in him. I want to know why you put up with it.’

  ‘You sound like Sara,’ Connie said.

  ‘The children?’ she said in a way that made it sound like a question.

  Luke was silent.

  ‘Okay, Julian and I have history. I have spent half my life with him. I cannot erase those experiences or that time. We have created a large family together. It’s a profound experience. Julian has sex with lots of women, but he only has all those reference points with me.’ She looked up at him, pleading for his understanding. ‘I’m not saying that it doesn’t hurt. It’s incredibly painful at times.’

  Luke gently nodded.

  She continued, as if desperate to convince him. ‘But we are a clan: unbeatable together, destructible apart. Julian is an amazing father and husband. We don’t work without Julian. He’s the lynchpin. He drives us together and forward,’ she paused and looked down. ‘I’m ordinary without him, Luke.’