by Helen Cox
‘Jack, it’s understandable. You didn’t have to hide any of this from me.’
‘That’s not the worst of it,’ he said, putting his glass back down on the bar. He kept his eyes on his drink as he spoke. ‘Laura went through several miscarriages. I kept hoping that the next time she’d … but it was never going to happen.’
‘That’s… that’s… I’m sorry. But… how did she get pregnant if you…I mean if you couldn’t…’ I trailed off. Not knowing how to finish the sentence without it sounding hurtful or demeaning.
‘I don’t pretend to understand the science of it but the doctors said there was some genetic defect that stopped the pregnancy reaching its full term. Eventually, the grief it –’ his voice fragmented ‘– it pushed Laura over the edge. She started hitting me, knowing I’d never hit back and she said… well, pretty much the most terrible things you can say to a man who can’t give you a baby. And I deserved it. I put her through that. Losing a baby even once is something you don’t wish on anyone. Laura had to go through it four times. Because I was selfish.’ There was a pause as I digested what he was saying.
‘It is horrible but you were scared. You made a mistake.’ I let a little of the softness creep back into my voice. ‘She looks better now.’
‘I don’t know.’ He sighed. ‘I’ve been trying to get a divorce for a long time. I’ve had people trying to find her so I could get her to sign the papers. I thought we both needed a fresh start, you know? And I just wanted it over. Even the day we met I was on the phone to my solicitors trying to get them to make good on a promise they made me. They told me a private investigator would find Laura. But she didn’t want to be found. Not that way. Not by me.’
‘I don’t know about that. She was in the diner a few weeks ago,’ I said.
‘What?’ Jack’s eyes watered. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘I didn’t know who she was, did I?’
‘Sorry. That was a stupid thing to say. I’m… sorry. I’m…’ He looked at me. I nodded. Then I remembered…
‘This is going to sound weird, but I think Laura… I think she was following us. The other night. After we had dinner with Mum.’
‘Why do you think that?’
‘I saw somebody. A woman following us down Park Avenue. There was something familiar about her.’
Jack didn’t say a word but pushed his hands into his face.
‘What?’ I asked. ‘What, what is it?’
‘The last time I saw her was nine years ago. She…’ Jack’s eyes widened.
‘Nine years?’ That seemed unlikely. Nearly a decade and she just shows up now? Out of nowhere? In New York?
‘Yeah. We’d been separated about eighteen months. I started seeing a woman, Susan. You must understand, at this time I thought the divorce would be through in a matter of months. I thought it’d be safe to… well, “move on” is a bit strong. But I thought there was no harm in taking a girl out to dinner and seeing how I felt about it. But Laura, she threatened her. She held a knife to Susan’s throat.’
Alright, that’s one reason you might spend a decade apart.
‘God. Did you report her to the police?’ I said.
‘We did but she disappeared. Nobody could find her. Anywhere. Another reason we’re not divorced.’ Jack swallowed hard. ‘She did write to me though. The most twisted letters. Once every six months or so one would arrive. Hand delivered. They were all passed on to the police but there were no fingerprints. Nothing. And she never signed them. But it was her. She wants to punish me.’ A single tear snaked down Jack’s cheek. Something triggered in my brain. Something I’d forgotten all about after all that’d happened since that first morning after.
‘Jack. Please don’t tell me… that envelope I found on your doormat …’ Jack cried out another tear and nodded his head. ‘Your crazy stalker is your wife?’ I scowled. ‘This is just too much. It’s sick.’ We sat again in silence. My innards in total turmoil. ‘You should have told me then. I deserved to know.’
‘No. That was our moment. Just for us. I didn’t want to bring her into it. That first morning all I wanted to do was be with you. Show you how much you meant to me. I was going to tell you on the bridge. After Boyle’s article. But then, you said about how Michael should’ve protected you. And I thought I was just as bad. I always thought I was unworthy of you. But when you said that I knew it. Really knew it, and I was petrified.’ He looked into my eyes. I swallowed hard.
‘You’re not as bad, Jack. Of course not. But I can’t… I can’t…do this.’
‘Why not? Why not when we love each other? You know, you have a complicated past and I can look beyond that…’ Jack started to say but he stopped when he saw my face. His lower lip once again trembled. Part of me wanted to kiss away his hurt as he had done for me on the bridge that day but I couldn’t let sympathy cloud my judgement. Not right then.
‘I had my secrets, it’s true. But I buried my husband, long ago. It’s all past. And you’ve had Bertha locked up in the attic this whole time and now I feel like I don’t know you at all.’
‘Of course you know me. How can you say that? Yeah, I kept a secret. A horrible secret, and I’m sorry. But I didn’t ki …’ Jack’s eyes widened the second that last syllable left his lips. My shoulders tensed. So that’s how he saw me. He did think of me as a killer after all. ‘Esther, I didn’t mean that, I meant…’ Jack put a hand on my shoulder.
‘This conversation is over.’ I stood up, glaring.
‘I didn’t mean it. Please. Look at me.’ Against my better judgement, I did as he asked. ‘I love you and I’m sorry.’ His blue eyes throbbed with sorrow.
‘I want to believe you, and forgive you but…’ I paused and took a deep breath. ‘Did you know? That Boyle was going to ask about your wife on that show?’ Jack winced. ‘Did you know?’ I asked, louder this time, already seething over the answer I knew was coming. He looked at me with tears in his eyes and nodded. At this, I swept his hand off my shoulder. He tried to put his arms around me but I shoved him away, turned from him and covered my mouth with my hand to stifle a sob. ‘How could you do that?’ I whimpered.
‘I didn’t know he’d bring her on stage! I only had an idea he might mention my marriage.’
‘Is that somehow better? You should have told me anyway but you risked me going through all that,’ I said.
‘I didn’t know how much he knew. The day I went to his office, I went to tell him to stay away from you. He started bringing up all these things he’d found out about me. And then he mentioned Laura. That’s why, that’s why I punched him.’
‘That’s why?’ I let out a strangled laugh. ‘I thought you’d done that because you were protective over me. But you were just protecting yourself. You were protecting your secret.’ I stared at him. ‘Now I say it out loud that makes a lot more sense.’
‘That’s not true. Part of it was self-preservation, I admit. But the only reason I was in his office in the first place is because of what he’d done to you.’
‘But you knew. You knew, and you let me find out like that. In front of all those people.’ I shook my head at him and stood up from my stool, preparing to storm out. ‘You are not who I thought you were.’ Jack grabbed my arm.
‘He had Laura’s name. Nothing else. I’m sorry. I wish I could take it back but I can’t. I didn’t want to lose you and I made the wrong choice. But I do love you. Esther, you know I do. I love you so much.’ Jack leant in and kissed me. I wanted his kiss to obliterate all memory of the humiliation he’d put me through but it wasn’t enough. The next time it was a choice between looking after himself or looking after me, which would Jack choose? I already had my answer. And, more than anything, I needed somebody I could trust. I tried to push him away. He resisted, fought to hold onto me but I broke free and pushed him so hard he fell backwards, knocking over his stool.
Gasps flickered around the room. The ferocity of our conversation had already been attracting some less-than-covert gaw
king but now I’d openly expressed my anger everyone in the bar felt they had licence to stare. Jack recovered his balance, and moved his eyes upwards to meet mine.
‘I don’t ever want to see you again,’ I said, ‘I mean it, Jack. You’ve broken my heart. Stay out of my life and stay away from me.’ I turned and marched out of the bar. Jack didn’t follow and I didn’t allow myself to look back. Only once out in the hotel lobby did I permit the tears to fall. Tracing the tracks of the tears that had fallen last time I’d had my heart broken. And the time before that. And the time before that. Waiting for the lift, I let the black hole of emptiness that’d shrunk in the last week or so stretch and eat away at my innards again.
And this time I didn’t care if it swallowed me whole.
Chapter Twenty-three
‘That’s it,’ I said topping up Walt’s mug. ‘That’s the last cup of coffee I’m pouring in New York.’ For once I had the old man’s full attention. He put his paper down and nodded at me in a precise, deliberate manner.
‘Not going to do so well on the crossword without you around. Why don’t ya stay?’ He put a veiny hand on top of mine and gave it a gentle squeeze. I smiled and rubbed my thumb against his skin. It was thin like crepe paper. Mona stood next to me, Bernie was perched at the end of the counter and Alan, Angela and Julie-Ann were sat side-by-side next to Walt. All of them looked between the ground and me. Trying not to make too much of a scene.
‘Yeah, stay,’ said Mona. ‘Why should you have leave on account of him?’
‘Get yourself a good lawyer and you could probably sue the jerk,’ Julie-Ann chipped in.
‘I can’t, I can’t do any of that…’ I said. My eyes moistened around the edges. ‘It’s not just Jack. It’s Boyle. It’s the humiliation and … I don’t know, maybe this is how it should be. Maybe I’ve still got stuff to work out, you know, back in England.’ That revelation alone had, in its way, been worth travelling across the Atlantic for. Six weeks ago I’d have sooner died than gone back to England but since I’d found out the truth about Jack I had to wonder. Was it life’s way of redirecting me back to where this all began? A chance to settle my unfinished business with Mr Delaney once and for all.
‘Well, then you gotta promise,’ Mona said, her voice uneven ‘that if you’re ever in New York again you’ll come and stay with us.’
‘I promise,’ I said with a nod, then gave her a hug. ‘You’ve been so kind to me. I don’t know how I can ever thank you, for everything.’
‘And Bernie.’ I gave him a peck on the cheek. ‘Thank you so much for giving me a job and I hope to hear you sing again one day.’ Bernie blushed, which was unexpected, but he made a quick recovery.
‘The door’s always open if you decide a career in the hospitality industry is for you after all,’ he said. ‘Oh, and keep the uniform. It’ll make a nice souvenir.’ And, despite the awful colour, I agreed it would.
‘Angela, I’m so glad you and I met,’ I said, putting my arm around her.
‘I wish you could stay,’ she replied, pressing her lips together in an attempt not to cry.
‘I know.’
‘This won’t be the last time I see you, will it?’
‘I doubt that very much.’
Angela’s mouth smiled but her eyes remained weepy.
‘Here.’ Julie-Ann handed me a business card. It was for her attorney. ‘In case you change your mind about that lawsuit. One tidy little pay-out and you wouldn’t have to wait tables no more.’
‘Thanks.’ I smiled, shaking my head at her before administering a hug. I looked along the small chorus line of friends. Since bundling Mum onto her flight home a week ago I’d tried to pretend that it wasn’t really going to come to this. The last thing I wanted was to leave them behind. But leaving the people I loved behind seemed to be my lot in life. ‘Guess I’d better get a cab,’ I said, unable to stand anymore goodbyes.
‘No need,’ said Alan. ‘You’re getting a police escort to JFK.’
‘You’re not going to make me sit in the back seat, are you?’ I raised an eyebrow.
‘No. Not unless you have something to confess?’
Oh God Alan, if you knew the things I had to confess. You wouldn’t be making a joke out of it.
‘Just one thing I should say…that I love you all very much.’
Bernie’s lip quivered. He turned away, pretending he had something in his eye. Mona, Angela and Julie-Ann didn’t even try to hide their upset. I kissed the trio once more and gave Walt and Bernie a firm handshake before picking up the small suitcase that housed my belongings. I followed Alan out to his car and my baggage took the back seat whilst I got to ride up front, listening to the occasional crackle of the precinct radio.
‘Mona’s going to miss you a whole lot,’ said Alan once we were on the road. ‘What you gonna do when you get back to England?’
‘Haven’t really got that far yet. It’s sort of difficult to see a way forward right now.’
‘I can imagine,’ he replied.
‘You can?’
‘Well –’ he split his attention between me and the traffic ‘– I’ve been a cop a long time, Esther. You see a lot in my line of work. You come to understand a lot too. And there’s something I understand about you and your predicament.’
‘What’s that?’ I asked, fidgeting in my seat.
‘A husband don’t just decide to kill his wife and himself outta nowhere.’ He glanced at me whilst overtaking a cab.
‘What are you saying?’ I could count on one hand the relaxed conversations I’d had with Alan in the time I’d known him. This wasn’t one of them.
‘That a fella like that ain’t easy to live with. A fella like that leaves his scars.’ He paused to shake his head at some driver who almost cut him off. You’d think, given that we were in a police car, people might give way. But this was New York; nobody gave way to anyone.
‘I can’t talk to you about that, Alan.’ In part because it was too painful and in part because I was tired of deceit.
‘I’m not asking you to. I’ve thought a lot about the kind of man your husband mighta been. Legally, there’s nothing much a court would or could do to the man I imagine he was. But it seems to me justice was served in its own way.’
‘You mean –’
‘I mean, the world is probably a better place without him in it.’ Alan hardened his stare.
‘I don’t know if it’s really OK to think about it that way,’ I said. I looked at the glove compartment, wondering if there was a gun in there. Not because I wanted to use it, just wondering.
‘Might seem harsh but threatening to kill your wife ain’t exactly cordial either,’ said Alan.
‘I guess,’ I replied. But I couldn’t really focus on it anymore. On Michael and what had happened. I didn’t want to. If there was some surgical procedure to remove that unit of time from my memory, I’d be first in the sign-up queue. All I wanted was to forget.
‘Don’t guess. Listen, and understand.’ The sharpness to Alan’s tone drew my eyes in his direction. ‘I’d say, he’s had a hold on you for long enough. Best thing you can do is move on.’
‘How?’ I muttered, my eyes back on the glove compartment.
‘Only you can figure that out. But forgiving yourself for whatever happened is a good start.’
I nodded but otherwise didn’t respond. Instead, I watched Manhattan from the passenger window as it shrank from view. In the early afternoon sunlight, the city glimmered with all the possibility I thought it once held. For all the books I’d read and all the calamity I’d survived I’d still fallen into that old trap of believing that in a city like New York everything could be different. I bid a silent farewell to the metropolis. And to Jack, who’d obeyed my instruction and kept out of my life for the last week. There’d been no grand gesture. No big speeches. No holding a Peter Gabriel-spewing ghetto blaster above our heads to declare undying love. And I was glad. I hadn’t seen him since our conversation in the hotel bar and neve
r would again. After what he’d done, that was as it should be.
Looking back one last time at that iconic skyline which jutted up and down like a cardiograph, I wondered if I was ready to once again live in the relative flat line of London. Perhaps a question I should’ve contemplated before spending every penny of my ‘emergency money’ on a flight back to Heathrow.
Up on the interstate, cars largely shunted out of our way when they saw police colours heading in their direction and sooner than expected Alan was hauling my suitcase out of the back and setting it down outside the automatic doors at the front of the airport.
‘Thanks, Alan –’ I gave him a hug ‘– for everything.’
‘I’m sincerely sorry to see you go. But I understand why you gotta leave.’ He put his hat, which had been laid flat on the dashboard, on his head. ‘One last thing before you go. Don’t know if you want to hear this but I couldn’t leave it alone. I put a call through to London.’
‘What do you mean? What did you do?’ Could this man utter a sentence without putting me on edge?
‘I checked out Mr Faber’s story. About his wife and her mental illness,’ said Alan.
‘Oh. That.’
‘All the paperwork suggests he’s telling the truth. Just thought you should know. In case it made a difference.’
I could see Alan wanted it to make a difference. He and Mona were, between them, convinced Jack and I should’ve found a way to work things out. Though I found out under the most brutal of circumstances, Mona argued Jack’s fertility issues and the trauma it caused his wife must’ve weighed heavy on him over the years. Or to put it in Mona’s exact words: ‘Guys are whacked-out ’bout sex, that garbage comes as standard, but not bein’ able to give your wife a baby? That’s somethin’ else, honey.’ Despite Mona’s colourful take on the situation, however, I just couldn’t bring myself to talk to him again. I used to think of Jack as somebody who would never hurt me. Now that had changed, forever.