by B. A. Paris
I looked at him, puzzled by his attitude. Had my parents relented and sent a cheque or something? When I’d found out I was pregnant again, I’d written to ask if they could restore the allowance they’d paid me since my sixteenth birthday from money my grandmother had left me. My father had refused, telling me my grandmother would be as ashamed of me as they were. I didn’t think they’d have changed their minds and even if they had, the allowance was in my name so Adam wouldn’t have been able to touch it. Maybe his parents?
‘Did your parents lend you the money?’
‘No,’ he said, his eyes fixed on the ceiling.
‘A bonus from Mr Wentworth?’
He gave a snort of laughter. ‘I wish.’
‘Well, maybe if you turned up for work a bit more often, he’d give you one!’ I retorted. ‘Stop playing games, Adam. Where did you get the money from?’
He lowered his head and looked me straight in the eye. ‘You know damn well where.’
It took me a moment to realise what he meant. Running into the bedroom, I found the shoebox open on the bed, empty except for a handful of one and two pound coins. When I’d last counted, there’d been over a thousand pounds. Now there were barely ten. Sick with fear that he could do such a thing, I picked up the box and went tearing back to him.
‘How dare you?’ I cried. ‘How dare you steal my money?’
He was on his feet in an instant.
‘How dare you?’ he countered angrily, his face close to mine. ‘How dare you keep money from me when you knew how much I wanted a motorbike.’
‘Only since Rob bought one! You never mentioned wanting a bike before that!’
‘Because I thought I’d never be able to have one, not with a child to bring up! But then Rob enlightened me, told me the reason I couldn’t afford one was because you’d been hiding money from me. So, when exactly were you planning to leave me?’
I stared at him. ‘What are you talking about? When have I ever said that I wanted to leave you?’
‘Why else would you have been hoarding money?’
‘Not to leave you! I love you, Adam, although sometimes I don’t understand why, not when you behave like you do.’
‘So what was the money for then?’
‘I was saving to take you and Josh on holiday!’
From his bedroom, Josh began to cry, woken by our raised voices. A flash of fear ran through me.
‘When? When did you buy the bike?’
‘This morning, while you were out.’
‘I was only gone two hours.’
‘It was long enough.’
‘Was Rob here? Did he stay here while you went to buy it?’
‘No, it was one of his friends who was selling it, so he came with me.’
I stared at him, hating that he hadn’t even grasped what I was getting at. ‘How did you get it back here?’
‘How do you think? I rode it!’
‘How?’
‘What do you mean, how?’
‘I mean how did you ride it when you had Josh with you?’
I could see him working it out, see him thinking – Josh? The blood drained from his face.
‘You forgot, didn’t you?’ I moved towards him, so mad that I wanted to scratch his eyes out. ‘You forgot about Josh. You look after him so rarely that you forgot he existed. You went off to buy yourself a motorbike leaving your son here, your son who could have woken up and found himself alone in the flat.’ I looked behind him to the open window. ‘Josh is nearly three, Adam, three! He can climb!’
‘I didn’t know,’ he stuttered. ‘I didn’t think.’
‘You never think, that’s the problem! You think about yourself, but you don’t think about me, or Josh, you never have and you never will! So this is what you’re going to do. I’m going out and when I come back, I want you gone! Go and live with Nelson – you think more of him than you do of us. Here’s the money for your fare!’ And I flung the contents of the box in his face.
For days after, I could see the marks on his forehead where the coins hit him.
Although Adam returned the bike that afternoon and managed to get the money back, he’s never forgiven Rob for misleading him. Neither have I, because I know that when Jess told him what I’d told her in confidence – that I was secretly saving – she would also have mentioned why. At the time, I wondered at Rob’s motive. Then I remembered how persistent he’d been in asking me out, even though I’d already met Adam, even though each time I refused. Even now the only thing I can think of is revenge. As I sit behind Kirin and Jess, watching the beautiful countryside fly past the window, a shiver goes down my spine.
12 P.M. – 1 P.M.
Adam
I take my leather jacket from the cupboard under the stairs and head out to the garage. Even if I’m only going into Windsor, I still feel the same sense of excitement when it comes to going out on my bike. I put my helmet on, my music starts playing, and it’s like I’m in my own secret world.
I switch on the ignition and the engine roars into life. I can’t believe how good it feels to have had that conversation with Josh. As we sat drinking our second beer, we began to talk like we’ve never talked before, not about anything very meaningful but about everyday stuff. He wanted to know about the techniques I use to sculpt, so I told him about the angel I want to make for Marnie and he’s going to watch me when I make a start on it tomorrow.
I feel bad that Livia doesn’t have something just for her, like I have my bike and my wood. I hadn’t realised that she doesn’t really have any hobbies until she brought it up a few weeks ago. She’d been working late at the kitchen table and I’d gone in to offer her a glass of wine and found her crying, her tears dripping onto her keyboard.
‘Hey,’ I said, moving her computer out of the way. ‘What’s happened?’
She rubbed her eyes and leaned into me as I bent to hug her.
‘I’m just feeling a bit rubbish about everything – at everything.’
I kissed her hair, the familiar smell of coconut and perfume pulling me in.
‘That,’ I said. ‘Couldn’t be further from the truth.’
‘Tell me honestly,’ she said, looking up at me. ‘Do you think that because my parents were screwed up, I’ve screwed up Josh and Marnie?’
The question was so unexpected I laughed.
‘Liv! That’s insane! You’re an incredible mum, the absolute best. Without you our kids wouldn’t be half the people they are. You’ve brought them up brilliantly.’
She pulled away and attempted to go back to working on her laptop. But I stopped her hands and closed the computer.
‘You’re amazing,’ I told her. ‘I don’t know what’s happened to make you feel like this, but you are.’
She stared through the window into the dark night.
‘It’s just – I don’t know – I suppose I feel that I’ve lost myself somewhere along the way. I’m a mum, a wife, a lawyer, a friend, but sometimes I wish I had something extra, something that’s only for me, like you do. Like your biking and your sculpting. I haven’t had a passion just for me for years, if ever. I don’t even have any talents, not like you. You’re so creative and I’m – nothing.’
It hurt that she couldn’t see how brilliant she was. I took her wrists and pulled her gently to her feet. When she wrapped her arms around me, I could feel the undulations of her ribs through her jumper. She’d lost weight recently and I kept forgetting to ask her about it. Was it all for the party? Or was she worried about something, something bigger? But she would tell me if she was; she’d never been able to leave things unsaid between us.
‘What about your roses?’ I said, glad to have found something that was all hers. ‘I don’t know anyone who can name roses like you do. That’s an amazing talent.’
She started to smile and then began laughing so hard that new tears formed in her eyes.
‘What?’ I said. ‘You can!’
‘Adam, that is the most depressing thing I’ve ever heard! I’m t
hirty-nine! Naming roses is not a talent. It makes me sound like I’m eighty years old…’ She went quiet and I pulled her back into a hug.
‘We’ll find you a really cool hobby for your fortieth,’ I promised. ‘Just you wait.’
I know the underlying problem is her parents, not the fact that she doesn’t have a hobby. It’s why I’m determined she’ll have an amazing party tonight, with or without them. She deserves so much to be spoiled, to have a special day just for her full of surprises, including the ring I’ve come to pick up.
The jeweller’s is part of the maze of pedestrianised streets, so I leave the bike in the usual car park and start the short walk there. It’s still warm, the sun stronger as it gets closer to noon, and the thought of Livia on her surprise trip to the spa feels good. As I weave between Saturday shoppers, I peel off my gloves and, tucking them into my jacket pocket, take out my phone to check the time.
The light is too bright to be able to read the screen so I cup my hand around it. There’s a news notification on the home page.
Breaking News
Pyramid Airways plane has crashed near Cairo International Airport.
My eyes freeze on the words Pyramid Airways. Marnie is flying Pyramid Airways. I stop, my heart constricting. I know it can’t be her flight, it has to be a different one. But the mention of Cairo Airport feels too close.
I press at the screen to open the main BBC News App.
A plane has crashed on take-off from Cairo International Airport. Pyramid Airways flight PA206 to Amsterdam crashed 11.55 local time.
My mouth goes dry. Is that the flight Marnie was meant to be on, the one she said she’d miss? Or a later one?
A child shouts out. Something – a bag – hits the side of my leg. I look up, my eyes unfocused, trying to take in what I’ve just read. I need to find Marnie’s flight number but for a moment I can’t make my hands work. I move into the shade by a shop window and bring up the WhatsApp conversation where she sent me her flight details. My fingers fumble on the screen as I scroll down.
HK – Cairo HK945 DEP 06.10 ARR 10.15
Cairo–Ams PA206 DEP 11.35 ARR 17.40
Ams – Ldn EK749 DEP 19.30 ARR 19.55
Ldn – Home ETA 21.00!!!
Cairo to Amsterdam PA206 DEP 11.35. I repeat it twice: PA206 Departure 11.35, PA206 Departure 11.35. The flight number in the news story is PA206. It’s Marnie’s flight, the one she would have been on, if her flight from Hong Kong hadn’t been delayed.
The shock sends tremors through my body. It’s not only shock, it’s also relief. I unzip my jacket, the leather suddenly too heavy. Thank God Marnie missed the flight, thank God her flight was delayed. But I need to make sure, I need to check that she couldn’t have arrived in Cairo in time to get the Amsterdam flight.
I find the flight app I installed on my mobile when Marnie first left, then flip back to our WhatsApp conversation to get her flight number from Hong Kong. I put it into the app: HK945. The details come up – her plane landed in Cairo at 11.25 local time, so over an hour late – and only ten minutes before the Amsterdam flight left. I’m weak with relief. She couldn’t have made it, not with only ten minutes to spare. She’ll be at Cairo Airport, stuck between flights. She’ll be distraught, of course, but at least she’s safe.
But – why hasn’t she been in touch? Maybe she tried to call, maybe I missed it. I check my missed calls log; there’s nothing. I press the FaceTime call logo and watch the screen, waiting for her face to appear. Nothing. I cut the call and try on audio, in case the signal isn’t strong enough for the video link to work. There’s still nothing. I try sending a text: Marnie, something happened to a flight out of Cairo. Text or call me as soon as you can, Love xxx
I send it by WhatsApp too, to double my chances, then hold my breath, waiting for a sign that Marnie has seen it – the two blue ticks, the Typing… at the top of the screen. Nothing. There are no ticks to say it’s been delivered. I check the status – undelivered. The network must be down in Cairo because of the crash. It must be chaos at the airport. There probably won’t have been an announcement about the crash but everyone will know something is wrong because all the departures boards will suddenly show Delayed or Cancelled for all subsequent flights out. Poor Marnie, she’ll be devastated by what’s happened.
I need to think what to do, how I can find out where Marnie is, and if she’s alright. There’s usually an emergency number that people can call to check whether or not a relative was on a flight. I know Marnie wasn’t but it would be good to have confirmation that she missed it.
I go back to the BBC news story and see an update: All 243 passengers and crew members are thought to have perished. The reality of the crash hits again. Livia, I have to tell Livia, she needs to know. The thought of telling her is overwhelming. How can I tell her what’s happened without sending her into a panic? She’s with Kirin and Jess at the spa – I can’t just call her on the phone, not to tell her this.
A group of teenagers walk past, pushing each other and bumping my arm as I refresh the BBC news story. But there’s nothing further. I check WhatsApp but still there are no ticks next to Marnie’s message.
I feel a creeping dread. I have no idea what to do.
Livia
The car slows and Kirin takes a left-hand turn down a leafy driveway lined with rhododendrons, before pulling up in front of a beautiful country house.
‘What’s this?’ I ask, peering through the window.
‘Our birthday present to you,’ she says, smiling at me in the rear-view mirror. ‘A spa afternoon, with a facial and massage all booked!’
I unbuckle my seat belt and lean forward, throwing my arms around the two of them.
‘Oh my God, you’re amazing! Thank you! Thank you!’ Something occurs to me. ‘You are joining me, aren’t you? You’re not just dropping me off?’
Jess laughs. ‘Don’t worry, we’re coming with you.’
‘I used to do this kind of thing once a month before Nelson and the children came along,’ Kirin says as we get out of the car. ‘Our first appointment is at two so we’ve got time for lunch first.’ She links her arms through ours, discreetly helping Jess. ‘Come on, it’s this way.’
‘I’m so glad to be getting away for a few hours,’ Jess says, as we stroll down a paved pathway, where scented clematis cling to an archway of wooden trellises. ‘Rob’s cleaning his bike and there are bits of it in the kitchen sink.’
Kirin nods in agreement. ‘Me too. It’s amazing how many things Nelson needed me to go over with him, about when to put Lily down for her nap and what to give the boys for lunch. Anyway, enough about men. How are you feeling, Liv? Does it feel weird that the party is finally here?’
‘I think it hasn’t really sunk in yet,’ I tell her.
‘It must feel strange,’ Jess says, as we come to the stone steps leading to the entrance. She leans harder on me and shifts her body so that she can climb sideways. ‘I mean, you’ve been planning it for so long.’
‘Twenty years. Isn’t that embarrassing? But it’s turning out exactly as I imagined. The weather is amazing and there are so many people coming, nearly a hundred. I feel so lucky.’
‘You deserve it,’ Kirin says.
We’ve reached the entrance and I stop. ‘Do I, though?’
‘Yes, of course you do!’ Jess says, tugging my arm, forcing me onwards. ‘Why wouldn’t you?’
‘I don’t know – deep down, don’t you think there’s something morally wrong in spending so much money on one evening, on one person?’
Kirin gives a sigh of exasperation as she walks towards the reception desk. We’ve had this conversation before and she thinks I’m being ridiculous. ‘In short – no. I spent a lot more on my wedding,’ she says laughing and pushing hard on the gold bell sitting by the sign: Ring for assistance.
‘Yes, but that lasted the whole day. And it was your wedding, not just a birthday party.’
‘Don’t worry, I’m going to have a huge party fo
r my fortieth too!’
We’re taken to an outdoor terrace, where tables set for lunch are grouped around a huge swimming pool. A few people are lying on sun loungers, all of them on their phones. It sounds clichéd, but the water really is sparkling in the sunlight.
‘I should have brought a swimsuit,’ I say, looking longingly at the pool.
Reaching into her bag, Jess takes out a pretty gift bag and presents it to me with a flourish. ‘No sooner said than done.’
‘What’s this?’ I ask.
‘Something to make you feel a million dollars.’
‘I already do, with lovely friends, like you.’ I open the bag and take out a beautiful red swimsuit, complete with diamanté straps. It’s not something I’d ever consider buying for myself and I love it.
Kirin orders champagne and while we’re waiting for it to arrive, we head to the pool house to change.
‘It fits perfectly,’ I say, once I’ve got my swimsuit on. ‘It’s beautiful, thank you! Have we got time for a swim?’
‘Of course.’
It’s only when I’m in the pool that I realise how much strain I’ve been under during the last few weeks. I lie on my back and close my eyes, letting the tension seep out of me. Everything will be alright, I tell myself. It has to be. I couldn’t bear it if it wasn’t.
Our drinks arrive, drawing us from the pool.
‘Who’s that for?’ Jess asks, pointing at the glass of orange juice.
Kirin raises her hand. ‘That would be me – although I will have a sip of champagne,’ she adds.
Jess looks at her. ‘You’re not—’
She gives a rueful smile. ‘I am.’
‘Wow, Kirin, that’s wonderful!’ I exclaim, giving her a hug.
She sits down suddenly, as if her legs can’t hold her up anymore.
‘It’s twins,’ she says. ‘Again.’
I do the maths quickly and realise she’ll have five children under six.
‘Oh my God, how lovely!’ Jess looks so excited, although I know the news must hurt a little, as she was desperate for more children after Cleo. But after three miscarriages, she and Rob decided to stop trying. It’s probably even harder with Nelson and Rob being brothers, but Jess is the most selfless person I know. She doesn’t deserve everything that has happened to her these last two years.