Those Other Women

by Nicola Moriarty

  ‘I’ll be there in five,’ he promised. She didn’t stop to ask how he thought he could get there so quickly when his office was at least half an hour away. She was just glad at the thought of him being there, of having his help. He was their father. She would push the burden onto him. The blame, the guilt, the responsibility of finding them. He would do it. He would find them for her.

  Once she was off the phone, she looked back at Renee. ‘Do I have to wait here for the police or can I start searching myself? What am I supposed to do?’

  But Renee was still on the phone herself. She covered the mouthpiece and whispered to Frankie, ‘Hang on, I’m finding out.’

  ‘Listen, Frankie,’ said Chelsea, ‘I can imagine you want to get out there and search for yourself, but right now you’re probably better off here, coordinating everything and hearing back from anyone who’s out looking. Everyone is going to want to report back to you, plus the police will need to talk to you. I know it’s hard, but try to hold on. I know we’re going to find them – the word’s out on MOP and there’s a bit of a modern-day phone-tree-style thing happening through Facebook. People tagging in other mums who they know live close by. Others are already out on the streets searching. I bet we’ll have good news any minute.’

  She pulled Frankie into a hug then, sudden and firm. It took her completely by surprise, and Frankie realised that Chelsea’s smothering embrace was more of a comfort than she’d ever have expected.

  ‘It’s going to be fine, Frankie, I can guarantee it.’ And the conviction in her voice combined with the warmth of her hug made Frankie think she’d judged her far too unfairly, right from the beginning.

  Then she saw Annalise, walking towards her. And she hated the expression on her face. She hated it with every fibre of her body, because she knew it meant bad news. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Poppy and Annalise were supposed to come back with good news. They were supposed to come back with the best news, they were supposed to bring her kids back to her.

  Annalise opened her hand to show Frankie as she got closer. She recognised it instantly. The red, green and yellow patterns. Coby’s fidget spinner.

  ‘Is it . . . ?’ Annalise started to ask.

  ‘It’s his,’ Frankie said, snatching it from her. ‘Where did you find it?’

  ‘Not far from the back school gates,’ she said, ‘in the gutter.’

  ‘The gutter?’ Frankie said. And that word – gutter – it took on such an ominous sound. What was his prized possession doing in the gutter? Her heart broke for Coby. Wherever he was, whatever had happened to him, he must have noticed he’d lost it, he must be wondering where it was.

  ‘Poppy’s still driving around searching,’ Annalise said. ‘But I thought I should bring this to you. I’ll . . . I’ll keep looking.’

  She turned to walk away and Frankie’s phone buzzed in her hand. She looked down at it, willing it to be good news. It was a text message from Paul. She didn’t have time for him right now. She didn’t have time for whatever crisis he was having or whatever thing he was confused about. Her family needed to come first this time. They needed to come first all the time.

  The phone rang then, and she saw that this time it was Mandy. Frankie guessed she was only calling to check in and see if they’d been found, but she answered it hopefully. Had the kids somehow turned up at her house?

  ‘Frankie, have you got them?’ Mandy asked when she answered.

  ‘No, not yet,’ Frankie said, managing to stop herself from shrieking at her, Why couldn’t you have just got them like we planned!

  ‘Oh God, I’m so sorry! Listen, I’ve got someone coming round to watch mine so I can get out there and help look for them. I still can’t believe that woman . . . Annalise, I think her name was, I can’t believe she didn’t pass on the message to you. I told her it was important.’

  Frankie’s brain clouded over and she found herself looking up at Annalise, who was obviously waiting to see what the news was before she set off to look again. No wonder she and Poppy had been so happy to help – it was Annalise’s fault that anything had gone wrong in the first place.

  Frankie finished the call with Mandy and stepped closer to Annalise. ‘You took the message?’ she said. ‘You were the one who was supposed to tell me Mandy couldn’t get my kids today?’

  Annalise’s face twisted. ‘I did, but I didn’t mean —’

  ‘Really?’ Frankie said. ‘Are you sure you didn’t mean it? Because I know about your group and I know about your challenges. Are you sure you weren’t completing a little NOP challenge for yourself? See if you could get a mum stuck at the office instead of running off to collect her kids?’

  ‘What? No! God no! That’s not what happened. This wasn’t intentional.’

  Frankie stared at her, hard. Then something clicked. Annalise wasn’t surprised at all about the fact that she knew about NOP or the challenges. And she and Poppy had been on their way to talk to her before she’d told them her kids were missing.

  ‘What were you and Poppy coming to talk to me about today?’ she asked, her voice sharp.

  ‘It was . . .’

  Frankie saw her resolve give in.

  ‘I’d just told Poppy about your fake profile,’ Annalise admitted, ‘about you being the mole in NOP. I’d seen it on your computer.’

  Chelsea was suddenly by Frankie’s side, her shoulder pressed up against her. A physical gesture of support, but she remained quiet, letting Frankie speak.

  ‘Right,’ Frankie said, ‘and now you’re trying to tell me that you neglecting to pass on the message was an accident? You weren’t trying to get back at me? Fucking hell, Annalise, if anything, anything happens to my kids, it’s on you.’

  Her phone buzzed yet again in her hand. It was the same message from Paul, reminding her to open it. Annalise looked across at the screen.

  ‘Yeah, well, maybe you should look a little closer to home if you want someone to blame,’ she said. ‘If you weren’t screwing the boss maybe you’d have more of a handle on your kids’ schedules.’

  ‘Excuse me?’ Chelsea interjected, still super-glued to Frankie’s side. ‘Is now really the time?’

  Frankie wanted to launch herself at Annalise, attack her, strangle her. ‘I’m NOT screwing Paul,’ she yelled.

  ‘Then why is he texting you?’ Annalise spat back.

  ‘I don’t fucking know!’

  Frankie jabbed at the phone to open the message, ready to shove it in her face, presuming it would be some inane work-related question. And then she was going to tell Annalise to get the hell away from her and let her focus on finding her children. Dom would be here any minute and once he arrived, she’d know what to do again.

  But instead the message caught her by surprise.

  Just remind me, is Coby lactose intolerant? Or is that my imagination?

  Frankie stared at the text, perplexed. Why was he asking her that right now? What did that have to do with anything? God damn Paul and his confused mind. As she looked at the screen, another text popped up.

  Wanted to make sure before promising the two of them an ice cream.

  Her hands shook. She almost dropped the phone. Did this mean . . . Did Paul have her kids?

  She dialled his number immediately and waited while it rang, turning her back away from Annalise. Chelsea remained by her side, waiting to find out what was going on.

  ‘Hey!’ Paul answered brightly. ‘You didn’t need to call, I only wanted to make sure.’

  ‘Paul,’ said Frankie, trying her best to keep her voice steady. ‘Are my kids with you? Do you have Coby and Hayley?’

  ‘Yeah, of course,’ he replied. ‘I took them out to Balmoral to keep them entertained until you were ready. So where did we land on the ice creams? I didn’t want to ask Coby direct in case it disappointed him if he couldn’t have it.’

  ‘I . . . but . . .’ A thousand questions were running through her mind. How did he have them? Why did he have them? And more importantly, were t
hey really there? Were they really okay?

  ‘Can I talk to Coby, please? Now?’ she asked and she couldn’t keep the impatience out of her voice.

  ‘Okay, sure.’

  She heard muffled noises, Paul’s voice calling out, ‘Your mum wants to talk,’ and then heavy breathing and Coby’s voice. ‘Hi, Mum.’

  ‘Oh, Jesus,’ she said, and she started to cry. ‘You’re okay.’

  ‘Um, yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?’

  She shook her head despite knowing he couldn’t see her. ‘I was just . . . it’s nothing, I was just worried,’ she tried to explain. ‘And your sister is with you too?’

  ‘Ye-e-eah,’ Coby drew the word out slowly, as though he were answering a crazy person. ‘Obviously.’

  ‘Okay, good. That’s good. Put Paul back on, would you? Wait! Coby, before you go, I’ve got your fidget spinner, okay? In case you were worried about it.’

  ‘Did I lose it? Okay cool, thanks, Mum.’

  Paul’s voice came back on the line.

  ‘Stay there,’ she told him, ‘Dom is picking me up in a minute and we’ll come straight over to you, okay? Don’t go anywhere, promise?’

  ‘No problem, we were going to hang about here for a bit anyway. Listen, Frankie, are you okay, you sound distressed? I told you I’d collect your kids for you, after I tried to pick up my voicemails from the wrong message bank and heard the one from your friend. Did you forget?’

  ‘No, Paul,’ she replied, ‘I didn’t forget. I’ll see you soon,’ and she hung up the phone, still not having answered his question about Coby – who wasn’t and never had been lactose intolerant.

  ‘I didn’t forget,’ she repeated to herself as she lowered the phone from her ear. ‘You just never told me.’

  This couldn’t go on.

  * * *

  Annalise was pretty sure she was almost as relieved as Frankie when she heard that the kids were okay. She was still angry with her, angry that she’d been playing the part of Viv all this time. Angry that Frankie really believed she could have made that mistake on purpose. Once she knew they were fine, Frankie had looked at Annalise with such disgust in her eyes as she told her to leave her alone.

  ‘And just by the way,’ she’d added, ‘I might have been in your stupid group under a fake profile, but I’m not the only one. Someone else wrote that article. So good luck sorting that mystery out.’

  Annalise had walked away from her and called Poppy to tell her to stop searching and come and pick her up from the school. ‘They’ve found them. It’s over. They’re fine.’

  She burst into tears.

  By the time Poppy had circled back to pick her up, she’d managed to stem the flow of tears down to a trickle but she knew her face would be red and puffy. Poppy pulled over and Annalise climbed in, keeping her head down.

  ‘I know, honey,’ Poppy said, when she saw her face, ‘I know.’ And she reached out to hold her hand, staying parked on the side of the road. ‘But listen,’ she continued, ‘it’s all worked out in the end, okay? You can forget about it, she doesn’t ever need to know you didn’t pass on the message.’

  ‘She knows,’ Annalise said.

  ‘Oh. Well, she knows about your mistake and we know about her secret.’

  ‘Yeah, well, she knows we know about that as well, and she claims she didn’t write the article. Not that she had an explanation for why she was ever in NOP in the first place.’

  ‘Probably went in there to have a laugh at us. I’m curious to go back now and re-read everything that Viv ever posted. So where were her kids anyway? A friend had them?’

  ‘Paul had them.’

  ‘Paul! Are you kidding?’

  ‘Nope. But she claims they’re not having an affair either.’

  ‘Right,’ Poppy said slowly, ‘you know what I think, I think there is something really bloody weird going on with that woman. And whether or not she was passing our info or screengrabbing our posts back to MOP, either way she betrayed us. I can’t stand thinking about her pretending to be someone else all that time, pretending to be our friend. Pretending she was one of us when she’s not. She’s a mother, she doesn’t get us. She can’t get us.’

  Annalise stayed quiet.

  ‘Come on,’ Poppy said, putting the car into gear and turning on her indicator, ‘let’s get out of here. You want to go home or you want to go out for a drink?’

  Annalise considered the offer and then remembered that she wasn’t allowed to drink. ‘Umm, just home, please. I think I want an early night.’

  * * *

  On the way to Balmoral, Frankie confessed. The thing that surprised her, was that Dom did too.

  He’d arrived at the school just minutes after she’d told Annalise to get out of her face. His terrified expression as he walked towards her had made the tears start falling again, which meant she had to quickly reassure him that they were happy tears, that she’d just found out where the kids were.

  Luckily Renee had still been on the phone with the police so she was able to let them know immediately it was a false alarm. Chelsea had called off the search and Frankie had thanked her profusely for all her help, before hopping into Dom’s car to race over to Balmoral as fast as they could, despite the peak-hour traffic.

  ‘I have to tell you something,’ she’d begun as Dom weaved his way through the cars.

  ‘So do I,’ he said.

  ‘Me first,’ she said firmly. ‘I’ve been keeping something from you and I’m so sorry and I wish I never had. But I’ve realised that you and the kids come first. There shouldn’t be any secrets between us.’

  ‘You’re sleeping with Paul,’ he said. And his voice sounded utterly resigned.

  ‘What? No! Fuck, why does everyone think that? Oh God, Poppy did send you an anonymous text, didn’t she?’

  ‘Poppy? The woman at your office you’re always complaining about? What does she have to do with this? What text?’

  ‘You didn’t get a message telling you I was cheating?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Well, why did you think I was having an affair?’

  ‘Because you’re always working late and you spend so much time with Paul. And ’cause . . . ’cause we never have sex anymore.’ He looked embarrassed. ‘It seems like lately, you’re not really into me in that way. I’ve got this damn gut starting to stick out and I can’t blame you for not liking the way I look, but . . .’

  Frankie cut him off. ‘Dom, I am definitely not sleeping with Paul. I’m not cheating on you with anyone. I love you.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Dom and she noted the twinge of hope in his voice. ‘You’re not?’

  ‘No. I’m not. But I have been helping him keep a secret from Cormack. He has Alzheimer’s. Linda and Paul asked me if I’d help them cover it up until they could get some ownership stuff sorted out. The only reason I didn’t tell you is because I was worried you might accidently mention something to some of the guys at drinks after work or something. But it’s been putting this extra strain on me. Half the time I’m doing his job for him and trying to fit it in with the kids and everything. That’s why I’ve been doing so much overtime. I feel like maybe today would never have happened if I was more on top of things. Paul’s intentions were good; he knows how busy I’ve been and he probably thought he could take some of the pressure off by helping out – he used to get along great with the kids when they were little and I’d bring them into the office sometimes. But picking them up without my say so – it’s not on. And if his illness wasn’t the big secret that it is, then none of this would have got so out of control.’

  Dom reached one hand out and placed it on her knee. ‘Don’t feel so bad,’ he said, ‘this wasn’t such a big lie . . . more of an . . . omission, really. And he’s a good bloke, so the kids will be fine with him. I’m just glad you’re not sleeping with the guy.’

  Frankie let out a small laugh. ‘Well, I’m glad that makes you happy.’

  ‘If I’m entirely honest,’ he continued, ‘I’m
trying to react my best because I don’t know what you’re going to think of me when I tell you what I have to say.’

  ‘Jesus,’ she said suddenly. ‘Are you having an affair?’

  ‘No, no, nothing like that,’ Dom assured her. ‘But I haven’t been honest with you either.’

  She stayed quiet, waiting to see what he had to say.

  ‘Maybe you noticed . . . maybe you’ve been . . . picking up on hints? I haven’t been good lately, my mood. I’m sorry, I kept thinking I would fix it myself so you wouldn’t need to worry and I’d get back to normal and none of it would matter. But it’s not fair to you – not fair to you or the kids, for me to be acting like this.’

  Frankie couldn’t help but interrupt him again. ‘Wait, does this have something to do with all that money stuff you keep bringing up lately?’

  ‘Yeah, it does. I lost my job.’

  ‘Oh, babe!’ Now she reached out to put her hand on his leg, wishing she could hug him properly.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Frankie.’

  ‘Honey, don’t be ridiculous, you don’t need to be sorry.’

  But he still wouldn’t let her comfort him; his leg felt stiff under her touch. ‘Yes, I do. I haven’t been working for two months now. I’ve been lying to you all this time.’

  She was stunned. ‘Over two months? Why? Why wouldn’t you just tell me?’

  ‘Because. I needed to find a new job. I needed to have the problem fixed before I told you. But the thing is, if I’d been honest, you could have leaned on me to take care of the kids. I could have picked them up this afternoon but instead I was . . .’ He trailed off and she could hear the shame in his voice.

  ‘Instead you were what?’ she asked.

  ‘Sitting in the pub drinking.’

  Frankie felt a twinge of disappointment. ‘Is that what you’ve been doing – all this time? Every day?’

  ‘Not every day,’ he said. ‘I’ve had some interviews, but not many. Only two actually. And I’ve been sending out applications. But like I said, I didn’t want you to know, so I had to leave the house at the same time every day, pretend that I was going to work. But I had nowhere to go . . . so I ended up at the pub. I had some severance pay, but I knew it wasn’t going to last long.’