Too Close to Home

by Susan Lewis

  Hey, everything cool with you?

  She messaged back saying, Yeah, cool, how about you? but there was no reply, so Julie was obviously no longer online. Deciding to try her on Pheed, she reached for her phone and opened the app just as another text came in from Kelly.

  You know what I love about your face? The thought of punching it.

  Why couldn’t the girl just get lost? What was the matter with her that she had to keep doing this? Didn’t she have a life, for God’s sake?

  Suddenly wanting to be close to her dad, she pulled a jumper on over her camisole and trackies, dug her feet into her slippers, and went downstairs, taking the phone with her in case Charlotte messaged again.

  “Here she is.” Her dad beamed, holding out an arm for her to come and snuggle in next to him. “We were beginning to think you were ignoring us, weren’t we, Josh?”

  “It’s a brilliant game,” Josh told her. “Wales are in the lead, seventeen to three. We’ve scored three tries and converted one, and the others have only scored one penalty.”

  “Sweet,” she muttered.

  “Sweet,” Josh mimicked.

  “Don’t copy me,” she snapped.

  “Don’t copy me.”

  “Dad, tell him, or I’m going to hit him.”

  “Dad, tell him—”

  “All right, that’s enough,” Jack declared, holding up his hands. “Let’s focus on the game, shall we?”

  Still trying not to mind that she wasn’t with her mates, Paige decided to text Hayley, seeing as Charlotte hadn’t answered her yet. How’s it going over there? I hear Cullum’s house is fantastic.

  Seconds later a reply came back. Been before. Totally amazing. You should be here.

  Couldn’t come because of Owen.

  That’s totally crap.

  Yh, but what can I do?

  We’ll sort it.

  Hoping they would, Paige hugged the phone to her chest and leaned in closer to her dad. Normally she loved rugby, but she was finding it hard to get into the game today even though Wales were winning.

  “Feeling better now?” her dad asked after a while.

  She bristled. “What do you mean? There was nothing wrong with me.”

  “Oh, sorry. Mum said you were upset about something.”

  Her mouth tightened. Grandma had obviously rung her mum, which she’d actually expected, but if Mum knew she was upset, why hadn’t she rung herself to find out what the problem was? Because she was always too busy with Josh or the twins, that was why.

  “You can always talk to me if something’s bothering you,” her dad told her, as if he were her best mate or the person she always turned to.

  He was, sometimes.

  “Yeah, right,” she said. “Thanks.”

  “I mean it.”

  “Cool.”

  “I was your age once, remember?”

  “Like a hundred years ago.”

  Laughing, he drew her in tighter. “Fancy something to eat? There are hamburgers.”

  She shook her head. “No thanks.”

  “Have you had anything today?”

  She tried to think. Maybe she hadn’t.

  “You’ll be wasting away,” he chided. “Let me get you something.”

  “No, I’m not hungry. Where’s Mum?”

  “Taking the twins to get new shoes.”

  Should she ask her next question or not? It was making her insides churn up to think of it, but in the end she decided she would. “Are you two OK now?”

  Sounding surprised, he said, “What do you mean, are we OK?”

  “I heard you rowing last night.”

  Josh looked round worriedly. They all hated it when their parents fell out.

  Jack laughed. “Would you believe, I was getting told off for leaving my dirty socks on the floor.”

  Paige screwed up her nose, pretending to be convinced—except her mother never went off about things like that. Still, if it was what he wanted her to think, she wasn’t going to pry any further. In fact, given how late it had been, it might have been about sex, for God’s sake. Just as long as they were all right now.

  A few minutes later she was starting to drift to sleep against her dad’s shoulder when his mobile brought her round. Being the closest, she went to pick it up from the coffee table, but he beat her to it.

  “Who’s Martha?” she asked as he clicked on.

  Putting a finger to his lips, he said, “Hi, Martha. Working on a Saturday? How’s the website coming along?”

  Remembering who Martha was now, Paige lost interest, yawned, and closed her eyes again.

  “Hang on, I’ll go over to the office,” he said. Unraveling himself from his children, he took off across the garden.

  Five minutes later he was back, announcing, “Kids, I have to pop out for a bit. You’ll be OK, won’t you?”

  Paige shrugged. “I guess we’ll have to be.”

  “Don’t worry, Dad, I’ll look after Paige.”

  As Jack laughed, Paige shot her brother a look and followed it with a cushion.

  She must have fallen asleep soon after that, because the next thing she knew the match was over, her mum was home, and Flora was tugging her awake to show off her new shoes.

  “They’ve even got platforms,” Flora was telling her, “but you can’t see them because they’re hidden, aren’t they, Mum?”

  “Where are Josh and Dad?” Jenna called through from the kitchen.

  Paige was still stretching as she came round. “I don’t know.”

  Jenna came to the door, hands on hips. “Paige!”

  “OK, OK. Dad had to go out, and I expect Josh is upstairs in his room.”

  Not looking best pleased, her mother sent Wills to make sure Josh was in the house and said to Paige, “Did Dad tell you where he was going?”

  Paige shook her head as she checked her phone.

  “Paige!”

  There were three texts from Charlotte.

  The first: OMG, don’t know how to tell you this, but Lindsay French just turned up.

  The second: They’re definitely an item.

  The third: Where are you, please text me back.

  “Paige, are you listening to me?” her mother snapped angrily. “Did Dad say where he was going?”

  “Just out,” Paige snapped back. Dodging Flora and her new shoes, she started upstairs to her room.

  “I’m here, Mum,” Josh shouted over the banister.

  “Out where?” her mother called after her.

  “I don’t know, he didn’t say.” Closing the door behind her, she slid all the way down it. Crouching, she buried her head in her arms.

  Lindsay French was at his house, and they were probably even kissing right now, while she was here all on her own like a waste of space, a filthy swot, a total loser, a piece of rubbish.

  “There’s a woman over in Llanelli,” Bena was reading from the paper, “who’s only gone and left her body to medical science with the proviso that they use it to find a cure for cellulite. ‘It’s ruined my life,’ she said. ‘I want to stop others having to suffer the same way.’ ” She looked up to check that Jenna was listening. “I don’t know whether to laugh or feel grateful,” she commented dryly, “except it’ll be too late for me by the time they get round to it. Speaking personally, I’d want my body to be used to kill off the redhead gene. It’s a bloody pain in the neck being this color—all the teasing I had to go through at school, the deathly white skin, never being able to go in the sun. You’re not listening to a word I’m saying, are you?”

  There was a beat before Jenna connected with the question. “I am,” she assured her, “and you’ve got lovely hair. Beautiful, in fact.” She meant it, for Bena’s cascade of golden waves was straight out of a Pre-Raphaelite painting. Her face was more Rubenesque, with prettily plump cheeks, large blue eyes, and a heart-shaped mouth, all of which combined to make her a strikingly attractive woman whom Jenna had grown very fond of.

  Bena’s head was tilt
ed to one side. “Are you all right, lovely?” she asked gently. “You don’t seem yourself today. Something bothering you, is it?”

  Jenna forced a smile. “I’m fine,” she assured her. “Just a bit of a headache.”

  “Do you want me to get you something?”

  “No, no, I’m sure it’ll go in a minute. How are you getting on with the short stories?”

  “Well, I’ve more or less finished the copy-edits, just a couple more to go. Are we still waiting for payment to come through before sending the script back for final approval?”

  “Yes, I think so. Jack’s more on top of that than I am.”

  “OK. Where is he today? I thought we were going to start transferring stuff onto the website.”

  “He’s with the designers sorting out a few last-minute glitches. Something to do with the e-commerce side of things, apparently.”

  “Well, let’s hope they’re ready by the time we go live, or we’re going to have a lot of angry and frustrated writers on our hands. They’re getting impatient already, demanding to know when they’re going to see a return on their investment, as they seem to be putting it.”

  Indeed, emails demanding an actual launch date were coming in all the time now, though Jenna was feeling less concerned about that this morning than about what was going on in her personal world. “Martha’s confident we’ll be able to start transferring by the end of the day,” she commented, clicking to a new screen without quite knowing why.

  “That’s great. And Jack’s finalized the deal with Amazon to use the Kindle?”

  “He’s seeing the lawyer today to sign off on it. The other e-readers are already in place.”

  She presumed this was true. She hadn’t actually seen the contracts herself; however, since Martha was overseeing the business deals, she couldn’t imagine they’d be going ahead without all the vital components in place.

  Trying harder to bolster Jenna’s spirits, Bena declared cheerily, “So when you go in front of the cameras to promote our launch you’ll be able to announce to the world that we’ll be trading—”

  “Sorry, I’d better take this,” Jenna interrupted as her mobile rang. “It’s Jack.” Connecting to him, she turned in her chair as she said, “Hi, how’s it going?” There was little warmth in her voice, which she knew he wouldn’t miss.

  “All good,” he replied coolly. “I’m just ringing to find out if you’ve sent any short stories yet. We haven’t received anything this end and we’re ready to run tests.”

  Remembering she was supposed to have asked Bena, she said, “We’ll do it now. Were the twins and Josh all right when you dropped them off earlier?”

  “I think so, no thanks to you.”

  Angered by the accusation, she snapped, “Don’t you dare put all this on me.”

  “But you’re the one getting worked up over nothing.”

  “I wouldn’t exactly call the way you’ve been carrying on—” Remembering Bena, she cut herself off. “I’m not getting into this now,” she told him. Clicking off the line, she put a hand to her head.

  “Oh dear,” Bena murmured. “That didn’t sound good.”

  “It’s not,” Jenna admitted. “In fact, it’s so bloody far from good I hardly know what it is.”

  Bena watched her worriedly. “I’m not going to pry, but if you want to talk…”

  Jenna shook her head. “Thanks, but we’ve got a lot to do and I don’t think talking’s going to help much. He wants us to email some short stories. Can you do that? I think I’ll go and get something for this headache.”

  A few minutes later she was standing in front of the bathroom mirror staring at her tired, pasty face and wishing she knew what the hell to do. Jack still hadn’t told her where he’d had to “pop out” to on Saturday during the game. He wouldn’t even engage in a conversation about it other than to say, “You’re determined to think the worst, so you go right ahead and do that.”

  “Then tell me what I’m supposed to think,” she’d demanded furiously.

  “No way am I satisfying your paranoia by defending myself.”

  “If you’ve got nothing to hide, I don’t understand why it’s so difficult to tell me where you were.”

  “You’re making it difficult. In fact, you’re making it downright impossible. Now, I’m through with this conversation. If you want to go on tormenting yourself with the stories you make up, that’s up to you. Just don’t lay them on me.”

  As he’d stormed out of the bedroom he’d almost fallen over Josh and the twins, who’d been pressed up against the door listening. The sight of their troubled faces had been enough to stop Jenna going after him, but luckily he hadn’t left the house; he had simply gone downstairs and helped himself to a beer from the fridge.

  For the rest of Saturday evening they’d managed to put on a front for the children, eating together, watching TV, reading bedtime stories, after which he’d gone over to the office to do some work while she’d helped Paige with her rehearsal of Under Milk Wood. At least that had been fun, making them laugh, and bringing them closer together than they’d seemed for a while. How proud her father would have been if he’d known Paige was playing First Voice. How proud she was.

  Sunday had been no easier with Jack, although they’d seen little of each other, as he’d taken the boys to the leisure center for most of the day, while she and Flora had been in charge of a friend’s jewelry stall at a local craft fair. Paige had gone to Charlotte’s and stayed overnight, so Jenna hadn’t actually seen her since Sunday morning. In a way it had been a relief not having her around while things were tense with Jack; fooling the younger children into thinking everything was OK wasn’t nearly as hard as fooling Paige.

  She’d blown it earlier, though, before he’d taken Josh and the twins to school. She simply hadn’t been able to stand watching him laughing and joking with them as if nothing was wrong, when as far as she was concerned nothing was right.

  “Are you planning on doing a disappearing act again today?” she’d demanded as he’d checked for his keys and phone.

  His eyes had immediately turned flinty.

  “Is that like a magician does?” Wills demanded excitedly. “I didn’t know you could do that, Dad.”

  “It would appear that Mum thinks I do a lot of things I’m not actually capable of,” Jack had responded, staring at her hard.

  “Dad goes places without telling anyone where he is,” Jenna had informed them. “I’d call that sneaky, not magic.”

  “For God’s sake,” he’d muttered.

  “Don’t ‘for God’s sake’ me! I’ve had enough of your—”

  “Mum! Don’t shout,” Flora cried, blocking her ears.

  “It’s all right,” Jenna soothed, going to comfort her.

  “Mum?” Josh whispered.

  “Everything’s fine,” she assured him and an anxious-looking Wills. “You’re right, I shouldn’t have raised my voice. I’m sorry,” she said to Jack for their benefit, certainly not his.

  “It’s OK,” he replied, “it’s all better now,” and after dishing out the lunch boxes they’d helped prepare, he told them to find their satchels and coats and be in the car by the time he’d counted to twenty.

  He’d left without as much as a goodbye—no kiss, no see you later or I’ll call. He’d just picked up his briefcase, gone for his coat, and walked out the door. Goddamn him, he was behaving as though she was in the wrong, and she couldn’t be sure whether it was that or his continued refusal to explain himself that was making her angrier than ever.

  After taking a couple of aspirin, she resisted the urge to call him again, and returned to the office.

  “Feeling better?” Bena asked gently.

  Jenna nodded, sighed, and shook her head. The words began tumbling out almost before she realized she was speaking them. “I think Jack’s having an affair,” she stated, and immediately regretted it. It was as though voicing her fear was lending it power, somehow turning it into a truth that she knew she w
ouldn’t be able to bear.

  Bena’s eyes rounded with shock. “I’m sure you’re wrong,” she declared, sounding as certain as Jenna had hoped she might.

  Their eyes met, and Jenna looked away.

  “What’s making you think it?” Bena probed gently.

  Taking a shaky breath, Jenna told her about the lengthy phone calls, the disappearances, the refusal to say where he’d been on Saturday. The more she listened to herself the more convinced she was becoming. “It’s been there, staring me in the face for I don’t know how long,” she said brokenly, “and because I trusted him, because I thought he loved me and that he’d never…” Dread cut off her words.

  “He does love you,” Bena assured her. “If I’m sure about anything, it’s that.”

  Jenna regarded her helplessly. “You haven’t suspected it?” she asked, desperate to hear Bena say that she hadn’t.

  Bena shook her head. “I mean, he’s a flirt and a bit of a charmer, but everyone knows that and no one takes it seriously. It’s just a harmless bit of fun—” She broke off as Jenna’s eyes went down. “Who do you think he’s having an affair with?” Bena ventured.

  Jenna swallowed. “I—um…It could be Judy Ritch.”

  Bena’s jaw dropped in astonishment.

  “He admitted he was with her on Friday night, down at the pub,” Jenna told her. “He came back reeking of perfume. He even admitted it was hers.”

  Bena was shaking her head.

  “I understand that you want to defend him,” Jenna said, “and I appreciate it, really I do, but it’s hard to think anything else after the way he’s behaved. He’s angry with me now for catching him out, that’s what’s going on, although he thinks I can’t see it.”

  “Sweetie, he’s not seeing Judy Ritch,” Bena told her carefully, “or let’s say he certainly wasn’t with her on Friday night, because I was at the pub myself and I didn’t see him. She was there, but he wasn’t.”

  Jenna’s heart turned over as she looked at her friend. “But if he wasn’t…Why would he say he was there when he knows I’d be bound to find out he wasn’t?”