by Susan Lewis
She could hear everyone banging and crashing about as usual, the twins shouting something about a sleepover, Josh insisting he’d had a bath two days ago so he didn’t need another. She listened for her mother’s voice but couldn’t hear it. Grandma seemed to be in charge, which meant her mum was probably still in the kitchen with Bena. She was glad her mum had a best friend. Bena was so lovely, really kind and down to earth and always ready for a laugh. Nothing to laugh at tonight, but it was still good that Bena was there so her mum didn’t have to be on her own.
She hoped Charlotte FaceTimed back tonight. She felt better when she had someone to talk to, even if Charlotte was really more interested in Liam. She wished things would work out for her the way they did for Charlotte, the only child, whose parents were really cool and faithful to each other, and who had a boyfriend whom she Snapchatted and sexted, and who wasn’t being picked on at school or online.
She considered going on Facebook to check what was happening with the rest of her friends, not that she really had any left, but she still wanted to know what was going on. The trouble was she was afraid of finding her account had been hacked again. She supposed someone would have warned her by now if it had, but there was still the friend request to Oliver that had never been answered, and she was too afraid of posting anything herself in case one of the Durmites picked up on it.
At least Julie never said anything bad. She was always sweet and tried to be helpful, so it was hard to think of her being a false friend. The more Paige considered it, the more certain she felt that the false friend was Owen. He hadn’t even given her the benefit of the doubt of that horrible posting. He had never been prepared to listen, and he had even told people he knew for a fact she’d done it herself. Why would he do that if he didn’t mean her some kind of harm? For all she knew he’d posted it himself and made it look like her, so everyone would turn on her instead of him. Of all the people she knew, he and Harry Adcock were the only ones able to hack into someone else’s account. They were brilliant on the computer, both of them, top of the class, the ones everyone went to when they had problems.
Feeling in sore need of talking to someone, she picked up her phone again and clicked on to answer Julie’s message. It was OK, don’t think I’d go again though. Have you ever been?
Long minutes ticked by as she waited for an answer, meaning Julie wasn’t online. She began trawling through other websites and chat rooms, watching stuff on YouTube, and checking to see if Oliver was on Pheed. He wasn’t, but Julie was now because an answer to her message had just come up.
No, never been, but have always wanted to. What sorts of things did she tell you?
Paige hesitated, having to think about how to answer that. In the end, she said, Boring stuff, mostly about my mum and dad. She said I had a false friend and I thought it might be you.
OMG! Why do you think that?
Because you won’t tell me who you are.
I thought you understood that.
I suppose I do. I just couldn’t think who else it might be. Apart from Owen.
When there was no immediate response she started to tense, aware she could have just accused Owen himself, or at least someone who knew him.
You know, I’ve been thinking about it, Julie finally replied, and I reckon you could be right about Owen. He definitely turned against you after the posting. Do you know yet who did that?
No, but I thought it might be him.
What, you think he outed himself and made it look like you so you got the blame? Awesome. But why would he do that?
Because everyone would turn on me then, instead of him.
Pretty genius if it’s true, because it worked. No one’s taken much notice of him being gay, it’s all about you and what you did.
Except I didn’t do it.
Point taken. Are the Durmites still hassling you?
They did this morning, but haven’t seen much of them since.
Best to keep away from them if possible. I heard about the daffodils. Totally sick. BTW thought it was a great piece myself. Can see why Miss Kendrick put it in the mag.
Thanks. Thought it was pretty lame myself, but you know what Miss K is like when she fixates on something. Are you in her class?
Sometimes. Depends. Tell me more about the fortune-teller. Did she say anything about boyfriends?
Not really, just that there’s someone I like who she described pretty accurately.
No way! Who is it?
No one you know.
I might.
Even if you did it wouldn’t make a difference, he’s not interested in me.
How do you know?
I just do. To be honest life’s pretty f’d up at the moment. Nothing’s going right.
Sorry to hear that. Anything I can do?
Shouldn’t think so, but thanks for asking. Do you have a boyfriend?
No. Like you, there’s someone I’m interested in, but he’s going out with someone else.
Does he go to our school?
No. He’s at college.
Paige’s heart jarred. It couldn’t possibly be Oliver; it was insane even to think it. What’s his name?
Brad.
Breathing again, Paige said, Have you ever spoken to him?
Not really. I just look at him and he looks right through me.
Paige had to smile. Sorry to hear that. Know how you feel.
I heard him call me butterhead once.
What does that mean?
Everything about her’s fit, but-her-head.
Paige’s heart contracted with pity. That’s terrible. What a tosser. Bet you were really upset.
Just a bit. I’ll get over it. Couple of saddos, us? Not really.
Feeling like it at the moment. She paused, but only for a moment. My dad’s just left home. As she stared at the words she could hardly believe they were true, or that she was telling someone she didn’t know.
OMG. That really sucks. No wonder you feel bad. Between us, I keep wishing mine would go, but I suppose it’s different when it happens.
Definitely. Can’t get my head round it. Only found out tonight that he’s having an affair.
Ew! How did your mum take it?
Badly, I think. Haven’t really spoken to her yet.
It probably won’t last and he’ll come home again.
That’s what I’m hoping. If he doesn’t will never want to speak to him again.
I can understand that.
Anyway, he’s my stepdad, not my real dad. Saying that felt like a punishment; she knew it would hurt him and it was meant to.
Hearing a knock on her door, she quickly typed, Sorry, got to go and cut the connection. “Who is it?” she called out.
“Just me,” her mother answered. “Can I come in?”
Paige desperately wanted to say no, but knowing how much it would upset her mother if she did, she said grudgingly, “If you must.”
As Jenna pushed the door open she was saying to the twins, “Please do as Grandma tells you for now….Yes, we can go and see the lambs tomorrow….Just clean your teeth, I’ll be in to see you in a minute.”
“Mum!” Josh roared across the landing.
“Josh, I’m only here. What is it?”
“There’s a spider in my room. Where’s Dad? He has to come and kill it.”
“I’ll sort it out in—”
“No! You can’t. When’s Dad coming home?”
“I know how to deal with spiders,” Grandma informed him, marching across the landing. “Come and show me where it is.”
Rolling her eyes as she closed Paige’s door behind her, Jenna attempted a smile. “Are you OK?” she asked tenderly.
“Not really,” Paige answered.
Going to sit next to her on the bed, Jenna slipped an arm around her and rested her head on hers. “I’m sorry this is happening,” she whispered. “I wish it wasn’t.”
“I hate him.”
Jenna sighed softly. “I know you think you do at the mom
ent.”
“Don’t you?”
“I’m angry, obviously, and upset….The truth is, I hardly know how I’m feeling.”
“How did you find out?”
“Like you, I worked it out for myself. I didn’t want to believe it, but then he told me.”
“When?”
“Last night.”
Last night, when I was sitting here thinking about Oliver and feeling sorry for myself about everything. Paige didn’t want to think about it, but how could she not? “Does he really mean it?” she said huskily. “Is he actually going to live with her?”
Jenna swallowed hard. “I think so. It’s where he—he’s gone tonight.” As she started to cry Paige wrapped her arms around her.
“It’ll be all right, Mum, honest,” she promised, crying too. “We’ll get through it. We can manage without him if we have to.”
Jenna sat up and smoothed Paige’s hair silently for a few moments. “You told Charlotte he’d gone?” she asked after a while.
Paige stiffened. “Yes,” she admitted. “She’s my best friend….How do you know?”
“Because her mother just rang asking if there was anything she could do to help.”
Paige regarded her mother with guilty, helpless eyes. Sweet and kind though Lucy Griffiths could be, everyone knew she was one of the biggest gossips on the Gower. “I’m sorry,” she whispered brokenly. “I didn’t think….”
“It’s OK. I understand you needed to talk to your friend, and it’ll have to come out sometime. I suppose I just hadn’t imagined it would be quite so soon.”
Three dreadful days had passed since Jack had left, and the nights had been even worse. There were moments when Jenna felt she might be losing her mind. How could something that wasn’t even physical hurt so much? The ache of it, the sheer torment of what her own thoughts were doing to her, never mind what Jack was doing, was such agony at times that she almost wanted to die rather than endure any more.
Somehow she’d forced herself through the weekend, mainly thanks to her mother and Bena, and yesterday morning she’d managed to get Josh and the twins ready for school and had arranged their lunches, pickups, and social extras without them seeming to notice anything was wrong. She had told them that their father had gone to stay with Grandma Moore for a few days, and Jack had accepted that, apparently understanding that she wasn’t yet ready to tackle what his departure was going to mean to them. It was true, she wasn’t, though she couldn’t deny that a part of her reason for delaying was to give him time to change his mind.
So far he’d shown no sign of it, had hardly even been in touch since he’d gone, but as Bena kept reminding her, it was still early days. “The real proof of whether he can go through with it will come when he realizes how much he’s missing you all.”
It was hard to imagine him missing them. Much easier was picturing him with Martha, running his hands through her curls, gazing adoringly into her eyes, making love to her at any time of the day. Merely thinking of Martha could enrage her to the point of violence—when it wasn’t making her feel dowdy and worthless. If she wasn’t those things, then why had he left? Each time she looked in the mirror she saw a woman who meant nothing, a woman who had lost her center, her purpose, her understanding of the world. She was so used to being Jack’s wife, his lover, his friend, that it was how she identified herself now, and she didn’t want it to change. She needed him more than she’d ever realized: emotionally, physically, in every possible way. Only now was she coming to see how much she’d taken him for granted, how deeply she’d trusted that he’d always be there.
How could he have been having an affair for so long without her suspecting? It hardly seemed possible, and yet apparently it was true.
It must have been an instant attraction between them, a coup de foudre with a chemistry so powerful, so irresistible that neither could fight it. She wondered who had made the first move, where it had happened, how guilty or exhilarated or desperate for more he’d felt afterward. And what had Jenna herself been doing at the time? Nothing more than going about her life, bringing up his children, and sucking up all the lies. She thought back to the long, hot days they’d spent at the beach last summer with his brother’s family, surfing, body-boarding, sailing, building sandcastles, exploring rock pools, tucking into picnics. He’d been there for all of it, challenging, praising, laughing, mopping up tears, making everything wonderful and right. How often had he sneaked away to speak to Martha on the phone? How many times had he actually disappeared to snatch a few moments with her? Jenna had no idea, nor would she ask.
She recalled the twins starting school in September, and how proud he’d made them feel of their uniforms and satchels—how insistent he’d been that he take them and pick them up on their very first day. She was sure he hadn’t come home in between, had said he was going to some meeting or other, and now she realized he’d probably spent the time with Martha. A perfect father at the beginning and end of the day, a cheating husband for the rest of it, while she, fool that she was, had felt so lucky and happy to be his wife.
Over the weekend, during quiet moments when Josh and the twins were cycling or scootering around the village and Paige was in her room or over at Charlotte’s, she’d written him a letter. Long, tender passages reminding him of the special happiness they’d felt when the three younger children were born; their heartache when she’d miscarried two babies before Josh came along, the way he’d supported her through that grief while quietly coping with his own. She’d reminded him of the cancer scare he’d had several years ago that had turned out to be a false alarm, but not before it had frightened them half to death. They’d been close before, but facing his mortality had brought them even closer together. She’d gone on to describe various Christmases and birthdays, Bonfire Nights and Easter egg hunts. They celebrated everything as a family, with Jack always there making it so much fun that the children’s friends begged to come to their house for special occasions. She’d ended with the reminder of how excited they’d been to move here, how thrilled to own such a beautiful home, how optimistic for the future of their fledgling business.
She’d shed so many tears while writing the letter that by the end she’d had to go upstairs and lie down. She had so little energy; her mind, her entire body, was like a leaden cloud caught in the eye of a storm. Every now and again a violent rage would overtake her, or a stultifying despair, or a longing so fierce, so consuming that she had to scream or she might go mad. Though she was careful never to let the children hear her, she could tell that her mother always knew when the suffering was becoming unendurable. She didn’t say anything, but she was always there, close at hand to help in every way that she could.
As for Paige, Jenna wasn’t sure how she was coping. Abandoned first by her real father, now by Jack. Was that how Paige was seeing it? How could she not? The only time they’d talked properly was the night Jack had left, when they’d held each other and cried together. Since then Paige had seemed to withdraw from her. She didn’t want to talk, she said, she only wanted to be left alone.
“No, I haven’t tried to call him,” she’d cried when Jenna had asked last night, “and I’m not going to.”
“Has he called you?”
“Only like about fifty times, but as far as I’m concerned he can fuck off and die.”
Though Jenna had winced at the language, she hadn’t remonstrated—after all, Paige needed to vent her emotions, and if swearing was helping, that was fine. She just thanked God for Charlotte. It was at times like this that girls really needed their best friends, and it was clear from how much time they were spending together that Charlotte wasn’t letting Paige down. She might wish she could hear what they were saying, but perhaps it was best that she didn’t. She could sense an anger in Paige that wasn’t only directed at Jack but was directed at her too, and she wasn’t sure how to handle it. She didn’t even know if she had it in her to try.
She’d returned a few minutes ago from taking Jos
h and the twins to school. They’d been full of their father picking them up later—Jack had told them on the phone first thing that he would.
“Can we go to the King for tea?” Josh had demanded excitedly. “We usually do when Dad comes back after he’s been away.”
“I want nachos if we go,” Flora informed them. “I don’t like anything else.”
“I like sausages, the same as Dad,” Wills reminded them. “I’m going to do him a painting in school today.”
“Me too!” Flora cried. “Mine’s going to be of daffodils to go with what Paige wrote.”
“That was my idea!” Josh protested.
“No it wasn’t. It was mine.”
“It was mine, wasn’t it Mum? Tell her to stop copying me. Anyway, I’m going to make a pot for his pens because we’re doing pottery today. And I’ve got my new PlayStation game that Grandma bought yesterday. Dad will definitely want to play that, won’t he, Mum?”
“He’s going to play with us too, isn’t he, Wills?” Flora pouted.
“Definitely with me,” Wills told her, “but you’ve only got stupid dolls and stuff. He won’t want to play with them.”
“He always plays with my dolls,” Flora shouted. “He even made my cot and my pushchair.”
“He didn’t make them, did he, Mum? He bought them, stupid,” Josh retorted.
“You’re stupid!”
“You are.”
“No, you are, and I’m going to tell Dad what you said. He’ll make you go to bed without any tea.”
“If it’s not raining,” Wills said, “can me and Dad take Waffle for a walk before tea?”
“I want to come too,” Flora piped up.