The Witness

by Jane Bidder

  His reply, swift and crisp, had shocked her.

  “You don’t mean that, do you?”

  He’d nodded. “Yes I do.”

  No one, decided Kayleigh as she put the kettle on (because they both needed another cuppa after this), would ever hurt Alice again. She’d make sure of that.

  It was what a daughter would do.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  In the past, Alice had flicked past magazine articles along the lines of “What would you do if your husband had an affair?”

  The answer, or so it seemed to her, was so blindingly obvious that it wasn’t worth reading. How could you trust that person again?

  Anyway, the articles were irrelevant because Daniel wasn’t that kind of man. If he had been, she wouldn’t have married him. Surely women whose husbands had affairs only had themselves to blame for marrying irresponsible, thoughtless, Jack-the-Lads.

  And now it was happening to her – at least, if Janice was to be believed. Yet instead of having it out with him, she’d decided to ignore it. For the time being. “There’s too much going on,” she said quietly. “We’ve got to work together to get Garth out of prison. How can we do that if we split up?”

  “You’re in denial,” said Janice, putting her arm around her. “It’s a shock. I’m sorry. But someone had to tell you.”

  Did they? Paul Black had already gone, and Kayleigh was in her room tidying up. “Frankly, I’d rather not have known.”

  “Alice. Get real.” Janice stood back, as if looking at her for the first time instead of speaking to an old friend. “You’ve been different in the last few weeks – and not because of Garth. It’s ever since you came across that fifteen-year-old druggie runaway.”

  That wasn’t fair. “She’s sixteen now and she doesn’t do drugs any more. It was a one off.”

  “If that’s what you want to think. Come on, Alice. Think about yourself for a change and not someone else. Forget this waif and stray you’ve taken in. Start battling for your marriage. Monica’s going around telling everyone she’s having it off with your husband and then swearing each person to secrecy.”

  She tapped the local newspaper under her arm. “Besides, you’ve got to tackle the stuff in here. Look.”

  Alice turned away at the headline.

  LOCAL WOMAN ACCUSED OF HIDING HER OWN PAST WHEN GIVING EVIDENCE IN HIGH PROFILE SEX CASE

  Alice felt sick. This was a small town. How was she ever going to hold her head up again? Everyone read the local paper. Everyone would look at her. In the shops. At the tennis club. At Book Club. At the gym. At the local community centre where she did voluntary work every now and then. They’d have to move and even then they might follow her. Look at the national magazine that had rung her up the other day. Your story will strike a nerve, the girl had added, before Alice had cut her off. There are a lot of women like you out there …

  “Fight for him,” added Janice firmly. “Talk to Daniel and make him see how much he has to lose if he gives you up.” She looked Alice up and down. “Buy yourself some sexy underwear. Flirt with him. Do something to make him want you again.”

  “But he’s the one who needs to make it up to me! He went off with …” Monica’s name stuck in her mouth. “With that woman.”

  Janice was giving her a pitying look. “That’s not how it works, Alice. Trust me.”

  There was something odd in the way she spoke. “Did you …?” began Alice hesitantly.

  Janice made a sweeping action across her face. “Don’t ask. We don’t talk about it. Not any more.”

  So her friend – or Brian – had had an affair too? She’d never have guessed it. They had always seemed … well, so together. Alice’s head began to spin. Was the whole world going topsy-turvy or was it just her? Suddenly, her eye was drawn to a broken plate lying on the sideboard: her latest commission. It had slipped out of her hand, the tearful owner had explained, handing her the fragments. “I know it’s not worth it in monetary terms but it has huge sentimental value for me.” Then she’d stopped, clearly embarrassed.

  She, Alice, had understood, though. Had she not heard it all before? Broken cups or plates which had belonged to long-deceased mothers or husbands or – in one case – an estranged son – who had given them as birthday or Christmas presents until some careless accident had broken their souls. Each shattered fragment represented a piece of the departed one. No one could restore the latter but miracles could be performed on the china; and, in so doing, the breaker would feel less guilty. Partial relief could be restored at the bringing back of a broken vase or cup which symbolised the loved one.

  Alice now stared at it hard. Sometimes she wondered if she was doing the right thing, putting broken pieces back together. They might look almost the same but even if you’d done a great job – and Alice prided herself on doing that – she knew that the crack still existed. So did the owners.

  Did she want that for herself? To mend a crack which would always be there; no matter how carefully she disguised it? Wouldn’t that be cheating her own soul? Or was it the practical thing to do, in order to restore the set; to keep the family together.

  “I’ll think about it,” she now said, aware she sounded firmer than she felt. “But after my meeting tomorrow with social services.”

  “Social services?”

  “It’s about Kayleigh and … and us giving her a home. Temporarily.”

  Janice snorted. “Get your priorities right, Alice. This girl isn’t your daughter.”

  Alice whipped round. “But she could have been me.”

  Janice frowned. “Are you talking about that stuff they said in court? About you accusing a man when you were younger? You can tell me. I’m your friend. ”

  But she couldn’t. No one could really understand unless it had happened to them. “It doesn’t matter. Look, thanks for coming round.”

  Janice gave her a hug. The type you only kept for big awful occasions. “Don’t do anything stupid, will you? I know far too many women who’ve kicked out their husbands and then regretted it. But talk it through. You can both learn from your mistakes. ”

  Then she stepped back, still holding her hands. “Think of Garth. Kids need two parents, however old they are.” She looked away briefly. “Why do you think I’ve stayed put? No. Please don’t say anything or I will cry.” Her eyes sought Alice’s. “They always say the quiet ones are the worst, don’t they?”

  So Brian had cheated on Janice! The shock revelation – or as good as – still reverberated round Alice’s head the following day as she sat at a conference table in a room that seemed to be made entirely of glass. Concentrate. Concentrate.

  It wasn’t just what Janice had said, or rather hadn’t said. Nor was it Daniel and Monica. A combination that seemed so unbelievable she could scarcely take it in. Nor was it the surreal knowledge that her son was in a South American jail. Or the relief that Mungo was going to be all right.

  It was also this. Being here at a conference with Kayleigh’s social workers and various other people who had introduced themselves. Doing something that didn’t seem quite right, yet would be definitely wrong if left undone.

  Through the huge windows, Alice could see ordinary people doing ordinary things in the street below. Not long ago, she’d been one of them. But thanks to a chance sighting in a park, she was now agreeing to take in a child – well, as good as – as if she didn’t have enough on her plate.

  “I am happy for Kayleigh to live with us until she finds a job and gets settled,” she declared, clenching her fists under table; grateful that Daniel had chosen not to be here.

  The social worker gave her a wry look. Her earrings bobbed like floats on the water, observed Alice. Frankly, she never trusted women whose earrings were too youthful. They looked cheap too. The type you made yourself. “Have you ever done anything like this before, Mrs Honeybun?”

  Alice thought back to all the teenage arguments with Garth. “I’ve got experience of young people. I have a son. He’s n
ineteen.”

  “And where is he now?”

  Was this a trick question? Did she already know?

  “In South America,” replied Alice carefully.

  “I see.” She wrote something down on the page. “And is your husband happy to give Kayleigh a short-term home?”

  Alice crossed her fingers below the desk, thinking of the cold evening she had spent with Daniel last night. She should have talked to him about Monica. Asked him if it was true. But something inside had stopped her. Whatever Janice had said, blind eyes seemed safer. Less likely to rock a boat that was already in troubled water.

  “Mrs Honeybun,” repeated the voice. “I asked if your husband is happy to take in Kayleigh.”

  “Yes,” she nodded. It wasn’t exactly a lie. He just didn’t know. That way, he couldn’t refuse. Then she glanced at Kayleigh, next to her. The girl was trembling. Slowly, she reached out her hand and squeezed hers briefly. If only Mum had done the same when she’d needed support over Phil.

  “And what about you, Kayleigh,” said the social worker silkily. “What are your long-term plans?”

  “I want to go to college if my GCSE grades are OK. I’d like to do psychology.” She waved a brochure for a sixth-form college which Alice recognised. At the age of fifteen, Garth had suddenly announced that he wanted to leave his expensive private school and go to this college instead. She and Daniel had joined forces and argued fiercely with their son, pointing out that the teaching would probably be different and there was hardly any sport. In the end, he’d given in. Had that been a mistake? Would Garth have turned out ‘better’ if they’d let him do what he wanted? And what exactly was ʻbetter’?

  Her thoughts were interrupted by the next question. “How far is the college from your home, Mrs Honeybun?” asked the social worker, orange earrings bobbing.

  “About half an hour. I can give Kayleigh a lift but there’s also a bus.”

  “And how long is the course?”

  “Two years.” Kayleigh cut in. “But if Alice doesn’t want me that long – I can rent somewhere, can’t I?”

  She had it all worked out! Once more Alice was struck by how mature the girl could be at times – while, at others, very naïve. It was a curious combination.

  The social worker was making more notes. “That depends on several factors.” Alice felt a chill. Having Kayleigh for a few weeks while she sorted herself out was one thing. But two years was another matter entirely.

  “If we agree that Kayleigh can live with you, Mrs Honeybun, the situation will need to be reviewed regularly.”

  Alice found herself nodding. There was a small gasp beside her. “So does that mean I can stay?”

  The social worker was folding her papers. “We’ve been authorised to make an emergency care order. Kayleigh can continue staying with you, short-term, until a longer-term programme has been established. That is, if you’re happy to still have her.”

  Alice made a huge effort to crush the doubts that were now swimming to the surface. “Of course.”

  “YES!” Kayleigh leaped up and gave her a big hug. Never had Alice seen Kayleigh to be so demonstrative before. Then again, she didn’t really know her, did she?

  What on earth had she done, Alice asked herself, gathering her coat and bag. Supposing Frankie’s friends found out where she lived? What would Daniel say? And, even more importantly, what was she going to do about him and Monica?

  “I’ll decide tomorrow,” she had told Janice, “after the meeting about Kayleigh.” She’d reached that point and now she needed to talk to her husband. It wasn’t just the sex bit. It was the dishonesty. The cheating. The lies. The fact that, if it was true, Daniel wouldn’t be the person she’d thought he was.

  Just as she hadn’t been the person he had thought, when he had married her.

  They drove home via the vet’s. Mungo was slightly subdued when they picked him up but delighted to see her. He covered her with licks and – to Kayleigh’s horror – did the same to her. “Don’t hurt me,” she flinched.

  “It’s all right.” Alice had always felt sorry for people who were scared of dogs. They didn’t know what they were missing. “He’s really friendly. Why don’t you sit next to him in the back of the car so you can get to know him?”

  That was a good sign, she told herself, glancing in the rear mirror and seeing how Mungo rested his head in Kayleigh’s lap. Dogs were excellent judges of characters. Better than humans, at times. Monica! The thought of the woman filled her with loathing. How could she have been so stupid to miss the signs?

  Back home, Alice handed Kayleigh a ball and suggested that she played with Mungo in the garden. Apart from anything else, it would give her space to sort out all the horrible thoughts whirling round her head.

  Daniel and Monica.

  Monica and Daniel.

  Kayleigh, she observed through the window, actually looked like a normal sixteen-year-old in those jeans she’d found in Garth’s old wardrobe – styles seemed to be unisex nowadays. She also looked fresher without all that make-up she normally plastered on. (Alice had suggested she toned it down for the meeting with the social worker and she still hadn’t got round to putting it on again.)

  When Garth had been that age, he had loved playing with Mungo too. Alice felt the old panic coming back; a panic which had been temporarily put to one side during the meeting about Kayleigh and her distress over Daniel and Monica. It had been a few days since Brian had heard anything from the South American authorities. What if there’d been a hitch?

  “Any news?” she now texted Brian.

  The reply came back promptly.

  “Not yet.”

  Could she really trust a man who had had an affair? For the first time, Alice began to realise why MPs were often ousted from their jobs after illicit relationships. If they couldn’t be true to their families, how could they be true public servants?

  As she put down the phone, Kayleigh waved gaily at her. Alice turned away. Janice had been right. She must be mad. What on earth was she doing with a strange teenager in her house when her own son was on the other side of the world and her marriage was falling to bits?

  Later, while Alice was chopping leeks with careful precision (cooking was such a therapeutic distraction), she kept going over and over the options. Daniel was due home shortly from a pre-term conference at the university and she still hadn’t decided what to say to him. It would also be difficult to talk, she suddenly realised, with Kayleigh around. You forgot about that sort of thing when you were used to being on your own.

  “Where did you say the bus stop was?”

  Alice looked up from her chopping to take in Kayleigh with a full face of make-up again, wearing ripped tights under frayed shorts and a T-shirt that showed off every curve. Her long auburn hair was loosely tied into a careless knot at the back.

  “Are you going out?”

  Kayleigh nodded.

  At least this would give her and Daniel some time together. Yet at the same time, her chest fluttered with apprehension. “Where?”

  Kayleigh looked as though it was blindingly obvious.

  “Just into the centre. One of my mates texted.”

  She cast another look at the frayed tights and shorts. “Won’t you be cold?”

  There was a shrug. “It’s summer.”

  “And you’ve got your phone?”

  “’Course.”

  Fleetingly Alice wondered whether she’d made the right decision to top up Kayleigh’s phone credit but it had seemed sensible at the time. After all, she needed to know where she was. It had been one of the stipulations of the agreement.

  “You won’t be back late, will you?”

  Kayleigh gave her another look. “Why?”

  “Because I promised your social worker I’d look after you.”

  Kayleigh seemed to consider this. “OK.”

  “What time did your mum ask you to get back?”

  “You bleeding kidding? I used to wait up for her.�
��

  Alice took a deep breath. “Look Kayleigh, I don’t want to sound all heavy when you’ve just arrived. But we don’t use swear words like … like the one you’ve just used here. And I’d like you back by eleven. All right?”

  She waited for Kayleigh to say that no it wasn’t bleeding all right and that she didn’t want to live here any more. In some ways, maybe that might be a relief. Perhaps Janice was right. Maybe she was so confused she didn’t know whether she was coming or going.

  “OK.” Kayleigh shrugged.

  “The bus stop is down the road. On the left.” Sheer surprise that Kayleigh had accepted the curfew and the moratorium on swearing, made her open her purse. “Here’s ten pounds. It should be more than enough for the bus and a coffee.”

  Kayleigh looked at it as though she’d given her a fifty-pound note. “Thanks. See you later then.”

  Then she went over to Mungo and patted him. “Good boy. Nice to be home, isn’t it?”

  It wasn’t until after she’d watched Kayleigh saunter off down the drive, her long legs all too obvious under those shorts, that Alice took in those final words. Nice to be home, isn’t it?

  She’d been speaking for herself as well as for Mungo. Alice’s heart gave a little flutter. How sweet. “Wait,” she called out. “Wait.”

  Kayleigh paused, her face stricken as Alice ran towards her. “What?”

  “Turn round.”

  “You’re not going to wallop me, are you?”

  Alice’s heart lurched. “Of course not. I just want to fix your hair.” Gently, tenderly, she wound the loose tendrils of auburn hair – so much nicer now Kayleigh had brushed it out – fastening them with the clip. It looked familiar.

  “I borrowed it from your bathroom.” Kayleigh’s voice trembled. “Don’t mind, do you?”

  Tell her she needs to ask permission first, said the voice in her head. Tell her she can’t go into your bathroom and that, anyway, she has her own.

  “That’s fine,” said Alice. “Turn round now.”

  For a second, Victoria stood in front of her. There was no reason why her own daughter might not have been auburn too. After all, her own grandmother had had hair that colour. “Lovely.” She patted Kayleigh’s shoulder. “Now go and have a good time. But please be careful.”