The Girl I Used to Be

by Mary Torjussen

  The bedroom door opened then and Rory came into the room. I lifted the quilt and he slipped in beside me. I held him to me and kissed his forehead. It was hot and damp.

  “Are you all right, sweetheart?” I whispered.

  He shook his head and put his hand on his throat. “It’s all sore.”

  Just then my alarm went off. I reached out to switch it off, and Rory held on tightly.

  “Are you at home today, Mum?”

  I hesitated. “I’m supposed to be going in, pet.” His lip wobbled and he clung tighter. I looked down at him and thought, What is the point in working for myself if I can’t take time off when my child is ill?

  “I’ll stay home today,” I whispered. “I’ll stay home until you feel better.”

  * * *

  * * *

  AN HOUR LATER Rory was lying on the sofa, covered in his quilt, with Buffy, his fluffy rabbit, by his side. He was dozing while his favorite cartoon was on television.

  “Shall I call the office and tell them you won’t be in?” asked Joe.

  “I’ll give Lucy a call and see if she can come in today.” I groaned. “She’s changed her number and I forgot to put it into my phone. I’ll have to go into the office to phone her. I won’t be long.”

  “I’ll go in for you, honey,” he said. “You stay here with Rory and I’ll pick up the number.” He picked up the keys to his car and the office. “Where is it? On your desk?”

  I froze. Lucy’s new number was on a slip of paper in my desk drawer and in there, too, was the photo and the receipt. No way was Joe going into that drawer. Luckily it was locked, so none of the staff would be able to get in, either.

  “It’s okay,” I said. “I need to have a word with them about a couple of things. I’ll run in and be back in half an hour.”

  * * *

  * * *

  RACHEL WAS WAITING outside for me. She was holding a cup of coffee from the café up the road and looked at her watch as I approached the door to the office.

  “Sorry I’m late,” I said as soon as I reached her. “Rory’s not well. I need to phone Lucy to ask her if she’ll stand in for me for a day or two.”

  “Oh, the poor boy. But why didn’t you call Lucy from home?”

  “She wrote her new number down and I forgot to put it into my phone.” I opened the office door and went straight over to my desk to log on to my computer. Rachel stood next to me and I sat there, frustrated, wanting to open the desk drawer but not wanting her to see the photo that was inside it. My mind whirred as I thought of what to do with it. I couldn’t risk taking it home, but I didn’t want to leave it at work, either. Each of us had our own desks, but Lucy would be using mine that day and there was no reason why I would keep the drawer locked. “Is everything okay?” I asked Rachel. “Do you need something?”

  She reached over for my computer mouse and clicked on the online diary we all shared. It contained nothing personal; we always checked each other’s diaries if we were going to be out. “I just wanted to see whether you had any appointments today,” she said. “I don’t have any until later this afternoon, so I can share yours with Lucy.”

  “Thanks.”

  I was so glad it was Rachel in that day instead of Sophie. She had a calm manner that made everything seem okay. I knew she and Lucy could be relied on to do a great job together. Brian would take care of the rentals; he knew exactly what he was doing, and now I felt safe leaving Lucy and Rachel to deal with the sales.

  “Do you know how long you’ll be off?” she asked. She scrolled through my diary. “There’s an appointment with the accountant that you might want to postpone if you’re not going to be in. Lucy’s okay to do any valuations, isn’t she?”

  “I’ll be off until he’s better. Probably a couple of days.” My dream of having time off work was coming true, at the expense of poor Rory’s tonsils. “I’ll sort out the accountant; I can call her from home. Lucy can do any valuations and you can split the other appointments between you. Let me know if you get stuck; I’ll have my laptop with me and I can deal with any problems. I’ll probably just be on the sofa all day.”

  “Lucky you,” she said, and then added hastily, “but poor Rory, of course. Have you got Lucy’s new number? I can call her for you.”

  “It’s okay; I’ll do it, thanks,” I said. “I’ve got it here somewhere.” I unlocked my desk drawer and took out the slip of paper that had her number written on it. Surreptitiously I took out the photo and the receipt and slid them into an envelope. I jumped as I realized Rachel had come back over to my desk and I slipped the envelope under a file. “That’s just something I need to sort out later.”

  “Is it for the post?” She held out her hand. “I’ll send it for you.”

  I waved her away impatiently. “No, it’s okay. It’s private.” And then, because I didn’t want her to wonder what it was, I said, “It’s just something I need for the accountant.”

  I called Lucy; she’d just dropped Maisie off at school and was only five minutes away. She agreed to come in and said she’d ask her mum to do the school run that afternoon.

  I put the envelope into the zip compartment of my handbag, then thought of Joe finding it. Panic rose inside me. I couldn’t let him see either the photo or the receipt. I pulled the envelope out of my bag and took it over to the shredder, pushing it in so hard its engine roared.

  When I turned to go back to my desk, Rachel’s eyebrows were raised, but she said nothing. The door opened and Lucy came in.

  “Is Rory okay?” She sounded so concerned that immediately my eyes prickled. “You go home and stay with him now.” She put her bag into the drawer in my desk—I was able to leave it open now that I’d destroyed the evidence—and said, “I’ve just been into the newsagent’s. Michael there said you wanted to look at his CCTV footage.”

  “CCTV footage?” asked Brian, who’d just come in and caught the tail end of the conversation. “What’s up? Has there been a burglary?”

  All of them stared at me. I could have kicked myself. Kicked Michael, too. Why did he have to talk about it to my staff?

  “There wasn’t any sign of something wrong this morning,” said Rachel. “What do you want to look at CCTV footage for?”

  Frustrated, I looked at Lucy, trying to tell her to shut up without having to say the words aloud. She took absolutely no notice. “He said something about the car park,” she said. “He was busy, though, so couldn’t tell me much. Have you had trouble here?”

  I picked up my bag and headed toward the door. “No, no trouble. I thought I saw some teenage boys hanging around my car the other night. I was asking if he’d seen them, too. He hadn’t seen anything, though. It doesn’t matter; I doubt they’ll be back.”

  “I’ll keep an eye out for them,” said Brian.

  “Me too,” said Rachel. “If anyone touches my car, I want to know about it.”

  I said good-bye, then paused in the doorway and said casually, “Oh, and by the way, if anything arrives addressed to me personally, just hold on to it, will you? No need to open it; just put it into my drawer and I’ll deal with it when I get back.” They would never open personal mail, but I couldn’t take any risks. The thought of them seeing anything incriminating gave me a cold sweat. “If it’s got a company mark on it and it’s clearly for a client, then you can open it, otherwise just put it aside for me.” They looked at me, bemused, but I just gave a big smile and said, “Great, thanks!” and left the office.

  EIGHTEEN

  Tuesday, August 1

  I TOOK A couple of days off work, grateful for the rest and the time spent with Rory. He was pretty lethargic and I stayed on the sofa with him, reading him stories, watching films, and lying with him as he slept. Joe made the most of my being at home and went out for runs or to the gym, leaving me plenty of time to worry. All I could think about was the photo of David kis
sing me and the video I’d seen of myself criticizing Joe. Why had I done that? I must have been so drunk. And yes, everything I said about him was true, but I loved him. I loved our family. I couldn’t bear it if Joe found out what I’d said and done.

  My head ached as I wondered who had sent them to me. Was it David? But who had recorded us? How had that happened? I did remember David taking out his phone and checking his messages at one point. Did he film me then? But then I remembered when he was on his phone, I took out my own and sent Joe a message saying I was in bed, ready for sleep. I winced as I thought of that message. Why had I lied to him? When I put my phone away, David had already put his into his pocket. He couldn’t have filmed me then. And he certainly couldn’t have photographed me when he was kissing me.

  He was definitely involved, though. He’d lied about everything. It was likely he’d even lied about his name. He might not have photographed me, but I was willing to bet he knew who had.

  It was only when Rory woke and Joe came into the living room with a tray of cold drinks in his hands calling, “Room service!” that I realized the significance of the receipt.

  I had told Joe that I was going to order in food that night in the hotel. I remembered saying in the week before I went there, “I can’t wait to have an early night. Room service, something on television, and a long sleep. That’s all I want.” I’d been so excited at this little treat that I’d talked about it more than most would, but once I was in London I realized I didn’t want to hide away in a hot bedroom. The clinking glasses on the terrace below had called to me and I’d realized just how long it had been since I’d gone out at night.

  That receipt showed I’d lied to Joe. It showed, too, that the sender knew I had.

  * * *

  * * *

  AS I WAS playing upstairs with Rory on Tuesday afternoon, I heard a text alert ping downstairs and a minute later Joe came into the room holding his phone.

  “My mum wants to know if we want to go and stay for a few days.”

  “What, now? Did you tell her that Rory’s not well?”

  “I’m feeling better,” said Rory.

  I looked at him and his skin had certainly lost its earlier clamminess and pallor. “Not well enough to go to Ireland, sweetheart.”

  “I reckon by Thursday he’ll be fine. My mum says the weather’s beautiful and Brendan will be there with their boys.” Brendan, Joe’s older brother, lived near Glasgow, and we usually saw him two or three times a year.

  “Can we go, Dad?” asked Rory.

  Joe laughed and ruffled his head. “I’d love to. Let’s see what Mum says.”

  Oh great, make me the miserable one.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I can’t take the time off work just like that. Are Sarah or Caitlin going?”

  “No, Caitlin’s going over to see Ben, remember? And Sarah’s got to work. Come on, Gem; it’ll be great.”

  Frankly, it wouldn’t be a great holiday at all. Or it would for Joe, but not for me. When we were at their house, I wouldn’t see Rory at all; he’d want to spend every minute with his cousins. I wouldn’t see Joe, either, because he’d be with his dad and his brother. I’d be stuck with his mum, who was very nice, but it meant we’d be cooking and cleaning all day for “her boys.” I think she thought it was an honor to do that for them. If Caitlin or Sarah was going, I’d have someone to talk to and go out with, but with just Joe and Brendan there I’d be at a loss for something to do.

  Joe looked at me and laughed. “You don’t want to go, do you?”

  “Not really. It wouldn’t be much fun for me, would it? I’d just be stuck in the middle of nowhere on my own, cleaning up after you lot.”

  “Oh, come on, now! We’d be there. We could help you.”

  I raised my eyebrows at help and he had the grace to look embarrassed. “You’d be off playing golf with Brendan,” I said. “You and Rory should go, though. Have a boys’ holiday.”

  “Would you like that, Rory?” he asked. “Just you and me on a little holiday?”

  Rory looked confused. “Not Mummy?”

  “Just you and me and Brendan and the boys. And Grandad.”

  “And Nanny would look after you,” I said. “She’d love that.”

  “Come on, Rory, let’s phone Nanny now and tell her.”

  He sat down next to Rory on his bed and I heard Joe’s mother’s excited voice as she realized her boys were going to be back home.

  I sent Brendan’s wife, Sarah, a text. Seems like the boys will have a nice time at home.

  She replied straightaway. Mammy will be delighted.

  I laughed. We both got on with Joe’s mum, but I knew she loved it when she just had her sons home. This would be the first time she’d have sole charge of her sons and grandsons; it was probably the biggest gift we could give her.

  Within minutes I got a text from Caitlin. Sarah’s just told me. You’re not daft, are you? What will you do when they’re away?

  Work.

  She didn’t answer for a while, and then I got a text. Sorry, I’ll be away visiting Ben in Dubai, otherwise I’d come over and keep you company.

  I had mixed feelings about that. If she were here, I knew I would probably tell her everything. I knew I mustn’t do that.

  * * *

  * * *

  THAT AFTERNOON I went back into work for a couple of hours at the end of the day. All was quiet; Lucy was there still at my desk, and Rachel and Sophie were in the kitchen chatting when I walked into the office. Brian was out; they told me he was showing a new tenant around a couple of apartments in the city center.

  “How’s Rory?” asked Lucy.

  “Getting better, thanks. Joe’s taking him to Ireland on Thursday for a few days. They’ll have a great time there.”

  “You didn’t want to go?” asked Lucy.

  I shot her a look and she laughed.

  “Joe’s brother will be there with his boys, so Rory will have a great time playing with them. He loves his cousins. I’ll probably have them pressuring me for another baby when they come back.”

  “You can’t always have what you want,” said Lucy.

  I nodded, embarrassed; I knew she would have liked more children. “I know; if only it were that easy.”

  “My sisters drive me mad,” said Sophie. “I wish I were an only child.”

  Rachel got up and collected all the mugs on a tray. “You don’t,” she said.

  Lucy and I talked then about the new rota. “I’ll be here full time while Joe and Rory are away,” I said, “but I’ll take a day off when they get back.”

  “That’s fine. As long as I can take Maisie to and from school, I can work whenever you want.”

  We agreed on the shifts for the next week and I booked myself in for all day every day, thinking I might as well make the most of them being away.

  NINETEEN

  Thursday, August 3

  IN THE COUPLE of days before Joe and Rory left, there was a flurry of activity with washing clothes and gathering together everything they needed for the journey, but pretty soon it was Thursday morning, the car was packed up, and I was waving them off. I took a photo of them as they sat in the car ready to go, huge smiles on their faces. We usually went over to see his parents a couple of times a year, but we hadn’t visited since New Year’s and they both were excited about the trip. Rory was fully recovered now and sat strapped into his car seat in the back, diagonally from the driver’s seat, so that Joe could check at a glance that he was all right. The front passenger seat was loaded up with a cooler full of drinks and snacks, and Rory had some headphones and Joe’s iPad, ready to watch films if he got bored. I knew they’d have a great time; they always did.

  Before Joe got into the car, he put his arms around me and kissed me good-bye.

  “You have a good rest,” he said, seemingly oblivious
to the fact that I’d be going into work every day and he’d left behind a house in chaos. “We’ll call you every morning and every night when Rory goes to bed.” He kissed me again and I clung to him, wishing they would stay.

  * * *

  * * *

  ON HEARING THAT Joe had left our house in a state, Sophie was outraged. “You need to get some cleaners in,” she said. “There’s no way you should be going home and sorting out Joe’s mess for him!” She took out her phone and sent her mum a text. “I’ll send you the phone number for our cleaner. They’ll do a great job.”

  “And,” said Rachel, “you can tell Joe that you did it yourself.” She laughed. “Unless you don’t believe in lying to your husband.”

  “That’s a good idea, actually. He’s pretty good at feeling guilty. I wouldn’t lie normally, but sometimes . . .”

  “Sometimes you lie to him?” asked Sophie, wide-eyed.

  “No,” I said, impatient now. “Of course I don’t lie to him. But . . .”

  “But you don’t always tell the whole truth?” said Rachel.

  I laughed. “It’s complicated. Marriage is complicated.”

  “You’re telling me,” said Brian.

  Sophie’s phone pinged then. “Here’s the number,” she said, “just in case you want it.” She forwarded it to my phone and I saved it in my contacts list, determined to call them as soon as I could.

  * * *

  * * *

  LATER THAT DAY I escaped into the car park and called the cleaning service. They were happy to be recommended and the owner promised to come round to my house later that evening to see what I wanted done. They would be able to fit me in the next day, so I only had one more night of squalor. Before I went back into the office, I sent Joe a text wishing them a happy holiday. While I was waiting for his reply, I scrolled up, looking at the messages we’d sent back and forth over the months. When I saw the texts I’d sent the night I was in London, I paused.