We lay in silence. I was full of things I wanted to say, but I just didn’t feel that I could say them. I never had; I could only say what I wanted, what I needed, when we were fighting, and then afterward, when we’d made up, Joe would think the problem was resolved. I hated it; I hated being unable to assert myself. I lay there simmering, thinking of things I should have said to make him see my point of view, and then I realized his breathing had slowed down and that he was asleep.
I slid out of bed and took my dressing gown from its hook. At the door I paused. Joe didn’t move; his breathing didn’t alter. I pulled the door closed and went downstairs to get a glass of water.
Once Joe got hold of an idea, he found it hard to let it go. Obviously he’d guessed I wouldn’t want to go to Ireland to live, but if his brother and sister-in-law were going, then he must have thought he’d have a bigger chance of persuading me. It wasn’t Ireland that bothered me. It wasn’t as though I had an emotional connection to Chester. My friends now were mainly from university and were scattered all over the world. My mum and dad were still on the Wirral and I saw them every few weeks, but the flights to Ireland were cheap and they had just retired, so were young enough to travel.
It was work that was the problem. How could I set up a business over there? It was a completely different country! I felt a surge of anger at the thought of his suggestion. I knew, too, that I’d struggle to talk this through with him in the cold light of day.
And then I remembered the envelope. The argument forgotten now, I sat at the table and opened my bag. I took out the padded envelope and looked at the label. It was neatly typed and addressed to me, and it reminded me then of the envelope that had arrived containing the photo. Suddenly I was scared. I didn’t want to open it. I didn’t want to see what else this nutcase had sent me. But I had to. I had to know. He’d upped his game now, sending something to me at home.
My hands shook as I ripped it open. I kept hoping that it would be nothing.
When I saw what was inside, it took me a minute or two to comprehend it. It was a piece of black silk. Black silk with pink embroidered roses on it. I blinked hard. Those were my knickers. What the hell were they doing here?
There was a thud from upstairs and I leaped up from my seat. Was that Joe? I stood in the doorway, my heart pounding, then heard Rory give a little wail. I shoved the knickers into my dressing gown pocket and put the envelope back into my bag, then ran upstairs to my boy, who was wondering where I was.
THIRTY-FOUR
Thursday, August 10
THE NEXT DAY was pretty quiet. Joe seemed to find plenty of excuses to leave me alone with Rory, which suited me just fine. Rory was tired after his trip and was happy to potter around with me. We spent the morning doing some gardening and in the afternoon I took him swimming and to the park. Later we had a barbecue in the garden and invited one of his friends from nursery; they played on the lawn in a little tent, while I relaxed on the sun lounger. I felt this was as close as I was going to get to a summer holiday, and the jealousy I felt as Joe planned what he was going to do over the next few weeks with Rory was overwhelming. I felt a band tightening around my head at the thought of having this conversation with Joe again.
He hadn’t talked about going to Ireland again but had seemed pretty distant. Normally he’d be all over me after a trip away, but now he seemed cautious, as though he was tiptoeing around me. That wasn’t what I wanted, but it gave me an excuse not to confide in him about David. I didn’t know where I’d stand with that now. Ever since I’d found my underwear in the mail I’d found myself having trouble breathing whenever I thought of David.
That evening, after Rory’s friend had gone home, I was going from the garden into the house to get the bath ready for Rory, and as I walked into the hallway, I saw the shadow of someone through the colored-glass panels of the front door. The figure seemed to hesitate, and then slowly something was pushed through the door.
Without time for the thought to process, I’d collapsed onto the bottom stair. It was as though I were under water; all I could hear was the sound of my own blood thrumming through my veins. Black splodges appeared in front of my eyes and whatever I looked at seemed to be moving.
“Gemma? What is it?” Joe ran through the kitchen to the hallway where I sat. “Are you all right?”
I turned to look at him. It seemed to take hours. I couldn’t see his face properly; it was blurred. Out of focus.
“Put your head between your knees,” he said sharply. “Breathe in slowly. Come on, Gem, you can do this.” He crouched down beside me and put his hand on my shoulders.
I tried to focus, to breathe, but I had to see what had come through the door. If it was another envelope, I had to get hold of it before Joe saw it.
I pushed Joe away. “Give me some space.”
He moved back and I could see a brightly colored sheet of paper lying on the doormat. I felt weak with relief; it was just a pizza delivery leaflet.
Slowly my breathing returned to normal. Joe stood beside me, his face pale and concerned. “What is it, sweetheart? I haven’t seen you like that for years. Has this happened while I’ve been away?”
I looked up at him, feeling lonelier in that moment than I’ve ever felt. Who could help me?
“It’s okay,” I said, struggling to my feet. “I don’t know what happened. I felt a bit faint, that’s all.”
He helped me upstairs, then insisted I lie on our bed while he went back down to get Rory.
“I’ll sort his bath out,” he said. “Just lie there and try to relax. And I don’t think you should be going in to work tomorrow, either. Or not in the morning, at any rate. You need to rest. You’ve been working too hard, what with the office and cleaning the house.” He had the grace to look shamefaced at that. I knew I should have told him the truth; I knew he would normally find it funny, but I didn’t want to. I felt he was in the wrong, leaving the place a mess. If he felt guilty now, there was a chance he’d up his game a bit.
“I can’t stay off work tomorrow. Rachel’s got a couple of days off. She’s going with some friends to Amsterdam for a hen weekend and won’t be in until Monday afternoon. She’s been talking about it for months.” It showed how little Joe and I had talked lately that he didn’t know this.
“What about Lucy?”
I shook my head. “She can only do school hours. I need to be there to open and close if Rachel’s not there.”
“Couldn’t Brian do it?”
“It’s his day off tomorrow. I’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”
He sat down on the bed next to me. “I’m worried about you, Gem.” He reached out to put his arm around me, but I flinched. I don’t know why, it was automatic, and the hurt on his face was plain to see. He went out of the room, closing our bedroom door tightly. I heard him in the family bathroom, calling Rory in to him.
“I want Mummy to do it,” I heard Rory say.
I couldn’t hear Joe’s reply, but a moment later Rory shrieked with laughter. I didn’t think he was missing me.
* * *
* * *
AN HOUR AFTER Rory got into the bath, he came tumbling into my room, holding a big fluffy towel around him.
“You must be waterlogged,” I said, getting off the bed to dry him. “I’ll get your pajamas. Just wait a minute.”
As I took his pajamas from his chest of drawers, he shouted, “Can I wear your dressing gown, Mummy?”
I laughed. “Put your pajamas on first, then.” I helped him put them on, then said, “Which one do you want tonight?”
“The blue one,” he said. “The one with the flowers on.”
He climbed onto my bed and I draped my Chinese silk robe around his shoulders, just as he liked it, and he rubbed his face against the silk. I asked him which books he wanted me to read and went into his room to find them. When I took them back into my bedroom, I got on
to the bed beside him and opened one of the books. Before I could read a word, he started to laugh.
“What’s up, poppet?” asked Joe from the doorway.
Rory laughed. “Mummy’s knickers are in her pocket!”
My head shot round. “What?”
Rory held up my black silk knickers, the ones that had arrived through the post yesterday. I’d completely forgotten that I’d shoved them into my dressing gown pocket. He waved them in the air. “Look!”
I grabbed them off him and threw them into the laundry basket on the landing.
“Why were they in your pocket?” Joe’s voice was both curious and wary.
I shrugged. “I found them on the floor downstairs yesterday and put them in my pocket so I could put them in the laundry basket.”
“But there was nothing on the floor yesterday,” he said. “Everywhere was pristine.” He tried to joke. “I would have noticed a pair of knickers, believe me!”
I shrugged. “They must have fallen out of the basket when I took it downstairs.” I didn’t think I was going to be able to keep this up. “Anyway, gentlemen”—I poked Rory in his tummy—“never ask a lady about her knickers!” Rory shrieked with laughter. I could see that Joe was still looking confused, but I just said, “I’ll read to Rory now, then.”
“Okay.” He stood looking at me for a few seconds longer. I shot him a bright smile and opened Rory’s book. The door closed gently behind Joe and I heard his footsteps as he ran downstairs. I breathed a sigh of relief. What an idiot I’d been, leaving them in my pocket like that. All the time I was reading to Rory, I thought of Joe and the lies I’d told over the last few weeks.
I could hardly recognize myself.
THIRTY-FIVE
Friday, August 11
WORK WAS QUIET the next day, with just Sophie and Lucy around. Brian had taken a day’s holiday and Lucy was covering for him. Rachel was on the seven A.M. flight to Amsterdam; she’d sent Sophie a text just before the plane took off to say a big crowd of men on a stag weekend had got onto the plane, all drinking cans of beer and causing general disruption.
After lunch, when Sophie was out and Lucy was busy with a client, a call came through on Brian’s line. He had a dedicated line for rentals and I scooted across the office to pick it up.
“It’s Zoe Hodge here,” said the caller. “I’m a tenant at 50 Globe Street.”
“Oh yes,” I said, quickly checking our database. “You’re in apartment number three?”
“Yes. I’ve given in my notice and I’m leaving this weekend. Brian said he’d come round and do the inventory before I left.”
Those apartments weren’t furnished but were carpeted and came with a fully fitted kitchen. We had to check carefully when a tenant left, so that we could repair or replace anything for the next tenant. I looked up the apartment on our system; Zoe had been living there for four years. Then I looked at Brian’s diary online and saw that he’d made a note to carry out the inventory the following afternoon.
When I told Zoe this, she said, “I wondered whether it could be done today? I’d rather he did it while I was here, just in case there are any queries.”
“Just a moment,” I said. “I need to check my own diary.” I went back to my desk and checked. “I’m not free until five P.M.,” I said, “but I could come then, on my way home from work if you like.”
“That’d be great,” she said. “I’m moving my stuff all afternoon, but I’ll try to make sure I’m back then. If you’re there before me, do you want to just let yourself in and make a start on it?”
“As long as you’re all right with that. Keep your phone with you so I can contact you.”
I made a note in Brian’s diary and then in my own. When Lucy came off the phone I asked her if she and Sophie could lock up so that I could make a head start on the inventory.
“That’s where Rachel lives, isn’t it?” she said. “She’s on the ground floor.”
“Yes, Brian was asking her if she knew anyone who wanted to move into Zoe’s apartment, but she didn’t. It’s a shame she’s away. She could have come with me to do the inventory and learned how to do it.”
“You made the right choice promoting her,” said Lucy. “She’s a good worker, isn’t she? Picks things up really quickly.”
“And calm, too,” I said. We watched Sophie hurry across the road to the office. She was ten minutes late back from lunch. There was no need for us to say a word.
* * *
* * *
GLOBE STREET WAS very narrow with only residents’ parking, so I parked in a small car park off the nearby main road and walked around the corner to the apartment. At the entrance to the street there were road diggers repairing a pothole, but apart from them there was nobody else about. There were six apartments in the block, two on each floor. Zoe lived upstairs on the same side of the building as Rachel. I remembered Rachel coming back to the office with Brian after he’d shown her around; her face lit up with happiness and relief. In that afternoon she’d got herself a job and an apartment nearby, and she looked a different woman from the nervous one who’d turned up to the interview.
“Did you like it?” I’d asked.
“I love it!” she said. “I was expecting something like student accommodation, but it’s great.”
“The landlady for that building is really good,” I said. “She takes excellent care of it, but if you have any problems, you must let Brian know and he’ll get it sorted. We’re the managing agent, so everything comes through us.”
“And I can move in straightaway?”
“Yes,” said Brian. “It’s empty now. Move in whenever you like and we’ll start the tenancy from there. And if you go to work somewhere else,” he added, “then of course that won’t affect your tenancy at all, though you’ll still have to come through us if there are any problems.”
“I hope that won’t be for a while!” I said.
“Me too.”
She’d been in the apartment for several months now and seemed happy there. As far as I was aware she hadn’t complained about anything at all; I knew Brian would have told me if she had. Her living room faced the front garden and the street, and I could see she had photo frames and vases on the deep windowsill there. There were blinds at all the windows in the block, and hers were half drawn.
I stopped at the entrance to the building. There were six bells on the wall and an intercom grille next to them. I rang the bell for Zoe’s apartment, but there was no answer. I guessed she was taking her things to her new home, so I used the keys I’d brought with me and let myself in. Inside, the staircase and hallway were carpeted with a warm, thick pile carpet and the only furniture was a small table with a flowering azalea on it. The landlady paid for the shared area to be cleaned every week and I could smell polish in the air; presumably the cleaners had been in that day.
I ran upstairs to Zoe’s apartment and knocked at the door. When there was no answer, I opened it. I called, “Hello,” just in case she was in the bathroom, but there was no reply. In the living room were a couple of suitcases and a pair of bedside lamps and, apart from a few boxes in the kitchen, nothing else was left there. She’d clearly been busy all day. I moved one of the suitcases to wedge the door open, so that she wouldn’t panic if she heard someone in her apartment when she returned.
The inventory she’d signed when she moved in was on my clipboard and I searched for a pen in my bag. Just then I heard the sound of the front door downstairs opening. For a moment I heard the dull roar of the road drill outside, and then the door clicked shut and all was quiet again. I went out onto the landing and was just about to call out Zoe’s name, when I heard a man cough. I leaned forward to look through the banisters into the hallway below and froze.
A man stood outside the door to Rachel’s apartment. In his arms were several carrier bags. He put his key in the lock and pushed the
door to her apartment open.
I held my breath.
I heard him dump the bags on the floor, and then he went back to the front door and opened the mailbox with a key.
Just then a mobile phone rang downstairs, making me jump almost through the ceiling. Instinctively I scrabbled in my pocket to find my own phone and muted it.
“Hey, babe,” he said, and in that instant my head started to buzz. I took a step back from the banisters. “Everything okay?” There was silence while he listened to the caller, and then he said, “Yeah, I’ve just got home.” He laughed. “No, just going to get changed, then I’m off out.” Silence again. I couldn’t breathe. “Not sure. No, of course I won’t. I’m meeting Danny in Liverpool.” More silence, and then he said, “Hold on, just let me get in and you can tell me all about it.” He laughed and I heard him walk into her apartment. He slammed the door shut.
For a moment after he’d gone into the apartment, I stood like a fool, unable to believe what I’d heard.
Why was David in Rachel’s apartment?
PART 2
THIRTY-SIX
RACHEL
Friday, August 11
IT WAS SO good to be sitting in a bar in Amsterdam with my old friends from university that first afternoon. We’d had lunch and then it started to rain, so we’d found the nearest cocktail bar and were steadily making our way through the menu. I was a lightweight compared to them, though, and had to alternate cocktails with soft drinks so that I didn’t make a fool of myself.
I hadn’t seen the other girls in three years, since leaving university, though it was clear they’d kept in touch all that time. They all lived in London now, had gone through graduate training, and were earning more than twice my salary. I was still friends with them on Facebook and kept up with their lives there, but I used private messaging to chat to them and never posted anything about myself.
The Girl I Used to Be Page 15