The Girl I Used to Be

by Mary Torjussen

Then I had a flash of inspiration and sent him another message:

  There was a mouse in the kitchen and I couldn’t stand the thought of sleeping at home. Why do you think I had to clean up the house? I’m on my way now.

  I started the car feeling dreadful. How many more lies was I going to have to tell him? And how on earth would I have got rid of the mouse?

  * * *

  * * *

  JOE WAS WAITING for me when I got in. He looked so guilty that I felt even worse. He came over to me and hugged me. I put my head on his shoulder, glad for the comfort but feeling terrible that I’d got it under false pretenses.

  “I’m so sorry,” he said. “I know how you feel about mice. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “There was nothing you could do about it from Ireland,” I said, hating myself for making him feel so bad. “At the time I couldn’t even speak about it without getting hysterical.” I’ve always been like that about mice; Caitlin and I had had them in one of our student houses and I’d had to go home to my parents’ until some of the braver students had sorted them out. “I meant to tell you when you came home, but then I didn’t want to tell you when Rory was there. By the time he’d gone to sleep, I didn’t want to think about it.”

  I’d no idea that I could be so convincing.

  “I thought the worst,” he said, his mouth against my hair. “I remembered your knickers in your dressing gown pocket, and I thought you’d been seeing someone else.”

  I knew that in the past I would have laughed at that suggestion. The idea of me having an affair would have been outlandish. I tried to laugh now and hoped it didn’t sound forced. “There’s nothing to worry about.”

  I wanted to say, I wouldn’t do that to you, but maybe I had already. How could I know? The more I thought about that night, the less I knew.

  “So where was the mouse?” he asked. “And how did you get rid of it?” He paused. “You did get rid of it, didn’t you?”

  “I got Neil to come round.” Neil was one of the handymen we used for the tenancies. “He sorted it out. Don’t ask me any more than that; all I know is it’s gone. He put poison down, too, but that’s under the floorboards; there’s no need to worry about Rory finding it.”

  “So that’s why you cleaned the house? Oh God, Gemma, I’m so sorry. I know it was a mess.”

  I did feel guilty about that, but you know what, it was his fault it was a mess. He and Rory lived like teenage boys; they had great fun but the house was always untidy.

  “Forget it,” I said. “It was nice to be in a hotel.”

  “You’re going to get used to that,” he said. “That’s twice in a couple of months you’ve stayed in a hotel.”

  My cheeks flamed and he laughed. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. You deserve a break. You work far too hard.”

  I just couldn’t help it. “But, Joe, what’s the alternative?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I have to work hard,” I said. “I don’t have a choice, do I? I can’t afford to pay for staff when I could do the job myself.”

  He moved away, going over to the sink to fill the kettle. “We agreed to do this,” he said. “When you got pregnant we knew we couldn’t both work. And you wanted to keep the agency going. That was important to you, remember?”

  I couldn’t speak. I knew that was what I’d said, but it was nearly four years ago, before Rory was born. How was I meant to know how I’d feel years later? And I looked over at Joe; he was calmly making tea and he seemed so reasonable. It was as though I was at fault, as though I couldn’t keep a promise. Tears filled my eyes. I knew I wouldn’t say anything more. I never did stand up to him. Not really. I’d shout sometimes and I’d get upset, but I never seemed able to sit down with Joe and talk about things honestly. Even now, I could feel myself backing off.

  I muttered that I was going to fetch Rory and left the house. Rory was with Sam, a boy from nursery who lived nearby, and the walk there and the chat with Sam’s mother helped me calm down.

  Back home I changed into shorts and a T-shirt and we sat out on the patio to eat the dinner that Joe had made for us. Rory told me again all about Ireland and the lovely meals that Nanny had cooked for him and about the adventures he’d had with Grandad and his cousins. It sounded as though Joe had hardly seen him all week; as though he’d reverted back to his childhood self. No wonder he wants to move back there. No wonder he wants us to live with his parents. I thought of how it would be if we did that, how I’d be the only one in the house getting up to go to work every day, while Joe and his retired parents and our child had a permanent holiday.

  I had to get past this. I knew my resentment was poisoning our relationship, but I couldn’t find the courage to stand up for what I wanted.

  THIRTY-NINE

  RACHEL

  Sunday, August 13

  I KNOW I’D told the girls in the office that I was coming back on Monday morning, but I actually flew back on Sunday night. David had persuaded me to tell a white lie so that I had more time to spend with him. He didn’t have to be at work on Monday morning and he wanted me to be at home with him. I loved that about him. He always wanted us to be close, all the time.

  So I drove back from Liverpool and parked in our residents’ parking bay. I flicked on the car’s interior light and took out my makeup bag. I looked okay, just needed to touch up my lipstick. I smoothed my hair, wanting to look my best, and sprayed perfume on my throat and wrists. When I was quite sure I looked good, I jumped out of the car. As I took my cabin bag from the boot, I saw Jennifer, the woman who lived in the other ground-floor apartment, drive in. I waited for her to get out of her car and we walked toward the building together.

  “Have you been away?” she asked. “I noticed nobody was around this weekend.”

  “I’ve just come back from Amsterdam,” I said. “A hen weekend.”

  “Wow, lucky you. What about David? Was he away on the stag weekend?”

  “No, he’s been here.”

  She gave me a puzzled look. “Really? A couple of lads were outside, ringing on all the bells last night. Well, this morning. It turned out they were looking for Zoe, but she’s gone now. I didn’t want to go out to them, so I ended up knocking on your door, to see whether David would tell them to get lost.”

  “He mustn’t have heard you, otherwise he would’ve gone out to them,” I said. “What time was it?”

  “Oh, about three o’clock. Maybe nearer four. I was so annoyed; I had to be at work early today. He must be able to sleep through anything if he could sleep through that, though. I ended up shouting out of the window at them. They wanted Zoe’s new address. As if I was going to give it to them at that time of night!”

  We parted company in the hallway and I opened the door to our apartment. The apartment we lived in was pretty small, but it was a temporary arrangement. We made all sorts of plans about what we’d do when we sold my mum’s house, and sometimes I did wonder how we’d manage in a much bigger house. So much space would be wasted. David liked to be with me, to be near me always.

  My mum left the house and her money to me. Well, there wasn’t anyone else to leave it to. I was surprised she had so much, really. She certainly didn’t spend a lot when she was alive, though to be fair, she’d paid for my university fees without a question and for the year before she died, when I was looking after her, she used to tell me to use her credit card to get whatever I needed. She never bought anything for herself, though. Except alcohol. She never went out for the last few years; she had it delivered to the house after I refused to buy it for her. I think she grew afraid of running out of money as she got older, though she would’ve been good for a long time.

  David was a great help in sorting all that out for me. After she died I wasn’t fit for much, really. On the one hand there was a sense of relief that that era of my life had ended, but on the other
. . . well, she was my mum, and even if she hadn’t prioritized me, it didn’t mean the reverse was true.

  When I opened the door to the apartment, David was there, waiting for me.

  “Hey!” he said, jumping up from the sofa. “I’ve just opened some wine.” He kissed me and I could tell he’d had a head start. “Welcome back!”

  I hugged him close. It was so good to come home to someone who loved me, and such a change to come into a house where there was warmth and fun. He’d lit candles in the hearth and a bottle of white wine stood on the coffee table, wet with condensation. He poured me a glass and went into the kitchen and came back with a tray of cheese and crackers and a bunch of plump, dewy grapes.

  “Sit down, babe,” he said. “I’ve missed you. Now tell me what you’ve done all weekend.”

  We sat and chatted about Amsterdam. David had been there several times, but this was my first time. I hadn’t really been to many places, but now that my mum’s money had come through, I was determined to change that. I was going to live the life I knew she’d want for me, if only she’d been sane enough to know it.

  “You’re looking nice,” I said. “New shirt? It looks great.”

  “Yeah, I did a bit of shopping on Friday lunchtime,” he said. “Got a few new things.”

  “And you saw Danny on Friday night?” I asked. “Where did you go to?”

  He told me about the bars in Liverpool that they’d been to, bars that he and I often went to, where he had a lot of friends.

  “What about last night?” I asked. “Did you do anything?”

  “No,” he said. “I was wasted from Friday night. I drank far too much.” He grinned at me. “I was missing you! I need you to be the sober one when I go out.”

  I laughed. That was always my role, to stay a few drinks behind him so that I could get him home when he’d had too much. He wasn’t like my mum when he was drunk; where she’d just want to talk about the past, he liked to talk about the future: what we’d do, where we’d go. It was exhilarating hearing him talk about us traveling around, backpacking in Peru or bungee jumping in New Zealand. I’d never thought of doing those things before and, frankly, the thought of them scared the life out of me, but the prospect of doing them with him was exciting.

  “So you stayed in?” I asked.

  He looked up. “What?”

  “You stayed in last night? You poor thing. I’m sorry, baby,” I said. “I hate to think of you staying in at the weekend.”

  “No problem,” he said. “I was too tired to go out. I had a takeaway and got an early night.”

  I steeled myself, waiting for the body blow that I’d heard occurs when someone discovers their lover’s lies, but it didn’t happen. I realized then that I’d always known that he lied to me, that he’d probably been unfaithful, too, though this was the first time I had evidence of it.

  I took a sip of my drink. I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t ask him again, or mention what Jennifer had said. It would sound as though I didn’t trust him, and I knew that wouldn’t go down well. I thought for a second of her bumping into him and mentioning it; I just had to hope she wouldn’t.

  “But you’re right,” he said. He took the glass from my hand. “I’ve been lonely, here on my own. Why don’t you make up for it?” His eyes gleamed. “Pay the price for your weekend away with the girls.”

  I smiled and stood up. “Good idea,” I said. “I’ll just put this food away and I’ll be with you.”

  “Great,” he said. “I’ll get a quick shower.” He started to take his shirt off, walking into the bedroom leaving a trail of clothes behind him. I quickly picked them up and put them into the laundry basket.

  When I heard the shower start, I went into the bedroom. Quietly, I slid the wardrobe door open. A couple of new suits were on his side of the wardrobe. The labels were still on the cuffs: Paul Smith and Hugo Boss. Hanging next to them were several new shirts and below a couple of shoe boxes had been thrown in, as though they were nothing. They weren’t nothing, though. In his lunchtime, in just one hour, he’d casually spent thousands of pounds of my mother’s money, and there wasn’t the slightest acknowledgment from him.

  I closed the wardrobe door and went back to the living room. The tray of glasses and plates was still on the coffee table, and I picked it up and took it into the kitchen.

  On Thursday night David had put the wheelie bin out, ready for collection on Friday morning. Just before I left for Amsterdam, I’d taken the bag from the bin in the kitchen and put it into the wheelie bin, then put a fresh plastic bag into the kitchen bin.

  Now I held my breath as I pushed the bin’s swing lid. There was nothing in there. No takeaway food cartons, nothing at all. It was completely empty. Quietly I opened the back door and lifted the lid of the wheelie bin, just in case he’d put it straight out there. Sometimes I did that if the food was very spicy, though I’d never known David to do it.

  That, too, was empty.

  I locked the back door and stood against it with my heart pounding. I knew it. He hadn’t been here on Saturday night. I’d known from the moment Jennifer spoke to me that he hadn’t.

  I didn’t let myself think about where he’d been or who he’d been with.

  I couldn’t. I couldn’t afford to lose him. Not now.

  I picked up the bottle of wine and filled my glass to the brim. I drank it straight down.

  By the time David came out of the bathroom I had put on the lingerie he liked, sprayed the perfume he’d chosen for me, and put on the music he liked best.

  “Come on, sweetheart,” I said. My throat was swollen with tears I knew I couldn’t shed. “Let me make it up to you.”

  FORTY

  GEMMA

  Monday, August 14

  I FOUND IT really stressful waiting for Rachel to return to work. I knew I was going to have to talk to her, but I couldn’t think how I was going to say it and what she’d say in response. What if she denied knowing him? I had no right to go back into her place to prove he was there. And I had no evidence that David had actually done anything, apart from an e-mail that looked like spam.

  And I was worried about her, too. What had she got herself into? She was so young and she had no family to help her. If he was taking advantage of her, would she be able to cope?

  I knew that if I went to the police and this ended up in court, it was likely it would be in the newspapers. We were a small enough town that even minor events were written about as though they were global incidents. Our local newspaper certainly loved to report sexual misdemeanors; if they knew that a married businesswoman had been posing naked for her client, they’d be all over the story. And if it was in the newspapers, Joe would hear about it. I couldn’t bear the thought of that.

  Rachel arrived back at the office after lunch. Sophie was surreptitiously putting on nail varnish, blissfully unaware of the fact that the smell was giving her away. Brian was on the phone to a plumber who was due to put in a new bathroom at a student house I owned near the university, and I was at my desk, working on an expenses spreadsheet for the accountant. Everything was normal, and as I saw her standing in the doorway, a breeze slightly lifting her hair, I knew that she thought nobody knew her secret.

  She was wrong.

  Ever since I’d seen David at her home, I wondered about him and how she knew him. I’d worried about her, too. This was a man who seemed hell-bent on destroying me. As she stood there, looking so young and so happy, I thought of how she’d feel when I told her about the things he’d done to me. I swallowed. She’d be destroyed.

  Midafternoon, I received a call from Bill Campbell, one of the landlords I’d dealt with over the years. He’d bought up some apartments in a dockside block and wanted Brian to have a look at them before renting them.

  “Brian’s at an auction this afternoon,” I said. “I’ll do it for you. Is later on okay?�
��

  “Can you be there for four o’clock? Park up by the entrance and I’ll buzz you in.”

  He gave me the address and I wrote it down, repeating it after him. When I looked up from my call, I saw that Rachel and Sophie were looking at me eagerly.

  “Are you going to that new development down by the racecourse?” asked Sophie. “I walked past it last weekend. It looks amazing.”

  “Yes, Bill Campbell’s bought three apartments there. He told me about them when I saw him last week.”

  “I’d love one of those,” said Rachel. “Do you know how much they’re going for?”

  I looked at her. She looked so calm and serene, the polar opposite of me right now. In an instant, the decision was made. “I don’t know,” I said. “Why don’t you come along with me and have a look at them?”

  Sophie turned away, disappointed. She’d be even more disappointed if she realized what she was actually missing this afternoon.

  Now was my chance to talk to Rachel.

  * * *

  * * *

  BILL PULLED UP in his car ten minutes after we arrived. Rachel and I were in separate cars, so that we could make our own way home afterward, and I pretended to be on my phone so that she didn’t come over to my car. I couldn’t stop thinking that she would be going back to him and wondered what she’d say to him. And what he’d say to her.

  “Sorry,” said Bill, when we met him at the door to the apartment block. “I’m running late.”

  He tapped the code to get into the building and we exchanged pleasantries as we went into the lift and up to the fifth floor. When the doors opened he ushered us out onto a landing that had a row of doors, each leading to a self-contained apartment.

  “So, I’ve just bought these three here.” He indicated those nearest to us. “Got them at auction last week. I’m planning to rent them out for now, then see how it goes.”

  We went into the first one and he said, “You’ll be able to deal with this for me, won’t you? I want them rented as soon as possible, so can you get an advert out tomorrow? I’ve got painters coming in early next week. Nothing else needs doing; they’re in good condition as far as I can see, but let me know what you think.” He told me the price range he was looking at, but said he wanted us to check around to see if more was viable. “I can’t stop, I’ve got to get to the council offices before they shut. Can you get the keys back to me?”