by Sophie King
She took out a couple of pens and a flight boarding card. There were some handkerchiefs (he hated tissues) and receipts. He might need those for his expenses.
Harriet put them on the kitchen table and noticed the name of a smart hotel in Knightsbridge. Strange. Charlie hadn’t had to stay overnight in central London for months. She examined it more closely. The date was the night that he had left for the airport on his way to Dubai. Yet it had been an afternoon flight and he hadn’t needed to stay in London. Harriet looked again. A double room. And what was this? No. Dear God. Breakfast for two persons.
Stop! It might have been a business associate. For a few minutes, she sat at the kitchen table, staring at the receipt with its pink heading. Then she opened her husband’s briefcase and took out his mobile.
How had Bruce told her to check recent outgoing calls? That was it. She recognised most of the numbers Charlie had used: home, his mother, the office, and another that didn’t ring any bells. A number that, according to the time on the phone, Charlie had called at eleven last night when he would have been in the bathroom.
Call.
It rang four times and someone answered as she was about to switch off the phone.
‘Oui?’
It took Harriet a few seconds to register that the woman – unmistakably a woman – was French.
‘Charlie? C’est toi?’
Swiftly, Harriet cut her off. The phone rang in her hand.
The number on the screen was the one she had dialled. She switched it off, then walked leadenly up the stairs. Charlie lay in a hump under the duvet, eyes shut, snoring.
‘Charlie, wake up. Wake up.’
She shook him.
‘What is it?’ he mumbled.
‘This.’ She pushed the receipt in front of him. ‘Why do you have a receipt for a London hotel on the night you went to Dubai?’
‘For God’s sake, Harriet, is that what you woke me up for? The flight was delayed. Didn’t I tell you?’
She grabbed his wrists violently, wanting to hurt him the way she was hurting inside. ‘No, you didn’t. And what about the breakfast-for-two bit? Is that something you thought you’d told me about too?’
If he denied that, she’d tell him about the phone. But supposing she was wrong? She didn’t want him to think she’d been snooping.
‘Harriet,’ he said slowly.
No, no. Tell me it isn’t true.
She grabbed him by the lapels of his pyjamas. ‘Do you love her?’ she hissed.
He slumped back on the pillow. ‘Harriet,’ he said quietly, ‘there’s something I need to tell you.’
42
PIPPA
‘This is your very own hospital radio on a cool Saturday morning. The heatwave looks like it’s over, folks, and—’
‘Mummy!’
Pippa took off her headphones, held out her arms and hugged the girls to her.
‘You’re hurting me,’ squealed Beth.
Reluctantly she released them. ‘I can’t believe you didn’t tell me before,’ she said to Derek. They’d been over the siege when he’d come in earlier, but she was still churned up inside. If she hadn’t confiscated Lucy’s mobile earlier in the week her daughter might have raised the alarm. It was her fault. Like everything else.
‘Don’t be cross,’ he said. ‘The doctors said I shouldn’t worry you. Besides, they were fine, weren’t you, girls?’
‘We were on television,’ added Beth. ‘The boys weren’t as bad as they said. Some were quite nice. But they took everyone’s mobile and we still haven’t got them back.’
So Pippa was let off that one.
‘Then we did number games until they let us out.’
Derek smiled at her over the children’s heads. ‘I’ve got another surprise too, a nice one. Guess who’s coming to visit this morning?’
Pippa froze. Oh, God, no.
‘There she is. Over here, Susie!’
A portly, grey-haired woman in a tweed skirt and cardigan waddled in. ‘Darling, I came as soon as Derek called me.’
Pippa closed her eyes with relief. ‘Aunt Susie, you shouldn’t have.’
‘Nonsense! You ought to have told me sooner.’
‘But it’s such a long way.’
‘I might be old, dear, but I’m still in one piece. Sorry. What a thoughtless thing to say.’
‘It’s all right.’ Pippa lay back. ‘We’re still waiting. The doctor hasn’t made his rounds yet.’
‘I think that’s him now,’ said Derek quietly.
Pippa’s aunt stood up briskly. ‘Right, girls, come with me. Let’s leave Mummy and Daddy alone for a bit with the doctor, shall we?’
Pippa’s mouth was dry. So much had happened. The girls were all right, thank God, but what about her? It was like waiting for exam results, but far worse. If the lump was malignant, it could mean chemo and an uncertain future. But she wasn’t as terrified as she had been at the beginning of the week when all the fears had been in her head. Now that it was happening she had the strength to deal with it. Not like poor Derek, who needed her to reassure him. But how long could she go on deceiving him?
The doctor was standing by the screen, clipboard in hand. ‘Mrs Hallet? Mr Hallet? I’m Dr Robson. We’ve got the results.’
KITTY
‘And it’s Lunchtime Requests from Classic FM . . .’
Honestly, thought Kitty, as she toyed with her crab salad at a smart brasserie off Kensington High Street just after 1 p.m., why couldn’t someone take her to a restaurant with live music? On the other hand, if she went on any more dates this week, she’d never fit into the pretty primrose suit she’d bought for the christening.
Another thing. Why was it that she kept attracting these financial types? She knew nothing about the stock market or the world debt deficit, or whatever Mark had called it. All she knew was that the Jane Norman suit had cost her most of last month’s wages so it had better be worth it.
Sneaking a look at Mark’s crisp, striped Gieves and Hawkes shirt under his navy blazer, she suspected that money wasn’t a problem for him. Keeping his promises, however, was not one of his strengths.
‘I’m really sorry about cancelling on Monday and Friday,’ he said, leaning across the table in what he probably thought was a conciliatory gesture, ‘but these meetings came up that I absolutely couldn’t miss.’
‘No problem,’ said Kitty coolly. ‘Actually, I didn’t realise you were expecting me on Friday. I thought you were going to ring, but in the event I was out anyway.’
Mark’s eyes flickered. ‘Really? Anywhere nice?’
‘Le Poiret,’ she said casually.
She could see he was dying to ask whom she had gone with but good manners prevented him. Kitty decided not to put him out of his misery. Nor would she refer to her experience on Friday: he had probably read about it in the paper but, like Duncan, had not made the connection. Kitty wanted to put it out of her mind. During the night she had woken several times in a cold sweat, in her horrible stark flat, panicking about what might have happened if they hadn’t been released.
‘So tell me,’ she said artfully, ‘how exactly does the stock market work? I’ve never really understood it.’
She could see from the expression on his face that she had said exactly the right thing. Mark loved explaining things, and while he was doing so, Kitty could sit back and work out her next move.
‘Fascinating,’ she said, when he had finished and the waiter was hovering.
Mark beamed. ‘You make a charming audience.’ His large hairy hand crossed the table and settled on hers. ‘Actually, I was wondering what you were doing tomorrow.’
Kitty felt her heart flutter. ‘I’m going to a christening. I’m rather looking forward to it as I’m the godmother.’ She looked at him calculatingly. ‘What are you doing?’
Mark looked hopeful. ‘Nothing, as it happens.’
Kitty leaned forwards. ‘Actually, there was something I was going to ask you . . .’
&n
bsp; HARRIET
‘And now for Saturday Live.’
‘Hang on, I’ve just got to turn down the radio. So what was it again?’
‘A benign reactive lymph node. Definitely not malignant.’ Pippa’s voice was light with relief down the phone. ‘But Derek’s fussing around me as though I was actually ill. I’ve got to have regular checks, though. Apparently there are a few other so-called cysts and nodules they want to watch. Anyway, how’s Charlie? Are you getting used to having a man about the house again?’
‘We’re going to separate.’ Harriet’s voice was flat. ‘Charlie’s been seeing someone else for nearly a year. She’s French. He says he met her through work but I don’t know what to believe any more. In some ways it’s a relief because it explains why he’s been so cold and distant all these months. I thought it was something I was doing.’
‘Bastard.’ Pippa sounded refreshingly angry.
‘The worst bit is that he loves her. I can’t fight that. I want to feel angry but I’m too hurt. All those lies he must have told. All those nights when I thought he was working late.’
‘Please don’t cry. Not when I can’t hug you. How did you find out?’
‘A hotel receipt. For a London hotel on the night he was meant to have flown out to Dubai. Probably their little farewell.’
‘Does she have children?’
‘No. Nor a husband.’ Harriet laughed. ‘So I’m the only obstacle. I feel like ringing her up and telling her she’s destroyed my life.’
‘Why don’t you?’
‘Because I’m scared of her. And it should be her who’s scared of me.’
‘Bitch.’
‘I know, and for some reason I blame her, not Charlie. I almost feel sorry for him. He’s stopped being hard and says he’s just relieved it’s out in the open. It’s as though my old Charlie’s back but now he’s going again.’
‘Have you told the children?’ Pippa’s sympathy made her feel worse. Neither of them could pretend now that it might be ‘all right’.
‘Yes. Sort of. Sorry, hang on a minute.’ Harriet took a deep breath to ease the pressure at the top of her chest. ‘We’ve said Daddy’s office is moving so he’s going to live away during the week and come to see them at weekends.’
‘Is he moving in with her?’
‘I suppose so. He says I can stay here until we’ve got it sorted.’
‘Big of him. You need to see a solicitor, Harry, fast. Take the receipt with you.’
‘I will. Next week. I need time to get used to it. It’s so sudden.’
‘Is it?’ Pippa sounded kind but persistent. ‘Haven’t you suspected, deep down? . . . Harry? Are you there?’
‘Yes.’
‘I don’t want to be harsh, darling, but at least you know where you are now. You’ve managed without him for two months or more. You can do it, Harry. We’ll be here to help you. Shall I come over?’
‘No. You’ve got to rest.’
‘Actually, I’d like to. There’s something I’ve got to tell you.
I know it’s selfish on top of Charlie but there’s no one else who’d understand.’
Harriet blew her nose again. ‘Tomorrow? About ten? We’re going down to Mum’s later. We were just going to go for the day but now I’ve asked if we can stay longer. I haven’t told her why.’
‘Will she understand?’
‘I don’t know.’ If she didn’t end this conversation now, she’d crumble. ‘Must go, now. See you tomorrow.’
NICK
‘And now, over to Graham Norton . . .’
Juliana pouted at him from the pages of the glossy supplement that came with a Saturday newspaper Nick didn’t normally buy. She was crossing her legs, exactly as she used to, in a tasteful red dress. How do I look, darling? Do you think they’ll like me?
‘What do you think?’ Julie was hanging over his shoulder, watching his every expression. ‘Do you like the pictures?’
Nick was silent, trying to find the right words. It was easier to let the kitchen radio do the talking in the background while he got his head round this.
‘Dad, say something.’
‘You look fabulous. Just like she did.’
Julie’s face broke into a beautiful smile. She’d had her eyebrows plucked, Nick noticed.
‘Then you don’t mind? The agency wants me to do more.
I won’t let it interfere with my schoolwork. Promise.’
Nick was still looking at the photographs, remembering the first time he had seen Juliana through a lens. The first time he had kissed her. The first time they had been together. ‘What does Jason think?’
‘He’s all for it. I told you. He’s behind me. You’ve got to change your mind about him, Dad.’
‘Sure he’s clean?’
‘Absolutely.’
He held his daughter close. ‘But it can lead to other things. You’ve got to listen to your old dad sometimes. I only want you to be happy.’
‘I know, I know. Well, this is what makes me happy. And it helps.’
Nick swallowed. ‘I thought we ought to go through Mum’s things today. It’s time, don’t you think?’
During their sessions, Amber had expressed surprise that he hadn’t done this already but he hadn’t been able to face Juliana’s dresses, each one smelling and dancing of her. ‘It might help you and Julie come to terms with what happened,’ she had suggested.
‘I’d like that,’ said Julie, slowly.
‘Really?’
‘Yeah.’ Julie was looking at her pictures again, critically.
‘I’m not as thin as Mum was, am I?’
No.
‘I’m glad, actually,’ she continued, without waiting for an answer. ‘She was too thin, don’t you think?’
‘Yes.’ Nick nodded. ‘Yes, I do.’
‘Is that what killed her? As well as the cancer?’
He could hardly breathe. ‘Partly.’
Julie put an arm round him. ‘I’m never going to be like that, Dad, don’t worry.’
‘But you don’t get it, Julie. The agency people might influence you like they did her – like we all did. It’s a shallow world, modelling.’
‘But I’m not going to let them change me.’ Julie spoke with clear conviction. ‘And if they try, I’m out. I’m nearly eighteen now. You’ve got to let me grow up. I’ve said I’m mature enough to accept you seeing other women, haven’t I? Well, it works both ways.’ She gave him a hug, a real bear hug like she used to when she was little. Nick’s throat swelled. ‘You have to trust me. I’ll be sensible.’
She was right. And if he didn’t tell her the truth now, he never would. He clutched the back of the sofa for support. ‘It wasn’t just the anorexia and it wasn’t cancer,’ he muttered.
‘What?’ Her beautiful eyes widened in alarm.
God, what had he started? ‘Julie, I’m sorry. She ended it all with pills.’
‘Not an overdose?’
He moved towards her. ‘I’m sorry. So sorry. And it was all my fault . . .’
43
EVIE
Ring, Ring.
For a moment Evie thought it was the radio alarm, then realised it was the doorbell. Who could it be at this hour? What was it? Seven. Ridiculous! It wasn’t even a school morning.
It rang again and she heard someone open it. The girls must have woken up early.
‘Dad! It’s Dad!’
She ran downstairs. Robin was standing in the hall, unshaven, hair slicked back, looking at her uncertainly. ‘Are you all right? I heard about the school on the news. Is everyone OK?’
‘We’re fine.’ She pulled him to her and he held her tightly. His face rubbed against hers and she could feel the stubble.
He spoke into her shoulder, voice muffled: ‘Evie, I’m sorry. But it’s all right now. I’ve got a job. In the States. We can get out there today and start again.’
She pushed him away, staring at him. ‘You went abroad? Without telling us?’
Robin looked shamefaced. ‘You’d have tried to stop me and then I’d have failed again. But I didn’t. Not this time.’
His face shone, like Jack’s when he was excited. He looked exhausted and the skin below his eyes was puffy.
‘I’ve got a fantastic job, Evie. Someone in Westport who owes me a favour. You’ll like it over there. So will the kids. We can have a new start and no one will find us.’
‘Why didn’t you leave a message?’ Evie heard herself sounding cold and calm. ‘We were terrified. We thought you’d hurt yourself or someone had hurt you.’
Robin appeared cross now. ‘I needed time to sort it out so I could come back and tell you it was settled. And I did try to ring but you didn’t pick up.’
She grabbed him by the collar, forcing him to look into her eyes. ‘Get real, Robin. You borrow God knows how much money from your old firm to do something that I don’t know about—’
‘It was to pay for that skiiing holiday for the kids,’ he said.
‘And the rest?’
‘I gave it to Rachel. For the girls again. She said she was skint and didn’t want to ask Chris. Then I borrowed a bit more to invest. Someone gave me this tip.’ His face fell. ‘But it didn’t pay off.’
Evie could have shaken him. ‘You always know someone who owes you a favour but it never turns out as it should, does it? So then you try to pay the money back by borrowing from a loan shark charging the most ridiculous amount of interest.’
Robin’s brow darkened. ‘How do you know all this?’
‘Because you’re not very organised, are you? You’d left all the paperwork in the back of your car.’
He scowled. ‘It was the safest place I could think of. Well, since we’re having some home truths here, Evie, let me tell you a few.’ His eyes glistened with anger. ‘You’ve made me feel totally inadequate. There you are, with your fantastic job, telling me I mustn’t spend so much money in the supermarket or that I ought to do this and that with Jack. Then you criticise the girls, and when I try to talk to you about all this, you’re always in some bloody meeting. No wonder I needed space.’