by Isabel Wolff
‘But people who make threats the whole time tend not to carry them out.’
‘That may be so, but I don’t want to rile her.’
I put on my scarf. ‘But you don’t mind riling me. And I feel sorry for Jessica, being told to keep quiet like that. It’s not right, Luke.’
‘She’s already used to it, I’m afraid. The children of separated parents learn to be discreet—she never ever mentions Steve. But because you were on the TV I thought she might say something, and it’s best at this stage if Magda doesn’t know.’
‘I see,’ I said. I opened the door and a gust of frigid air chilled my face. I looked at him. ‘I hate the way you kowtow to her, as though she were some effing…deity.’
‘That’s because you don’t understand how difficult my situation is.’
‘I do,’ I said. It was so cold, my breath was billowing out in little puffs, like cigarette smoke.
He shook his head. ‘You don’t. Until you’ve had kids of your own, you can’t truly understand the nature of the attachment…’
‘I suppose that must be true,’ I said quietly.
‘It’s all-consuming.’ He clapped his left hand to his chest. ‘You’re joined to them, here, at the heart. And if you’re separated from them you feel so…anguished. Every day I live with the chronic fear that I will see Jessica much less, or that her mother will brainwash her into hating me, or that she might even take her abroad.’
I turned up my collar. ‘Could she do that?’
‘In certain circumstances, yes. She keeps saying that Steve wants to go and live in France and that if he asked her to go with him, she would. She also says that if it doesn’t work out with him she might go back to Hungary. So in order for those things not to happen, I walk this tightrope with Magda. It gives me emotional vertigo, but I have to do it in order to be with Jessica as much as I can—not just for me, but for her. Children need their fathers, Laura.’
‘Yes, of course, but—’
‘When Jessica’s here, I hardly sleep. Do you know why? Because when I’ve put her to bed, and tucked her up, and read her a story, then I sit next to her on a chair, and I stay there for hours, just sitting there, watching her sleeping, because I don’t want to miss even that. I don’t want to miss a single second of the time that I have with her.’ His eyes were shining with tears. ‘When Magda left me, she didn’t just leave me—she took away my child—she took away my family. So please don’t criticize me, Laura—please just try and understand. And if you can’t, then perhaps we shouldn’t be together.’
I felt myself panic.
‘I do understand. I do…’ My voice was thin and high. ‘Maybe more than you think. But understanding is different from feeling.’
Luke blinked back his tears. ‘I know. I know it is, and I’m sorry, Laura.’ He reached for my hand. ‘I’m sorry my life’s not nice and simple like it was when we knew each other before—just you and me with no-one else to consider—but I couldn’t wish it any other way, because of Jess. But please bear with me.’ He pulled me to him, and wrapped his arms around me. ‘I love you Laura,’ he whispered. ‘I don’t want to lose you and I promise that it won’t always be like this. I promise you that everything will change. Over time.’
EIGHT
The next day most of the tabloids had photos of Luke’s quiz triumph, with typically inane captions. LUKE WHO’S WON! announced the Daily Post on page 9 beneath his smiling photo. QUICK’S MARRIED LOVER WINS QUIZ! announced the News. It knew about Luke’s abandoned attempt to Turn the Tables during the recording. Well, we’d like to Turn the Tables too. And the question WE’D like to ask Laura is—why did your husband go missing? I felt sick. Charity supremo Nick Little disappeared three years ago, but tragic TV Laura is being comforted by old flame, contemporary art dealer Luke North. However, North remains married to his wife of nine years, Hungarian interpreter, Magda de Laszlo…See pages 7, 8 and 15.
‘This is horrible,’ I said to Tom as I read the piece again. We were in the tiny, windowless edit suite at the back of the building. He was editing yesterday’s show. He used to be a film editor so he prefers to do the first offline cut himself. Sara usually does it with him, but she’d gone early for Easter. I watched myself hop-scotch across the screen, in a series of freeze frames. As he did the mixing, I sounded like the Voice of the Mysterons one moment, then the next moment like Minnie Mouse.
‘Triton is the l-a-r-g-e-s-t ofwhichplanet’s m-o-o-n-s…? N—e-p-t-u-n-e…i-s- c-o-r-r-e-c-t. Neptuneiscorrect…is correct, is correct, is correct.’
‘I am not being “comforted”—nudge nudge—by Luke. I’m going out with him. And how dare they say that Luke’s still married to Magda—she left him almost a year ago.’
‘It’s because you’ve refused to talk to them,’ Tom said as he tracked back and forth, digitising the tape. He glanced at the timelines on the adjacent monitor, then tapped some numbers on to his keyboard. ‘They didn’t get their “My Heartache” story out of you so now they’re trying to imply that you’re a marriage-wrecker.’
‘Out of revenge?’
‘No—it’s just a different angle—however misconceived. They want to write about you, and they’re not going to let the fact that they couldn’t get an interview with you stand in their way.’
‘But why do they want to write about me?
Tom shrugged. ‘Because there’s this mystery in your background about Nick—and I suppose because they just…do. It’s odd, but some celebrities are completely ignored by the tabloids—however risky their behaviour—while others get a pasting day after day. Plus the News and the Post have this rivalry, so they’re like a pair of dogs fighting over a bone, and I’m afraid that, for the moment, that bone is you.’
‘Nerys was right,’ I said bleakly. ‘She said I should give them just one interview, so that they’d leave me alone.’
‘Nerys is very annoying, but she does, sometimes, just put her finger on things. The fact that you wouldn’t talk to them seems to have made them more determined.’
I read the piece again. It was like looking at myself in one of those grotesquely distorting fairground mirrors. Bile bubbled at the back of my throat. I’d been wrong in assuming that if I didn’t speak to them, they didn’t have a story.
‘Can’t I sue them? Or get them to print an apology?’
‘No—because he is still married, isn’t he?’
‘On paper. ‘
‘Then there’s no defamation. I’m sorry, Laura. It’s rough.’
‘Still, it’s all good publicity,’ I said acidly. ‘Channel Four must be thrilled.’
‘They can’t say it openly—but they are. Of course they are. They’d have to have spent a fortune to get this kind of coverage.’
‘I suppose you think it’s wonderful too?’
Tom looked offended. ‘I don’t actually.’
‘Be honest,’ I said. ‘You do.’
‘No.’
‘But you thought up the quiz so you must be pleased at the massive media exposure.’
‘Not if it’s at your expense. I hate seeing you getting so much…crap. In a small way, I know what that’s like.’ He was thinking of Tara. ‘But I’m afraid that’s—’
‘- the risk I took,’ I concluded bitterly.
‘To be honest, it is. And we discussed it at the time, and you decided that the opportunity was too good to miss.’
‘Which it was.’
‘Yes—but now you’re paying the price. I wonder if Nick has seen any of it,’ he added as he edited the sign-off into the commercial break. I looked at the paper again and at the absurd come-on in the box at the bottom of the page.
Do YOU know where TV Laura’s husband is? If so, please ring the Daily Post Hotline, in confidence, on 0800 677745. There was a mugshot of Nick, captioned Wanted! as though he was a cattle rustler.
‘I do sometimes think about that. If he’s still in the country he could easily have done; he might even have watched the quiz. But for all
I know he’s in Tasmania.’
I thought of the SudanEase slogan—A Little Goes A Long Way. Perhaps Nick had pondered that too, as he’d planned his…what? Flight from reality? He’d stepped out of his old life like a snake shedding its skin.
‘Maybe he’s in the Sudan?’ I heard Tom say.
I looked at him. ‘That’s unlikely. a) He didn’t take his passport, and b) if he had managed to get there, he’d have been spotted by one of the other aid workers and word would have got out.’
A silence descended, then Tom nodded at the photo of Luke. ‘But you’ve moved on now.’
‘I have. It’s funny, but you told me it was time I had a new relationship—and I met Luke that very afternoon. You told me to seize the day—and I did. It was only six weeks ago, but it feels like six months.’
‘So it must be going well, then—apart from this kind of garbage,’ He tapped the newspaper.
‘Hmm.’ I thought of Jessica’s snaps of Magda and Luke. ‘It’s…fine.’ I thought of her dishing up the goulash on Sundays. ‘It’s great.’
Next question…N-e-x-t-question. Nextquestionnextq-u-e-s-t-i-o-n.
‘And how’s love the second time around?’ I was surprised by this as Tom and I don’t really discuss anything personal. ‘Is it better than the first time?’
‘It’s…different, because his situation is more complex. His little girl’s lovely though. I met her last night. She’s adorable,’ I added longingly.
‘You become very fond of the children.’ Tom didn’t take his eyes off the screen while he completed the edit. There was a pause.
‘What nationality was the jeweller, Fabergé? Whatnationalitywas…was…w-a-s…’
‘In fact I’m in a similar situation myself.’
I looked at him. ‘You are?’
‘Russian…Ru-ss-ia-n…Thatiscorrect…c-o-r-r-e-c-t…’
‘My girlfriend has a little boy.’
‘Really? How old is he?’
‘Three and a half.’ I realized that that’s exactly how old Tom’s own son must be by now. ‘He’s a great little guy. I’ve only been seeing Gina since Christmas…’
‘Gina? But I thought…’ I stopped myself.
He looked at me curiously. ‘What?’
‘That—’ her name was Sam—‘you were single. I mean, you hadn’t mentioned meeting someone.’
‘Well, as I say, it’s fairly recent—but I met Gina on New Year’s Day, and Sam’s her little boy.’ Ah. ‘He’s a lovely kid. I’ve become very attached to him actually.’ Into my mind flashed the Valentine card. So it was from him—that was sweet. But how weird, I then thought, that Tom could devote himself to someone else’s child, having effectively abandoned his own.
‘And how did you meet Gina?’
‘In Ravenscourt Park. I’d been to some friends for lunch, and I was walking back when I saw this tiny boy coming towards me—I was vaguely aware of his mum in the background, pushing the stroller—and he was running along, laughing, waving this piece of tinsel, and he suddenly fell over, right in front of me. I hated seeing him cry so I helped him up; then she caught up and thanked me, and we got chatting…’ He smiled. ‘And she gave me her card.’
‘That’s romantic. And do you spend much time with Sam?’
‘Quite a bit.’ He clasped his hands behind his head. ‘Gina’s doing a part-time degree, and needs to study on Saturday mornings, so I take Sam to play on the swings. Then I read to him, or we watch CBeebies. I love my time with him; it’s the highlight of my week.’
‘Well,’ I said awkwardly. ‘That’s great.’ And then I didn’t know what else to say, because, as I say, Tom and I don’t normally discuss our private lives. Even when he was so kind to me after Nick left he didn’t ask awkward questions. He was sympathetic, but discreet—he just helped.
‘And what about Luke’s ex?’ I heard him ask casually. ‘Is it okay on that front?’ I felt my stomach muscles clench as I thought of Magda. ‘I hope you don’t mind my asking—I just can’t help…wondering.’
‘Oh. Well…Magda’s…okay. She’s…’ I was temptedto tell him the truth, but I didn’t want to let Luke down. ‘She’s…fine.‘
‘That’s lucky.’ There was an odd little silence. ‘Because it can be hell in these situations.’
‘Hm,’ I said. ‘Exactly.’ Tom glanced at me. ‘For some people,’ I added quickly. ‘And how about you?’
‘Same, really. It’s…you know…’ he shrugged. ‘Her husband’s around sometimes, but it’s…okay.’
‘Untiln-e-x-t-weekg-o-o-dbye…G-o-o-d-b-y-e…good-byegoodbyegoodbye. Goodbye.’
Tom hit the hard return. ‘Right then—so that’s us done.’ He looked at me intently and, for a moment, I thought he was about to ask me one of his ‘very serious’ questions. But he simply took the disc out of the hard drive, and labelled it. ‘So…have a good Easter, Laura.’
I picked up my bag. ‘You too. Have a great one…’
‘Got nice things planned?’
‘Oh…Yes…definitely…I’m not quite sure what—I need to talk to Luke—but, well…’ I stood up. ‘I’ll see you on Tuesday then, Tom.’
He smiled. ‘See you Tuesday.’
So Tom was also dating someone with a child and an ex. This cheered me up for some reason; the thought that he was in the same boat as me. But as I walked up Westbourne Park Road on the way to Luke’s gallery I thought again how strange it was that he’d spoken to me so openly of his affection for that little boy, when he must be aware that I knew what he’d done. That he’d had this coup de foudre as his own sister had said, which had left him estranged from his child. As I crossed Powis Square I decided that dating Gina must be an act of atonement. Suddenly my mobile rang.
‘Laura?’ It was Hope. She sounded stressed.
‘Where are you?’
‘At home. Packing for Seville. I’m in a bit of a state actually.’
‘But you’re not going till tomorrow morning.’
‘That’s not the reason! It’s because…’ There was a stifled sob. ‘I’ve just found something. Firm evidence.’
‘Oh God…What?’
‘A receipt. From Tiffany’s. It was in the jacket of the suit that Mike wore yesterday.’
My heart sank. So he’d been careless. ‘And what was it for?’
There was a teary gasp. ‘A silver bangle with a gold heart clasp. It’s for her. I know it is, it couldn’t be for anyone else…’
‘How do you know it’s not for you? He might have got it…for your birthday.’
‘But my birthday isn’t for months.‘
‘Then maybe it’s just…a present. He’s got you things from Tiffany before. Maybe he’s planning to give it to you this weekend.’
‘No.’
‘Maybe it’s for his mother, or sister.’
‘It isn’t for them. I know it’s definitely for this…woman, because—’ I heard her voice crack—‘the receipt listed an extra charge for “engraving”—and it gave details. She’s called—’ I heard another tiny sob—‘Clare.‘
‘Clare?’ I Googled my memory. No matches. I crossed over Talbot Road.
‘But I don’t know anyone called Clare—and he’s never mentioned anyone called Clare. And to think—he’s with her at this very moment!’ Of course. It was Thursday. He was ‘working late’. ‘He’s probably giving it to her right now—in more ways than one,’ she added bitterly. ‘It must be someone at work. That’s where most affairs start isn’t it—by the bloody water cooler—and there are loads of attractive women at Kleinwort Perella—and he’s a very handsome and successful man.’
‘Yes, but it’s you he loves Hope …’
‘I’m not sure any more. Oh God, Laura…’ She was weeping now. ‘I’ve got to go to Seville with him tomorrow morning and pretend that everything’s fine between us when frankly things couldn’t be worse.’
‘Don’t cry, Hope. Please don’t.’
‘I can’t help it. You’d cry if you’d just fou
nd what I have.’ I probably would. ‘I can’t eat. I can’t sleep…‘
‘If you think this is the proof you’ve been looking for, then you should speak to him about it. When he gets back just quietly tell him that you found the receipt and ask him to explain it.’
‘No!’ she screamed.
‘You might have to, Hope.’
‘I won’t confront him tonight.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because then he might stop seeing her.’
‘But…don’t you want him to?’
‘No! At least, not yet. Because the point is I want him to go and see her on Tuesday, as normal.’
‘Why?’ I asked as I turned up Ledbury Road.
‘So that you can follow him.’
I groaned.
‘Please don’t refuse me again, Laura,’ I heard Hope say. ‘You said no before because you didn’t want to give me bad news—but the point is that I already have the bad news.’ This seemed to be true. ‘I now know that Mike’s having an affair, but what I don’t know is where he meets her, or what she looks like.’
‘But why do you want to have your nose rubbed in it?’ Into my mind flashed the image of Luke with Jennifer all those years ago. I still remembered the almost physical shock.
‘I don’t want to—I just want proof. So that I can start proceedings.’
‘Look, you’re being incredibly rash. Even if Mike is doing something he shouldn’t be doing, it doesn’t have to mean it’s the end. People work these things out, Hope. They go to counselling, they try to—’
‘Laura, I know myself very well. And I know that if Mike has been unfaithful, then I wouldn’t be able to get over it.’
‘You don’t know that, Hope.’
‘I do. So on Tuesday night, when he leaves work, I want you to go after him.’
‘Oh…God.’
‘Please,’ she said. ‘Please do this for me, Laura. I’m desperate. I have to know where he’s going. Please.‘
‘Oh…oh…all right then. I don’t want to. But I will.’
‘What don’t you want to do?’ Luke asked as I arrived at the gallery. He kissed me. ‘I just heard you.’
‘Nothing. I was talking to Hope.’