Paul was growing more agitated, she realised. He was rearranging the cutlery on the table, lining up knives and forks and condiments and then checking his watch again. Finally, breathing in a tight breath, he gestured a beleaguered looking waitress over. ‘Is there any chance of actually getting served today?’ he asked her irritably. ‘We have a long journey home.’
The girl, not much older than Sophie, a student probably, looked flustered, and offered to go and hurry it up.
Five minutes later, smiling apologetically, she placed their meals in front of them.
Sophie had started ravenously on her chips when Paul plonked his knife and fork down, clinking his plate as he did. ‘Waitress,’ he called – loudly. ‘This is lukewarm, undercooked and, frankly, inedible.’
Sophie shifted uncomfortably as the now embarrassed girl retrieved his plate and scuttled back towards the kitchen.
‘Sorry about that,’ Paul said, his smile back again as he wiped his mouth on his napkin, folded it up and looked in Sophie’s direction. ‘I hope it didn’t spoil your meal.’
‘No,’ Sophie assured him. Hers had been fine. She was about to suggest he maybe should have had chips after all, but then thought better of it.
‘Good,’ he said, reaching for the hand in which she was still holding her fork and giving it a squeeze. ‘I’d hate my daughter to be disappointed on her special day out.’
Thirty-Four
JESSICA
Having had no news of Sophie all day, Jessica considered it the least she could do to help Alicia hand out leaflets that evening. It was freezing cold though. She wished she’d put her thicker coat on.
Shivering in a sudden deluge of rain, she glanced towards Alicia, and then, sensing trouble, sprang after her. Obviously despairing of people either declining to take the leaflet or else accepting it with barely a glance, Alicia had got it into her head to chase after a commuter from the rush hour train, which was possibly a bad idea.
‘You could at least have looked at it!’ Alicia yelled at the man, as Jess reached her, catching her by the arm. ‘It’s my daughter! She’s missing!’
‘Come on, sweetheart.’ Jessica urged her away. People were beginning to stare. There was no point in shouting at random strangers. That wouldn’t bring her daughter back. Jessica swallowed back a knot of guilt in her chest. It wasn’t her fault she’d gone, of course – this was Alicia’s own doing – but Jessica wished she’d warned Justin that Sophie had heard them talking. Sophie might not have wanted to discuss it, but it might have given him a chance to try and initiate a conversation with her. Justin would never get over the heartbreak if anything happened to her. Never.
Walking shakily back with her, Alicia stopped, crouching to fish the leaflet from the puddle it had landed in when the man had tossed it aside. Then she dropped her head to her knees and let out a wretched sob.
Jessica joined her, as people rushing homewards skirted around them. Taking the leaflet from her, her heart wrenched for her sister as she noticed the print had smudged, causing a black track to wend its way down Sophie’s cheek. No wonder she was upset. Whatever she’d done, Jessica wouldn’t wish this on her. ‘We’ll get some laminated posters made up,’ she suggested, slipping an arm around her and helping her to her feet. ‘I can get them done at work.’
‘Thanks, Jess.’ Alicia nodded tearfully. ‘I have no idea what I would have done without you. Gone mad, probably.’
‘Madder, you mean?’ Jessica smiled, hoping to coax Alicia into doing the same. ‘You’re soaked.’ Jessica squeezed her sister close and attempted to rub some warmth into her as they walked. ‘Let’s go and have a hot drink,’ she suggested, nodding towards a McDonald’s. ‘And then, when we’ve warmed up a bit, we’ll come back and hit the pub crowds. How does that sound?’
Tugging in a shuddery breath, Alicia nodded more determinedly.
‘That’s better,’ Jessica said, squeezing her tighter. ‘You have to hold it together, Ali, for Sophie’s sake.’
‘I know. I’m trying, but…’ Another fat tear spilling down her cheek, Alicia brushed it away. ‘I’m sorry, Jess. I just feel so bloody raw inside. So empty.’
‘You’re bound to.’ Jess sighed understandingly, leading the way into McDonald’s and steering her disorientated sister towards a seat.
‘Not here.’ Alicia stopped short. ‘Do you mind if we grab a seat at the window?’ She nodded towards the high stools and headed towards them. ‘I can watch people passing by then.’
In hopes that Sophie walked past, Jessica realised, glad that Alicia did still seem to be functioning and thinking, albeit sluggishly. She didn’t want her having a breakdown. Justin would be bound to be sympathetic – it was in his nature – but it wouldn’t do him any good.
‘I’ll go and grab us a drink. Won’t be a second,’ she said, leaving her leaflets and coat with Alicia, but taking her phone with her. Having Alicia privy to all her calls out of work hours, she’d found, was a touch awkward.
Coming back with toasted bagels and two hot chocolates, she noticed Alicia was staring vacantly into the distance. Not much people-watching going on here then.
‘I’m so relieved Justin’s keeping me updated on where he is,’ Alicia said, as Jessica deposited the tray and hitched herself up next to her.
‘He said he would, didn’t he? He’s always been dependable, Ali.’
Alicia looked immediately guilty. ‘He must absolutely hate me.’
‘He doesn’t hate you.’ Jessica reached to squeeze her hand. ‘He’s not going to recover from this easily, but I don’t think he hates you.’
Alicia didn’t look very reassured by that, but she could hardly tell her he’d forgive her and that they’d walk off into the sunset together. That was highly unlikely. The man’s whole world had collapsed around him.
‘Eat something,’ she said, pushing the bagel towards her. ‘It’ll make you feel better.’
Alicia shook her head. ‘Sorry, Jess, I really don’t have any appetite.’
‘You have to eat, Ali.’ Jess looked her over-worriedly. ‘You’ll be no use to anyone if you make yourself ill.’
Alicia gave her a small smile. ‘I will. Later.’
Jessica wasn’t convinced. ‘Have you tried to talk to him?’ she asked, wondering what explanations Alicia might have offered Justin – not that she imagined Justin would be receptive to anything she had to say, if his reaction to her attempts to apologise to him yesterday were anything to judge by.
Alicia placed the hot chocolate back down. She’d barely taken a sip. ‘There’s nothing I can say that will detract from the fact that I deceived him, Jess – horribly. I lied to him. He’s not likely to want to listen, is he?’
‘No,’ Jessica started, with a sigh, ‘but—’ She stopped as Alicia’s phone rang, causing Alicia to jump.
Scrambling to retrieve it from her bag, her face hopeful, she checked the number. ‘It’s Paul,’ she said, debating for a second and then answering it.
Jessica had guessed as much from her expression. She was only surprised Alicia was taking the call. She picked at her bagel and tried to listen without making it too obvious.
‘What do you want, Paul?’ Alicia asked him. ‘Why do you keep ringing me?’
She listened for a second. ‘But I don’t want to see you,’ she said adamantly. ‘Or talk to you. If you have anything to say, then I suggest you say it through a solicitor.’ And with that, she ended the call.
A solicitor? Oh dear, it looked as if Paul was intent on laying some claim to Sophie then. God, how dreadful. Jessica certainly hoped she was going to tell Justin about that.
Thirty-Five
SOPHIE
‘Sorry about that,’ Paul said, coming back into the lounge area, having gone to his study to make an urgent phone call. ‘Business, I’m afraid. An irate client. Clearly, he thinks I’m available even when I’m on leave. Some people never cease to amaze me.’
Shaking his head, he walked across to the drinks table,
dropping his phone on the coffee table as he went, Sophie noted.
‘Wine?’ he asked her, waving a glass in her direction.
‘No, thanks.’ Sophie smiled. ‘I think I’ve still got a hangover from last night.’
‘I doubt that. You only had two small glasses. It’s probably motion sickness from the rollercoasters. Maybe later, yes?’
‘Yeah, maybe.’ Sophie thought not. She’d thought she must have been coming down with something last night, but the wine, which she hardly ever drank, had made her feel so woozy, it had been all she could do to undress and crawl into bed. And then she’d had some really weird dreams. ‘Do you mind if I watch some TV?’ She nodded towards the telly.
‘Help yourself,’ Paul said, glugging back a red wine and topping up his glass. ‘There’s Netflix on there, if you fancy selecting us a film for later. I’m just going to take a quick shower and then how about I cook us a proper meal? You haven’t tasted anything until you’ve tasted my creamy mushroom linguini.’
‘I’m impressed,’ Sophie said, flashing him another smile as she located the remote and seated herself on the sofa. ‘I don’t know my cannelloni from my spaghetti.’
Paul looked pleased at that. ‘It’s perfect with parmesan,’ he said, pulling off his trainers, and placing them by the front door. ‘And garlic bread, of course.’
‘Can’t have pasta without garlic bread,’ Sophie concurred, watching him over her shoulder.
‘A girl after my own heart,’ Paul said, stepping away from the trainers then cocking his head to one side and surveying them. He stepped back again to arrange them just so.
‘Won’t be long,’ he said, walking between her and the TV.
He straightened the magazines on the table and the cushions as he went, Sophie noticed, knitting her brow; one cushion, in particular, required much realigning, and he then stood back and studied it as if it were a piece of art or something. He was obviously a perfectionist. She’d have to remind herself not to leave her crap all over the place, but that was no big price to pay for crashing here for a while. It was a hell of a better option than a caravan in Herefordshire, assuming Holly had been able to swing it. She doubted she would have been able to stay there for long, in any case, and her job options would have been far fewer than in Brum. Here would do nicely, until she could find a place of her own, and if her mum didn’t like it, that was tough after treating her with nil respect. It would certainly show her that she was perfectly capable of managing without her or Justin, and the shit they’d dumped on her because they thought they had a right to.
‘Help yourself to anything you need,’ Paul said. ‘There’s Coke in the fridge if you don’t fancy anything stronger yet.’
‘Will do. Thanks,’ Sophie called, noting him refilling up his glass as he headed for the bedroom area. He drank a lot. Again, not a big deal. It’s not like it was whisky he was knocking back, and he was okay – good fun, bar the perfectionist thing. Sophie could live with that. She’d survived a lot worse lately.
She hadn’t asked him about the new phone. She’d thought that might be pushing her luck after all the money he’d spent on her and his offering to pay her uni fees. She was still slightly gobsmacked about that. But then, he was her father and he wouldn’t have offered unless he’d wanted to.
She eyed his phone on the coffee table, wondering whether she should maybe send her mum a text, just to let her know she was okay. On the other hand, she’d never given a stuff about her feelings, had she? Her deliberations were cut short as Paul reappeared, heading swiftly across to the table to sweep the phone up.
‘Forgot to mention something to the client who thinks I’ve got nothing better to do,’ he said, glancing despairingly up at the ceiling. ‘Work – I swear I’m thinking about it 24/7. Selected that film yet?’
‘Not yet, no,’ Sophie said, flicking through the list. ‘How about 10 Cloverfield Lane or American Psycho?’
Paul looked doubtful. ‘Aren’t they 18s?’
Sophie swung her gaze towards him. Was he serious?
‘Don’t look so alarmed, Sophie.’ He laughed, obviously noting the look. ‘I’d hardly allow you wine and then censor your TV viewing. In any case, Cloverfield Lane’s a twelve, I think.’
Sophie blew out a sigh of relief. ‘You’re bit of a Netflix geek then?’
‘I watch a lot of TV, yes,’ he said, smiling sadly. ‘I tend to have a lot of time on my hands, without the woman I love.’
Oh, shit. Raw nerve. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I imagine that’s really hard.’
‘It is.’ Drawing in a long breath, he glanced down.
‘So, which one?’ Sophie asked, guessing he didn’t want to go there.
Paul thought about it, a not very enthusiastic look on his face. ‘I don’t really like psycho stuff, to be honest,’ he said, reaching to relieve her of the control and flicking through the genres. ‘How about we compromise and watch Once Upon a Time in Venice? John Goodman stars in that, too, and Bruce Willis. It’s supposed to be pretty good.’
Sophie had quite fancied 10 Cloverfield Lane, but she could compromise. That’s what being an adult was supposed to be all about, after all. ‘Sounds good.’ She nodded, feeling pleased when his smile brightened.
‘Five minutes,’ he said, heading jauntily off to the bathroom. ‘And then I’ll get that pasta on.’
* * *
‘Food is served, Madame,’ Paul called from the dining area an hour later.
‘Cool,’ Sophie said, flicking off the TV and going to where Paul was placing the plates down. Blimey, he really did things in style, she thought, noting the fancily folded napkins and what she supposed were crystal glasses on the long chrome and glass table.
‘I feel like the Queen,’ she said, as he took the tea towel from his arm, dusted her seat with it, and then pulled the chair out for her.
‘Nothing but the best for my daughter,’ he said, tucking her in and going around to pluck up her napkin, flick it with a flourish and place it on her lap.
‘I thought an unoaked Chardonnay to complement the meal,’ he said, topping up her already half-filled glass. ‘I find the earthy flavours from mushrooms can leave mild wines tasting like water,’ he added knowledgeably, placing the bottle down and taking his seat at the other end of the table.
Sophie looked warily from her glass to him. ‘I’m not sure I should,’ she said uncertainly.
‘You can’t have creamy mushroom linguini without a good white wine,’ Paul said, nodding at her glass as he took a mouthful of his food. ‘Sip it. I promise you’ll appreciate it. Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on your intake.’
Just the one wouldn’t hurt, Sophie supposed. And now he’d poured it… Picking up the glass, she took a sip and squeezed her eyes closed as the fruity, acidy flavour hit the back of her throat. Wow, that was seriously strong.
‘Well?’ he asked, clearly interested in her view.
‘Excellent,’ Sophie said, not entirely sure whether it was. ‘It’s kind of…’ She had a think, not wishing to sound like an ignoramus. ‘Sharp and crisp, and fruity.’
‘You obviously have a nose,’ Paul said, leaving Sophie perplexed. ‘You’ll probably notice there’s no buttery vanilla taste. Some people call it the naked wine.’
Now Sophie was definitely perplexed, but he clearly knew his stuff. Obviously, he had lived the high life, which was fair enough, since he’d earned it. Plus, he’d had a shitload of tragedy on the personal front, problems even worse than hers, and he was getting on with his life. And that, Sophie decided, picking up her glass and taking a larger swig, was exactly what she intended to do. ‘Cheers,’ she said, nodding him a toast.
Paul did likewise. ‘Eat up,’ he said, indicating her meal with his fork. ‘Don’t want all the chef’s hard work going to waste, do we?’
Grabbing her fork, Sophie dug in, swirling the linguini around and taking a huge mouthful. ‘Do you think I should ring Mum?’ she asked conversationally between chews. ‘Just to let
her know I’m all right?’
‘Probably a good idea,’ Paul said, taking another sip of his wine. ‘Maybe not tonight though. Don’t want to ruin our film night, do we?’
‘No.’ Sophie slowed her chewing, knitting her brow as a realisation began to dawn.
‘I’ve spoken to her anyway. She’s fine with you being here, as long as you want to be.’
Sophie stopped chewing, grabbed up her wine, took a huge gulp and swallowed hard. It had meat in it. She’d just swallowed part of a pig. Shit. What did she do? She felt sweat prickle her forehead. She couldn’t not eat it, not after all his careful preparation.
Reaching for her glass, she took another drink, feeling definitely nauseous as she did.
‘All right, Sophie?’ Paul eyed her curiously over his glass.
‘Yes,’ Sophie said quickly, looking down at her plate, and then, seeing the small chunks of ham there, feeling dangerously close to actually being sick. ‘I, um… ’Scuse me,’ she said, scraping her chair back. ‘I feel a bit…’
Getting to her feet, Sophie turned for the bathroom, and found herself groping for the walls as the room shifted worryingly off-kilter.
‘Sophie?’ Paul was behind her, sounding alarmed.
‘Sorry,’ she mumbled, her head reeling, her stomach churning. ‘I’m not feeling very well. I…’ Trailing off, she stumbled forwards, and the walls tilted. Attempting to stay upright, the room now revolving steadily, like a merry-go-round on slow spin, Sophie tried another step, but her limbs felt heavy, sluggish.
‘Sophie!’ Paul caught her as her legs gave way like butter beneath her.
The Affair_A gripping psychological thriller with a shocking twist Page 13