Your Guilty Lies (ARC)

by Ruth Heald

  ‘And he went back to her?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I’m so sorry, Katie.’

  I expect her to say it’s all my fault, that I always make bad decisions, that I should have seen it coming.

  But she says none of this, and just holds my hand while I cry.

  When we’re asked if we want dessert, I’m not hungry, but Mum insists.

  ‘You shouldn’t live in that house by yourself, you know.’

  ‘I’ve got the twins. And Paula.’ But I know I won’t be able to stay there forever.

  I see her bristle at Paula’s name.

  ‘You could always move in with me,’ she says. ‘I’ve got two spare rooms. You could have one and the twins could have the other.’

  I look at her, surprised. I would never have thought she’d put up with the noise of the twins.

  ‘I can’t do that,’ I say quickly.

  ‘Think about it,’ she replies. ‘It doesn’t have to be for long. Just until you get back on your feet.’

  ‘I’ll think about it,’ I say.

  She nods. ‘And if you fancy getting away, Melissa and I are renting a cottage in the south of France at the end of the month. For a holiday. You could come with the twins. Get away from everything for a bit. I’d pay, of course. Graham’s not coming, so it would just be the three of us and the twins.’

  I imagine going on holiday with her and Melissa, having a break from the routine, from all this heartbreak. ‘That would be lovely,’ I say.

  Thirty-Four

  It’s two weeks before I manage to get a viewing of Paula’s friend Caroline’s flat. I feel a buzz of excitement as I get off the final bus after two hours of travelling. The flat sounds perfect. I can’t wait to sign a contract for a new place to live, so I can get settled into my new life, just me and the girls. I haven’t seen anything else that’s suitable, so I have high hopes for this flat.

  I’ve dressed in my smock dress, with navy high heels and matching earrings. Paula’s told Caroline all about my situation, but I still want to make sure I come across well. So many landlords aren’t keen to rent to me when I tell them I’m a single mother with baby twins.

  I arrive at the address, take a deep breath and press the buzzer for the flat.

  No answer. I wait a minute and look at my phone at the details Paula’s texted me. It’s definitely the right address.

  I press the buzzer again.

  No answer.

  I ring the number I have for Caroline, but she doesn’t pick up. I try Paula, but she doesn’t answer either.

  I hover around the doorway for ten minutes, but no one goes in or comes out. I try them both again. No answer.

  I walk round the block a few more times, sussing out the local area. It feels safe and welcoming. Just the kind of place where I could bring up the twins. After ten minutes I come back and try the buzzer again. Perhaps it’s broken.

  I try ringing the flat next door, but they won’t let me in without knowing who I am.

  I look at my watch. If I don’t leave now, I’ll miss the twins’ feed.

  I try calling one final time, then kick at the ground and head back home.

  * * *

  By the time I get back home, I’m tired and frustrated, angry with the Tube delays, and that I’ve wasted a whole afternoon.

  ‘Hi,’ Paula says as I come through the door. ‘How did it go?’

  ‘Why didn’t you pick up your phone?’ I ask angrily. ‘I’ve been trying to call you. Caroline wasn’t even there.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I was busy with the twins. They’ve been very fractious this afternoon. Did you ring Caroline?’

  ‘She didn’t answer,’ I say accusingly. ‘But why wasn’t she at the flat? I thought you arranged the time with her.’

  ‘Maybe she popped out,’ Paula says vaguely.

  ‘I travelled halfway across London to get there.’

  ‘Well, that’s not my fault. She said she’d be there. Are you sure you have the right phone number for her?’ Paula goes into the kitchen and I follow her. She picks up a Post-it note from the island in the centre of the kitchen, a number written neatly on it. ‘Here it is.’

  I pick up the note and cross-check the number with my phone. The final digit is different.

  I clench my fist in frustration. ‘I can’t believe it. I was ringing the wrong number. I’ll never find somewhere to live.’

  ‘You only think of yourself, Katie.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I mean, I’ve done you a favour. And you’ve come home angry with me for not picking up my phone. When I was looking after your twins. For free.’

  ‘I’m sorry—’

  ‘I’ve found you a flat, I told Caroline you’d be a great tenant. You only had to go and meet her. But you couldn’t even be bothered to note down her number right. And you come back blaming me for her not being there.’

  ‘I am grateful, Paula… I’m sorry if it didn’t seem that way. I was just disappointed not to see the flat. You know I’ve been going through a tough time.’

  ‘I do know that. I know every single detail about that.’

  ‘Oh, I—’

  ‘You never ask about me. Never think about me. Never ask how I might be feeling.’ She folds a dish towel over and over in her hands.

  I realise she’s right. I hardly know the first thing about her, her life or her background.

  ‘I’ve been a bit self-obsessed lately. I’m sorry. What’s wrong?’

  ‘What do you think’s wrong? You’re moving out! I’m losing my job.’

  ‘But Paula, I’m not even paying you. I’ve appreciated you staying with me, I’ve needed your help. But I can cope on my own now. And I’m moving out myself. I’ll be in a tiny flat. There won’t be any space…’

  ‘You’re taking away my home.’

  I feel baffled. ‘You want to stay here? You don’t want to go home?’

  For the first time, I wonder where she was living before. How bad it must have been for her to spend so much time hanging around at the coffee shop over the road.

  ‘Yes, I wanted to stay here,’ she says. ‘I love this house. It’s beautiful.’

  ‘But it’s being sold. We both have to move.’

  ‘I don’t think you realise the sacrifices I’ve made for you.’ She sounds just like Mum used to when she talked about paying towards music college. Her voice is bitter.

  ‘I do, Paula. You’ve done so much for me.’

  ‘I gave up my home for you.’

  ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘You heard me. I gave up my home. When I started working for bed and board, I couldn’t afford to stay at my old place. So I gave it up. To look after you.’

  ‘You did?’ I don’t understand. Why would she do that? She knew I wouldn’t need her forever. And she was the one who suggested working in exchange for bed and board.

  ‘Yes, I did. Because I cared about you, Katie. Because I wanted to help you. And now you throw it all back in my face. Make me homeless.’

  ‘You don’t have anywhere to go?’

  ‘No. And I’ve seen the flats you’ve been looking at. They’re all one-bedroom. You didn’t even think of taking me with you, did you? And you have the audacity to ask me to help you look for a place. Well, I’m busy, you know. Looking for my own place. Because of you.’

  ‘I’m so sorry, I had no idea.’ But what she’s saying makes no sense. Why would she have given up her own place to move here with me?

  ‘You never have any idea. Because you never think of me. You just sprung it on me one day. Like you did before. When Ian came back. You just expect me to move out at a moment’s notice. Whenever’s convenient for you. Whenever you find a place to live. You don’t care about me at all. All I am to you is a shoulder to cry on, a mother figure, because your own mother doesn’t love you enough, because you’re so supremely selfish. Look at you, Katie. Look at your life. Ian’s left you. No one wants to help you. But I’ve stayed here. I’ve
put up with all your selfishness, listened to you sniffling about your slightly less-than-perfect childhood. I’ve done everything for you. And this is how you repay me.’

  * * *

  I’m shaking when I get upstairs to my room. I pace up and down, scratching at the scar on my arm. I can’t believe Paula doesn’t have anywhere else to go. I realise I know nothing about her. I never asked for references. Never looked up her qualifications. I trusted her from day one. As soon as she helped me with labour there was a bond between us, like she was family. I thought she only wanted to help me, but now I’m not so sure. It feels like she wanted somewhere to live more than she wanted to help me out. And she’s capitalised on my trust, made me feel like I owe her. I don’t know how I’ll ever get away from her.

  I remember how distrustful Ian was of Paula when he got back. Maybe he was right. Mum never liked her either, but I just thought she was jealous. Maybe they could all see something I couldn’t, because I was so indebted to Paula, so dependent on her, that I didn’t want to see it.

  I remember how Ian insisted on getting references from her once he returned to the house to live with me. I know he planned to follow them up, but I’m not sure he ever did. He wasn’t at the house long enough. I found the unpaid bills so soon after he came back. The day I asked Paula to leave.

  I stop stock-still, thinking back. Paula was living with us in return for bed and board. And she’d made it very clear she didn’t want to leave. I’d told her she couldn’t stay now Ian was back. I’d gone out, and when I got back the unpaid bills were sitting on the table, as if they were waiting for me. Would Ian really have left them out, knowing how angry I’d be? Or was it Paula who put the bills out for me to see? Did she engineer Ian leaving?

  * * *

  I ring Ian, heart thumping.

  ‘Katie – good to hear from you.’

  ‘Ian.’

  ‘I hope it was OK that Sabrina helped me with the twins the other day?’

  I’d almost forgotten about that. ‘Of course it wasn’t.’

  ‘She insisted. She always wanted children of her own, but it never happened for her. She loves children.’

  I frown. I know she hates me. I don’t want her in charge of my children.

  ‘I’d prefer you to look after them on your own.’

  ‘Absolutely,’ Ian says. ‘I’ll speak to her. But remember, she wants to charge you rent. At the moment I’ve persuaded her not to. But I wouldn’t recommend getting on the wrong side of her. She can be vicious.’

  ‘I guess you would know. You’ve cheated on her enough times to find out.’

  Ian says nothing.

  ‘Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I’m looking for somewhere else to live. I didn’t call you about that. It’s over between us.’

  ‘Then what did you call about?’

  ‘I think you might have been right about Paula. I’m not sure if I can trust her.’

  ‘There’s always been something odd about her. I said that from the beginning.’

  ‘I thought you just didn’t like her.’

  ‘She behaved so strangely, working for free, putting pictures of herself up around the house…’

  ‘Yeah, I suppose so.’ I ignored all the signs, too exhausted from looking after the twins and too distracted by Ian’s lies to care about her odd behaviour.

  ‘Did you ever call up her references?’ I ask.

  ‘No, I didn’t get round to it before I left.’

  ‘Can you give me their numbers?’

  ‘Sure, I’ll send them over to you. Are you going to ring them?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘But why? Surely she’s leaving now you’re moving out?’

  ‘She’s supposed to be. But it’s proving difficult.’

  ‘Let me know if I can do anything to help. I can’t stand her. I’d happily get rid of her for you.’

  I ask him the question that’s been bugging me.

  ‘Ian, that day I chucked you out, when I found out you hadn’t been paying the mortgage – did you leave the unpaid bills on the kitchen table?’

  ‘No. I hadn’t even really looked at them. I’d just shoved all the post to the house in a drawer. I knew I couldn’t pay them. I was going to speak to Sabrina about them, ask her to pay. But I didn’t want her to discover that I didn’t have a tenant and that you were living there instead. I was still working out what to do.’

  I imagine him thinking of Sabrina when we first moved in together, and I feel anger rising in me. But I swallow it. I need to get to the bottom of this. ‘So you didn’t leave them out?’

  ‘No, of course not.’

  ‘Do you think Paula could have planted them?’

  ‘Umm… I didn’t leave them there, so I suppose she could have,’ Ian says slowly. ‘But why?’

  ‘She knew that if you stayed living there, she’d have to leave. And she didn’t want to. Remember how badly she reacted when we asked her to move out? She locked herself in her room.’

  ‘I remember. She was furious.’

  ‘And now she’s saying she can’t move out because she hasn’t got anywhere to go. That she’s given up everything for me.’

  ‘Doesn’t she have her own place to go back to?’

  ‘Apparently not. I think she planted those bills so you’d move out and she could stay.’

  Ian pauses. ‘I never trusted her.’

  ‘I know you didn’t. That’s one thing you might have been right on.’ I feel tense. For reasons I don’t understand, Paula has completely embedded herself in my life, in my twins’ lives. A shiver runs up my spine. I have to get away from her.

  17

  My sister is out with Dad. I don’t know where or why, but I miss her terribly. We’ve always done everything together. From the moment we were born, we were inseparable. We didn’t need anyone except each other. We knew we’d always be there for each other, always protect each other. But not anymore. My sister hates me now. Dad’s turned her against me.

  ‘Come with me,’ Mum says gently. ‘Let’s listen to the piano. It always makes you feel better.’ I follow her slowly, dragging my feet. When we get to the music room I sit on the rug on the floor, while she perches on the piano stool.

  I sit miserably on the floor while my mother plays, her fingers dancing over the keys. Usually it would calm me, but today nothing can make me happy. I remember when we were down in the basement and she was up here, playing on her own. She must have known we were down there. We’re down there more and more often these days. But she’s never come down to get us. She lets Dad do whatever he likes to us. She can’t love us. Not really.

  I hear the front door open. Dad must be back. Mum doesn’t even glance up, she’s so lost in the music. Dad marches in, and I scoot into the corner away from him.

  ‘What are you doing? Why isn’t the dinner on?’

  My mother looks up from her trance, just as he slams the lid of the piano on her fingers with all his might.

  Mum screams and my eyes widen in horror.

  But the most haunting sound isn’t her agony. It’s my sister’s laughter.

  Thirty-Five

  Ian sends the email with the references as soon as we get off the phone. When Paula goes upstairs to put the twins down for a nap, I go to the far side of the kitchen, out of earshot of the bedroom and go through them. There are four families listed, four telephone numbers. I ring the numbers one by one. None of them pick up. I leave messages asking them to call me back, and then put down my phone, feeling deflated.

  I don’t sleep that night. I feel uncomfortable with the twins sleeping in the same room as Paula. I should have confronted her about the bills she planted, told her to get out of my life. But I know in reality she won’t leave. And making her angry will make things a thousand times worse. It’s best to just try and stay out of her way.

  Every hour I go and stand outside the door, wanting to be close to my girls, checking they aren’t screaming. Paula’s told me they sleep through the night now
. She never brings them in to me to breastfeed until the morning. I’d thought I was lucky that my babies were exceptionally well-trained, sleeping through when they’re so young, all thanks to Paula. But now I’m not so sure. I’m worried that she’s giving something to them to make them sleep. I remember overhearing her giving them ‘medicine’, how they were both fast asleep straight after.

  The next morning, I keep checking my phone, but none of the families that Paula gave as references have called me back. It’s been less than fourteen hours since I called them, and I know I shouldn’t feel anxious, but I can’t help the nerves festering in the pit of my stomach. I tell myself that it won’t be a priority for them to give me a reference. They’ll have busy lives and better things to do. But I still can’t shake my anxiety.

  * * *

  Melissa’s coming round this afternoon, and I’m feeling apprehensive. I hope she’ll apologise for everything she said about Dad when she was drunk, that she’ll tell me she was exaggerating. I’ve tried to put what she said about him to the back of my mind, but it’s been eating away at me.

  We’re supposed to be planning our holiday to France with Mum. I can’t wait to get away with the twins, away from the house and away from Paula. The more I think about it, the more convinced I am that she planted the bills. I have no idea what she wants from me, or what she’s got against Ian.

  The doorbell rings and I jump. I make us drinks and then we sit in the living room together, Melissa cuddling Alice and me cradling Frances. Melissa seems nervous as she coos at Alice.

  ‘How’s Graham?’ I ask.

  ‘Just about coping,’ she replies. ‘He didn’t see the split coming at all. I feel so guilty.’

  ‘You’ve told him then?’

  ‘Yeah. Yesterday. I told him I’m moving out when I get back from holiday.’

  ‘Where to?’

  ‘In with Mum.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yeah. I’ve told her what’s going on. I thought she’d be angry that I was throwing away my marriage, but she understands.’ I nod. She was understanding about Ian too.