by Shari Low
Running, staggering, stumbling into the kitchen, she opened the big blue diary next to the phone and searched back to where she’d written the details of this job when the first enquiry was made.
Hands sweating, they were sticking to the pages as she flicked through them, until…
There it was.
Yvonne McTay, 23 Stonebrae Street, Glasgow.
A slight chill. That was definitely in the same area as Claire’s pal Jeanna, about four miles from where she was standing now. Before she could give it any rational thought, she’d grabbed her keys and was out of the door, jumping into the white Audi Quattro that Ray had bought her for her thirtieth birthday. It wasn’t a brand new one, but she didn’t care. He’d tied a huge pink bow around it and parked it out front for the whole street to see. She’d been the talk of the town for weeks. If her mother was still alive, she knew that, like every other time she rolled up with a new car, Agnes would accuse her of getting above her station. ‘They’re just jealous of you, Den,’ Ray would tell her. ‘They can’t stand to see you so happy.’ Would a man who loved her that much be having an affair? Of course he bloody wouldn’t.
At the end of the street, she spotted Claire and Doug getting on the bus and knew immediately where they were headed. Fred’s house. Of course they thought he was the big hero, but Denise knew exactly who he was – the father who had been nothing when she was growing up, because he let his caustic wife steamroller over everyone in sight. What kind of man did that?
Shrugging off the kids’ desertion, she kept driving, not even seeing the streets, the lights, the people as she passed them. Fifteen minutes and a few wrong turns later, she reached the housing scheme and stopped to ask an old man walking his dog for directions.
A few more turns and she pulled up outside 23 Stonebrae Street. She knew she had the right house because Ray’s van was parked right outside. There was an immediate feeling of relief as she spotted the half built extension on the left hand side of the end terrace house. See! He was exactly where he should be and…
It took her a moment to realise there were no lights on in the extension. He wasn’t working in there then.
Her eyes flicked to the right, to the downstairs windows. No lights in there either.
They moved upwards. No light in the upstairs right hand window.
Left. To the final upstairs window. Curtains were closed, but there it was. A dim light, maybe a bedside lamp or perhaps a few candles.
Denise realised she was no longer breathing, her brain screaming as realisation dawned.
That had to be a bedroom. And Ray was in there.
There was no explanation that made sense. It was strange. Suspicious. Horrifying. Her lungs were sore now, making her gasp for breath.
Claire was right.
He was having an affair.
Her Ray, the love of her life, the only man she’d ever been with, was in there right now in another woman’s bedroom, in another woman’s arms.
Her first instinct was to run over there, to break down that fucking door and see the truth for herself, but she knew her legs wouldn’t carry her. Instead she sat, for seconds, minutes. Eventually, the sobbing stopped and she slipped into an almost catatonic state.
Pupils dilated, eyes fixed on some far away point, she looked like someone who knew their end was coming and wanted to stare it in the face.
She’d been there for perhaps an hour when something flickered in her peripheral vision. A downstairs light came on, then the front door opened.
Ray, in the doorway, throwing his head back and laughing. A woman, long brunette messy curls, wearing a cream dressing gown, silk, just like the one he’d bought her last Christmas.
The scream got stuck in her throat.
She watched as he took a couple of steps down the path, then stopped as if she’d said something, then he grinned, turned back, kissed her in the doorway and started walking backwards, still facing her, their hands trailing against each other until only their fingertips touched and they paused, unwilling to let each other go. Ray made the first move, leaving her smiling like someone who had just had the best time.
Like someone in love.
Why? Why would he do this? How could he touch someone else? Was she not enough for him? Was he not happy with her? Was he leaving her? Did he actually have feelings for this woman or was this just some fling, some tart he was using for sex? Worse, had she already lost him? No. She would have known. He would have said if he was leaving her. They’d had sex only last night. She was still in this. She hadn’t lost. Had she?
The searing heat of a hot poker being pressed on her heart was unbearable.
Because that’s when she knew. She had two choices.
Choice one – she could go over there, confront him, make a scene, scratch that bitch’s eyes out. Tell him to choose.
But then… what if he didn’t choose her?
He was everything, her whole world. He was the only person in this life who made her laugh, who made every day better and who truly loved her. What did she have without him? Nothing. Just two kids to take care of. Jenny and Pete would, of course, take his side, no matter what he’d done, so she’d lose them. And God knows, Fred had never been much use to her.
Or…
Choice two – she could go home, pretend tonight never happened. She could hope that this was just a fling while this one job lasted.
She briefly wondered if it had happened before, then dismissed that thought out of hand. He wouldn’t do that. He was a good man. This was a one-off mistake, no one was perfect. She could love him so much, make him so happy, that he would put an end to whatever madness this was, he’d come back to her and her alone, and she’d make sure he never felt the need to do it again.
There was absolutely no way she was giving him up, no matter how much this hurt – because nothing could be more painful than losing him.
As his van slowly passed her car, she slid down in the passenger seat so that he wouldn’t see her. Only when the van was out of sight did that bitch at the door stop waving and go back inside.
No. She wasn’t giving Ray to her.
Not in this lifetime.
She dried her eyes, started the engine and drove off in the same direction as the man she would follow to the ends of the earth.
Thirty-Two
Claire – 2019
‘It’s a bastard of a disease, that cancer,’ Val said, her voice thick with compassion. ‘Och, Jeanna love, I’m so sorry you went through that. I had no idea.’
Jeanna shrugged. ‘It’s not something I shout about,’ she revealed. ‘The treatment worked, I’ve been cancer free ever since, eight years now, and I’m just beyond grateful that it’s in the past and that we got through it. I wouldn’t have without Claire though.’
‘Of course you would have,’ Claire chided her. ‘There’s nothing you can’t handle.’
Jeanna gave her a grateful smile. ‘Anyway, it’s not something I dwell on. It happened back then, we survived and I hope beyond words that it never happens again. I really do feel lucky. I also feel like life’s too bloody short, which gets me into way too much trouble.’ She turned to Claire, ‘But my one regret is that I’ve always felt that it was taking care of me that ended things with you and Sam.’
‘No, you’re so wrong!’ Claire countered. ‘You had nothing to do with it, I promise. It was absolutely down to Sam and me and the problems we already had, but if there were any external factors, it was my grief over losing my grandad, and the fact that my parents’ lies and duplicity, what they’d done to Fred, sent me into a downward spiral. My dad had always been a lying prick. He’d cheated for years. We all knew it. Even my gran, Jenny, who thought he walked on water, knew in her heart that he was up to no good. But my mother just refused to see it.’
‘That’s right! Remember, he was shagging Yvonne McTay on our estate? That kept our whole street entertained for ages.’
Claire nodded. ‘Yep, but even when I told my mother about t
hat one she chose to ignore it. Doug and I left home that night and never went back. Moved into Fred’s house. So I’ve no idea what happened after that with the other woman.’
‘Wonder what became of her?’ Jeanna mused. ‘Last I heard, she upped sticks and moved to some fancy big house in the west end.’
‘I’ve no idea, but good luck to her. She deserved more than a big house for putting up with my scumbag dad. Anyway, what was I saying?’ Claire pondered a moment, finding it tough to put it into words. ‘With Sam and I, what it came down to was that it was just too much at one time. It was all so overwhelming that something in me broke for a while.’
She had to stop for a moment as Suze applied lipstick, before going on, ‘Sam couldn’t understand it at all, but it was like the fallout with my parents brought back every fight, every sleepless night, every moment of anger from my childhood. I got so wrapped up in my disgust with what they’d done to Fred – conning him out of the house, making money out of his death – and, on top of that, the pain of losing him was unbearable. Subconsciously, something snapped and it was easier to just shut down. It made me bitter and closed off and eventually Sam and I just couldn’t deal with it any longer. I was disappointing him constantly, hated the pressure of feeling that I was letting him down. I just didn’t want to deal with our problems any more. It was like I was protecting myself from more loss by being in control. I just wanted to be on my own, to lick my wounds, get through all the hurt and pain and try to focus on things that made me happy. That was you getting well and my boys. That was all I cared about for a long time.’
‘It wasn’t all down to you though,’ Jeanna defended her.
‘I know.’ The thought gave Claire no consolation. ‘Sam had become work obsessed, fell into the habit of leaving everything to me. He made himself absent to the point where it was hardly different to live without him altogether. God, how stupid were we?’
‘What a sorry state for you all, love,’ Val said sympathetically. ‘I feel for Sam, too.’
Claire spoke, looking upwards so Suze could continue applying mascara. ‘Back then, I felt like I didn’t have any choice. When I said I wanted to split, he made a token argument, but we’d been so disconnected for years that I think he knew deep down it was the right thing to do. I don’t blame him. He deserved happiness. And he found it again when he met Nicola.’
‘I can’t stand her,’ Jeanna bitched.
‘You’ve only met her about three times, and that was just for a few seconds at drop-offs and pick-ups,’ Claire pointed out patiently.
‘Yeah, well. She’s way too bloody perfect for my taste. And a size ten. And always so bloody cheery. And I don’t think she has a bitchy bone in her body. I mean, that’s just wrong.’
‘Criminal,’ Josie agreed solemnly. ‘I don’t know how she sleeps at night, the cow.’
Claire’s chuckling almost smudged her newly applied mascara. ‘No, she’s nice. She’s great with the boys and she makes Sam happy so I’m grateful for that. He deserves it.’
Suze stopped, hands on hips. ‘I swear to God, if you don’t stop being so nice I’m going to have to drop you as a friend. Don’t you ever think that maybe you could have got back together and made it work if she hadn’t come into the picture?’
‘No,’ Claire replied honestly. ‘Because if we were meant to work out then we would have. And whether Nicola had come along or not wouldn’t have changed that.’
Val started humming ‘Que Sera Sera’ and by the end of the first line, Josie had joined in with the words and they were swaying in their seats.
‘Am I imagining it, or am I being mocked?’ Claire asked Suze, feigning innocence.
Suze pulled yet another bottle of vino out of her toolbox and scrunched up her nose as far as the Botox would let her. ‘Definitely mocked.’
‘Thought so.’
‘But the wine will help.’
While the Doris Day chorus continued, Suze started spraying stuff around Claire’s head, chatting as she went.
‘What is the plan for the next stage of your life then? This is a really exciting chapter, if you look at it objectively. You’ve got more free time than ever. The business is doing well. You’re financially stable. You’ve got us. And you look fecking gorgeous,’ she finished with a flourish, before pulling the towel from around Claire’s neck and spinning the chair round so that she got a full view of her reflection.
It took a moment for it to sink in. Gone were the grey streaks and the hair that was unstyled and messy and invariably stuck up in a scrunchie. In its place was a glossy curtain of sun kissed highlights that fell to just above shoulder length and swished when she moved her head from side to side. Her skin was glowing, her eyes were wide and defined and…
‘Holy shit, are those cheekbones?’ she gasped. Yup, she had cheekbones. Two of them. And they were bloody gorgeous.
It was as if Suze had rewound the clock ten years, to a different Claire, one who hadn’t yet been battered by events that changed everything. More than anything though, she realised she looked… happy. She would have burst into tears of joy if it wouldn’t have wrecked her smoky eyes.
‘Yer gorgeous!’ Val announced. ‘I mean, you always were gorgeous, but now you’re shiny, too.’
Claire realised Suze was still waiting for her verdict. She had to clear her throat to shift the lump that was lodged there. ‘Oh, Suze, I love it. I really do. You are beyond brilliant.’
‘I am,’ Suze agreed, laughing.
‘And I don’t know where you got these cheekbones from, but I’d like to keep them,’ Claire added. Stuff the extra thirty pounds. Stuff the whole fecking ageing process. Right there, right then, she looked and felt fabulous and that was all that mattered.
‘They were always there,’ Suze told her. ‘And far be it from me to be deep and profound… so were you. Now you’ve got to see that. So it’s time to get out there, plan your next big adventure, find new things that you enjoy and start living life.’ It was all going well until she added, ‘I’ve been reading too many of those bloody inspirational quotes on Facebook. That’s the most sense I’ve talked for years.’
Claire’s smoky eyes were in no way affected by the fit of the giggles that ensued, or the tight, dancing hug that she delivered to her personal hair and beauty guru by way of thanks. Gratitude for the work and the words too, because Claire knew Suze was absolutely right.
For the first time since she left that campus in Tennessee after waving her youngest child off to start his new life, she felt a bubble of excitement. This was her time… She just needed to decide what the hell she wanted to do with it.
Thirty-Three
Claire – Earlier in August 2019
The FaceTime signal was fuzzy and kept dropping out, but Claire didn’t care. All that mattered was that she could see her boy’s gorgeous, smiley face, even if he was rolling his eyes at her.
‘Mum, I swear I’m not in any danger. I’m in the mess hall on a base in Portsmouth, not trawling the waters off North Korea. The only chance I’ve got of dying is if I choke on this pizza,’ he said, holding a slice of deep pan pepperoni up to the camera.
‘Max Bradley, enough of the cheek to your mother,’ Sam chided him playfully, as Claire turned the phone slightly so Sam came into shot. ‘You’re never too old to get grounded.’
‘I’ll let the navy know I’m not allowed on manoeuvres because I’m on the naughty step,’ her boy fired back. ‘It’s so weird seeing you two together, by the way. I feel like I’m ten and getting a telling off for the state of my room.’
‘That’s tomorrow’s lecture,’ Claire told him. ‘I’ll give you time to tidy it before I send in the inspection team.’
Max laughed. ‘Mum, this screen is about to go blank any minute, but it’s because the battery is almost dead. It’s not because we’ve suddenly been invaded by rebel forces, so don’t go alerting the authorities, OK?’
‘That was just the once. And I only phoned the coastguard,’ she said,
knowing he was referring to the time he wandered off for five minutes on holiday at a Cornish beach. ‘OK son. I love you. I’ll call again in a couple of days.’
‘No worries. Tell Jordy I said good luck. And remind him I was always better at football, will you?’ It wasn’t true, but winding his brother up was one of his greatest pleasures in life – and vice versa.
‘I will and…’
The screen went blank. Bugger.
‘Should it worry us that he’s tasked with defending the country but he can’t remember to charge up his mobile?’ Sam asked, lifting a piece of toast from the basket on the table in front of him and beginning to smear it with strawberry jam.
Claire decided that it looked too good to resist and followed suit. ‘As long as the fleet doesn’t get summoned via an app, we should be fine.’
‘Morning,’ Jordy greeted them, pulling out another chair at the table.
‘Morning, my love. Did you sleep OK?’ Her throat tightened as another wave of emotion caught her unawares. In a few hours she’d be leaving him. She pushed that thought away, refusing to fall apart over breakfast.
‘Man, the jet lag is a killer,’ he said in reply. ‘I’ve been in the gym for two hours because I woke up at 6 a.m.’
‘Really?’ Claire shot back, innocently. ‘I didn’t see you there. I did ten miles on the treadmill. My buns are like steel.’
‘Dad, make her stop,’ he begged Sam.
‘Not my job,’ Sam bantered back, hands up in the air. ‘Anyway, time to get going?’
‘Nope,’ Claire replied.
‘Claire,’ Sam came back, a hint of jokey reprimand in his voice. ‘If we stayed here for a month, would the answer to that question be any different?’
‘It would not,’ she answered truthfully, realising that she knew where he was going with this. It would never be time to go, to take her youngest child to college, to wave him off, knowing she wouldn’t see him again for months. Nope, she’d sit here smearing strawberry jam on her toast until the end of time if it meant she could keep Jordy with her.