You're All Mine

by Ruth Harrow

  I've stopped for nothing more than a quick shower in the bathroom since coming back from my trip to Milan; not long enough for the steam to erase any messages left by James.

  But the way the letters were highlighted in the candlelight looked so vivid...

  Was someone really in my house last night?

  The more I think about it, the more ridiculous the idea seems. In the harsh light of day, I reason that my imagination just ran wild last night, jumped to conclusions.

  But the window in my office was wide open. I don't remember leaving it like that at all – in fact, I know I didn't.

  All night I ran through other possibilities in my head. What should have been a low-key birthday party I had held for James a few days before I left for Milan kept springing to mind.

  There were a handful of people from James's office that invited themselves over upon hearing of the gathering. I had only intended for James's mother to fly over from Spain and for Nicole to join us too. I would have thought the absence of Nicole's ex, Dean, would have meant a quieter affair, but two of James's more rowdy colleagues saw an end to that.

  They both had too much to drink and encouraged James to do the same who obliged. I wasn't overly impressed to see Gemma either, especially since James had mentioned that she had been promoted out of the office.

  Trying to politely dodge James's mother's questions about my diet and alcohol consumption were made even more awkward by the fact that Gemma stood nearby. She was obviously listening in with an amused look on her face.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her exchange a loaded look with the woman she had brought along with her – goodness knows who she was. I assumed she must be a new member of the workforce James didn't introduce me to. I could see why – she was equally as attractive as Gemma and seemed on friendly terms with her.

  She kept throwing me glances more often than I liked too.

  James and I agreed we didn't want anything too much for his celebration, but neither he nor I seemed in control of the gathering in our own home.

  I also lost track of who used the bathroom upstairs. Judith saw to that with her bombardment of probing questioning and unwanted advice.

  She seemed determined not to let me out of her sight too, insistent as she was with helping me serve nibbles and clearing up as we went along.

  Anyone could have been in the bathroom and written such a message. Perhaps Gemma thought it would be a funny joke to poke in James's direction and he forgot to let me in on it.

  There is always the possibility that my suspicions turn out to be justified and there was someone in the house yesterday. In which case, there is only one way they would get in and out so subtly.

  I need to be sure.

  As soon as the light touches the trees and many bushes of the garden, I step outside, barely noticing how the weather has warmed slightly.

  I head straight for the small birdhouse at the end of the lawn and glance in all directions around me.

  When I'm satisfied I'm alone, I unhook the second shelf beneath the wooden box and allow the silver key to slide into my palm where I grip it tight.

  As I lock the back door firmly behind me and head upstairs, I unwillingly conjure an image of James losing his personal key on a business trip and being unable to enter the house.

  I shake the idea away – he can always call me if he gets locked out.

  On the landing windowsill, I find the perfect place to hide the key – a glass fishbowl filled with small artificial flowers. I nestle it inside and bury it under several layers of pink peony heads.

  I glance up when I'm satisfied that the key is invisible, and my eyes scan the dense thatch of trees surrounding my garden. I've done this so many times lately, last night especially, but I see nothing untoward.

  To my right, my neighbour Ewan, potters around in his garden, he probably wouldn't know he is just about visible from this window through the pointed tops of the conifers.

  For a few minutes, I get lost in the moment, watching the old man push his wheelbarrow back and forth around his garden, unaware he is being observed.

  An odd sensation moves across my shoulders and my gaze flicks back to the brambly woods.

  Once again, the sneaking suspicion that I am being watched from afar brushes over me, lifting goosebumps over my bare forearms.

  25

  The clatter of cutlery and the shrieks of children seem to reverberate off all four walls inside the converted church Nicole chose for lunch.

  'Sorry for it being so family friendly,' Nicole apologised in greeting, giving me a brief hug. 'But Jeff and Her Ladyship enjoyed their weekend off so much, they've decided to drop Lilly off at mine again.' She turns and grins to her seven-year-old niece. 'It was a bit short notice, but I couldn't say no, could I, Sweetie?'

  Lilly gobbles down her meatballs, before rushing off to join a group of children playing upon the climbing equipment set along one wall. I see her long dark ponytail swishing as she traverses the colourful bars.

  As soon as she is out of earshot, Nicole leans across the table and whispers, 'I think Lilly might end up with a little brother or sister soon, the way her parents are going at it.'

  I laugh, forking my pasta. 'Your little brother is all grown up now, Nic. I'm sure he knows what he is doing.'

  'Accidents happen,' Nicole says darkly, poking at the ice in her orange juice with a straw.

  I'm about to ask Nicole what she means by that when a shriek comes from the top of the plastic slide to the side of us. 'Auntie Nic – look! Watch me!'

  We both clap animatedly as Lilly emerges from the ball pit at the bottom of the slide and clambers up again for another go.

  I watch Nicole as she picks up her fork and returns to her own plate of risotto.

  I notice she looks drawn, paler than usual, even under her bottled honey hue. There are dark circles under her eyes and the lines around her mouth seem taut, more obvious.

  'Nicole, are you all right? You seem a little... off colour.'

  She shrugs. 'I'm fine,' in her breezy tone. 'Just a little tired, that's all.'

  'That's not all. I can tell when there is something up with you. How long have we been friends?'

  She looks across at me and although she smiles, I see her chin wobble slightly.

  'What is it, Nic?'

  She shakes her head. 'It's Dean. He came over on Sunday. I came home from babysitting Lilly to find him in the house.'

  'What did he want?'

  'He has been coming and going since I chucked him out in December. He keeps finding excuses to come over, saying he has left things behind. He's looking for this and that. Have I seen his old Steps CD's? Things like that.'

  'Steps – really? I didn't have him down as the type. And who uses CD's these days?'

  Nicole sniffs and dabs the corners of her eyes on her jumper sleeve. 'I know, right? I'm sure he makes half the stuff up just to have a reason to come back.'

  'But he shouldn't just let himself in, that's not right. I would have just put everything he left behind in a box and left it outside. God, does he still have a key? I hope you asked him to hand it over on Sunday.'

  Nicole starts prodding at her melting ice cubes again.

  'Nicole? You did get the key from him, didn't you? He can't just come and go as he pleases – he doesn't live there any more.'

  A tear runs down my friend's cheek and I reach over to grip her woolly arm, handing her my unused napkin.

  'He stayed the night,' she says, once she has recovered enough, dabbing at her face.

  'Nicole!' I withdraw my hand and accidentally upset my forgotten fork with a clatter, scattering pasta over the tablecloth. 'You can't let him do that! He's a cheater. He doesn't deserve to even talk to you!'

  Nicole looks at me, distraught. She eyes me the same way she did in the restaurant when I lost my temper and I feel the vein throbbing once again at my temples, warningly.

  I spot Lilly alone amongst the group of her new friends watching
us, carefully.

  I force my face into a smile and wave at her cheerfully. Nicole somehow manages to do the same and her niece disappears behind the spongy panels of the climbing frame.

  'I'm sorry, Nic,' I say, lowering my voice again. 'It's just – I've seen how cheating men operate. They don't ever do it just the once. It's like it is just part of their nature. Dean – he won't change.'

  'Who do you know that's a cheater?' She scrutinises my face. 'You're not talking about James, are you?'

  'No, of course not. I was thinking of someone else... That's not important. Just promise me you won't take Dean back? He doesn't deserve you.'

  Nicole lowers her voice. 'I've let him stay over a couple of times since he left,' she says, then she catches the look on my face. '–But I'm not planning on letting him back.'

  'Good, because you can do so much better.'

  She smiles sadly. 'I just wish all those “better” men thought that way. It's all right for you, James is great. I'm thirty-six next year and I'm starting to think I'm never going to get married.'

  'You're only thirty-five. There is still plenty of time. Just don't worry about it.' I squeeze Nicole's hand again and try not to think about how fast time has slipped through my own fingers so far, knowing Nicole must feel the same way.

  'That's easy for you to say,' she says, finishing her orange juice. 'Your life is so perfect and under control.'

  'Is that what you think?' I actually snort out loud. 'You'll never guess what happened to me the other night...'

  I tell Nicole about discovering a sinister message on my mirror. She listens raptly and seems so interested in hearing the problems of another that I keep talking.

  I reveal how awkward I feel it is working with Lisa and how I thought her brother had followed me in that stairwell; I tell her about the Instagram post someone made about me, and all the other weird little things that have happened since I got back from Milan.

  I see her mind whirring and know the logical, analytical side of her must be working on overdrive.

  I'm pleased that I have distracted her a little, but I don't get too giddy – I leave out the sleeping pills and any mention of James.

  Nicole's eyes are wide for a few moments as I finish. 'I thought I was joking when I mentioned stalkers, but you really think there is one? Why would Lisa get someone to follow you? I could tell she didn't like you much at the restaurant, but why would she take it that far?'

  'I'm not saying she has, I just had the feeling, that was all. It's probably just a coincidence.'

  'But what is it exactly that makes you think she would pay you that much attention?'

  I shrug. 'It's just... A lot went on at that time in school. You and I didn't really know each other that well back then, so you wouldn't have noticed.'

  Nicole's eager face leans across the table and she seems to have forgotten her troubles.

  She doesn't need to know the whole story, however. 'Look, it was a long time ago. It doesn't matter. It's just that it makes seeing Lisa again seem awkward.'

  Nicole shrugs too, knowing that she won't get any more information from me. She orders us a large sharing sundae. Her call for Lilly to give up playing with her new friends and come over to join us fall on deaf ears.

  'You know, Heather. If you get someone harassing you online, you can always block them. It's really easy.' She explains to me how the process works.

  'I'll try that, thanks.'

  'It's a shame James couldn't make it, isn't it? I mean, not just because I haven't seen him for ages. I feel like I don't see the two of you together these days either.'

  'I sort of know what you mean. He is just busy that's all – he doesn't even have time to do little chores around the house that I usually leave to him. Most of the time, he is too busy getting ready for his next trip. Organising clothes, that sort of thing.'

  'Like dry cleaning?'

  'Exactly.'

  Nicole starts eagerly on the ice cream that has been set in front of us, scooping the largest piece of chocolate brownie I had my own eye on. 'Don't you miss him being around when he is away all the time, though?'

  I shake my head. 'It's just the way it is – for now at least. We know that working hard gets you nice things, so we put that first–'

  'Lilly! Your ice cream is melting, hurry up!'

  Nicole turns back to me, after watching Lilly disappear back up to the very highest point of the climbing structure again and behind some hanging stuffed trees. 'Sorry, Heather. It's funny how she suddenly can't hear me when it's time to stop playing.'

  I nod, smiling. 'I've noticed.'

  'I bet it was annoying for you when the boiler broke down and you were on your own. Do you think James would have been able to fix it?'

  'No, that's not really his forte. It's help with the little things like smoke alarms and small DIY projects I miss, really.'

  'But you're really good with those.'

  'I know. I'm not a desperate damsel. It would just be nice not to have to do them myself. It would feel a lot less like I'm living in the house on my own...'

  The thought of the empty house, silent and patiently awaiting my return creeps up before me, rising like a ghost.

  Lilly's boisterous return as she throws herself into the seat beside me causes the image to disappear as though a bubble has burst.

  Nicole's face reappears in my focus once again worried-looking, as though she now doesn't recognise the person she sits opposite.

  26

  The beginning of February brings some much-needed sunshine into the house, brightening up the place a little.

  I'm working in my office this morning, appreciative of the first real rays of sunshine of the year; they play upon on my fingertips as I type. Suddenly, the doorbell rings, breaking my concentration.

  I'm pleased to see a deliveryman upon opening the front door. He smiles and gets me to sign for the package he hands to me.

  In the living room, I tear open the brown paper and unwrap a gift hamper very similar to the one I had planned to give to John. Inside are all my favourite things – all-butter biscuits, a selection of fudges, premium coffee and tiny marshmallows for topping hot chocolate.

  With satisfaction, I dig out the note nestled in the straw of the basket.

  To my beautiful wife,

  With all my love,

  xxxx

  I place the note so the text is carefully visible in the centre of the attractive gifts and pull out my phone. It takes me several minutes to get the perfect shot.

  When I am satisfied I have it exactly right, I pinch at the screen to make sure there isn't anything untoward in the shot.

  I learn from my mistakes.

  I upload the picture to Instagram, along with a caption.

  I have the best husband in the world! I'm so lucky...

  With the post online, I wonder again if James monitors my online presence any more. What would he think if he saw my latest post?

  He has always complained in the past whenever I post personal things online.

  Back in my office, I sit down and throw myself into work. As much as I try to pay attention, I find myself distracted by the gift basket now positioned in pride of place upon my desk.

  It is nice to have something to be cheered up by.

  Even though I know I should be working, my mutinous fingers work their way over the keys, opening the archives of posts in my Instagram account.

  I scroll back years, over many home-improvement posts to the selection of photographs from my wedding I chose to post.

  James looks so handsome in his suit, holding his arm around my waist enrobed in my perfect white gown as a flurry of confetti binds us together in the moment forever.

  My eyes stray to the comment section below. It has been years since I looked at this upload; I only read the comments that were posted in the first week or so.

  rachel_wins326 Gorgeous, Sweetie. Thank you for sharing your special day with us all x

  mia4ever What a pr
ecious moment. You two look so in love!

  I spot another familiar username at the top/bottom of the comments section.

  bunny90158. Wow, Heather, your husband is hot. It is a shame I wasn't invited...

  My stomach twists unpleasantly. I have never read this comment before. According to the date stamp, it was posted five months ago.

  I wonder if James has ever seen it.

  I glance across at my wall calendar with James's work trips jotted down and remind myself that my husband is in Walsall at the moment, giving another talk to yet another set of people.

  I have his whole work schedule pencilled in here and there in the tiny little squares. I know exactly where he will be staying away right up until June.

  James would call it bossy; I simply call it being organised.

  A notification pops up where I have Instagram still open, bringing my attention back to the laptop screen.

  bunny90158 sent you a new message

  What a picture-perfect gift from the husband you never post pictures of any more. Is everything all right at home? Or has James finally realised he can do better?

  Now let's see another photo where you look a total wreck – those are my favourite...

  Let's pretend for a moment that you have a husband and kids to clean up after.

  I'm looking forward to seeing your “artistic impression” of what that looks like...

  My fingers fumble over the mousepad as I hurry to delete the comment. Then Nicole's advice comes floating back to me from our lunch the other day.

  I click block above bunny90158's username. That should be enough to keep them from interacting with me.

  I look down at my hands to find they are shaking.

  27

  The words Keep Calm And Carry On printed upon my coffee mug speak loudly to me. But as I scroll back through my old posts, I find the advice is very easy to ignore.