The Man I Married

by Elena Wilkes

  ‘I can’t… I’m sorry,’ my chair scraped back suddenly. The women on the next table looked round. ‘I don’t feel well. I’m sorry, I can’t do this.’

  ‘Paul Weberman!’ she called after me. ‘He said he changed it because he couldn’t bear the memory of what happened. That’s what he told the people he worked with, that’s what he told his bosses. He said it compromised his position being in an attempted murder enquiry… But I know it was guilt…’

  I reached the door and yanked it open. ‘He’s a devil and he’s guilty as hell.’

  * * *

  I didn’t look back as I barged my way out of the door. I was too scared that she might be behind me, that she might create a scene in the street. I walked quickly to the car, got in, and started the engine. I glanced into the mirror but the street was quiet.

  She’d manufactured all that; I don’t know how. Caitlin murdered her children? Jesus… She tried to kill him? … Madness… all madness… I felt horror, pity, my heart grieved at the sight of those children’s faces. I couldn’t move. All those images tumbled together in front of my eyes, and then I had a sudden spring of absolute panic; the woman in the café… People might’ve heard all that… They might have seen me there… Somehow he’d find out… The muscles in my arms and legs wouldn’t respond. I managed to start the engine and found first gear. With one glance back at the café, I pulled the wheel round, and then nearly stalled the engine.

  She was standing there in front of the window watching. In her hand was the folder of cuttings. As I swung blindly out of the parking space, a car horn blared in warning and my heart pitched in terror. Frantically checking the mirror, I saw her raise the folder in a silent wave as I gunned the engine and sped away.

  * * *

  The drive home was terrifying. I kept checking the time. It had to be okay. I’d only been gone three quarters of an hour. There was no way he would be back this soon. I was safe, quite safe. Where would I say I’d been?

  Caitlin. Murder. Caitlin. Babies. Paul Weberman… Paul Webb…

  I was tired of being in the house, I’d say.

  I’d grin all excitably. I wanted to see if I still had the confidence to drive. That would explain it all, wouldn’t it? He couldn’t be annoyed at that, surely?

  My spirit argued loudly back; so what? I told myself. I am a grown woman, I can choose to be out; I can choose to stay in, why should he be angry?

  But all the time I could feel a grinding panic in the base of my belly telling me that I had every reason to be afraid: there would be a scene, there’d be accusations, and threats. What if someone had seen me? What would I say?

  When I turned the corner and saw his car, my guts turned to water.

  I immediately felt for my phone, shaking it out of my bag with one hand and trying to steer with the other. No message, no call from him. My gut soured and churned a warning: he would have called me to check where I was, surely? He would have done that at the very least.

  Pulling onto the drive, I tried to look confident and natural, but glanced surreptitiously at each of the windows. I couldn’t see him but I suspected he had seen me. Blipping the car locked, I walked as casually as I could to the front door and slid my key into the lock.

  The hallway was silent, but the oppression was back.

  ‘Hello!’ I called out tentatively.

  There was no reply. Slipping off my shoes, I padded down the hallway and saw that the door to the kitchen was closed. I pushed at it gently and a soft wave of classical music flowed into the hallway.

  Paul was at the sink with the water gushing, furiously scrubbing carrots.

  ‘Oh! I didn’t hear you come in!’ He grinned over his shoulder. ‘Too much racket going on in here.’ He went over and turned the music down before going back to the sink. I couldn’t take my eyes off the movement of his arms. His hands made fists.

  ‘I’ve got dinner all sorted.’ He briskly turned off the tap. ‘There’s a shepherd’s pie in the oven.’

  ‘Great.’ My voice sounded weak and wavering.

  ‘Well, come on then!’ He dried his hands on a tea towel.

  ‘Come on what?’ The corners of my mouth tipped up but my eyes were frozen.

  ‘Come and give us a kiss then! I haven’t had one since you’ve been home!’

  Stunned, I walked across the floor to where his arms enveloped me in a bear hug, squeezing hard, really hard. I tried to react in the way I knew I should, putting my arms around him too, but could feel my whole body shrink and crawl.

  He kissed the side of my hair and nuzzled into my neck. The sensation stiffened my spine. He clocked it. I knew it.

  ‘Do you fancy a glass of wine with dinner?’ he said chirpily. ‘I think there’s some red open.’

  All of my sensory antennae were on high alert. ‘That would be really nice.’

  I tried to sound off-hand and bright.

  ‘Great.’ He held me away from him, his hands heavy on my shoulders.

  I could feel the weight of them pinning me there. He looked intently into my eyes.

  I smiled. ‘How was the office?’

  He turned away and opened a cupboard to get the glasses. ‘God, you know what it’s like when you’ve been away – four hundred emails and a load of rubbish to wade through, most of which gets deleted.’ He picked up a bottle of wine, unscrewing the top. ‘No, you’ve obviously had a far more interesting day and I want to hear all about it.’

  The whole floor cracked.

  He had his back to me as he checked the glasses, squinting as he held them up to the light.

  ‘Start from the beginning. You watched me drive away, and—?’

  It felt as though I was observing myself from somewhere over by the door. I saw me tucking my hair behind my ears, then my hands dangling oddly, wavering in mid-air as I tried to explain. I heard the stammering and pausing, not knowing what I was saying or how I was saying it, feeling the heat in my face, cursing the complete lack of rehearsal and planning. I hesitated and lost the thread several times, even with such a simple story of taking a drive and looking in the shops.

  Paul frowned, listening as he poured the wine. ‘Parking is terrible round there. Where on earth did you manage to find a space?’

  My mind went completely blank. He turned to looked at me as he waited, but then he only bit his lip and nodded.

  ‘As long as you were okay and had a nice time. I’m sure getting out did you good.’

  I didn’t think I could speak. He moved on, prepping some cabbage and putting it in the steamer with the carrots, as he went over what had been happening at work.

  I tried to concentrate on what he was saying but my mind was all over the place. I asked stupid questions, but he pretended to take them seriously. He served dinner, pouring more wine and ushering me to the table. I took my place, sipping at the wine awkwardly, and eating hardly anything.

  ‘Leave all the washing up.’ He aligned his knife and fork precisely on the plate. ‘It’s not going anywhere. Let’s watch some TV shall we?’

  I tried to look totally at ease as though I was settling on the sofa. He plonked himself into an armchair, flicking through until he found a comedy channel. ‘Aww, great! Let’s watch this!’

  He laughed uproariously at all the right moments, turning to me so I would laugh right along with him. I tried to chuckle and make out that I was enjoying myself, but I couldn’t take my eyes off the clock. It got to half ten, when normally he would suggest we turned in, but he didn’t. He found a film that was just starting.

  ‘This looks good,’ he nodded at the screen. ‘Do you want to finish this wine?’ he proffered the bottle.

  ‘No, no, it’s okay, you finish it.’ I clutched my wine glass to my chest.

  ‘Don’t be daft!’ He got up and came over with the bottle. ‘You’ve had such a good day, you should be celebrating!’

  I couldn’t detect anything. I let him fill my glass.

  ‘Drink up,’ he said, raising his own.
r />   I drank, knowing he was watching. Moving my elbow against the cushion, I could feel the reassuring hard edges of the phone. Just knowing it was there, allowed me to breathe a little easier.

  A sudden guffaw of laughter made me jump. ‘Jeeze!… Oh Jeeze… Let me take that back… Just watch this…’ He paused the film and began to rewind. ‘I’ve been meaning to ask you…’ he was still chuckling.

  I looked at the screen.

  ‘Those odd phone calls.’ He settled back in the seat and scratched his neck. ‘Do you still get them?’ He rested his elbows on the arms of the chair, steepling his fingers under his chin.

  The screen paused. He turned to face me. I couldn’t speak.

  ‘What’s that?’ My heart was scrambling.

  He didn’t move his eyes. ‘You know, like you used to get. From Gould, that prisoner.’

  My face was a mask. ‘No. The guy was arrested.’

  ‘Oh yeah, that’s right.’ He yawned widely and turned back to the programme.

  ‘So they’ve all stopped then? No more weird messages.’

  ‘No.’ My mouth was filling with saliva and I had to keep swallowing.

  ‘Actually, this film isn’t your kind of thing, is it?’ The remote was in his hand, his finger poised. He regarded me innocently.

  I glanced at the screen, my mind whirling. I blinked. Stupid. ‘Not really, no.’

  ‘Fine. Feel free to go up to bed whenever you want. Don’t wait for me.’

  I sat there for a while nursing my wine and pretending to watch the screen but just couldn’t take it in.

  I kept sneaking a look at Paul’s face. It was set hard and impassive. The reassuring rectangle of phone dug into my side. You’re not alone, I told myself. You’re not alone, but you have to get out of here. Do something.

  I got up, sensing the danger in the air, but casually shaking out the cushion behind me so that he would have no need to, and sauntered over to him.

  ‘Night, night.’ I bent for a quick peck of a kiss. ‘I might read for a while.’

  ‘You do that.’ He didn’t attempt to meet my eyes.

  I made my way quietly up the stairs, listening out the whole time, wondering what he was thinking, my brain going into overdrive.

  I cleaned my teeth, got undressed and got into bed, hearing the muffled boom of the TV and wondering whether it was disguising any other noise. I tried reading but found I couldn’t. In the end, I gave up and turned off the light, straining my ears into the darkness. He wasn’t coming to bed. He was down there like a guard dog, guarding his territory. He’d hear if I walked across the floor. He’d hear if I moved.

  I was trapped.

  I lay there for what felt like hours. The booming of the TV changed to a thick silence. I shivered. Getting out of bed, I checked the time: 04:17. Pausing with one hand on the doorknob, I eased the catch and peered out. The landing lay bathed in silvery grey light. Softly, very softly, I tiptoed to the top of the stairs, craning carefully over the banister to listen. The moonlight had whitened each tread to dull bone. Nothing moved.

  Slinking down the first three steps, I paused and listened again. I was terrified to go down there, scared of what he might read in my face, scared of what he might’ve found, but I had to know.

  Padding down to the bottom, I stopped. There was no gleam of light from the living room, not a sound. The door sat open. It took several seconds for my eyes to adjust to the shapes and shadows but instinctively I knew he wasn’t there. I patted for the light switch and everything sprang from monochrome to colour. I reached for the cushion; the reassuring weight of the phone was still there. Thank God. I checked the kitchen and the dining room, and then crept from room to silent room. No Paul. Looking out of the window, I realised his car had gone, and a huge wash of relief swept through me. I was alone. Whatever he was doing, wherever he was, I didn’t care. He wasn’t here, that was all that mattered.

  Crawling back into bed I finally slept, dreamless and heavy for the next few hours, and then I was awake, my eyes flicking open with that sudden incomprehension that something wasn’t right. I went to sit up. The gauzy rectangle of half-light from the window showed me nothing, and then I heard it: that steady draw and purr. I looked across. The bedcovers were hilly with his shape. I lay there, poised, not daring to move and then he opened an eye and looked at me.

  ‘Morning, beautiful.’

  My hand leapt to my chest.

  He slid over onto his back, stretching and yawning noisily. ‘You slept well, then.’

  ‘Not really, no.’

  He swivelled a look at me and laughed. ‘God, I’d hate to see you sleeping badly then. I came up just after you and you were snoring your head off!’ He chuckled. ‘How are you feeling today?’

  ‘I woke up…’ I pulled the covers closer. ‘You weren’t there.’

  ‘Eh? Well I don’t know where I was, then.’ He yawned again and smacked his lips.

  ‘I went downstairs to check.’

  ‘You must’ve been dreaming.’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘Funny things, dreams.’ He pushed the duvet back. ‘Anyway, I’ve planned to see some clients this morning, and then I must attend a meeting I’ve been missing for the past few weeks. What will you be up to?’ He pulled on a dressing gown and knotted it.

  ‘Nothing. I’ve got to see Diane later on this afternoon but I’ll cook dinner tonight if you like.’

  ‘That’d be nice,’ he smiled. ‘I’ll jump in the shower and get going.’

  * * *

  I waited until I could hear the patter and swoosh of water before I went downstairs and unzipped the phone from its hiding place. I rang Moire. She answered straight away.

  ‘Lucy? You okay?’ There was a note of panic in her voice.

  ‘Look, I’m sorry for yesterday. I’m sorry for walking out on you like that, it’s just that… Well, I totally understand how angry you must feel. Your sister. I can’t imagine what—’ I broke off.

  There was a dull pause. ‘You believe his version of events.’

  ‘There’s something not right with him. I know that. But what you’re telling me is so… I mean—’

  ‘Meet me again.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Moire, I really don’t see—’

  ‘Just meet me once more. There are things I haven’t told you. After that you never have to contact me again if you don’t want to. I will leave you alone. If you want to tell the police about me, go ahead. I have nothing to lose. My whole life is lost anyway. Cait and the girls were the only things I had left and he’s already taken them—’ Her voice quivered but then she gathered herself. ‘I know you have questions about Paul. Cait did, too. I know you want answers and you can’t find them. You know there’s something not right, but you don’t know what it is.’

  I stared at the ceiling, listening for the shower running. I heard the reassuring drumming, and then it stopped.

  ‘I have to go.’

  ‘The same café. Two o’clock. I will be there. If you don’t want to come and listen to what I have to say, I understand.’

  And then the phone went dead.

  I heard Paul walking about upstairs. I went into the kitchen and clattered about, putting plates and knives and forks away and sorting out the breakfast things. My mind was in turmoil. He appeared in the doorway with a sheaf of papers in his hand, looking round as though he’d lost something.

  ‘Have you seen my briefcase?’ He cast about the room.

  ‘In the hallway on the floor?’ I said helpfully. Tutting, he went back into the hall and I followed him. ‘Nope?… umm, try the office.’

  He disappeared up the stairs and I turned to go back into the kitchen, when something caught my eye. The cushion, which I’d left plumped on the chair, was lying flat on the seat. Eyes darting, I grabbed at it, patting it frantically, and then scrabbled to search the seat beneath.

  ‘Is this yours, by the way?’

  I whirled round. Paul was standing in the doorway.
He smiled at my expression. ‘I found it on the floor by your chair.’ He dangled the phone between forefinger and thumb. ‘It looks like one of your old ones… Is it?’ He tossed it in the air and I caught it.

  ‘We’ll make a rugby player of you, yet,’ he grinned. ‘I’d best get going or I shall be really late for this meeting. See you later. I’ll ring you.’ He came over, kissed me briefly and then headed out of the door.

  I stood, stunned, watching through the window as he strode down the path. There wasn’t even a backward glance as he slid into the driver’s seat, reversed easily around my car, and onto the main road. I looked down at the phone, so innocuous in my palm, and pressed the button to bring it to life. All Moire’s texts were there, as were mine, on full display. My insides quailed at the thought. I imagined him standing in this room reading all the exchanges between us – and the dreadful realisation dawned: he’d known exactly where I was yesterday. He knew I was meeting Moire yet he kept up the pretence. Why? And now he’d openly declared his hand. And then something worse gripped me: if he’d looked at the phone, he’d also know that I’d made a phone call to Moire this morning.

  Fear thrummed through me. The net had become a wire noose, and it was tightening.

  I rang her.

  ‘He knows,’ I said.

  ‘About the phone?’ There was a pause. ‘Does he know we’re meeting today?’

  ‘He can’t know when, he just knows who… I’m so sorry Moire, I didn’t—’

  ‘Don’t be sorry. Has he hurt you?’

  ‘No, no. Nothing like that. He’s being very calm, very ordinary.’

  ‘If you’re going to act, you need to do it now. You know that, don’t you?’

  I couldn’t think straight.

  ‘Do you know what his plans are?’

  ‘Kind of. He’s seeing clients this morning, then he has to be in the office for a meeting this afternoon.’

  ‘Make sure that’s the truth. Ring his office. Pretend that you’re one of the people he’s scheduled to see this morning. You’ll be able to gauge what time the meeting is. Then ring again this afternoon to make sure he’s attending. Once you’re sure, we’ll meet then. Okay?’