‘What’s my bedroom like?’ Poppy asks. ‘Can it be yellow? Yellow’s my favourite colour.’
‘I don’t know, sweetie, we’ll have to take a look.’ I turn to Lainy. ‘I thought the girls could share a room? And Dylan, you can have your own room if you like?’
My son doesn’t reply, his arms folded across his chest in full-on sulk mode, which isn’t like him at all. He’s normally so sunny and easy-going.
‘Want to choose your own room?’ I ask once more.
He shrugs.
I suddenly realise he might be nervous about sleeping on his own in a strange house. And he’ll be too embarrassed to admit it in front of everyone. ‘How about when we’ve finished eating we go upstairs and take a look? Maybe you could share with your cousins?’
‘Okay,’ he replies, looking a little less cross.
Lainy comes upstairs with me and the children while Jake and Tom stay to clear the table. With all thoughts of their earlier argument forgotten, the three kids eventually settle into one of the huge bedrooms, which has two sets of rickety-looking bunk beds. I leave a nightlight on, kiss them good night and then let Lainy choose which bedroom she and Tom would like. She doesn’t seem too fussed, taking the first one she sees, next to the kids’ room.
This leaves me with a choice of three other bedrooms. I decide to ignore the top floor and take the remaining room on this floor. It’s large and square with lumpy-looking woodchip on the walls, an ornate fireplace and a huge bay window overlooking the road below. The sun has already dropped behind the houses opposite. I guess, in the daytime, we’ll be able to glimpse the ocean beyond. But, for now, all is shrouded in darkness apart from the warm pools of yellow light cast by the Victorian-style street lamps. I glance at my watch, surprised to see it’s nearly ten o’clock already. No wonder the children were so cranky.
‘You okay?’ Lainy asks, tucking her mousy hair behind her ears and following me into what will be mine and Jake’s bedroom.
‘I was about to ask you the same thing.’ I sit down heavily on the double bed. But my backside hits a hard ridge, and I realise it’s two singles pushed together. I shift over.
‘It feels a bit weird to be back.’ She wanders over to the window.
Guilt tugs at my chest. ‘We shouldn’t have come—’
‘No, no, it’s fine. I just… didn’t expect to feel like this.’
‘Like…?’
She shrugs.
‘Don’t you have any happy memories of the place at all?’
‘I suppose I have a few. We had some nice family beach days.’ She gives a thin smile. ‘I remember one day, Dad’s deckchair folded up while he was still sitting in it. At first, Jake and I couldn’t stop laughing. But then we realised Dad was furious. He strode off to get his money back from the deckchair guy and then we all had to pack up and go home.’ Lainy’s eyes take on a faraway look.
‘Would you rather we hadn’t come?’
‘No, course not. I’ll be fine. Just tired.’
This downbeat withdrawal is very out of character for Lainy, who’s normally the one to take charge. She’s a primary school teacher and possesses the kind of commanding confidence that’s a necessity for wrangling a class of thirty bouncy kids.
Footsteps on the stairs summon her out of the room. It sounds like Tom and Jake are coming up.
Jake pushes open the door enquiringly. ‘Is this our room?’
‘If you like. There are other rooms upstairs but—’
‘No, this is fine.’ He casts his eyes unenthusiastically around the space.
‘Sorry the place is a bit run-down. It looked much nicer in the photos.’
‘It’s fine, don’t worry about it.’
‘I guess all those glowing website reviews were left by friends and family.’ I smile, hoping to engage him in some light-hearted banter, but my husband doesn’t want to join in. ‘It’s your birthday tomorrow.’ I try to elicit at least a small smile.
‘Don’t remind me. Thirty-four years old! How did that happen?’
‘You don’t look it,’ I reply, wrapping my arms around him and pressing my head into his chest. His heart beats against my ear and he strokes my hair. Kisses the top of my head.
‘Sorry I’ve been grumpy,’ he murmurs.
‘You haven’t been grumpy,’ I lie. ‘I just feel bad for springing this surprise on you when it’s obvious you’re not happy about being here. I’m an insensitive idiot.’
‘Your heart was in the right place. It’s just… I don’t really have great memories of this town.’
‘I remember you saying earlier this year that you miss the smell of the sea. So I thought that meant you missed your childhood home. That’s the reason—’
‘Let’s go to bed,’ he says, abruptly changing the subject. I stare up at him, into his dark eyes, and he gives me a cheeky grin. ‘Just let me brush my teeth and wash the journey off. I’ll be back in a minute.’
While he’s gone, I start unpacking our case, hanging my long summery dresses and Jake’s cotton shirts in the massive wooden wardrobe. A wailing car alarm draws me to the window and I peer down. It’s not one of ours, but a vehicle parked further down the street. There’s a bleep and it stops. I shift my gaze across to the gap between the two houses opposite. The moon comes out from behind a cloud, shining onto the rippling ocean below. It’s magical. Like something out of a fairy story. I take it all in for a few moments and then I notice a silhouette on the opposite side of the road.
Someone is standing just beyond the street light, staring up at the house. Staring up at the window.
Staring at me.
Two
It’s a muggy night and the street is quiet. He’s standing in the warm shadows, in the black space that hovers between the ornate Victorian street lights. He’s been here for a while now, staring up at the house, contemplating its latest occupants. Wondering what he’s even doing here. He didn’t intend to come out. He just… well, he just ended up here somehow.
And now she’s at the window, illuminated behind the glass like a living doll in a box. Staring off into the distance, over the rooftops towards the sea. He takes a breath, but doesn’t bow his head, or move away. Will she spot him down here?
Yes!
She sees him. And instead of feeling caught in the act, he feels… what? Somehow pleased. He continues staring at her. Maybe she’ll be reassured by his presence.
But he knows he shouldn’t linger. With regret, he realises that it was a mistake.
He should leave. Disappear back into the shadows.
For now, at least.
Three
I step back from the window, my heart hammering in my chest. Why is that man looking up at me? I peer down again. It looks like Jake! But I thought Jake was in the bathroom. What on earth is he doing outside? I look again and see I was wrong, it isn’t Jake at all. He’s still staring up at the house, but he’s in shadow so I can’t get a good look at him. What does he want? With a shiver, I pull the curtains closed and wrap my arms around myself.
‘What’s wrong?’
I jump at the sound of my husband’s voice. ‘You scared the life out of me!’
‘Who else did you think it would be?’
‘No one. I just… I didn’t hear you come in.’ I draw back the curtains a little and stare down at the road again. But the man has gone. Did I imagine him?
‘Faye?’ Jake comes over to where I’m standing. ‘What’s the matter? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’
‘Nothing. Just tired.’
He gives me a strange look but doesn’t ask any more questions.
I take his hand. ‘Come on, let’s go to bed.’
* * *
It’s only nine thirty but the sun is already high in the sky, lasering into my skull like a blow torch. The children have been slathered in sunscreen, hats wedged tight onto their fair little heads. I had to give myself the same treatment – covering my arms and head – as pale skin and red hair are not the b
est combination to have during a heatwave. But at least there’s a soft breeze blowing in off the ocean as we make our way along the ridgeline at Durlston Head, the winding clifftop walk that leads to Anvil Point Lighthouse.
Jake and I had sex last night and I put more of myself into it than usual, wanting to ease my guilt. Trying to get him to relax. To start enjoying our time away together. He murmured my name, his fingers gripping my hips. His body less tense afterwards. Relaxing into sleep almost immediately. I envied him in that moment.
I slept fitfully, still worrying about whether this trip is a giant mistake. At least I didn’t have any nightmares, which is unusual for me. Most nights I suffer from what can only be described as night terrors – extreme fear where I wake up sweating and gasping for breath. Jake is a deep sleeper, so he rarely witnesses these episodes. And when he does, he’s always shocked. Last night’s absence of fear makes me think that planning this holiday was the right thing to do… for me at least.
When I awoke this morning, I hoped that Jake would be in a more positive frame of mind, but he is still quiet and withdrawn. Almost sullen. All I can do is to make the most of being here. To continue on with the plan for a day out at the country park, followed by a birthday cream tea for Jake at Durlston Castle. Hoping that a lovely family outing will put Jake in a better mood. It hasn’t so far…
‘Mummy, can we go inside the caves?’ Dylan asks, his fists gripping a set of rusted metal gates looped over with a chain and padlock. He rattles them noisily and we’re given disapproving looks by a group of passing hikers wearing bright shorts and expensive walking boots.
‘No, Dyl. They’re not safe.’ I’m surprised Dylan would even want to go into the caves. The entrance looks absolutely terrifying, closed off with two sets of gates, bramble bushes and a keep out sign. Tom and I peer down at the information board.
‘It says here the Tilly Whim caves were eighteenth-century quarries – where you dig out stone to make things with,’ Tom explains to Dylan. ‘But then they were closed and only smugglers used them.’
‘What’s smugglers?’ Dylan asks. ‘Is it like pirates?’
‘Kind of,’ Tom says. ‘Smugglers used to hide illegal things in the caves. Things they didn’t want the government to take away.’
‘Like knives?’ Dylan says. ‘Or bombs?’
Poppy rolls her eyes and shakes her head. ‘Daddy means things like whisky and wine. We did a project at school.’ I often forget that Poppy is the same age as Dylan – she always seems so much older.
‘So can we go in the caves or not?’ Dylan asks, pretending to hold a sword and slice off his cousin’s head. She shoots him with an imaginary gun.
‘Not,’ I reply.
‘They used to be open to the public,’ Lainy says quietly. ‘But there was a rockfall in the seventies, so they closed them again.’
‘That’s not fair,’ Dylan says. ‘I wish we could go in.’
‘They’re not safe, Dyl,’ I reply, peering down at the overgrown entrance. Giving a shiver at the thought of the dark dankness beyond.
‘We could wear those yellow builders’ hats,’ Poppy says. ‘Then we’d be okay.’
‘Sorry, guys, you’re still not allowed. Even with hard hats,’ Tom says. ‘But how about we try to spot some seals instead.’
‘Or dolphins,’ I add. ‘There’s supposed to be a dolphin-watching station up here somewhere.’
Jake has been lagging behind, but he’s catching up now and Dylan bounds up to him as he draws near. ‘Daddy, we’re going to look out for dolphins. Do you want to help?’
‘Sure, bud. We should have brought binoculars though.’
‘Can we go back and get some?’ Dylan asks.
‘I think there’s a pair in the glove box,’ I say.
‘Really?’ Jake frowns. ‘I don’t remember there being any—’
‘I bought some for the holiday,’ I reply. ‘I read up about the place beforehand and it mentioned all the wildlife.’
‘It’s too far to go back for them now,’ Jake says.
‘Maybe you could bring Dyl up here tomorrow morning,’ I suggest. ‘Bring the binoculars with you.’ I turn to our son. ‘Bet you anything you’ll spot some dolphins if you come early enough.’
‘Really?’ Dylan bounces from foot to foot, and my heart blooms with love for his wide-eyed excitement. ‘Can we, Daddy?’
Jake shrugs. ‘Sure, why not.’
‘Mummy, can you come too?’
‘Why don’t you make it a boys’ thing?’ I suggest.
‘I don’t think Mummy wants to get up that early,’ Jake says. ‘You know she likes her lie-ins.’
‘Please, Mummy!’
‘We’ll see,’ I reply, wondering how I can get out of it. In any case, my husband’s spot on about me not being a morning person. I never have been.
I can tell from Jake’s demeanour that something is still not right. He doesn’t want to be here, and his discomfort is making me anxious. It’s also making me sound too bright – injecting a perkiness into my voice that’s irritating even to my own ears. Like I’m trying too hard. But I can’t seem to stop myself. I want to make everything perfect today.
I met my husband almost a decade ago, when a mutual friend recommended me to design the graphics for Jake’s new web design business. Although we met in London, we found we had a lot in common. He grew up in Swanage, and I grew up not too far away in Dorchester. We were both small-town Dorset kids who had found ourselves in the big city… and we loved the freedom and anonymity of it. Taking advantage of all the cultural events, the theatres, bars, restaurants, galleries. We spent hours just walking the busy streets, people-watching and enjoying one another’s company. Intoxicated by such abundance after the limitations of nothing but a single high street and an out-of-town cinema complex.
‘Guys, guys, look!’ Tom points out to sea. ‘Is that a seal?’
We all swivel our heads around and crowd over to where Tom is standing. Lainy lifts Annabel up and points. I follow Tom’s line of sight to see a small dark shape bobbing in the blue-green water below.
‘It looks like a dog, Mummy!’ Dylan cries.
Sure enough, its dark fur and black nose do look very dog-like. Irrationally, I have the sensation that this sea creature is staring right at me, its dark eyes boring into mine, warning me of something. And then, suddenly, it’s gone. Disappeared beneath the waves.
‘Where is it?’ Poppy asks. ‘I can’t see it any more.’
‘She’s gone back to her family,’ Tom replies.
‘Does she have a mummy and daddy?’
‘Yes, and probably brothers and sisters too.’
After the seal sighting, the children are excited, making up stories about seals, dolphins, mermaids and other sea creatures, real and imagined. We continue on up to the lighthouse, gripping their small hands as we traverse the trickier parts of the trail – uneven rocks, steep winding steps and loose gravel pathways. At least there’s a low wall along this particular part of cliff edge. Nevertheless, we’re mindful to keep the children on the inside of the trail, away from the ocean side.
‘Did you guys used to come here when you were kids?’ Tom reaches out his hand to help Lainy over a particularly challenging group of rocks. ‘Must have been amazing to have had all this on your doorstep. Bit different to growing up in Croydon.’ He laughs.
‘Not very often,’ Lainy replies. ‘We mainly hung out in each other’s houses. But I guess we sometimes went to the caves and the beaches.’
‘The caves?’ I reply. ‘I thought they were all closed down.’
‘Yeah, well, kids have a way of finding themselves in places they shouldn’t be,’ Lainy says.
‘I hope our kids don’t!’ Tom says. ‘If they do, I’ll know who the bad influence is.’
Lainy gives a short laugh. I notice Jake hasn’t joined in the conversation, but I don’t want to push it, so I leave him be.
Finally, we clamber to the top of the cliff, and reach the
flat, grassy headland around the lighthouse. To my disappointment, the white tower is surrounded by a drystone wall and a gate, meaning we can’t get close to it.
‘Can’t we go inside?’ Dylan asks, peering through the gate.
‘It looks private to me,’ Tom says.
‘Maybe we could ask the lighthouse keeper,’ I say, turning to Jake.
My husband shakes his head. ‘There isn’t one.’
‘No lighthouse keeper?’ Tom says. ‘How do you know that?’
‘It’s been automated for years. Even when we were kids it was automated.’
We wander around the perimeter wall, finally deciding on a grassy spot to have our picnic. The sky above is blue but there are black clouds on the horizon and a sudden breeze shivers the grass as seagulls wheel and hover around us. Out on the glittering sea, white sailing boats bob about like toys, while more dark cliffs stand firm in the distance.
The atmosphere between us all is strained, but at least we have the children here to inject a bit of normality, their chatter breaking up the awkward silences and stilted conversation. Jake wolfs down his food, but Lainy hardly touches a thing, her normally smiling face pale and drawn, her eyes dull. Both she and Jake barely say a word, only answering when they’re spoken to, or interjecting to admonish one of the children.
Tom and I keep throwing one another glances, silently commiserating that our surprise holiday has so far been a spectacular disaster. Once again, I stare at my husband’s troubled face, searching for clues to his state of mind. But he doesn’t even glance in my direction. His thoughts are hidden from me. And I daren’t ask about them, for fear of what he might say.
Four
Then
It’s dark in the cave, and the flickering light from the fire makes it difficult to tell, but Lainy is pretty sure that Owen is checking her out. Trouble is, every time she looks over to catch his eye, he looks away. Or maybe she’s just imagining it. Yeah, she’s obviously got it totally wrong. And anyway, he’s in the year above so he probably doesn’t even know she exists. Plus, he’s sitting next to Rose, who’s totally beautiful with her strawberry-blonde hair and cute freckles.
The Marriage Betrayal Page 2
