‘You do?’
Angie laughed at Sophie’s obvious surprise. ‘Of course. I see these young hotshot solicitors joining the firm, willing to work every hour God sends and absolutely determined to be made partner, already planning to run before they can walk. And I just think, Christ, all I want to do is go home and have a glass of wine in the bath.’
Sophie grinned as she took a gulp of tea. ‘I can relate. I get these email alerts where editors tell writers what topics they’re looking to cover and it’s all vaginal steaming and breadcrumbing. I honestly thought that was something to do with baking at first. These twenty-somethings think all you need is a laptop and a blog to be a writer. And I want to judge them but they have, like, a hundred thousand Instagram followers and I have twenty-three. So, who has the power really, them or me? I feel like my trade is dying – or at least my career is – and I’m not sure I even care anymore.’
Angie looked like she was about to say something but before she got a chance, the bifold patio doors opened and four children piled in.
‘Mum, we’re going to hang out in the den,’ Ellie said. ‘Can Tom and Katie stay for dinner?’
Sophie was about to protest but Angie nodded and replied, ‘Sure.’ She looked at Sophie. ‘It’ll just be fish fingers and potato waffles but they’re welcome to stay.’
Sophie looked at her children’s expectant faces. She was worried about overstaying their welcome or putting Angie out, but she’d actually been having a surprisingly good time chatting with her and it seemed no one was ready to go home just yet.
‘Go on then,’ she replied. ‘As long as it’s okay with Angie.’ The children whooped and ran off to the den and Sophie smiled at Angie. ‘Thank you, it’s really kind of you.’
‘It’s nice to have a playdate actually,’ Angie said. ‘Normally I’m working so the children go to after-school clubs. But I was in court this morning and didn’t have much on this afternoon, so I picked them up early. I’m sure one of those young trainees is already eyeing up my desk.’
‘We’re often around after school so any time you find yourself at home early again do pop over,’ Sophie said. Then she added, ‘Actually we’re having an Easter party at ours on Saturday. Nothing fancy, just an egg hunt for the children and a couple of beers for the parents. Would you like to come? It’ll be a chance to meet some of the other parents from school.’
‘We’d love to,’ Angie replied with what seemed like genuine enthusiasm. ‘Thank you.’
Alan was already back from work by the time they got home. Tom and Katie, who were still overexcited, jumped on him and started regaling him with stories about their new best friends.
‘We had waffles for dinner and we ate them in front of the telly!’ Tom said triumphantly. ‘And Ellie and Freddy said that we can come and play any time!’
‘Lucky you,’ said Alan. He turned to Sophie. ‘And did Angie say that you could come and play any time too?’
Sophie gave him a withering look and then said, ‘She’s actually really nice though.’
‘You seem surprised.’
‘I am a bit. It’s not that I didn’t like her, it’s just that she’s never seemed particularly interested in making friends before. But she couldn’t have been more lovely this afternoon. Still though, Al, you should see their place, it’s incredible. And she was telling me about her job, she represents some really high-profile clients. I couldn’t help but feel a bit plain Jane.’
‘You, my love, are anything but plain.’
‘Aw, thanks. Anyway, I’m not saying we’re going to become bosom buddies or anything, but I definitely think neighbourly relations have warmed up a notch. And she’s feeling a bit lonely, so I’ve invited them all over for the Easter party.’
‘Good for you.’
‘What do you think of Jack?’
‘Hardly know the guy.’
Alan was the least satisfying person to gossip with she’d ever known.
‘Well, let’s see if they turn up anyway,’ Sophie said, as she opened the fridge and started rooting around for vegetables to prepare their dinner. ‘At least I’ve done my bit.’
5
Sophie was yanking a dozen anaemic cupcakes out of the oven and fervently wishing that she’d just bought some from the supermarket like she normally did, when the doorbell rang. ‘Can you get that, Alan?’ she called, but there was no response. Cursing, she dashed to the door, brushing flour off her clothes, and found Angie, Jack, Ellie and Freddy on the doorstep.
‘Hi, come in!’ she said with false bravado.
‘Are you okay? Sorry we’re a bit early,’ Angie said, frowning as she took in Sophie’s flustered expression and dishevelled appearance.
‘No, no, you’re fine, I’m just in baking hell,’ Sophie admitted as she ushered them in. ‘The kids are upstairs playing computer games,’ she told Ellie and Freddy, who immediately started to make their way up the stairs. Angie and Jack followed her into the kitchen.
‘Alan’s somewhere but I have no idea where – probably playing games with the children,’ Sophie explained. ‘He always makes a hasty exit when I attempt to bake.’
Angie examined the carnage, observing the production line of cupcakes in various states of disarray and rolled up her sleeves. ‘Jack, you get the beers, Sophie, you get the icing.’
Sophie imagined this was exactly how Angie dealt with her wayward clients, but she obediently opened the cupboard to look for icing. Jack grabbed four beers, left two on the kitchen surface for Angie and Sophie and headed off in the same direction as the children.
‘Sorry we’re early,’ Angie said again, as she started decorating a batch of cupcakes. ‘I know it’s annoying when people turn up before they’re expected, but we’d just got back from dropping Indie and Benji off at their friends’ houses and we thought we might as well come straight over. Ellie and Freddy were so excited about the party, they were driving us potty.’
‘It’s fine,’ Sophie said. ‘To be honest I’m glad of the help. Thank you. I don’t know why I decided to go all Nigella. I really don’t have what it takes.’
‘They look great,’ Angie said, finishing her dozen cupcakes in frustratingly quick time. ‘Now while we wait for the last batch to cool down, what else needs doing?’
With Angie’s help, the house was party ready by the time everyone arrived. Alan and Jack had hidden eggs all around the garden and the children grabbed buckets and dashed off to look for them, while Sophie introduced Angie to some guests. As she was heating up some soup and bread in the kitchen, one of her school mum friends, Eve, sidled up to her.
‘He’s a bit of a dish, that Jack,’ she said.
Sophie slapped her playfully with a wooden spoon. ‘He’s also married to my very nice neighbour,’ she reminded Eve.
‘Never hurts to look,’ Eve said shamelessly. ‘I don’t suppose he does naked yoga in the garden, does he? Because if so, I’m coming round for breakfast.’
Sophie laughed in wicked delight. ‘He’s all right but he’s not my cup of tea.’
‘What, tall, dark and handsome isn’t your cup of tea?’
‘He’s too… I don’t know… perfect looking. He looks like a cardboard cut-out. I prefer my men more real and rugged. Like my Alan.’
‘Well good job you’re married to him then,’ Eve said, sticking her finger in the soup.
‘Oi, get away with you.’ Sophie laughed, batting her away. Eve winked and wandered off to introduce herself to Angie. Sophie observed the two women talking easily together and enjoyed a moment of satisfaction. She loved it when a good party came together. Smiling to herself, she put the soup and bread on the table and went outside to watch the egg hunt.
‘How’s it going?’ she asked Alan.
‘Yeah fine, they’re all losing their tiny little minds.’
‘Perfect.’ She stood next to him and watched the children running around frantically in different directions. ‘They’ll be as high as kites when they’ve scoffed all of thos
e eggs. We’d better make sure all the guests leave before the sugar rush wears off.’
‘Yeah, we don’t want a repeat of last year.’
‘What happened last year?’
‘One kid vomited all over the kitchen floor and another one beheaded all of Katie’s Barbies and she cried for three hours straight.’
‘Oh God! How have I forgotten that?’
‘I wish I had.’
Two hours and three meltdowns later, everyone had left apart from Angie, Jack and the kids.
‘Can we stay a bit longer, please?’ Ellie begged.
‘Five minutes,’ Angie agreed, as Alan opened a bottle of wine. They all sat down, glad to finally be able to relax, and Sophie started absent-mindedly picking at the leftover party food.
‘That was a great party,’ Angie said, raising her glass to Sophie and Alan.
‘It really was,’ Alan agreed. ‘I thought we were in for it when you said you were baking.’
‘Sod off,’ Sophie said, throwing a cheese puff at him. She turned to Angie. ‘Thanks so much for your help, I couldn’t have done it without you.’
‘It was nothing,’ Angie said. Sophie imagined her hosting a party. She pictured everything prepared to perfection, Jack dishing out glasses of Chablis while their guests discussed very important matters, instead of which child at school had head lice. She wondered what Angie thought of her house. Compared to her immaculate home it probably looked like a pigsty. But she seemed comfortable enough relaxing on one of Sophie’s kitchen chairs, glass of wine in hand. Perhaps we’re not that different after all, she thought.
As the four of them chatted easily about house extensions, children and TV shows that Jack had worked on, the promised five minutes of extra playtime turned into an hour. By the time the Taylors finally went home Sophie couldn’t even be bothered to tidy up.
‘Leave it all, Alan, we’ll do it in the morning,’ she said as she followed the kids upstairs to start their bath. ‘What do you make of them?’ she asked him, curious to hear his opinion.
‘Yeah, they’re all right,’ he said. Coming from Alan, that was high praise indeed.
6
Angie lingered in the back doorway, observing her husband. Jack was out in the garden, looking at the barbecue with the primal sense of achievement that men get when they successfully make fire. He was wearing shorts, a T-shirt and a novelty apron that the children had given him a couple of Christmases ago, which declared All This And I Can Cook! His eyes were hidden behind a pair of aviator shades. Even after all these years, he still gave her butterflies.
She peered up into the treehouse and could just make out four sets of legs. In the three months since the storm, Tom and Katie had become regular visitors to their garden, and often their house too. At first Sophie had been apologetic about her children’s uninvited appearances, but Angie had reassured her that they were welcome. They were nice kids and Ellie and Freddy were delighted with their new playmates. They hardly ever mentioned their friends in Greenwich these days, it was all about Tom and Katie.
Once the initial awkward politeness had passed, they had settled into a rather pleasant routine of sorts. Sophie had started popping by for a cup of tea and a chat when she came to fetch the children. Angie now found herself glancing at the gap in the fence whenever she was in the kitchen, instinctively looking in anticipation for her neighbour. No one had mentioned that the fence probably should have been fixed by now. Or that they both had perfectly good front doors they could use.
Sophie had surprised her. In Angie’s line of work, you often could judge a book by its cover. When she had first met Sophie, she had categorised her as one of those mumsy-types who was so obsessed with her children that she didn’t talk about anything else. But she was wrong. Sophie was funny, sharp as a tack and interesting. She had googled her name once after learning that she was a writer and had become absorbed in her articles. She clearly had talent and Angie couldn’t for the life of her understand why Sophie had given it all up. Still, she seemed happy enough and who was she to judge. Besides, Angie was just pleased to have made a new friend.
Although she still kept in touch with their Greenwich set, they didn’t meet up that often anymore. Her fears that they would drift apart once they’d moved out of the area had come true. It just wasn’t easy or convenient to meet up anymore, it took more of an effort to plan. And with busy lives and young children, that often fell by the wayside. She didn’t blame them. In any case, the children had made new friends nearby and wanted to play with them at weekends now.
Watching Ellie and Freddy with the kids next door was like a tonic to her lonely memories of being an only child with no one her age to play with. She remembered Jack saying to her once, years ago, ‘I can’t wait for you to see what it’s like to be part of a large family.’ Now she knew.
They had been living in Pemberton Road for over a year but to Angie it was only just starting to feel like home. She knew that a big part of that was their new friendship with the Brennan family. She hadn’t confided in anyone but she had found the past few months a challenge. While the others seemed to have adapted to their new lives, she was in limbo, stuck between her old existence and her new one and not entirely sure where it left her. She had been the one who insisted they move but ever since they had, she’d yearned for their old life back in Greenwich, before it had all gone wrong. When they’d been happy.
Things between her and Jack were good at the moment, though. He’d made a real effort over the past year to prove that he’d changed for good. For her part she was trying harder to be more considerate and less critical. On the surface everything was great, so why did she still have this niggling, unshakeable feeling that something wasn’t quite right?
When she and Jack had got married, she’d felt like she was living in a fairy tale. They were still in their twenties then, working long hours and socialising with friends during the week but at the weekend they preferred to hole up in their new flat in Clapham and play house. It was the novelty of it all back then. They turned down invitations to parties and dinners, cooking a Sunday roast for two instead and going for long, lazy walks together. Saturday nights went from dancing until the early hours in some dingy club to curling up on the sofa with a film. At the same time, she was climbing the ranks in the law firm where she worked and earning a reputation as one to watch. During those blissful first few months of marriage, she had everything that she had ever wanted and she couldn’t imagine ever feeling unhappy again.
She could pinpoint the exact moment when her bubble finally burst. It was a Friday evening and they had planned to go home after work and get a takeaway. She’d had to work a little later than expected and she had rushed home eager to get back to Jack. As she raced up the stairs, she imagined him waiting for her, with a cold beer. But when she entered the flat, it was dark.
‘Jack?’ she called out, although she already knew that he wasn’t home.
Rummaging in the bottom of her bag for her phone, she checked it to see if he’d called or texted but there were no notifications. She typed out a quick text to him and went into the bedroom to get changed into something more comfortable. Four hours and several unanswered calls later, Jack still wasn’t home and Angie had worked herself up into a frenzy. She messaged a couple of his friends to ask if he was with them, thinking that perhaps he went out for a quick drink after work and had one too many, but no one had seen him. Finally, she crawled into bed at midnight and waited, wide awake, for him to come home.
He eventually did, at 6am. Angie had barely slept a wink and was on the verge of calling the police and reporting him as a missing person when he walked into their bedroom looking dishevelled, disorientated and smelling like a brewery.
‘Jack, what the hell?’ Angie said, sitting up. ‘I’ve been out of my mind with worry!’
‘Sorry, I’m sorry,’ Jack said, sinking down onto the bed and peeling off his shoes and socks.
‘Where have you been?’
‘I went out with a client for a drink after work and it all got out of hand. I tried to text you but I left my phone at work.’ He leaned back against the pillow and closed his eyes, as if to him, the conversation was over.
‘Jack, this is not okay,’ Angie persisted. ‘You were supposed to be coming home last night. I had no idea where you were and I’ve barely slept a wink. You know I don’t care if you go out with friends, but you need to tell me. You can’t just not show up.’
‘I know, I’m sorry, Ange,’ he said, groaning as he shifted position. ‘It won’t happen again.’
Except that it did happen again. And again. It was as if Jack had grown tired of playing house and had decided to return to his old, single lifestyle. Angie was furious and terrified. Her deepest, darkest fear was that she loved Jack more than he loved her, and his behaviour was adding fuel to the monster of anxiety inside her. In all other areas of her life, she had always been cool, calm and in control, but Jack was her weakness.
The problem was that every time she confronted him, he looked at her like she was overreacting, throwing his hands up in protest. ‘Angie, I love you. It’s not like I’m cheating on you. I would never do that. I’m just blowing off a little steam, okay? We’re still young, let’s act like it.’
It went on for months, until Angie lost complete confidence in her own feelings. On one hand she was well within her rights to tell Jack his behaviour was not appropriate, that they were married and he had to act like it. But on the other hand, she wondered if Jack was right. They were young, independent people. They didn’t own each other, they didn’t have children, they could do what they liked. And after all, he was only going out to have a bit of fun with the boys, she told herself, he wasn’t having an affair. As time went on, she learned to turn a blind eye, convincing herself that he wasn’t doing anything wrong at all.
Then one Sunday afternoon, they were taking a walk across Clapham Common when Jack announced, ‘I think we should start trying for a baby.’
The Woman Next Door Page 5
