The Woman Next Door

by Natasha Boydell

  ‘But it’s not.’

  ‘Well clearly not. But every time I think I should say something to Jack, I convince myself that it’s all in my head, and that if I tell him then at best, he’ll think I’m a paranoid, jealous wife and at worst that I’ve actually lost my mind.’

  ‘No man should ever make you feel any of those things.’

  ‘Are you saying I deserve more?’ The words were out of her mouth before she’d even processed them in her head. As soon as she said it, she realised it sounded like an innuendo.

  But Alan didn’t seem fazed. ‘You definitely deserve more.’

  ‘Do you think I’m losing my mind?’

  ‘No, I don’t. And I think that anyone who makes you feel like that isn’t good enough for you.’

  ‘So you don’t think Jack is good enough for me?’ She was challenging him now, and perversely enjoying herself, but he still seemed unruffled. She was quite impressed actually.

  ‘Not if he makes you feel like this, no. From what you’ve told me, he’s acted like a bit of an arsehole in the past, so it’s understandable that you feel anxious. He’s done that to you. But you’re not being fair to him either, if you don’t tell him how you feel. You’re assuming that you know how he’s going to react but you don’t.’

  She knew he was right but why was he so much easier to talk to than her own husband?

  ‘I just feel so guilty,’ she admitted. ‘I feel like it’s all my fault. I put my own needs before those of my husband and my children and now I’m being punished.’

  ‘I don’t like to hear you talking like this, Angie,’ Alan said. ‘None of this is your fault. You’re an incredible person, come on now, you know that. You’ve achieved so much. Most women worship you and the men… Well, you know the effect that you have on men.’

  They were embarking on dangerous territory now but she was not inclined to stop it. How long had it been since she’d had a conversation like this with a man? Since someone had admired her the way that Alan was doing? Oh God, she’d missed this feeling of power. She knew, in that moment, she could have him if she wanted him. Did she want him? She reached out and took his hand, stroking it with her own. He looked at it, and then at her, in surprise.

  ‘Do I have an effect on you, Alan?’

  He looked terrified at first. He was so easy to read and she could see that he was torn between desire and loyalty. She was the type of woman that someone like Alan would consider way out of his league. Most men saw her like that. Jack was one of the only ones she’d ever met who was confident enough to think otherwise. All Alan needed was one small, gentle push in the right direction and he would be hers. She was finally in control again and it felt good.

  She leaned forward and kissed him. Time stood still as she waited for his reaction. And then he put one of his hands behind her head, grabbed some of her hair and kissed her back. He lifted her up like she was as light as a feather and put her on the kitchen surface, spreading her legs and pushing himself in between them. He was more passionate than she’d been expecting. She had underestimated Alan Brennan. She closed her legs around him and kissed him back.

  Afterwards, they dressed silently and sat side by side on the kitchen surface, next to their tepid coffees. The spark between them that had been so electric minutes before had gone and they were Angie and Alan again, two neighbours who had committed an unspeakable act.

  ‘Angie…’ he began, and then paused, not knowing what to say.

  ‘It’s my fault,’ she said. ‘I kissed you, I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Can we just pretend it never happened?’

  ‘I think that’s the best we can do.’

  He left soon afterwards. How could he stick around and make polite conversation after something like that? The aftermath was a total anti-climax. She was just alone, again, cleaning the kitchen surface and wondering what in God’s name she had just done.

  But somehow, she managed to convince herself that it was okay. She and Jack were even now, she told herself. He no longer had one up on her. She was no longer the victim. And as for Sophie, of course she felt bad but it was a one-off and it hadn’t meant anything to either of them. It would never happen again and telling her would only cause a whole lot of unnecessary pain. Sophie was the best friend she’d ever had and nothing would change that, not even this. In truth, no matter how selfish it was, she didn’t want to lose her.

  She tried to act normally. On the other side of the fence, she suspected that Alan was doing much the same. There was too much for them to lose to blow their cover, she knew it and he knew it. As time went on it became easier. Months went by, life went on. No one suspected a thing and she even began to convince herself that it never really happened at all.

  But then that damn summer holiday had thrown everything up in the air again.

  She had sensed Alan’s eyes on her all week. She had splashed out on some sexy bikinis and as she paraded around the villa or climbed out of the pool, she knew she looked good. She enjoyed knowing that he was admiring her but she didn’t feel guilty. She liked it when any man admired her and she wasn’t sorry for it. All women liked to know they were attractive. It was just a bit of harmless fun, she told herself, it didn’t mean anything at all. And anyway, Sophie and Jack were so busy having a laugh together that they barely even noticed.

  So when Indie took it upon herself to inform her that she was a terrible mother and that her husband preferred the company of other women, bringing her fears and anxieties flooding back again, who could she possibly turn to but her knight in shining armour? The man who had never been anything but kind to her. The man who she knew was attracted to her.

  She started thinking about him more and more. She remembered how he had made her feel last time. It had faded as soon as it was over but for a few moments it had been bliss, like a long dead spark inside her had been reignited. She had felt alive and invigorated again for the first time in so long. She knew it wasn’t real, it was a temporary high just like a hit from drugs, but she wanted to feel it again. She needed to feel it. She tried not to think about Sophie.

  By the time she got home from holiday, her yearning to see him was so strong that all she could think of was how to engineer a meeting between them. In the end it was easy. Jack was out working on a new TV series and Sophie had rediscovered swimming and, creature of habit that she was, went to the leisure centre at the same time every day. She knew that Alan was working on a house renovation up the road in Barnet. So when she sent him a text asking him to come round as a matter of urgency, he was at her door in twenty minutes.

  ‘Everything okay, Ange?’ he asked, as she let him in.

  ‘Yes, it’s fine. Coffee?’

  He looked confused. ‘You said it was an emergency?’

  ‘It is an emergency. I need to talk to you.’

  ‘What about?’

  ‘What happened between us.’

  Alan sat down on one of the kitchen chairs with a heavy sigh. ‘I thought we’d agreed to pretend that it never happened. It was months ago. Why are you bringing it up now?’

  ‘Because I’ve been thinking about you. A lot.’

  Alan looked up at her in alarm.

  She started walking slowly towards him, unbuttoning the top of her dress.

  ‘Angie…’ he began, holding up a hand to stop her. But already she could see he was conflicted. He wanted her. He was thinking about her in that bikini on holiday. Perhaps he thought about her at night too, when he was lying in bed. She’d always had power over men. Well, all men apart from Jack. She shook the thought of her husband from her mind.

  ‘I want you. And I think you want me.’

  ‘Angie, please,’ he said. He was almost begging her.

  She finished unbuttoning her dress. Underneath it she had put on the bikini she’d worn on holiday as a final touch. She looked at him and he looked at her, and she knew she’d won.

  Over the next three months they met up a few more times.
She would text him and he would come. Afterwards it was always the same; they knew it was wrong but they both knew they’d be back for more. And then a couple of weeks before Christmas, Alan finally ended it for good.

  ‘This has to stop, Angie,’ he said, as he buttoned up his shirt. ‘I’m serious. I’m done.’

  She considered trying to persuade him otherwise but she knew he was right. It had already gone too far, way too far. The worst of it, she realised afterwards, was that she didn’t even care. Alan was not the answer to all of her problems. If anything, he’d made them so much worse.

  She nodded. ‘What do we do now?’

  ‘I don’t know. I’ve never been in this situation before.’

  ‘Look, no one knows about it. Perhaps no one needs to. Why don’t we just put it behind us and move on. Too much is at stake otherwise.’

  She could see the relief on his face and knew that she had given him the get-out clause he’d been desperately hoping for. Men were all the same, even the nice ones.

  ‘I think that’s a good idea,’ he said.

  ‘Okay, so we’re agreed.’ She stood up and started getting dressed too. They turned away from each other, both conscious of their naked bodies now they had agreed to stop.

  As he pulled his jumper on, he said, ‘I want you to know, I’ve never done anything like this before in my life.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘I love Sophie.’

  ‘I know that too.’

  He nodded. When he was finished dressing, they went back down to the kitchen. He opened the back door to leave, and then turned to look at her sadly.

  ‘Bye, Angie.’

  ‘Bye, Alan.’

  She watched him disappear through the gate into his own back garden. And it was then that the crushing realisation of what she’d done finally hit her. She’d been living in a fantasy. Alan was not her knight in shining armour. They were not going to run off into the sunset together. He was the husband of her neighbour, her friend, and she had done a terrible thing.

  But she had things to do so she poured herself a glass of water, opened up her emails and got on with her work, just like she had always done, all her life, no matter what it threw at her.

  But she found she could no longer concentrate. It was different this time and she was unable to brush everything under the carpet. The guilt had started eating away at her and Jack had noticed and kept asking her what was wrong. She had no idea what to say to him. She could hardly accuse him of having affairs when the only proof she had of any indiscretion was that of her own. And as for Sophie, she could barely look the woman in the eye. So she started avoiding her, finding excuses as to why she couldn’t stop for a chat whenever she popped round. Seeing the disappointment on her friend’s face, which was later replaced with hurt when Sophie realised she was getting the brush-off, Angie felt even more wretched. The fact that they were neighbours was a fitting punishment for her crime, a relentless reminder of what a terrible person she was.

  For a while she worried that Alan would crack under the pressure and confess everything to Sophie. She waited for her to appear at her back door, hammering it down and launching herself at Angie like a feral animal. Sometimes she woke up in the night in a cold sweat thinking that Sophie was in her room, watching her. But as the days, then weeks, went by and nothing happened, she began to breathe. If he was going to do it, he’d have done it by now. Their secret was safe. They had got away with it without hurting anyone but themselves.

  At least that’s what she’d thought.

  But then her daughter, her flesh and blood, the girl she had conceived, carried, birthed, loved and nurtured for thirteen years, had somehow found out about it and had set out to destroy her. And by the time she realised what she was up to, it was too late.

  17

  At first, Sophie had laughed. She had actually laughed. When Indie had made her New Year’s toast, she had assumed that it was some sort of outlandish joke and had instinctively chuckled in response because that’s what you do with jokes. I don’t get it, though, she thought.

  Perhaps Indie was trying to cause a rift between her mother and father? She looked at Angie and Jack who were gaping at each other. Well she’s certainly done that. Sophie was momentarily cross that the girl had dragged poor Alan into it. She glanced at him for reassurance, but he wouldn’t meet her eye. And that’s when it hit her. This wasn’t a joke at all.

  ‘What the fuck is going on?’ Jack asked. She couldn’t have put it better herself.

  She continued staring at Alan in disbelief but he had his head buried in his hands and refused to look up, to look at her. Apparently, he had lost his voice as well as his fucking mind. She turned to Angie who had sat down on the edge of a sofa.

  ‘I can explain,’ she began.

  After that, it was a blur of words.

  It was a mistake.

  It only happened a few times.

  It didn’t mean anything.

  We both regretted it.

  Then silence. Evidently Angie was done with her confession.

  ‘When did it start?’ Jack asked. ‘How long has it been going on?’

  She saw Angie glance at Alan, but he was still sitting like a useless lump of coal on the sofa, refusing to look at anyone. The cowardly bastard.

  ‘Not long. It was over before it began,’ Angie replied.

  ‘That’s not an answer,’ Jack said.

  Sophie’s gaze was flitting between Angie and Alan. She didn’t know where to look. She didn’t know what to do. She wanted to do something, anything, yet she couldn’t move.

  ‘Tell them, Angie.’ It was Alan. Finally the man spoke. ‘Tell them the truth.’

  Angie looked momentarily irritated, like Alan was a wayward client ignoring her advice and ruining her well-laid plans. Then she sighed with apparent resignation. ‘The first time it happened was in January.’

  ‘Jesus Christ, Angie!’ Jack exploded.

  Sophie’s mind was racing. She couldn’t process it. Alan was supposed to be kind and loyal. How could he do this? And Angie was supposed to be one of her closest friends. This was the kind of mad, crazy stuff she used to write about for magazines and now it was happening to her.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ Angie said to Jack. Then she turned to Sophie. ‘I’m so sorry.’

  Sophie still didn’t know what to do with herself. Should she leave? Should she stay? Should she slap Angie? Should she punch Alan? This is the worst moment of my life, she thought.

  Then something clicked into place. ‘When you thought you were pregnant, you were in a right state,’ she said.

  Angie looked at her with wide eyes. ‘Sophie…’ she began.

  ‘I couldn’t work it out at the time. I mean I knew you were done having children and didn’t want any more, I got that, but it seemed like more than that. Like you were terrified.’

  ‘What’s she talking about, Angie?’ Jack demanded.

  ‘And then you were funny with me for a while afterwards,’ Sophie continued. ‘Nothing major, I could just tell something was off. I remember asking you at the Easter party but you wouldn’t talk to me.’ She paused. ‘You didn’t know who the father was, did you? Before you realised it was a false alarm, you didn’t know whether it was Alan’s or Jack’s.’

  Angie lowered her eyes.

  ‘Angie?’ Jack was staring at her in horror. So was Alan.

  Angie looked like she was in hell. Now she knows how it feels, Sophie thought.

  ‘Angie?’ Jack shouted.

  Slowly, Angie shook her head. ‘No,’ she replied.

  Jack moved towards Alan. ‘I think you’d better leave.’

  Sophie still hadn’t moved.

  ‘You too, Sophie,’ Jack said. He looked at her apologetically. ‘I need to talk to Angie.’

  ‘What about the kids?’ Sophie said, suddenly. ‘They’re still upstairs.’

  ‘I’ll bring them round tomorrow,’ Jack assured her.

  ‘I don’t want them in th
is house.’ Sophie was starting to panic now. ‘I don’t want them sleeping under her roof.’

  Jack put a hand on her arm. At least one of them was managing to stay calm. ‘Let them sleep, Sophie. You’ll only confuse and upset them if you wake them up now, in the middle of the night, especially in the state that you’re in. They’ll be fine here; I’ll look after them. I’ll bring them round myself as soon as they wake up.’

  Sophie still didn’t move.

  ‘I promise,’ Jack said. ‘Trust me.’

  She nodded and went to follow Alan out of the room. Just before she left, she turned to Angie. But although she had a million things that she wanted to say to her, she was momentarily speechless. She turned away again in disgust and left.

  They walked back round to their own house in silence. Alan put the kettle on while Sophie sat down at the kitchen table and flicked absent-mindedly through some pictures that Tom and Katie had drawn earlier that day. She had been pottering about in the kitchen while they did them, listening to the radio and singing along while she did chores. When they had proudly presented their artwork to her, she had exclaimed in delight, grabbing them both and pulling them to her for a hug. Just a few hours ago, her life had been so blissfully normal and uncomplicated. Now she was struggling to process a seismic shift.

  It all made sense now, why Angie had been so funny with her. She had been keeping her distance because she’d been sleeping with her husband. And there was Sophie thinking, fretting, that she had done something to upset her. At least Angie had acted like she’d done something wrong though. Alan, on the other hand, had behaved so normally that she hadn’t had the slightest inkling that anything was up. The man she thought she knew better than anyone in the world had lied and cheated like he’d been doing it all his life. How could he do it?

  She clutched tightly onto a picture that Katie had drawn of the four of them, Alan, Sophie, Tom and Katie, holding hands and smiling underneath a rainbow. Their perfect family of four. Her hands were shaking. She looked up at Alan, who was putting teabags in mugs.