How did that happen? I ask.
Did what you said. Put feelers out to my contacts. Obvs didn’t say why. But this happened.
Brilliant.
Briefly, I am so pleased for her. It would be the perfect job for her, and flexible.
When’s the interview? I ask.
Tomorrow morning! Things are moving!
Things certainly are, I think. If April gets a job, she’s going to take the children away from their father and go into hiding. The children who she then might start abusing, once their father isn’t there to protect them. I have to stop it.
Should we have coffee after? she asks.
Sorry, I say. Meeting. All morning. I don’t have a meeting. I just don’t want to face her. And I’m kind of hoping that I’ll see Leo. But let me know how it goes! She’s got me using the exclamation marks too. So exciting! I add for good measure.
As I put down the phone after that message, Leo phones.
‘I’m in the garden,’ he says. ‘She’s all distracted by something. Not interested in where I am for once.’
I pause, calculating.
‘She has a job interview tomorrow,’ I say. ‘She doesn’t want you to know.’
If April is telling the truth about Leo, he will sabotage the job interview if he knows. But if Leo is telling the truth, this will be good news. Leo’s reaction will confirm what I now believe.
‘A job interview? Wow, that’s . . . unexpected.’
I try to figure out his tone, but I can’t.
‘So you believe me?’ he says.
‘Yes,’ I say, mentally reserving that it is only if he passes this last test.
‘Can we meet tomorrow?’ he says, after a pause. ‘Hyde Park?’
I think quickly. I have absolutely no idea where April will be, and what she might do after her interview. I cannot risk her seeing me with Leo.
‘You’d better come to my place,’ I say. ‘If that’s okay.’ I hope I’m getting this right, and haven’t just invited a wife-beater into my home.
‘No problem,’ says Leo.
‘Can you get off work?’ I ask.
Leo laughs, and suddenly he feels more like the sophisticated man that I have known all along. ‘Mary,’ he says. ‘When it comes to my professional life, I can do what the hell I want.’ And then, in a smaller voice, ‘Unlike in my personal life.’
I suppose it makes sense that someone like him – emasculated, subjected to what April does to him – would need to shine in his work life as compensation. It’s the only place where she can’t get to him.
I guess that I still have some residual doubts, because I spend the rest of the afternoon and the night waiting for the phone to ring – waiting for April to say that Leo has found out about the interview and has stopped it, or to ask me why in God’s name I told him. Maybe even for a middle-of-the-night rescue, and now I have no Joshua to help. But the phone remains silent.
In the morning, I message her: Good luck! Thinking of you!
And she comes back: So excited! Will call when done.
Leo has passed my test. There is no way an abusive man would have left the information about the job interview alone. No way.
He arrives at my house exactly on time.
‘I’m feeling all sneaky,’ he says as he comes in. ‘Is it weird that I’m feeling all sneaky?’
‘Not really,’ I say. ‘I feel sneaky too. We’re being sneaky. I don’t like it.’
‘Thank you, Mary,’ he says, those eyes of his boring into me. ‘Thank you for being sneaky for me.’
He says it in a serious tone, but there’s something there, in the air between us. Something new. I brush it off – it is the secret that we share, and nothing more.
I offer him coffee or tea, and he refuses. It makes me feel wrong-footed somehow, like this would be more natural, more normal, with a hot drink in hand.
‘Okay,’ I say. ‘Let’s go sit outside.’
I’m suddenly keenly aware of how basic my home is compared to their Saxonwold mansion; how worn my couches are, how scuffed the edges of everything are. I was so thrilled with those couches when I found them on Facebook marketplace, priced to go because the original owner was emigrating and needed to sell everything in a rush. But they are a bit faded and worn. With April, I didn’t feel self-conscious because she always seemed so happy to be here, but Leo is actively looking around, curious. But he says nothing – not even a small compliment – so I know what he’s thinking.
‘Okay,’ I say, when we are sitting outside on my little stoep. ‘So, what I want to know is this: what would your ideal solution be?’
‘I need to get away from her,’ he says, leaning forward so that our knees are almost touching under the table. ‘But I can’t just leave, because of the kids. And she’ll never leave me. So I’m stuck.’
‘What if I told you,’ I say, ‘that she’s going to leave you?’
‘She never would, Mary. She’ll tell you that she plans to, but she won’t.’
‘She’s at a job interview right now,’ I say. ‘So that she can support herself.’
Leo looks at me, two sorrowful ponds staring out at me. ‘Mary,’ he says, ‘is she at a job interview?’
My heart sinks. ‘Did you stop her?’ I say. ‘Leo, have you hurt her?’
He sighs. ‘You still don’t quite believe me,’ he says. ‘I guess I can’t be surprised. You wouldn’t be the woman I admire so much if you just accepted things. But that’s not what I’m saying.’
‘Then what are you saying?’ I ask, although I sort of already know.
‘I’m saying that she told you she is going for a job interview because she thinks that is what you want to hear. I promise you, she’s not at a job interview. Why would April get a job when she can live very comfortably off me, treating me as she wishes, for the rest of her life?’
I’m about to speak but he carries on, his voice louder.
‘She knows bloody well that I wouldn’t fight her financially. If it wasn’t for the kids, I’d sign everything over to her just so I could leave. Look,’ he says, grabbing his phone, ‘we have that track-your-phone thing so that she can track me, but I also see her.’
He opens it.
‘There,’ he says, pointing at a dot on the screen. ‘There she is, at home. She’s not going anywhere.’ He closes the app. I’m about to ask if he isn’t worried that April will see where he is, but he’s still talking. ‘And I can promise you this,’ he says. ‘Whatever she tells you, she’s not leaving me. Something will come up. Things won’t pan out. She’ll keep telling you stories, and then one day, you’ll ask the wrong question, and she’ll realise you’re guessing the truth about her, and she’ll cut you out of our lives.’ He takes a breath. ‘Have you ever met any of her friends, Mary, other than that school crowd?’
‘No.’ It’s the first word I’ve managed to get in.
‘Exactly,’ he says. ‘She has none. And allows me none. This whole school-reconnection thing has been so great for me, seeing other people, even if she’s normally angry afterwards.’
‘But you guys entertain the whole time,’ I say.
‘What?’ He looks genuinely confused.
‘You entertain. Clients and your friends. All the time.’
‘I am not allowed to invite people to the house,’ he says slowly. ‘That time we had you guys over is the first time we’ve entertained since . . . since she was friends with Almari.’
‘Almari?’
‘Your predecessor,’ he says, with an apologetic shrug.
I laugh. ‘My what?’
‘There’s always a Mary,’ he says. ‘An NBF. That said, you’re the nicest one. Normally they’re harder women, glamorous Yummy Mummy types.’
‘Oh.’ I feel strangely gutted.
‘And then something happens, and whoever it was is out, and a few days or weeks or months later there’s a new one.’
‘You really know how to make a girl feel special,’ I say, trying to sound
like I’m joking.
He looks at me. ‘Well, that’s the odd part. You actually are special. You’re . . . nice.’ He pauses. ‘More than nice. You’re . . .’ He stops. ‘Let’s just say, you’re the first person I have ever told the truth to. So you must be special.’
‘Thanks. I think,’ I say.
He laughs. His laugh is rich and heartfelt. He tips his head back, and I can see inside his mouth. His teeth are strong and white.
My initial idea – of somehow tricking April into leaving the kids with Leo when she leaves – won’t work if she doesn’t leave. But there has to be a way. April is clearly bat-shit crazy, and I can’t stand by and watch Leo and his children get stuck with her any more than I could stand by and let Travis hurt Django. I am not a person who accepts abuse – of my child or of anyone else’s.
‘What are you going to do?’ I ask Leo. It seems hopeless.
Leo looks at me. ‘I have a plan, Mary,’ he says. ‘But it’s kind of diabolical and I’m scared that you’ll hate me if I tell you.’ He pauses. Those eyes. ‘I don’t want you to hate me, Mary.’
‘I won’t hate you, Leo,’ I say. ‘I understand that sometimes one has to go to the extreme.’ For a moment I am back in my father’s house, locked in a room with Django, listening to Travis rage on the doorstep.
‘April is crazy,’ Leo says slowly. ‘Bat-shit, crazy, nuts.’
‘Yes,’ I say. ‘It seems that way.’
‘And I’m a psychologist. A top, internationally renowned psychologist.’
‘You mustn’t blame yourself for not spotting it,’ I say. ‘Love blinds us.’
‘I know,’ he says. ‘That’s not what I’m saying. Think about it. I know lots of other psychologists and psychiatrists. All of them, really.’
‘I know, but I doubt April would agree to getting help.’ I feel sad for him then, thinking that he can still help her.
He ignores my interruption.
‘And many of these professionals would accept my word about something, without asking any questions.’
I’m silent for a moment. ‘What are you thinking, Leo?’
‘I’m thinking that I could get April put away in a psychiatric clinic for a bit. Just enough time for me to take the kids and hide from her, somewhere where she wouldn’t immediately find me. And then, when she comes out, and I start divorce proceedings, what judge is going to give custody to a mother with . . . with . . . well, with whatever it is we admit her for.’
I am staring at Leo, my mouth slightly open.
‘I know, I know,’ he says. ‘It’s too much. I can’t. I know.’
‘Listen,’ I say. ‘My late husband hit Django once. Once was enough.’
‘What did you do?’
‘I left,’ I say. ‘I hid. I planned how I could divorce him without him getting access to Django.’
‘I thought you were a widow?’
‘I got lucky,’ I say, with a shrug. ‘He died shortly after.’
There’s a moment of silence while Leo digests this.
‘So,’ he says. ‘Think my plan will work?’
I think. ‘Yes,’ I say eventually. ‘It’s not ethical though. You could lose your right to practise.’
He shrugs. ‘I can save myself and my kids, or remain ethical and abused. Not really a choice, is there?’
‘Sounds like you’ve made up your mind,’ I say. ‘Why are you telling me?’
‘I know it sounds crazy,’ he says. ‘But I kind of want your approval. And support. I can do this, but it would be easier if I had someone I could talk to. Someone who knows.’
‘Leo, I think that you are kind of a genius,’ I say. ‘It’s the most incredible plan and I would never have thought of it. It just scares me. It seems so extreme. Surely you can just divorce her?’
‘And risk her getting custody of the kids?’
I know that he’s right. The courts aren’t going to take custody away from the mother, especially a stay-at-home mother who, on paper at least, has devoted her life to them, without good reason.
I nod and stand up. ‘I guess you have to do this,’ I say. I’m not sure what else I’m saying. That I’ll support him? That I endorse this? But he seems to take it that all this has been said, because he smiles.
He stands too, and stretches, his shirt lifting slightly to show his abs.
‘What are you going to do?’ he says.
‘About what?’
‘About April. Now that you know what she really is.’
I hadn’t thought about it.
‘I guess that for now I’ll just act like things are normal,’ I say. ‘But I’ll be honest . . . this is too complicated for me. I’m going to have to tell her I don’t want to be friends any more.’
‘But you won’t tell her I told?’ he says. His voice sounds panicked.
‘You don’t have to live like this, Leo,’ I say. ‘You have a plan. But no, I won’t tell April that we’ve spoken.’
He nods. ‘Okay,’ he says. ‘I just need time to put it in place.’
He steps closer to me, so that we’re in each other’s space. ‘Thank you,’ he says, looking down at me. ‘Thank you for believing me.’
I look up at him. I can feel the heat of his body down the length of mine. The air between us is alive.
I step back.
‘Sure,’ I say.
Chapter 45
April phones me just before I am due to fetch Django. I consider not answering, but I am also curious about what she will say.
‘How did it go?’ I ask.
‘Oh God, Mary,’ she says. ‘It was a disaster from beginning to end. I don’t know how I actually expected to be able to do this.’
As Leo predicted.
‘First,’ she says, ‘I couldn’t find my handbag with everything in it . . .’
Nothing new there. April often loses her handbag, her keys, her phone, her sunglasses. I would have thought she would have been more organised on a day like this. Then I catch myself. None of this is true, I remind myself.
‘I finally found my keys, and thank God I knew where I was going, but I was late . . .’
Again. Of course. And again, if any of this is even true.
‘I think they hated me, Mary. I think they couldn’t believe that a housewife had the cheek to think she could do their big fancy job. I didn’t know the answers to anything. Hell, I didn’t know what half the questions meant.’
She’s crying. I react automatically.
‘I’m sure it wasn’t so bad,’ I say.
‘It was terrible, Mary,’ she says. ‘I can’t do this.’
‘Maybe you should stay, then?’ I’m tired of these games.
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean if you can’t do this, then obviously you don’t want to leave that badly. One bad job interview is not the end of the world. But you’re acting like it’s a catastrophe.’
There’s a pause.
‘We’re not all like you, Mary.’
‘Count yourself lucky for that,’ I spit back. Then I calm down a bit. ‘You do this, April. You act like a small setback is the end of the world. But the reality is that if you want to leave Leo, you need to be sharp and you need to be focused.’
I’ve probably pushed her too far. She’ll stop talking to me, and to be honest, that will be for the best.
I hear a sigh. I wait to hear her hang up.
‘You know,’ she says, ‘you’re a good friend to me, Mary. You really want to help me. You’re not going to let me self-sabotage. I can’t tell you how much it means to have someone who believes in me. I don’t know if I have ever had that before. If you’re behind me, then I can do this.’
‘Great,’ I say, my heart sinking. ‘So maybe look at some of those job links I sent through. Maybe you need to be more realistic.’
‘Absolutely,’ she says. ‘I am getting to that right now. Thanks so much. Love you.’
Right.
‘Okay, good luck then,’ I say. ‘Bye.’
Damn.
Leo phones me that evening. He sounds furtive, like he’s hiding from April.
‘I checked up on protocol to have her admitted,’ he says. ‘It seems pretty straightforward. I make an application to the facility, which will be easy because I know them all and they know me. Then two doctors will have to see her. But that won’t be an issue.’
‘Because they know you?’ I say.
‘Exactly. Those guys will believe me. And she’ll be objecting so much that she’ll sound nuts. Maybe even threaten them. Probably lie.’
‘Right,’ I say. The conversation is making me uncomfortable. ‘And then?’
‘Then they watch her for seventy-two hours. After that, they’ll decide if they’ll keep her longer.’
He sounds almost triumphant, but I know he’s just relieved to have a plan in place.
‘So you’d have seventy-two hours?’ I ask.
‘No. If I play it right, get the right description that will fit with her behaviour, it will be longer. Long enough to have a court later refuse her custody.’
I feel a stir of unease. ‘So you’ll lie to keep her there?’
‘No! She is genuinely insane, Mary.’ Leo sounds outraged. ‘I just have to explain it to them without actually telling them what she does to me.’
‘Why?’ I ask. ‘Why not just tell the truth? Wouldn’t that be simpler?’
There is a long pause.
‘Because I would die if my colleagues knew, okay,’ says Leo, his voice even softer. ‘I would die.’
‘Okay,’ I say. ‘I can get that.’
And I can. Yes, it is kind of extreme . . . but nobody knows better than me that you do what you have to do when your kids are in danger.
The next day, Leo phones me again. This time, April can’t be around, because he’s speaking in his normal voice.
‘So, I’ve been to the facility and talked to them,’ he says.
‘Let me just be clear,’ I ask, ‘when you say facility, you mean the psychiatric hospital?’
Leo laughs. ‘Yes,’ he says. ‘I guess I’ve been spending too much time with lawyers.’
Never Tell A Lie Page 26
