by Lisa Hall
‘I don’t think so,’ I manage to stutter, my fingers fluttering to my sleeves again, ‘I only went once or twice. Like I say, I’m a bit rusty.’
Sorcha smiles and says something about loosening me up, but I can’t keep my focus on her. I feel more than a little furious with Sadie for drawing attention to me, and also for bringing me to a class where the instructor knows Caro. Embarrassment makes my cheeks burn hot and red, as if everyone knows that I am the second Mrs Milligan, and they are all comparing me to Caro. I lean down and fuss with my mat, making sure it’s straight before turning my attention to my feet.
An hour later, I am too sweaty and exhausted to be annoyed at Sadie anymore, and the thinking time the yoga class has afforded me has made me realize that if I fall out with Sadie then I really will be lonely, especially now that Mags and I are barely on speaking terms – I called Mags when we got back from our honeymoon, hoping to make amends for not inviting her to the wedding, but Mags cut me off and when I called back the phone was switched off.
‘How about lunch back at mine in an hour? I’ll text Amanda and see if she wants to join us,’ I suggest to Sadie as we leave the class. Nervous, the words tumble out, leaving me slightly breathless. I’ve never invited Sadie to do anything with me before, aware as I am that she was Caro’s friend, but I’m not quite ready to be on my own yet today, and the idea of stepping through the front door knowing that I have company for the afternoon gives me a lift.
‘Oh. That sounds… lovely. OK,’ Sadie says, as if surprised that I would want to have lunch with her. Surprised, and pleased, I think. ‘I’ll give you a bit of time to freshen up, shall I?’ She casts her eye over me, and I am aware of my sweaty hairline, and the way my T-shirt sticks to my back and shoulders.
I hurry past the line of cabs waiting for their next fare, opting to walk instead. I still can’t get used to the idea of jumping in a cab for a ten-minute journey, when I could walk home and take in the beauty of where I find myself living now. I’ve never lived in a village before, and I still get a little shiver of glee as I walk through the main street, shaded by trees, giving little nods to the postman, the woman who works in the local shop. Feeling as though they recognize me as one of them, as though I belong, at last. My smile soon fades as I catch sight of my reflection in the shop window, my face pink and flushed, and I hope that Sadie gives me enough time to spruce myself up properly before she arrives.
The house is still and empty when I let myself in, dust motes swirling as I step towards the stairs. There is a faint scent of something I can’t quite place in the air, something sweet and floral. All things I still can’t quite get used to. The flat was always noisy, whether Mags was home or not, thanks to the constant buzz of traffic and the banging and shouting of the takeaway guys downstairs, and it never smelled fresh – a combination of kebab meat and Mags’s constant weed-smoking made sure of that.
Shedding my sweaty yoga gear, but not quite managing to leave it on the floor for the cleaner to pick up – unlike Rupert, whose trousers and shirt from yesterday still lie in a heap by the laundry basket – I jump into the shower, eager to rinse the sweat – and Sorcha’s mention of Caro – out of my hair. As I lather up, I berate myself for being so touchy about Caro. Caro lived round here for years, it’s inevitable that I’ll meet people who knew her, go to places that she went to. It’s hardly Caro’s fault that she was married to Rupert first. I have to remember that I am the one married to Rupert now, Rupert chose me. I turn off the shower and am just stepping out onto the mat, wrapping myself in a huge, fluffy bath towel, when I think I hear something.
My heart starts to race in my chest, and I step off the mat, padding silently across the tiled en-suite floor to the carpet of the bedroom. There it is – the snick of a door closing shut. Grabbing a robe from the back of the door with shaking hands, I quickly knot the belt and start to make my way downstairs, my breath coming fast and loud in my ears. I’m not imagining it now, I think, my hands shaking as I cling onto the polished oak bannister, my knuckles turning white. There is someone in the house, someone who shouldn’t be here.
On legs like jelly, I tiptoe as quickly as I can to the huge fireplace in the sitting room, snatching up the poker from the set that sits on the huge marble hearth. Feeling safer now I have something in my hand to fend off whoever it is, I pause for a moment, straining to hear the slightest noise, but there is nothing except the rapid thud of my pulse beating at my temples. Dabbing at the sweat that beads my upper lip, the poker falls to my side and the doubts creep in. Did I really hear something? Or did I just imagine it, caught up as I was in thoughts about Caro?
I close my eyes, willing my heart rate to return to normal, for my breath to come evenly and steadily. I stand still, not moving a muscle until the adrenaline has faded away and I feel as though I can move on my shaking legs without falling over. Slowly, I open my eyes just in time to see a shadow flit past the stained-glass panes of the front door.
‘Arrrghhh!’ I shriek a war cry, yanking the front door open with the poker held high above my head, only to see Sadie on the doorstep. ‘Shit. Fuck. Oh God, Sadie, I’m so sorry.’ Panting, I slouch against the doorframe, hot tears stinging my eyes.
‘Oh my God, Emily! Are you OK? What the hell is going on?’ Sadie peers past me into the hallway. ‘You terrified me!’
‘Sadie, I’m so sorry. I was in the shower, and I thought I heard something, like the sound of a door clicking shut… I thought someone was in the house.’ An ugly heat starts to spread across my chest and up my neck, and I pull my robe tightly closed at the top. ‘You’d better come in.’
‘It was probably your cleaner woman… what’s her name?’ Amanda appears behind Sadie, immaculate in very expensive loungewear. ‘I thought I saw someone walk out of your drive as I turned into the road.’
‘Yes, that’s probably it,’ Sadie says, but her brows tug together in a deep V of concern, and I wish I hadn’t told her about Harry. ‘Amanda was just walking up the driveway when I arrived.’
I stand to one side to let both women in, feeling underdressed and smarting with embarrassment. ‘Yes. It probably was just Anya, now that I think about it. I don’t know why I overreacted so badly. Look, let yourselves through into the kitchen and I’ll go and get dressed. Won’t be a moment.’
Sadie and Amanda head into the kitchen and I scurry upstairs, feeling like a stranger in my own home. I shrug off the robe, grateful for the cool air on my hot skin before reaching for a pair of leggings and a soft, grey cashmere jumper – another gift from Rupert, I never would have been able to afford it myself – and as I turn to leave the bedroom, something catches my eye on the bedside table. Frowning, I scoop it up, turning it over in my hands, its weight a small pebble in my palm. A lipstick. The ruffled gold casing of a Charlotte Tilbury lipstick, so familiar that at first, I think it must be mine, but when I open it it’s not my usual nude pink, but the distinctive orangey-red colour that I’ve only ever seen one woman wearing: Caro, in the photographs dotted across Sadie’s piano, the red her signature shade. With a shiver, I ram the lid back on and shove it into the bathroom bin.
‘So, what will you do with yourself now you’re no longer a working woman? I mean, you have a cleaner now, so it’s not like you still have your old job,’ Sadie asks with a raised eyebrow, as she sips at a glass of wine, pushing her salad around her plate. I’ve yet to see Sadie eat anything of real substance in all the time I’ve known her, and I feel a sharp pang as I think of Mags, stuffing in macaroni cheese as she watches Masterchef on the battered old sofa in the flat.
‘I’m not sure,’ I say, resisting the urge to shovel the last of my quiche into my mouth. Maybe if I eat like Sadie, I’ll have collarbones like her too, one day. ‘Probably some charity work? I don’t just want to sit around at home all day, I think I’ll go mad.’
‘So why not try and get another job?’ Amanda asks, as she lays her knife and fork down, half the food still left on her plate. I lay my own cutlery down
, looking regretfully at the last piece of quiche on the serving plate. Mags and I would have split it, and the thought of collarbones wouldn’t have even crossed my mind.
‘Well, I did think maybe I could, but Rupert doesn’t seem too keen. He’s quite insistent that he’s happy for me to stay home and look after him. I’m just not sure that I would be cut out for it.’
‘I bet,’ Amanda says. ‘Caro would never have stayed home like a good little wifey.’
‘I suppose it’s a bit different now you have someone in to do all that stuff for you. And even if you didn’t, it’s not like you’d still be getting paid to do it,’ Sadie says, her voice edged with something I can’t place. Before I can think of the best way to reply, she speaks again. ‘Emily, you have to do what’s right for the two of you. Although I do think that charity work might be a good thing for you – it’ll keep you busy, but you can still be about for Rupert, if that’s what he wants.’
Amanda snorts and reaches for the half-empty bottle of rosé on the table. ‘Well, if Rupert isn’t happy about you going out to a full-time job – although honestly, Emily, I wouldn’t let Will dictate to me like that – charity work is better than nothing, I suppose. Caro did charity work, so I don’t really see how Rupert can be against you doing something similar. Until you have a baby, at least.’
Heat creeps up my neck and I feel a blush stain my cheeks as I open and close my mouth uselessly, the words not there when I need them. Eventually, I hold out my glass for Amanda to fill it. ‘I’m sure I’ll find something,’ I say, brushing away Amanda’s comment about babies. ‘I have plenty of time.’
It’s not until later, once Sadie and Amanda have finished the bottle of rosé, and we’ve spent the afternoon discussing the honeymoon and how I am going to fill my time now that I’m not working, that I remember what Amanda said when she first arrived. It was probably your cleaner woman. My mind flits back to the bedroom earlier today, stepping over Rupert’s dirty laundry to get to the bathroom. The thing is, I am pretty sure that Anya wasn’t supposed to be working today.
Chapter Fourteen
Rupert is exhausted when he gets home on Friday night – this week has flown by and it feels like the honeymoon was months ago, although to be fair, he carried on working from his sun lounger for most of it. He felt less relaxed when he got back than he did before he left.
‘Honey, I’m home!’ He chuckles to himself under his breath, as he lets himself in through the front door. He always used to call the same thing out to Caro, and she would call back with some witty remark, but now there is only silence. ‘Em? Are you about?’ He drops his laptop bag by the front door and peers into the sitting room, where he sees Emily tucked up in the huge armchair, her feet curled up underneath her. ‘Are you OK?’
Emily has lit the candles that line the mantelpiece, and switched on the tiny Tiffany lamp that Caro bagged at a flea market in Brooklyn years ago, but the dim lighting does nothing to hide the dark circles under her eyes. She looks up at him, almost as though she hasn’t realized he was there. ‘Oh, you’re home.’ Her eyes wander to the clock on the wall and then back to his face. ‘Yes, I’m fine. I didn’t hear you come in.’ She gets to her feet, and as she goes to pass by him, he pulls her into his arms.
‘I missed you today. What did you get up to?’ He nuzzles her hair and she leans against him, her arms loosely round his waist.
‘I had a bit of a day, actually.’ Emily sighs, pushing her shoulder-length, blonde hair behind her ears as she wriggles out of his grasp and heads towards the kitchen.
‘Oh, why’s that?’ Rupert follows her, watching as she opens the fridge door and pulls out a bottle of Sauvignon.
‘Just silly things, really.’ She blinks, as if to hold back tears, and shakes her head. ‘I went to the yoga class today with Sadie. It was kind of her to invite me. It must be hard for her to see you move on after Caro.’
‘Yes, Sadie is lovely. So, what was the problem with the yoga class?’ Rupert reaches over to take the wine bottle from Emily’s hand as she struggles with the corkscrew.
‘Oh, it’s stupid.’ Emily shakes her head, tugging a tissue out of her sleeve and blowing her nose. ‘I feel ridiculous even mentioning it.’
‘Try me.’
‘Well… the instructor knew Caro. I know, I know, I shouldn’t feel weird about it, but I did. It just made me feel a little out of place, that’s all. Like, everyone is comparing me to Caro.’
‘Don’t be silly, no one is doing that. It’s just a coincidence – surely there are only so many yoga teachers in the area? And Caro did do a lot of yoga, so she was probably taught by most of them at one point or another. But if it makes you feel uncomfortable, maybe no more yoga, eh?’
‘Maybe.’ A cloud crosses Emily’s face and she opens her mouth as if to speak before closing it abruptly again.
‘Was there something else?’
‘You’re really going to think I’m daft if I tell you.’ Emily lets out a little half laugh, but Rupert can tell there is something on her mind that’s bothering her.
‘Tell me.’
‘Well, I thought I heard someone in the house today, and I almost thumped Sadie over the head with a poker, but it turned out it was just Anya.’ She tries to smile. ‘I told you it was silly.’
‘You almost thumped Sadie over the head with a poker?’ Rupert gapes at her, as he wonders how on earth Sadie coped with that.
‘Almost. I didn’t actually do it. See, I told you you’d think I was an idiot. I thought she was an intruder, I was trying to defend myself.’ Emily folds her arms across her chest.
‘Well, if you thought you heard something…’ Rupert says, trying to keep the doubt from his voice. He doesn’t want to tell Emily that she was probably imagining it, not when she’d told him she’s received horrible letters and strange text messages, but he’s been through this stuff with Caro before. ‘Who could blame you, eh? I bet you gave Sadie a right old fright.’ He gives a huff of laughter, trying to show Emily that there was nothing to worry about, but when he looks at her, her mouth is turned down, and there is a faint shimmer at the corner of her eye.
‘Sod it,’ he says, throwing down the corkscrew next to the still unopened wine, ‘let’s go out for dinner, just the two of us. Go and get changed.’
‘Tonight?’ Emily looks towards the chopping board, where two delicate sea bass fillets are sat waiting to be prepared. ‘You know what? That would be lovely. Really lovely. I feel as though I’ve barely seen you all week.’ She moves past him quickly, shoving the fish into the fridge and giving him a fleeting kiss on the cheek. He lets out a sigh once he’s alone. He’d forgotten how complicated it was, keeping a wife happy.
They get a cab into town before walking the short distance towards the restaurant, meandering along the streets with their arms linked together under a clear, dusky purple sky. Despite the slight chill in the air, there is still that faint sense of the last vestiges of summer thanks to the fact that the clocks haven’t yet gone back, and that people are still braving the outside areas of the few pubs that they walk past, some huddling under patio heaters but still in T-shirts, reluctant to let autumn kick in properly. Emily seems to have relaxed now that they are out of the house, her forehead no longer tightly creased with a frown, the dark circles under her eyes hidden by concealer. Rupert is pleased that he thought to bring her out to dinner, he should have realized that she needed to get out after being at home on her own all week.
They reach the door of the Italian restaurant that Rupert has frequented for years. A tiny, family-run affair, Rupert and Caro used to come here regularly, but Rupert hasn’t been since Caro died. He didn’t feel ready before, the place awash with memories of past nights out, that nagging guilt heavy in the pit of his stomach, but he’s missed the excellent food, the friendly service. Tonight, he can’t think of a better place to spend his Friday evening.
Rupert pushes open the door, leaning out of the way so that Emily can duck under his arm and
enter the restaurant first. The familiar smell of garlic on the air makes his stomach rumble, making Emily laugh as she hears it behind her. A laugh that quickly fades as Gino, the restaurant owner, bears down on Rupert, arms spread open in welcome.
‘Ahhh, Mr Osbourne-Milligan! How lovely to see you, but where is the delightful Mrs Caro?’ He peers over Rupert’s shoulder out into the street, and then back to Rupert with a questioning look on his face. Rupert’s mouth goes dry, and he can’t find the words to speak.
Emily looks up at him, her face stricken. ‘Rupert?’
His face burning, Rupert tucks his arm around her, ‘Gino, this is Emily. I’m afraid…’ He has to cough, to push the words past the lump in his throat. ‘Caro passed away. Emily and I were very recently married, and I wanted to bring her to my favourite restaurant. Could we possibly have a table for two, please?’
Rupert slides the light jacket from Emily’s shoulders and holds it out for the restaurant owner to take, even though the place is crowded, and Rupert can’t see any vacant tables.
‘Oh… of course, I apologize for my…’ Gino breaks off, turning to survey the room. ‘This way, please.’
Rupert and Emily follow him through the crowded restaurant to a table tucked away in the corner that Rupert hasn’t seen. It’s perfect – completely private, the best place for a romantic meal for two – Gino obviously wants to make things up to them. Gino scurries away to get menus as Emily and Rupert take their seats.
‘Em, I’m so sorry. I haven’t been here for… God, months and months. Way before Caro died. I just didn’t think.’ Rupert is being deadly honest – he really hadn’t thought about it, he’d just fancied a meal out at one of his favourite restaurants. It hadn’t even crossed his mind that the restaurant owner wouldn’t have known that Caro had passed away.
‘It’s fine.’ Emily gives a tight smile and fusses with her napkin, seemingly fully absorbed in making sure that it is spread over her lap perfectly.
