by Lisa Hall
‘He could, but I just got the feeling that he was familiar with the place. I waited and waited for him to say something and he didn’t. And he’s just a bit distant sometimes, I suppose, compared to when we were first dating.’
Sadie looks as though she’d like to say something before she smiles and moves on. ‘Look, marriage is difficult. It wasn’t all plain sailing for Rupert and Caro either, you know.’
‘No?’ I raise my tear-stained face to meet Sadie’s eyes.
‘No, of course not. They argued like any other couple.’
‘About what?’
‘Well, that isn’t for me to say,’ Sadie says primly, and I feel like a klutz, putting my foot in it. Of course, Sadie isn’t going to tell me things that Caro told her in confidence. ‘All I will say is that life is never perfect, Emily. Now, come on, let’s go and fix that make-up.’
I let Sadie lead me into the Ladies, where she disappears into a cubicle and I delve into my handbag to pull out a lipstick. Only, when I slide off the lid, instead of the almost nude pink I’m expecting to see, it’s Caro’s distinctive orangey-red and the blood in my veins turns to ice.
The night sky is clear and dotted with stars as we drive along the lane that leads to the house, the glow of the single streetlamp across the street making things feel sinister rather than comforting, and I find myself anxiously scanning the darkened windows for signs of movement as we pull up. Sadie marches inside and goes straight to the fridge to open a bottle of wine, as if she owns the place, leaving me to slide reluctantly out of the warm, luxurious car, smiling at the driver, before I walk across the gravelled drive to the front door. My steps are heavy, my feet reluctant to move towards the house. There is a tiny tug of fear as I step inside, a knot of worry that picks at my insides as I wonder whether I’m walking into yet another surprise – another photo of Caro, the faint scent of her perfume staining the air in my bedroom. Stepping into the kitchen where Sadie is pouring two huge glasses of Sancerre, I let out a long breath in relief at everything seemingly undisturbed.
‘Here. You look like you could do with this.’ Sadie hands me a glass and I take a healthy swig. ‘It’s not just the shopping that’s got you looking so washed out, is it? You really are worried about things?’
‘Yeah,’ I admit, nodding slowly, ‘yes, I am worried. A bit. But maybe it just feels worse because I’m tired.’
I do feel better after talking to Sadie today, and standing in the kitchen, the bright lights overhead adding to the warmth of the centrally heated room, I think that maybe I have let things become bigger in my own mind than they really are.
‘Darling, perhaps you should consider calling the police,’ Sadie says, but she is frowning as if even though she has suggested it, she doesn’t really think it’s a good idea.
‘Do you think?’
‘Well… you could, if you were really worried. But in all honesty, darling, I don’t think they’ll do very much.’ Sadie gives a shrug. ‘When Will and Amanda had all those problems with the gypsies that moved in at the bottom of their garden, the police didn’t want anything to do with it.’
I don’t know anything about that, but I do know that Will and Amanda’s house backs onto a country park, so I’m pretty sure Sadie is exaggerating things when she says ‘back garden’.
‘And anyway,’ Sadie goes on, ‘you two are rock solid – it doesn’t matter what anyone says or does – you two are happy, even if you are feeling a bit strained at the moment.’
‘Hmmm.’ I sip at my wine, pretty sure that Sadie only hears what she wants to hear.
‘You are happy, aren’t you? Leaving Caro out of it for a moment – the two of you are OK?’ Frowning, Sadie lays a hand on mine, her fake-tanned skin a warm orange against the pale white of my fingers, my honeymoon tan long gone.
‘Yes,’ I stare down at our hands, feeling a little disloyal to Rupert, ‘but like I said earlier at lunch… things are a little harder than I thought they would be. Rupert isn’t quite like I thought.’
‘Oh?’ Sadie raises an eyebrow and I feel a flutter of panic, remembering that Sadie has been Rupert’s friend for a lot longer than she’s been mine.
‘I don’t mean that in a horrid way!’ I backtrack. ‘I just mean things like… well, he ordered my meal for me the last time we went out, and he ordered veal. I hate veal, and I tried to tell him, but he just ignored me and ordered it anyway. And he always asks me every morning what I’m doing that day. It’s not a problem, but it just feels a little controlling.’ I fiddle with my glass, feeling heat creep into my cheeks. ‘He has more of a temper than I realized.’
Sadie reaches for the wine bottle and tops her glass up. ‘Do you know what I think?’ she says in the end. ‘I think perhaps you’re a little sensitive to things like that after what happened with Harry. Rupert isn’t trying to control you; he’s trying to look after you.’
‘He’s the reason why Angus Beaton didn’t want me volunteering at the charity,’ I blurt out, a twist of hurt digging in my chest.
‘Rupert is?’ Sadie frowns.
‘He basically told Angus he didn’t want me there because of Caro. I wished I’d known before that Caro had worked there.’
Sadie blushes, a pink bloom bursting over her cheeks. ‘If I’d known you were going to apply there, then of course I would have told you. Like I said, Emily, I don’t think he’s trying to control you, he just wants what is best for you. For both of you.’
‘I’m sure you’re probably right,’ I say with a sigh, ‘I’m just being an ungrateful brat, aren’t I? God, I bet Caro was never like this.’
Sadie doesn’t reply, instead checking her watch and pushing her chair back. ‘I’ll just nip to the loo before I get off. And yes,’ Sadie grins, ‘you’re being an ungrateful brat.’
I sit in silence as I wait for Sadie to come back from the bathroom, our conversation buzzing around in my head. Sadie is right, I am just being silly. It was never going to be easy, Rupert and I adjusting to married life after dating for such a short time, and I’m glad I plucked up the courage to talk to Sadie. Married life is never plain sailing, and Sadie hinted at the fact that things weren’t perfect between Rupert and Caro. I frown as I mull over Sadie’s words, wondering exactly what it was that wasn’t perfect between them. Rupert has only mentioned one or two things about Caro – mainly about her mental health – and given the choice doesn’t really talk about Caro, not to me anyway. In fact, I’d go so far as to say I’ve felt a little fobbed off at times when I have asked about her. I pick up my phone, toying with the idea of texting my mum and asking her advice, but then I remember that she still hasn’t replied to the last text I sent her, and I lay my phone back on the table, pressing the side button to turn the screen black.
Em is not Caro, she never will be. Rupert’s words to Amanda come back to me and I take another sip of my wine, now warm and sour on my tongue, the beginnings of a headache starting to thump at my temples. I’m not sure whether the fact that Rupert said I’m not Caro is a good thing or bad thing now, after what Sadie said earlier.
Sadie enters the kitchen, rubbing her hands together, her huge handbag already over her shoulder. ‘Thank you for a lovely day, darling. I hope I haven’t upset you, talking about Caro. You and Rupert are wonderful together, despite what some people think.’ I get to my feet and Sadie flaps a hand in my direction. ‘Darling, I have to go. I haven’t seen the children all day, and I wasn’t there to put them to bed last night either; they’ll be a nightmare for the nanny tonight if I don’t get back. Don’t get up, you look exhausted.’
‘Thank you for today, Sadie, sorry if I…’
‘Oh, don’t be silly. Nothing to be sorry for, we all have our ups and downs. Just so long as you know I’m always here if you want to chat.’ Sadie puts her head on one side. ‘We’ll go to yoga next week, shall we? That might help.’
‘Oh no,’ I say, almost knocking my wine glass over in my haste to stand up, ‘I can’t. We’re going to Rupert’s paren
ts for Christmas and to be honest, Rupert isn’t too keen on me going there again.’
‘Oh.’ Sadie looks away, fiddling with the strap of her bag. ‘Well, no problem. You two have a lovely Christmas together, won’t you? I’m assuming Will and Amanda are going to be there too?’
‘Yes. Everyone will be there.’ I’m looking forward to it. It’s been a very long time since I got to experience a proper family Christmas. Although if I’m really honest, I’m not sure the Christmases I spent fighting with other kids who weren’t my siblings after my mother remarried really count as proper Christmases. See? A voice says at the back of my mind, You don’t know how lucky you are. Rupert is giving you something you’ve never had before – he’s not just given you a safe place to live, he’s given you a family.
Sadie leans over and kisses me on the cheek, her thick floral scent making me want to cough as she gives me a hug. ‘Don’t see me out, you look utterly exhausted. Go and have a hot bath before your handsome husband comes home.’ With a wink, Sadie floats out of the kitchen on a cloud of perfume and wine, leaving me at the table alone.
I am sticking the receipts from my day out with Sadie into my scrapbook, alongside a perfume sample and a picture of the two of us together at Salamander’s, printed from my phone – a record of happy memories, I tell myself – when the doorbell makes me jump. I pause, my heart thudding in my chest as I glance towards the window automatically, despite the inky blackness outside making it impossible to see who is there, just my own shocked face reflected back at me in the glass. Slowly I close the scrapbook, stuffing it under a sofa cushion to be retrieved later, and walk towards the oak front door, my fingers trembling slightly as I reach for the lock. Sadie just forgot something, I tell myself as I take a deep breath, preparing to pull the heavy door open, Rupert forgot his keys, that’s all it is. But I know Rupert won’t be home for hours, and Sadie left nothing behind. I yank the door open, but the figure on the doorstep is the last person I was expecting to see.
‘Mags.’ I hear the note of delight in my voice, and I realize that I’ve missed Mags more than I have admitted to myself.
‘Glad you’re pleased to see me,’ Mags says, and I am relieved to see the old grin on her face, not that cold, chilly smile she gave me in the street.
‘I am. Of course I am. It’s been ages.’
‘Aren’t you going to let me in?’ Mags takes a step forward and Tiny appears from behind her legs. I have to forcibly squash down the groan that rises in my throat.
‘It’s not really a good time,’ I check behind me, as if seeing if something is burning, or someone is calling to me. I don’t think Rupert would be very happy to know Mags came over. Ever since she upset me at the flat, he’s had no time for her. ‘I’m just in the middle of something.’
‘Right. Too busy, eh? Thought you might be.’ Mags yanks at the dog’s lead, pulling her away from the front door. Tiny responds by pissing up the stone lion that flanks the right-hand side of the porch, and I feel a bubble of annoyance popping in my belly. ‘She’s forgotten all about her old friends, Tiny.’
‘Mags, come on for goodness’ sake, I didn’t mean it like that,’ I say, pointing at the lion, ‘but you can’t just turn up here unannounced and then let that bloody dog piss all over my house.’
‘Your house, eh? Don’t forget your roots, Em.’ Mags raises an eyebrow, that familiar grin replaced by a quirky, lopsided smile that I haven’t seen before. ‘I came over because I told you I had mail for you and you still didn’t bother to come and collect it.’ It’s only now that I remember Mags telling me that, and I notice a small card and a package in Mags’s hand.
‘It won’t be anything important, that’s why I didn’t bother with it,’ I say cautiously. The stark white paper, the word BITCH etched into it in inky black, angry letters floats in front of my eyes.
‘Well, it is nearly Christmas and it looks like a card. I was hoping you’d come and visit and when you didn’t I thought maybe you wouldn’t mind if I came to you. The parcel isn’t from the flat, by the way. It was in your porch,’ Mags says, holding it out as she peers past me into the hallway.
‘Oh. Thank you. Look, Mags, I’m sorry I didn’t come over, things just got away from me, you know.’ I hold my hand out for the package, a flutter of nerves making my skin sing as I take it. Hand delivered is written in tiny letters in the corner. ‘I didn’t realize you knew where I lived.’ I did, of course I did, ever since she mentioned the stone lions that day, but I want to see how she knows. If she has told Harry.
‘God, Em, you’re not that hard to find, you know,’ Mags snorts. ‘All I had to do was google Rupert. Before he married you, him and the first wife were all over the media. Glitzy society bits, you know. It didn’t take me long to find out where you lived.’
My mouth goes dry and I find I can’t swallow, the weight of the gift like a stone in my hand. I picture Mags as I saw her last, in the street, bending to pick up my things as they rolled into the gutter. ‘It was that easy?’
‘Yep.’ Mags fumbles in her pocket and pulls out a battered hand-rolled cigarette, lighting up on the front porch and blowing a stream of cigarette smoke in my direction. I flap a hand irritably.
‘Mags, you haven’t heard from Harry, have you? You haven’t told him anything about where I live?’ I can hear the panicky undertone in my voice, and I can’t help peering past Mags into the darkness, sure I can see a shadowy figure lurking under the streetlight. ‘You saw him in the pub, and I thought… maybe you might have seen him again?’
‘No.’ Mags is insulted, her nose turning up at the thought of it. ‘I might be a lot of things, Em, but you might want to remember that I was – am – your friend. I know what he did to you, remember? I saw the bruises he left on you; I saw how terrified you were when you first moved into the flat. I thought I was doing you a favour, coming here, but clearly you don’t need me now you have Rupert…’ She spits out his name like it tastes of dog shit.
There is a sharp tug of annoyance in my chest and I open my mouth to defend Rupert, but before I can speak, I realize that there is a shadowy figure coming up the driveway, and my heart starts to beat double time in my chest. ‘Mags…’
‘Hello there.’ A hearty voice booms out, and I slump against the doorframe in relief, as Rupert appears next to Mags out of the shadowy gloom. ‘Em? Who’s this?’
‘Rupert, darling.’ I try to keep my breathing under control, not wanting Rupert to know how much he alarmed me. ‘This is Mags. You remember, my old flatmate. Mags is just leaving.’
Rupert turns to look Mags up and down a little, and I want nothing more than for her to leave without another word. I don’t want her to bring me mail, I don’t want her to stand on my doorstep and speak about Rupert in that tone. ‘Oh, of course.’ Rupert reaches down to pet Tiny, who gives a low growl and backs away. ‘Oh dear, someone clearly doesn’t like me.’ Rupert lets out a laugh that I am ninety per cent sure is fake, as Mags and I look at each other over the top of his head. ‘Nice to meet you, Mags. Come on inside, Em, it’s freezing out here.’ With a charming smile, Rupert whisks me back inside and closes the door before Mags can say another word.
‘Wow. What was she doing here?’ Rupert asks, as I stand shell-shocked in the hallway, the parcel still in my hand.
‘I don’t really know.’ I glance down at the package, wrapped neatly in green paper, my name written across it in swirly gold pen. ‘She said she came to deliver a card that had been sent to the flat in my name. I saw her in town a while ago and she mentioned it, but I just ignored it. Didn’t think it was important.’
‘How did she know to come here?’ Rupert turns to look at me, a frown on his face.
‘I don’t know, I never told her.’ I feel as though I have to make Rupert aware that none of this is down to me. ‘She said we weren’t that difficult to find.’ I stop short of mentioning Caro and the society pages.
‘Well, probably best if she doesn’t come here again, eh?’ Rupert brush
es past me towards the staircase, dropping a kiss on my head as he passes by. ‘Every time you see her, she seems to upset you, Em. I did tell you it’s best to stay away from her.’
I say nothing, waiting for him to go upstairs before I switch my attention back to the parcel. I turn it over in my hands, a chilly hand stroking my spine. Whatever it is, whoever it’s from, I don’t want it. I should have asked Mags if she saw who had left it and I wish for a brief second that I hadn’t opened the door at all. Another part of me wishes, just for a moment, that I had invited her in for a cup of tea, before I remember how suffocating she can be, how clingy, and how much easier life is without her in it. I turn on my heel and head into the kitchen, where I stuff the parcel behind the bin, and pour myself a fresh glass of wine, trying to shake the image of Mags on the doorstep from my mind.
Chapter Eighteen
Christmas Eve. As a kid, Christmas Eve was my favourite day of the whole year, even more so than Christmas Day. The anticipation of what would be at the foot of the bed when I woke up, the smell of ginger and cinnamon on the air as my mum stirred, and mixed, and baked in the kitchen. We didn’t have a lot of money, but it hadn’t seemed to matter; right up until I was about twelve anyway, when my mum remarried for the first time and everything became about him. Turns out my first stepfather wasn’t as keen on children as he’d made out. The first time she left me behind at Christmas – leaving me with an aunt who I don’t actually think was really my aunt, fighting for attention with kids who weren’t even related to me – she and my stepfather spent it on the beach in Lanzarote, and I cried for days. By the time I left home I didn’t celebrate Christmas anymore. Today though, some of that old magic has been recaptured and I shiver in the passenger seat of Rupert’s car, not sure if it’s the chill in the air, or excitement.
‘Cold?’ Rupert turns up the heater, and I snuggle into my scarf. ‘You’re not too nervous, are you?’
We are on our way to Rupert’s family home by the coast in Norfolk, where we will spend three nights with his whole family. I am a little nervous, a ripple of butterfly wings fluttering in my belly when I picture it, but I’m excited more than anything. Excited to get away from the house, the dead air on the end of the telephone line, the feeling of dread that sits on my shoulders every time I turn into the driveway.
