by Karen Clarke
We’d gone back and forth for a while, trying to come up with an explanation that wasn’t linked to everything else that had happened. Failing to come up with anything, Vic said something about fingerprints and suggested calling Rosa, but my energy had drained like a battery going flat. I’d retreated to my painting room to sit in front of my easel, the unopened box of oil paints in my lap. Vic brought up coffee and a sandwich, tiptoeing in as though I was an invalid, and gave my shoulder a supportive squeeze, but when he’d gone, I curled up on the day bed and closed my eyes against a drumming headache.
‘And you can’t think who might be behind it?’ Emma’s body was tipped towards me, giving me her full attention, just like she used to do. Looking at her was like going back in time. She was the only female I knew these days who didn’t have children and wasn’t in a relationship, and despite faint lines around her eyes, she could have passed for the eighteen-year-old I’d met on the first day of my art course. She’d offered me a cigarette, which I’d refused, confessing – as she lit hers with a flashy, gold lighter – that she was only there because she didn’t know what she wanted to do. Her life was ‘fucked’, she said, and the only thing she was any good at was drawing. Very good, as it turned out, but she’d never intended to do anything more than coast through our time at college, more interested in partying and meeting boys than working, sweeping me along with her.
She was all hard angles, sweary, but quick to laugh – a wicked sound that turned heads – and never serious for long. At first, I couldn’t understand why she’d singled me out, suggested a flat-share, and when I asked, she shrugged and said, ‘Sometimes, you just click and you don’t know why.’ Later, when she told me how she’d found out at fifteen she was adopted, after her aunt let it slip at a drunken barbecue, and it had messed her up, I thought maybe she’d sensed the damaged part of me, and was drawn to it without realising.
We were opposites in so many ways, but good for each other too. She could always drag me from a bout of guilt, insisting a party was the cure. ‘Get drunk and you won’t care.’ She’d laugh, pulling me out of bed and helping me dress. ‘Alcohol’s good for guilt. Why else do you think you were saved?’ And although I never drank a lot, or took drugs, I always felt better, brighter, funnier around her, the effect lasting for days, sometimes weeks. And I was good at talking her down when she wept and raged about the family who’d kept her in the dark. She’d loved her adoptive parents – a wealthy, middle-class couple who thought they couldn’t have children, then had two in quick succession a year after adopting Emma. ‘I just wish I’d known from the start,’ she’d cried, her face swollen with tears. ‘I’ll never forgive them, ever.’
I’d taught her how to breathe to calm the storm inside her, and how to do yoga, though she could never master the poses and we’d end up helpless with laughter.
I missed her a lot when I started my therapy training and she went travelling with another friend. She’d return for a few months before taking off again, a pattern that lasted several years. It was on one of her visits home I’d met Matt, and two years later she flew back from Australia to be at our wedding.
‘What does Matt think?’ she said now. ‘You have told him all this, haven’t you?’
I shifted, uncomfortable under the weight of her question. ‘I might have asked him if he sent the messages,’ I admitted. ‘Vic thinks he wants sole custody of Hayley.’
Shock stripped Emma’s face of expression. ‘You are joking?’
Miserably, I shook my head.
‘But he knows you better than anyone.’ Her voice had risen. ‘He’d never do something like this, Beth.’
‘He’s … different lately.’
‘Yes, because now you’re with someone else and he wishes he’d never left.’
‘Bit late for that,’ I said. ‘Have you been talking to him?’
‘He’s my friend too.’ Recovering a little, she shook her head. ‘But no. I just think you should have worked harder to stay together.’
‘Says the woman who’s never had a long-term relationship.’ I could have bit my tongue the minute I said it. ‘Sorry.’
She held up her hands. ‘No, you’re right,’ she said evenly. ‘But I can’t believe you think Matt’s behind all this, that he was the one asking about your painting at the café.’
I suddenly felt foolish, no longer sure of anything. ‘Well, obviously I don’t want to believe the man I married, the father of my daughter, would try to gaslight me.’
Emma gave an incredulous laugh. ‘Of course he wouldn’t.’
Half-annoyed she was so defensive of him, I said, ‘What about Jamie then?’
‘Jamie?’ Emma looked thrown by the question, her dark eyebrows drawing together. ‘You know, at your party, I was a bit disappointed he’d hooked up with that cop.’
‘What?’ It was my turn to look at her in disbelief. ‘You don’t still have a crush on my brother?’
She waved a hand in front of her face, embarrassed. ‘Look, he was an idiot when he was younger, and I wouldn’t have gone there anyway after the way he treated you, but … he was hot.’
‘Ew!’ I laughed, for what felt like the first time in ages. ‘I’d completely forgotten you secretly fancied him,’ I said. ‘I remember now, when you first came round to ours and couldn’t stop looking at him, and you said, “That’s him? That’s Jamie?” as if you’d expected him to have two heads or something.’
She gave a reluctant smile. ‘It was just, when you told me how he was horrible to you most of the time and blamed you whenever things didn’t go his way, I thought he’d be more of a creep.’
‘He was never that.’ Guilt crept in. ‘He liked you too, I could tell, but I think you scared him.’
Emma didn’t dispute it. Most men were a bit scared of her. ‘I had a little chat with him at your party and he’s actually matured a lot,’ she said. ‘I thought he seemed …’ She paused, seeking the right words. ‘He’s grown up, I guess.’
‘Since meeting Rosa.’
Emma rolled her eyes. ‘You’re telling me the love of a good woman can actually make a difference?’
I remembered the sadness in Rosa’s eyes when I’d asked if she and Jamie were OK. ‘A week ago, I’d have said yes.’
‘Oh?’
‘When I spoke to her, I got the impression things weren’t that great between them.’ I hesitated, but needed to get it off my chest. ‘I worry he might not be treating her well.’
Emma frowned as she pulled her glass of wine across the table. ‘I didn’t speak to her, but got the impression she can handle herself.’ She raised her glass to her lips. ‘She’s nearly as tall as him, for a start.’
‘It’s not always physical though is it?’
‘You’re talking about coercive control?’
‘Oh, no, I don’t think it’s anything like that.’ Did I? I picked up my wine and drank half in one go. ‘I feel bad for flying off the handle with him, especially as Mum and Dad were there,’ I said. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever said a negative word to Jamie before. I worry too much about upsetting him.’
‘Maybe you should have,’ she said. ‘If it helps, I didn’t get a bad feeling around him at the party, and you know how good I am at reading people.’
I surprised myself by laughing again. Emma’s instincts were terrible when it came to men, which was probably why she’d never had a lasting relationship.
‘I just need to call Pam and check Hayley’s OK.’ I picked my phone off the table where I’d laid it next to my car keys.
‘She’s absolutely fine,’ Pam said, answering right away. ‘She wanted to go to bed straight after her bath, so Baxter could curl up on her duvet.’
I briefly thought about objecting. Letting dogs on beds didn’t bode well for when we got one of our own, but I remembered how much I’d loved it when Bella used to jump on my bed when I was little, purring loudly and pawing the duvet before settling down, warm and heavy on my legs. Always on my bed, never Jamie�
��s. Another black mark against me.
‘I haven’t mentioned the puppies,’ Pam said. She’d apologised when she came round, saying Hayley had overheard her mention it at my party, and I instantly felt bad for assuming she’d ignored my plea. ‘It’s fine,’ I said. ‘I’m sure we’ll end up getting one after we’ve been on holiday.’
‘You’re still going then?’ Emma said, after I ended the call. ‘To that place?’
That place. ‘If I’m still alive.’
‘Don’t even joke about it.’ Emma gave a worried glower. ‘Is that why you’re carrying that thing around?’ She nodded at the alarm on my keyring. ‘I had one for a while, in Thailand, but I lost it.’
‘I’m hoping I’ll never have to use it, but if I don’t know when, or how, or who is coming after me, I need some sort of protection.’
‘Jesus.’ Falling silent, Emma drank some more wine. ‘And you think someone must have hacked your phone and deleted those texts?’
‘That’s what Rosa thinks happened, and Vic agrees.’
Emma’s features froze. ‘Where is he tonight?’
‘He’s giving a talk at Oxford University, about developments in the treatment of glaucoma. I know,’ I said, when she feigned a brain-dead expression. ‘It sounds dull, but he gives really good talks. They’re always inviting him.’
He hadn’t wanted to go, but when I told him I was meeting Emma, he reluctantly agreed, as long as he could drop me off at the pub and pick me up afterwards.
Emma had that look again, fidgeting forwards on the seat, fiddling with the stem of her glass. Her other hand smoothed the fabric of the halter-neck maxi-dress she was wearing, which revealed her collarbones and bony shoulders. As if seeing her for the first time, I realised she looked amazing.
‘What is it?’ I said. ‘You wanted to tell me something the other night, didn’t you?’
‘You don’t miss much.’ Her attempt at a laugh fell flat. ‘It’s … look, about Vic,’ she said, unusually reticent. ‘How well do you actually know him?’
Of all the things I’d expected her to say, it wasn’t that. ‘What do you mean?’
She turned her head, looking through the open doors into the garden as if wishing she was out there. The pub was half empty, people wandering outside to make the most of the summer evening, sun glinting off pints of beer and brightly coloured cocktails. A raucous burst of laughter made me jump. ‘Emma?’
‘I looked him up,’ she said, turning to me once more. Her face was determined. She knew I wasn’t going to like what she had to say, but was going to say it anyway. ‘When you said you were seeing this eye surgeon guy, that you’d gone for a consultation and bam, the next thing you know he’s asked you out for coffee, and suddenly he’s in love and he’s practically moved in—’
‘Hang on.’ I straightened, indignant. ‘Firstly, he hasn’t practically moved in. I didn’t bring him home for a couple of months, because I wanted to be sure it was going somewhere, before I introduced him to Hayley. He stays over sometimes, but he’s still got his own house, and anyway, we’re looking for somewhere together.’
‘You’re selling the house?’
‘We want our own place, Emma.’
‘And you’ve discussed it with Matt?’
It was obvious from her tone she knew I hadn’t. ‘I will, once he’s back from France and we’ve been to Cornwall.’ Which brought me back to Vic. ‘I looked him up too,’ I said, in response to her bombshell. ‘I mean, that’s what people do isn’t it, when they meet someone they like?’
‘And?’
‘And, nothing. As in, nothing sinister, obviously.’ I wasn’t sure whether to be offended that she was questioning my judgement, or grateful she was looking out for me. ‘I wasn’t going to bring someone into my life without checking them out,’ I went on. ‘But I think his job, his years of training, his good reputation, and the fact he’s well-liked by his colleagues speaks for itself.’
Emma held my gaze. ‘You do know that a large percentage of high achievers – presidents, bankers, doctors – have psychopathic traits, and that psychopaths are convincing liars?’
‘For God’s sake!’ I looked at her, frightened. ‘Don’t you think I’d have had some inkling by now if Vic was a psychopath?’ I picked up my keys and phone, ready to leave. ‘You don’t know him, Emma. If you did, you’d know how wrong you are.’
Still, she didn’t look away. ‘I saw him, with a woman.’
I froze. ‘What?’
‘I was in Oxford, shopping for your birthday present in the art store on Broad Street—’
‘How did you know it was him?’ I cut in. ‘You only met him once before.’
‘He’s quite memorable-looking,’ she said drily. ‘And I’d looked him up, remember. Plus, it’s not far from where he works, so feasible he’d be there, right?’
‘By woman, you’re implying he’s having an affair?’ The words felt heavy leaving my mouth, like stones landing between us. ‘She could have been a former patient, an ex, his cleaning lady.’
‘Vic has a cleaning lady?’
‘This isn’t funny, Emma.’
‘I know.’ Her face hardened. ‘She was about our age, dark-haired, attractive. They were arguing. It looked pretty heated, intimate.’
His ex? But she was in Helsinki, as far as I knew. His sister? She lived in Canada.
‘I’d been trying to work out whether to say anything, but after what you’ve just told me …’ She caught her lip between her bottom teeth.
‘You’ve started, so you may as well finish,’ I said, a chill creeping into my voice. I wondered whether this signalled the end of our friendship.
‘What if he’s related to the guy, the one who drowned that day?’ Shock ran through me like a knife. ‘Maybe she is too, the woman.’ Emma was speaking quickly now, pushing the words at me as if she’d been saving them up. ‘Maybe it’s been his plan all along, to get close to you, mess with you, then take revenge for his father’s death, and that’s why he’s so insistent on you going back to the place where it happened?’
Her gaze had gone inward, as if seeing it play out in her mind, while I sat as though turned to ice, hand still curled round my phone and keys. ‘Who better to trust than someone in his position, or maybe she’s the driving force … his sister, say, and he could be having second thoughts – it’s obvious he genuinely cares about you, unless he’s a brilliant actor – and he was telling her he couldn’t go through with it.’ She finally ran out of steam and refocused. ‘It makes a lot of sense, Beth. That message you found on your car, A LIFE FOR A LIFE. Didn’t that turn up just after you met him?’
‘Wow.’ I shook my head slowly, but my insides were churning, even though I’d suspected Vic to begin with. ‘And … what? We met by chance, Emma. He didn’t orchestrate our hospital appointment. How could he?’
Her expression faltered. ‘Did your doctor refer you?’
‘Not to Vic specifically,’ I said. ‘There was a long waiting list on the NHS and I wanted to be seen quickly, so she referred me to Oakdale.’ I had to dismantle Emma’s accusation before it became set in concrete. I knew her. She’d go in all guns blazing if I didn’t talk her down; probably confront Vic when he came to pick me up. ‘That’s how I came to be there, to see someone, completely randomly.’
‘Someone?’ She pounced on the word. ‘Not Vic specifically?’
My mind reeled back. The consultant I’d been booked in with had been called away to an emergency. I’d been asked if I’d like to rebook, or was I happy to see the ophthalmologist who’d been called in to cover his appointments: Vic Berenson. ‘It was Vic,’ I lied, my heart rapping a fast beat. ‘And there’s no way it could have been premeditated.’
‘Luck?’ She grabbed my wrist as I made to stand up. ‘Maybe he’d have found another way into your life, if you hadn’t wound up at the hospital, but your name came up and …’ She clicked her fingers. ‘Think about it, Beth.’ I wrenched my arm free. ‘At least ask him about t
he woman.’
‘I will.’ I got to my feet. ‘But I know there’ll be a simple explanation.’
‘That he chose to keep from you?’
Looking down at Emma, I felt an urge to be cruel. ‘What if it’s you?’
‘Sorry?’ Confusion crowded her face.
‘Maybe you made friends with me at college to get close to me and one day avenge the death of your father, drowned at sea, saving the life of a seven-year-old girl.’ I made my voice dramatic to hide the tremble and instantly wanted to snatch the words back.
‘Jesus, Beth.’ Emma’s voice was quiet. ‘That’s low.’
I affected a shrug. ‘You told me you don’t know what happened to your biological father, but maybe you do. Perhaps you knew exactly what happened to him and—’
‘Beth, stop it.’ Angry now, Emma stood and leaned over to grab her jacket off the seat opposite. ‘I’m trying to help, believe it or not. I care about you and I think you’re way off base about Matt, and your brother for that matter. And if you don’t know I’d never do anything to hurt you, you don’t know me at all.’
I badly wanted to cry now. Emma tried hard to pretend she hadn’t existed before she was adopted – she’d said she didn’t want to know why her mother hadn’t wanted her, that searching for the truth would probably drive her mad. It’s why she kept running, to put as much distance as possible between herself and the past, and I’d just made a mockery of it. ‘So, that’s what you wanted to tell me the other night?’ I said, feeling wretched as I watched her angrily stuff her arms in her sleeves and pick up her pouch-like bag.
‘No, actually, it wasn’t.’ She sounded sad, which was worse than if she’d shouted at me. ‘I decided not to mention it. You seemed on edge – I know why now – and I thought you didn’t need to hear it.’
‘What then?’
She hesitated, one hand moving to her belly in an unconscious gesture – one I instantly recognised. ‘I’m pregnant,’ she said.
Chapter 18
‘It wasn’t how I’d imagined hearing the news that my oldest friend is having a baby.’
