The Codes of Love

by Hannah Persaud

  At 9 a.m. she calls Ryan. It goes to voicemail and she leaves a message asking him to ring her. She asks work to arrange cover for her lecture. It’s too soon to call the police and too early to be scared. Tom would be mortified if she sent out a search party. She phones Ryan again and this time he answers. He’s coming back to help look for Tom and should be back by evening. He doesn’t even try to pretend that he’s in Manchester.

  ‘Try not to panic,’ Sarah tells her when she rings her. ‘He’s probably getting stoned with his friends. I’m sure he’ll come back soon. It’s unlikely it’s got anything to do with the student you mentioned.’ Emily’s stomach plunges. She hadn’t even considered it could have something to do with Leo. She locks the doors and watches TV for hours, scarcely registering what’s on the screen.

  Her phone rings and it’s Ryan. He’s not coming back, claiming he’s just as much use there as he would be in London. He sounds hammered.

  ‘Where the fuck is there?’ she shouts, and hangs up. The police tell her that Tom must be missing for at least twenty-four hours before he can be filed as a missing person. When Sam gets home he sits at his computer and logs into Tom’s Facebook account.

  ‘How do you know all his passwords?’ Emily asks him.

  ‘Someone’s got to be responsible around here,’ Sam says, shrugging. A few hours later and Sam has a lead, an email he found in Tom’s trash. ‘He’s staying in a Travelodge in Dover,’ he announces, ‘with Ella.’

  ‘Dover? Jesus Christ.’ She unlocks the cabinet with their passports and Tom’s is gone.

  ‘He’s really into this girl, you know,’ Sam tells her. ‘He doesn’t even hang out with his friends any more.’ How did Emily have no idea that this was going on? She grabs her keys and her coat.

  ‘You’re not seriously going down there, are you?’ Sam says, ‘He’ll be furious.’

  ‘He’s a kid, Sam, not an adult. Despite what he may think.’

  ‘I’ll message him on Facebook,’ Sam says. There’s no reply, but then the phone rings and it’s Ella’s mum, distraught. It seems that everybody monitors their kids’ social media apart from Emily.

  ‘We’re going down to fetch them,’ she tells Emily.

  It’s late by the time Tom is home.

  ‘Where on earth were you headed?’ Emily asks him.

  ‘To Paris,’ he replies. ‘I really love her. You wouldn’t understand.’

  ‘You’re too young for this,’ she tells him.

  ‘I’m not you,’ Tom says. ‘I’ve had my fun. I’m ready for this.’ Emily reels from it but feigns calm.

  ‘What about your A-levels, your education?’ she says.

  ‘I’m not Sam.’ Tom shrugs. ‘We don’t even know if I’ve passed my GCSEs.’

  Emily wants to reassure him but part of her knows this is a possibility. Could she have helped him more than she has?

  ‘We can talk about it later,’ Emily tells him, pulling him into her chest. ‘I was so worried.’ She blinks back a tear. While she’s not been paying attention he’s been growing up, but what can she teach him about love? She’s still learning herself.

  Rules of an open marriage #21:

  Don’t leave anyone in the dark

  Wales, Sunday 16 October, 2016

  Ryan drives fast and distracted away from the cottage, Ada filling his head. Laughing Ada, hiking Ada. She’s everywhere, in the fleck of the sunshine, in the smell of his skin. He ploughs through the familiar twists and turns and waits for green lights without noticing. He arrives back in London with her words still ringing in his head. It’s over and all for what? The house is empty and silent. The doorstep is covered with roses, dried out and dead. Fumbling with his key in the lock, the door clicks open and the air inside smells stale.

  Leaving his bag in the hall, he heads straight for the kitchen and pours himself a large Scotch. The fridge is empty save for a half bottle of milk and some Parmesan. It doesn’t matter – he’s not hungry.

  In the cold light of the next morning he ventures to the front of the house with a pen and a piece of paper, noting a tile slipped here, mould growing around a window there. The palm trees that line the front of the property are brown and wilted and the stones that cover the drive are strewn across the path to the front door. Out back has fared little better. The pool cover looks worn, although it’s only months old, and weeds have sprung up between the poolside tiles. The steps down into the pool are rusted and a pair of goggles have been abandoned on the side. Inside the house the catalogue of neglect grows; a broken window handle in Tom’s room, a red-wine stain on the designer rug in the lounge.

  He should go to the office; there’s a new project coming up, an investor from abroad has commissioned an eco-house in a restricted planning area. There’s a mountain of work to do and meetings to be had, but he can’t summon any enthusiasm.

  He rubs his knuckles where the skin is raw and sore from punching the wall. Ever since she told him that it’s over he’s been searching for an answer. Who were you in love with, the question niggles him. The woman or the cottage?

  He walks back upstairs to his bedroom and lies face down upon the pillow. He inhales, hard. He rings his secretary and tells him that he is unwell, that he’ll be in tomorrow. He throws away the list he has made of things that must be done. Shutting the blinds in his bedroom, he lies down naked among the dirty sheets, Emily’s dead skin cells mingling with his own.

  After some time the doorbell rings and he burrows down beneath the covers. It can wait. It rings again, insistently. ‘Go away,’ he mumbles. Then he sits bolt upright. It could be Ada. She knows where he lives. Perhaps she’s changed her mind. He wouldn’t put it past her. He leaps from the bed abruptly and the room spins with silver stars. Stabilising himself with one hand on the wall, he shouts out, ‘Coming.’

  Down the hall shot through with light and down the floating staircase. He flings open the front door.

  ‘Hi.’ The man standing on the doorstep is young, late twenties tops. A shock of blond hair falls across his eyes and is promptly swept back with the hand that is then offered to Ryan. ‘I’m Leo.’

  ‘Can I help?’ Ryan asks. He shouldn’t have answered the door.

  ‘We have something in common,’ Leo says slowly, then waits as if he’s asked a question.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Ryan says, turning to shut the door. He never did have the tolerance that Emily did for strangers. Leo puts his foot out and wedges it in the doorframe.

  ‘You’re Ryan,’ he says.

  ‘Bingo,’ Ryan says. ‘Now if you’ll excuse me, I have places to be.’ He pushes the door and feels it press again Leo’s foot. He pauses. ‘How do you know who I am?’ He opens the door and peers at Leo’s face, taking in the intensity in his green eyes.

  ‘We have a mutual interest,’ Leo says, ‘in your wife.’ Inwardly Ryan groans. Of course.

  ‘You’re wrong,’ Ryan replies petulantly, ‘I have no interest in her,’ though it’s not entirely true. ‘She’s yours if you want her.’

  ‘She was right about you all along,’ Leo says, a tremor in his voice.

  ‘Take whatever she has or has not told you with a pinch of salt,’ Ryan says. ‘You’re young. It’s not your fault.’

  ‘Don’t patronise me,’ Leo says, taking a step forward. ‘Can I come in?’

  Ryan is about to say no when he sees a flicker of desperation in Leo’s face. It reminds him of Sam when he last saw him. He opens the door and Leo walks in, heading straight for the kitchen. Ryan follows him in. It’s not an obvious place for the kitchen, tucked around the corner. Leo’s been here before.

  ‘Drink?’ Ryan offers. He opens the fridge and reaches for a beer, and holds it out to Leo, who shakes his head.

  ‘Not for me,’ he says.

  ‘Suit yourself,’ Ryan says. He snaps the ring pull. The fizz of the beer and the cold bubbles burst against his throat. He slides open the doors to the garden and leads the way to the rattan chairs that he despises. Emily
insisted on them. ‘Some comfort in this cold place’, she’d said sulkily when he complained. It’s chilly outside, but he’d rather be outside in the fresh air than inside with a stranger violating his space. ‘So, how can I help you?’ he asks.

  ‘Don’t you want to know where your wife is?’ Leo says.

  ‘We are not each other’s keepers,’ Ryan replies, kicking off his shoes and resting his feet on the table. ‘She can look after herself.’ He peers at Leo, who shakes his head.

  ‘It’s not about that,’ Leo says.

  ‘Come on then, what’s it all about?’ Ryan says. Gloves off, knuckles bared. The blood of his father rushes through him. Where has denying instinct ever got him, anyway?

  ‘She loved you, you know,’ Leo says. ‘Some people want to be needed.’

  ‘I think you might be confusing my wife with someone else,’ Ryan says. ‘Emily doesn’t need anyone.’ He’s aware of Leo’s eyes scanning his face.

  ‘That’s where you’re wrong,’ Leo says.

  ‘Get out,’ Ryan says, standing. ‘How dare you come into my house after fucking my wife and tell me how to run my life?’ Leo shrugs.

  ‘Don’t you want to know where she is?’ Leo says. A prickle of unease runs down Ryan’s neck. There’s something not quite right about this man.

  ‘How do you know where she is?’ Ryan asks.

  ‘Ways and means,’ Leo replies with mock nonchalance. ‘”My love for her is a source of little visible delight, but necessary. As is my protection.” Brontë, if you didn’t know,’ he adds, taking a step back.

  ‘You pretentious little prick,’ Ryan grabs his elbow. ‘What do you know about love, running around stalking other men’s wives?’

  ‘More than you,’ Leo spins round and he is so close to Ryan’s face that Ryan feels the heat of his breath. ‘”I don’t want to sit here and talk about why we barely make love any more, or sit here and not talk about it. I’m tired of it all.” Sound familiar?’ Leo says. Uneasily, Ryan recalls his words from an argument long gone. She told this kid about that?

  ‘Nice place you have in Wales, by the way,’ Leo says.

  ‘How do you know about that?’ Ryan says, remembering Ada’s face when she saw someone all those months ago. He jumps forward, catching Leo’s shoulder. Ryan’s chest slams into his arm. Leo is large and strong but Ryan has caught him off guard and he falls backwards onto the floor with a sickening crack. Without a pause Ryan is on top of Leo’s chest, knees digging into his ribcage. ‘How the hell do you know?’

  ‘I needed to see what my competition was,’ Leo says through the blood that is running from his nose. ‘Turns out it wasn’t much after all, though your girlfriend’s hot as heck. Great figure.’ Ryan thinks of the man Ada claimed she saw, all those months ago, when she was naked but for her wellies. ‘If I weren’t in love with your wife then I’d be tempted …’ Ryan pushes his hand against Leo’s mouth, longing to crush his fist through this beautiful boy’s face. He imagines his nose breaking, the dull crack of cartilage as it snaps and shatters.

  ‘GET OUT,’ Ryan says, moving off Leo’s chest and standing above him. ‘Get out of my house.’

  ‘Oh, I’m leaving,’ Leo says, peeling himself from the floor. ‘Enjoy your life of glass palaces. I came here to tell you where your wife is. You’ve always underestimated her.’ He walks through the kitchen and into the hallway with Ryan following at a distance. By the front door Leo pauses, ‘Believe me, you’ll regret not wanting to know where she is.’ He slams the door behind him so hard that the windows rattle with his threat.

  Rules of an open marriage #22:

  Never be with someone that we both know

  Dorset, Monday 17 October 2016

  ‘How much longer do you think we’ll be able to keep swimming?’ Adeline asks Emily as she emerges from the sea. Her lips are blue and her pale skin mottled pink. She links an arm through Emily’s.

  ‘We can get wetsuits for the winter,’ Emily says. ‘Neoprene, with hoods. People surf all year out here.’

  ‘I can’t wait,’ Adeline says, smiling.

  Back in the cabin Adeline showers while Emily puts the kettle on. She looks around the cabin. It’s been two months since she got the keys. Tom’s been spending weekends in London at Ella’s and Adeline’s been here every weekend apart from the one just gone, when she went mysteriously away. There was something she had to do, she told Emily. ‘Very cryptic,’ Emily had laughed, kissing her. Emily had been looking forward to her first weekend alone in the cabin since she got the keys, but late last night Adeline had rung her and asked if she could join her after all. She turned up in the early hours of the morning, smelling of woodsmoke.

  Adeline comes up behind her and Emily leans back as she feels Adeline’s arms around her waist.

  ‘I love it here,’ Adeline tells her. She burrows her face into Emily’s neck and Emily feels her lips brush her ear. ‘I love you.’ Emily turns and meets Adeline’s mouth. It’s the first time that Adeline’s said it. She kisses her hard, pulling her closer, moving her fingers down against the small of her back.

  Later they sit on the tiny sofa looking out at the view. On the table in front of them is Emily’s notebook. She’s writing again.

  ‘I think I’ll move here eventually, when Tom goes off to university,’ Emily says. ‘It’s only two years to wait. If he goes to university, that is.’ Having scraped through his GCSEs, Tom’s started studying for his A-levels, though she’s not overly hopeful that he’ll stay the course.

  Adeline leans forwards and kisses the tip of Emily’s nose. ‘When are you going to tell Ryan that you’re leaving him?’ she asks. Emily sighs.

  ‘Soon. It’s bad timing, though. He’s in pieces. I think his affair is over. He’s living back at the house in London full time now.’ Adeline walks to the fridge and pours herself an orange juice. Emily watches Adeline’s throat as she swallows, still not quite believing that she’s here with her. ‘You’ve changed my life,’ she tells her.

  ‘It took some persuading,’ Adeline says, laughing. That awkward night in Peckham feels like years ago.

  ‘I always felt like I was giving up something by being married,’ Emily says. ‘Even with our open arrangement.’ She’s told Adeline everything now. ‘But with you it doesn’t feel like I’m giving anything up.’

  ‘Maybe the secret to a good marriage is to marry the right person,’ Adeline laughs and slips her hand up Emily’s thigh. ‘I really think we can make this work, you know.’

  ‘What happened to you being a serial short-termer?’ Emily laughs.

  ‘I hadn’t met the right person, obviously.’ Adeline leans over and kisses Emily.

  ‘Maybe. I never believed in the one.’ Emily sighs. She doesn’t want to go back to her sister’s. The place is too small and Sarah’s been fractious since Matthew left her. She hasn’t exactly said it, but Emily’s fairly sure that Sarah blames her for his leaving when she turned down his marriage proposal. Sarah’s asked Emily if she can come with her to the cabin, thinking the fresh air and seawater is the secret to her new-found luminescence. Emily’s aware that it must be hard for Sarah, watching Emily’s happiness while her own life is scattering off its tracks. Emily’s dreading telling her about Adeline. Dreading admitting to her that perhaps the secret to happiness can be found in one person after all.

  Emily’s phone rings.

  ‘Ryan?’ She pushes her finger to her lips as Adeline raises her eyebrows. ‘I wasn’t planning on being back in London until the weekend. Really? Can’t we talk about it on the phone?’ She hangs up and feels Adeline watching her.

  ‘He needs to talk to me,’ Emily says. ‘He’s really upset. I should go and see him.’

  ‘But I only just got here,’ Adeline says, pouting. ‘I don’t see why you need to run back to him after everything he’s done.’

  ‘I still care about him, you know,’ Emily says, kissing Adeline on the lips. ‘And he is the father of my children.’ She pulls away. ‘Plus I’m abo
ut to leave him, so I feel like I owe him this. And it’s not like I am going to invite him to come here. Why don’t you stay? I can be back by tomorrow. You can keep the bed warm.’ Adeline laughs.

  ‘Do you have to go right now?’

  ‘If I leave now I can be in London before it’s dark. I’ll be back before you know it.

  Rules of an open marriage #23:

  Be loyal to one another in your hearts

  London, Monday 17 October 2016

  Ryan closes the blinds in his office and turns off the lights, nodding goodnight to the cleaner, who comes every day, even when there’s nothing to clean. The summation of his progress is a pile of broken pencils and a pressure corn on his thumb. He was surprised when Emily agreed to come to meet with him. She must care more than he thought she did. Outside it’s bitterly cold and he pulls up the collar of his coat. The reflection of Southbank breaks across the river, inverted. He considers visiting an exhibition at the Tate Modern and starts walking, he loves Georgia O’Keeffe’s work. Halfway there he changes his mind though, racked with indecision. He doesn’t feel like being inside, his head is too crowded to appreciate art, too jumbled for anything much at all. This city that he used to love feels empty, stocked full of a million different ways to use up time, as if it is not precious. He feels it ticking in his gullet and chasing at his heels. Below him the river looks tempting. Never before has he realised how transient life is, the present slipping to past in the blink of a moment. Pulling his coat closer around him, he walks faster, concentrating on his footsteps. The streetlights snap on and the pavements teem with tourists, all with somewhere to be. He belonged somewhere once as well. He hands a tenner to a homeless man. So what if he buys booze with it? Hailing a taxi, Ryan responds to the small talk of the driver with small gruff answers until eventually they travel in silence. He watches the streets flash past the window as if on a movie screen.