‘I’ll try, Henry, but marriages do get stale and husbands and wives do wander. Even my mother admitted that your forties are a difficult time and affairs happen.’
Henry polished off his brandy. ‘The way I see it, marriage is a contract where you commit to being with someone. Then when you have children it’s your responsibility to give them the best life possible.’
He was old-fashioned in his ways, but he was a true gentleman. It was such a pity he hadn’t married someone nicer. He deserved a sweet wife who loved him, not a sergeant major who bossed him around.
‘You and James have something very special,’ Henry said, looking into his glass. ‘You don’t just have a marriage, you have a true friendship. It’s worth protecting and fighting for. Don’t let some unhinged individual ruin that.’
He was right: James wasn’t just my husband, he was my best friend. We talked about everything. I trusted him and valued his opinion above all others. I’d be lost without James, completely lost. I was going to give him the benefit of the doubt, go home and work this out.
We stood up and walked out of the pub. As we parted ways at the tube station, I reached up and kissed Henry on the cheek. ‘Thank you, Henry. You have no idea how much this conversation’s helped me. I owe you one.’
‘My dear girl,’ he said, with a grin, ‘that’s what family is for.’
22
At home the house was tidy, the children fed and happy, as usual. I could have cried with relief. I felt utterly weary and was dying to have a hot bath and a glass of wine. Once I had the children in bed, I would do just that.
Yuri and Lara ran over and hugged me. Thankfully, they had forgotten they hated me. That was the wonderful thing about kids: they were endlessly forgiving. I could learn something from them. I held them close and told them I loved them. They were like my very own Valium. I felt calmer and happier once I’d hugged them.
Claire was wearing a pair of skinny jeans. I realized I’d never seen her legs before – they were always hidden inside oversized tracksuit bottoms. She had great legs, long and slim. I also noticed she was wearing mascara. Oh, to be young and in love, I thought, looking at her radiant face.
‘Are you seeing your boyfriend tonight? How’s it going?’ I asked her.
Claire smiled. ‘Yes, I am. It’s going well, thanks. I think he really likes me.’
‘Of course he does. What’s not to like? You’re great,’ I enthused.
I heard the front door bang. The next moment James came into the room and dropped his bag on the floor.
‘You’re home early.’ I didn’t look directly at him. I felt awkward after this morning.
He approached me. ‘I decided to come home and give the children their bath so that you can have a break.’
He was trying to catch my eye. I remembered what Henry had said and looked up at him. He had black circles under his eyes and his shoulders were hunched. I willed myself to be nice. ‘That’s great, thanks.’
‘No problem. I’m happy to help.’
We were like two strangers. I didn’t want Claire to sense the tension so I tried to act normally. ‘Guess what? Claire has a boyfriend,’ I said. ‘And it’s going really well.’
Claire went as red as her new runners.
‘I presume he’s a Liverpool fan?’ James said, with a half-grin. He was trying too.
‘Of course he is,’ she said, and smiled.
‘Did you see the game this weekend? They were robbed.’
‘I was gutted,’ Claire agreed.
‘Hopefully they’ll beat Newcastle this weekend.’
‘If Gerrard is back from injury, I reckon they’ll beat them easily.’
‘That’s the spirit.’ James slapped her on the shoulder. He was being overly jovial, but Claire didn’t seem to notice. ‘By the way, your lasagne the other night was fantastic, best I’ve ever had. If you ever tire of childcare, you could open a restaurant.’
‘Don’t even think of encouraging her into another profession,’ I said. ‘She has to stay right here and keep us all in order.’
Claire smiled at me. ‘There’s no worry of me leaving this house,’ she said. ‘I love it here.’
‘Well, thank you so much for your work today,’ I said. ‘The house looks great and the children are as happy as ever.’
As Claire was picking up her bag to go, she turned to me. ‘Oh, I almost forgot, Emma. When we got back from school there was something on the doorstep for you.’ She pointed to a small parcel on the side-table. It was addressed to Emma Hamilton. I felt sick.
‘Who delivered it?’ James asked tersely.
Claire looked surprised by the change in his tone. ‘I didn’t see. It was just here when I got back with the children.’ She looked from James to me and back again. ‘Is everything all right?’
‘We’ve been getting deliveries from some fruit-cake lately and they’re very upsetting for Emma,’ James replied.
‘Who’s sending them?’
‘We don’t know.’ James’s jaw was set.
Claire looked puzzled. ‘That sounds a bit weird,’ she said.
I opened the parcel with trembling hands. Inside, in pink wrapping paper, there was a whip. The card read: James loves to tie me up and whip me. He’s a naughty boy. I let it fall to the floor and began to cry.
James swore and Claire looked startled. She came over to me. ‘Are you all right?’
I pushed back my shoulders and wiped my eyes with a hand. ‘I’m fine, thanks. Look, Claire, you head off home. I’m just a bit upset, but I’ll be fine.’
I ran upstairs and locked myself into the bathroom. I sat on the floor and stared into space. I could hear Claire saying goodbye to James and the front door closing. I rested my head on the side of the bath. James came up and asked me to open the door, but I didn’t answer him. He talked through the door: he kept saying he didn’t understand … and why … and who … I wanted so much to believe him, but my head was aching with all the possibilities. Was he innocent? Was I being a fool?
As I soaked in a hot bath, I could hear James putting the children to bed. I heard him reading Goldilocks to Lara and The Gruffalo to Yuri. When the house was quiet, I dragged myself out of the bath and put on my dressing-gown. I opened the door and found James sitting on the floor with a bottle of wine and two glasses.
‘Drink?’ He offered me a glass. I gulped it down. At this rate I’d be an alcoholic by the end of the week.
James spoke quietly but firmly. ‘Emma, I need you to believe me. I do not know what is going on and who is doing this. When I find out, I’m going to kill them.’
I decided to tell him about Henry. ‘I bumped into Henry today. I was upset and ended up telling him everything. He said he had a client who was stalked by this older woman who sold him the newspaper every day. He said she seemed nice and normal but it turned out she was obsessed with this guy and stalked him. She ended up being violent.’
‘I read the newspaper online,’ James attempted a joke.
‘I’m scared, James. This person knows where we live and she wants to get rid of me. What if she attacks me – or, worse, the kids?’ I shuddered. ‘She could throw acid in my face or something. It’s really scary, James.’
He reached over and hugged me to him. A phone buzzed. We looked down at his, but it was mine. I hope u liked my gift. Go back to Ireland u stupid cow. James is mine.
I held my hand to my mouth to stop myself screaming. Now she had my mobile number as well! ‘James!’ I cried.
James had turned green, but he was trying to look composed. ‘Don’t worry, darling. Don’t panic. I’ll call Henry and see if he knows a police officer we can talk to or a detective. I’ll stop this, I promise. I won’t let anyone hurt you or the children. We will not let this person ruin our lives. We just have to figure out who the hell it is.’
I knew I wasn’t supposed to reply. Henry had specifically said not to, but I didn’t care, I texted back: Fuck off you psycho.
Another me
ssage came back: I’ll never go away. NEVER.
23
As I turned the corner to go into the studio, I heard my name being called. I spun around and saw Babs frantically waving at me from a taxi. She was wearing dark glasses, even though it was raining.
‘Where the hell have you been?’ she shouted. ‘I’ve been calling you all night and you never bothered to answer me. What happened to “I’ll be there for you, Babs, I’ll look after you, Babs”?’
Oh, God. James had made me turn my phone off after the text so I wouldn’t be tempted to reply again. I felt terrible. ‘I’m so sorry. Are you OK?’ I could see she wasn’t. Babs was wearing a tracksuit and had no makeup on. I hadn’t even known she owned a tracksuit. I strongly suspected that behind the sunglasses were puffy red eyes. Things with Gary must have gone very badly.
‘Get in, for God’s sake,’ she ordered. ‘I don’t want anyone to see me.’
I climbed into the taxi and turned to look at her properly. Even with the glasses on, she looked terrible. Her face was drained of any colour. I reached over and pulled her glasses down.
‘Jesus! That bad?’ I asked. Her eyes were completely swollen from crying.
She snapped them back up. ‘The bastard doesn’t want the baby. He told me to get rid of it.’
‘The shit!’
‘I know, but I’m not doing it. I told him I was having the baby with or without him.’
‘What did he say to that?’
‘He said if I ever told anyone it was his, he’d deny it. He said people in the industry think I’m a slut and no one will believe me.’
God, he was a real low-life.
‘I told him I could force him to have a paternity test, like Liz Hurley did to that millionaire guy who tried to deny her kid.’
‘Good for you. How did he react to that?’
‘He told me that if I did he’d make sure I never worked in TV again. That I’d end up in a council house with a screaming kid and no money.’
‘How dare he?’ I was shocked. I wanted to kill the bastard.
Babs bit her lip. ‘Well, you were right, Emma. Gary is an arsehole. He had no intention of leaving his wife and I was just another notch in his belt. Here’s your big chance to say, “I told you so.”’ She gazed at me anxiously.
‘I’d never say that. I’m sick for you.’
She tried to look defiant, but her voice shook. ‘There is no way in hell I’m going to let him ruin my life.’
I took her hands in mine. ‘Babs, I promise I’ll help you through all of this. He is a despicable human being, but what he doesn’t know is that you have a supportive family who love you and who’ll look after you.’
Babs then did something she had never done before – she threw her arms around my neck and hugged me. I was so shocked that at first I froze, and then I hugged her back.
‘You can’t go to work today. I’ll call in sick for you. You need some rest,’ I said.
‘I already called. I told Karen that both you and I have food poisoning.’
‘What?’
‘I don’t want to be on my own today, Emma. Last night was the longest night of my life. I couldn’t sleep or even sit still. I tried your phone a zillion times and then I tried James, but his phone was switched off too. I almost cracked and called Mum.’
I gasped. ‘You didn’t, though, did you?’
She rolled her eyes. ‘I haven’t completely lost my mind.’
I was relieved. We needed to think this through and come up with a plan of how and when to tell Mum about the baby. It had to be managed with an incredible degree of delicacy. Mum was not going to react well to the news that her youngest child was pregnant with a married man’s baby and that said married man was denying the child was his.
‘OK, well, let’s get you home and tucked up in bed. You’re exhausted. After you’ve had a sleep we can talk about how to deal with Gary … and everything.’
Babs crossed her arms. ‘I know exactly how I’d like to deal with Gary. I’d like to cut his penis off and feed it to a pack of hungry wolves.’
I smiled. It was good to see that her spirit hadn’t been totally crushed. ‘Well, let’s try and think of legal ways to make his life miserable. I don’t think prison is the best place to bring up a child.’
Babs smiled wanly. ‘Let’s go.’
When we arrived at Babs’s apartment, I sat her on the couch with a cup of sugary tea and some chocolate biscuits while I changed her bed. I always think that fresh sheets are one of life’s great comforts. Then I tucked her in and closed the curtains.
‘Now, have a good sleep and we’ll talk when you wake up,’ I said, closing the door softly.
‘Emma?’ she called.
‘Yes?’
‘Will you stay with me until I nod off?’
That was what Lara often asked me to do. ‘Of course,’ I said, going over to her bed and lying down beside her.
She looked so young and vulnerable, tucked under her duvet. For all her bluster, she was just a twenty-seven-year-old girl who had fallen in love with the wrong man and was now going to be a single mother. Her life would change for ever. I stroked her brow and she was asleep within minutes, exhausted physically and emotionally from the horror of finding out her beloved Gary was actually a total scumbag.
While Babs slept, I tidied up her messy apartment. Clothes were strewn everywhere. Her fridge contained only bottles of Prosecco and Corona Light, and chocolate bars. Her cupboards were almost bare, save for a few packets of biscuits and a box of Cheerios. Suddenly my diet didn’t seem so bad.
She’d have to learn to cook for the baby. It was all very well for her to eat out most nights or order takeaways, but a baby needed proper food. I’d have to buy her some books and get her to practise a few basic recipes.
Among her post, most of which was stuffed into an overflowing drawer, I found an open bank statement. Babs was six thousand pounds in debt on her Visa card. She’d need to start looking after her finances, too. I’d get Sean to talk to her about how to manage her money. I wasn’t the best at it myself, but I’d never run up Visa bills like that.
As I went around the small apartment – estate agents would describe it as bijou – I realized Babs had a lot of work ahead of her if she was to become a responsible parent. But it would do her good to grow up and have to think about someone other than herself. Maybe it would be the making of her. But I was worried about her career. Gary could cause a lot of problems for her if he wanted to play nasty. She’d have to be very careful with him. She didn’t want him bad-mouthing her about town.
It was all so complicated. Both of our lives were a mess. Maybe we’d end up moving in together and raising our children side by side. Or even living back home with Mum and Dad in Dublin, in a kind of commune-type environment, sharing child-rearing and chores. No! That definitely wouldn’t work. I could never live with Babs. We’d kill each other.
While Babs slept, I poured myself a large glass of Prosecco. Drinking at ten in the morning was not something I normally did, but today I needed something to take the edge off. My emotions were dangerously close to the surface and I wanted to calm down.
I had never seen my sister like this before, so vulnerable and upset. Gary was some jerk. I hated him. But I was glad to hear Babs talking about going back to work. She’d need to keep busy. It was all that was keeping me going these days.
I went to her bedroom and peeped inside – she was fast asleep. Good. She’d be able to think more clearly after a rest. I sat on the couch and finished my Prosecco. Babs’s laptop was on the coffee-table. I decided to go to the Daily Mail showbiz website, one of my guilty pleasures. I found looking at the photos of celebrities mind-numbing in a good way.
I was flicking through the pictures, marvelling at Heidi Klum’s body, when I saw the word ‘stalker’ out of the corner of my eye. I sat up and clicked on the link. It was a story about some country singer I’d never heard of being stalked by a crazy fan. She had just got a re
straining order to stop him following her.
I wondered if there were other articles on the same theme and typed ‘stalker’ into Google. Oh, my God, seventy-four million results! I decided to narrow it down to ‘being stalked’. More than three million. Apparently stalking was an epidemic. How had I not known it was such a problem?
I clicked on some of the stories and found one in the Guardian about a man who was stalked by a woman he’d only met twice. I read on … Oh, he’d slept with her on the second meeting and then she’d told him she loved him and stalked him for months. Had James done that? Had he slept with someone and then she’d gone crazy? I clicked on another article that said, ‘Are you being stalked?’ and gave a list of eight things that meant you were. Five matched my experience.
My chest was tightening again as the realization that I was being stalked sank in. These people were dangerous. Some of the stories said that the victim ended up as an alcoholic – I immediately vowed to stop using alcohol as a crutch – depressed, or harmed. Some stalkers attacked their victims, some of whom ended up dead. My heart was pounding. What was I going to do? How was I going to stop this?
I decided that information was key. I kept searching and found a website that linked into a chat room. It was all about how to get rid of your lover’s wife. The women suggested sending sextexts to drive a wedge between the couple. I gasped. That was exactly what was happening to me! I wondered if she was on this chat room. She must be, chatting away to all the nutters and finding ways to get rid of me. It was terrifying.
I forced myself to read on. Another suggestion was to send things to the wife’s workplace or home to freak her out. I was reading about my own life! Maybe this was our stalker, telling all the other freaks how to get rid of other wives. They all agreed that men with children were harder to push into leaving their families. They said you had to be more aggressive with those wives to get rid of them. How much more aggressive? I held my breath and read on. One woman suggested slashing the wife’s tyres, another recommended sending hard-core porn to her work, and another said you should harm her.
Mad About You Page 21
