Luke strides into the room. He may be relatively short – an inch or so shorter than me when I’m in heels – but my God, he fills a room. He stops the other side of the coffee table and extends his hand towards Beth over the top of it.
“It doesn’t look like we’re going to get a formal introduction, so please, allow me to do the honours. I’m Luke. And it’s nice to meet, you Beth, the woman who saved my wife from the muggers. What luck that a decent, kind-hearted, good Samaritan such as yourself just happened to be passing that day.”
Something in his tone gives me serious pause. I glance up at Beth, who is hovering next to me, and her face is blanched white. She looks so sheepish. Or scared, perhaps.
“It really was nothing,” she says hesitantly, her voice small.
“Oh, I beg to differ. I think it’s a lot. In fact, I am forever in your gratitude for your kind, selfless deed.”
There is no mistaking the way his voice drips with sarcasm.
“Really, stop. Anyone would’ve done the same.”
Now Luke’s dark eyes are shining with what I can only think of as malice, and his mouth is set in a grim line.
I am so in the doghouse, I think miserably.
“You’re just so special, aren’t you?” he continues in that same, icy tone. “One of life’s true decent people. A truly rare breed.”
I cringe in embarrassment; Luke is usually so composed, I just don’t understand why he’s acting like such a jerk. Even worse, the embarrassment I feel is mixed with something else; it is inexplicably mixed with fear.
“I’m not.” She laughs, but it is an awkward sound that abruptly dies on her lips. “I really should be going, my husband is knocking off work soon, too.”
Beth hasn’t talked all that much about Paul, but I have discovered that he runs a garage in Bethnal Green.
Hoisting Bella onto my hip, I lurch into a standing position, dismayed to discover that I am swaying.
Luke shoots me daggers and I flinch in shame.
“It was really nice to see you, today,” I say to her. “Thanks so much for coming.”
It sounds weirdly formal to my own ears, but it’s too late now, I can’t take it back. She smiles at me, but her complexion is high and her usually full mouth is set in a thin line of embarrassment. We hug awkwardly, Bella sandwiched between us, with promises to keep in touch and get together again soon.
I walk her to the front door, and I think that Luke goes into the kitchen, although I am not entirely sure.
“I’m so sorry,” she says in a loud whisper when we reach the front door. “I’ve got you into trouble, haven’t I?”
“No, it’s fine,” I laugh, but inside, my guts are twisting in apprehension.
“No offence, but your husband doesn’t seem too thrilled about you being drunk and in charge of Bella.”
I wave my hand dismissively. “It’s fine, really.”
She hugs me again. “Honestly, I’ve had a great time today, we should totally do this again, soon.”
“Totally.”
I open the door, and she is off. “I’ll call or text,” she calls over her shoulder.
“Me too,” I call back. “Have a safe tube ride home.”
“Always.”
And then she is gone, leaving me to face the music.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Luke is waiting for me, stony-faced, in the kitchen. His backside is resting against the Island, his arms folded, his feet crossed at the ankles.
“I’ll put dinner on,” I say, walking over to the sliding patio doors.
This corner of the kitchen is a mini-play area for Bella, and on the floor is a snakes and ladders rug, a mini, bright red table with two matching chairs and a couple of shelves of toys that are within her reach. On her little table are some brightly-coloured building blocks that she had been playing with the last time I had plonked her in this corner this morning. I fully intend to do just that once more while I prepare dinner. Instead, I freeze when Luke speaks:
“Don’t bother, I’ve ordered a takeout. So, you didn’t give Bella her tea, then?”
“She’s been eating snacks all day, she’s not really hungry. Healthy snacks,” I say in a rush. “She was very into the carrot sticks.”
“Oh, that’s good to hear.”
“There’s no need to be like that,” I say primly.
“Like what?”
“You know what.”
“I’m not the one who is drunk, disorderly and flagrantly irresponsible. What are you playing at, Tanya?” His voice is dangerously low, dripping with barely contained anger. “You were getting drunk with a woman whom you don’t even know. Drunk with a stranger when you should be looking after your daughter.”
“My God, that’s so sanctimonious, you make it sound like I’ve been out clubbing, or something, and left Bella alone in the house. I’ve had a few drinks, so what? I’ve been with her the entire time. I’ve had fun, Luke, I don’t remember what that even feels like.”
“Okay,” he says slowly. “Not only are you pissed and neglecting your daughter, you’re now saying that life with me is boring?”
“No, that’s not what I said.” Although, I know that it is exactly what I said. “All I meant was, I don’t get to see anyone, or talk to anyone, and I get lonely. It was nice to let my hair down, to talk with a girlfriend.”
“A girlfriend?” he splutters. “You don’t even know this woman, she could be anyone. You do not know her.”
“She saved my life.”
He lets out a harsh sounding laugh that is nearer a bark. “Right. What a good Samaritan she was.”
“Why do you keep saying it like that?”
“Oh, come on, Tanya. Wake up and smell the coffee. She saw you coming. Literally. Did you see the state of the dress she was wearing? Have you ever seen anything so tacky? She is trash, sweetheart.”
“I thought her dress was nice,” I say honestly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Her clothes were cheap. She’s cheap. She’s a user, a social climber. She wants this, Tanya,” he says, waving his arm expansively around the kitchen. “She thinks that she can better her life just be mere association.”
“That’s insane, what are you talking about?” I ask, flabbergasted.
“Stop being so naive. When she saw the thugs accosting you, she saw her opportunity to save a woman like you. Because that’s exactly what she is – an opportunist.”
He sounds like a raging snob, and I feel a fleeting stab of embarrassment for him.
“That’s crazy,” I say, hugging Bella closer to me and striding over towards the fridge, with the intention of rescuing a milk to microwave. “I’m going to give Bella a bath, and then we’re going to bed.”
“Maybe I will give her a bath tonight.”
“Since when have you ever done that?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, is the fact I work so many hours to give you and Bella all of this an inconvenience to you, now?”
“You don’t do it for us,” I scoff. “You’ve been doing this long before I came along. You do it for you.”
As soon as the words are out there, I regret them. There’s no getting away from it – as fast as I may be sobering up, I am still drunk. I am still in possession of considerably slackened social inhibitions.
He laughs, but there is very little warmth in the sound. I yank open the fridge door and grab a bottle of milk, refusing to meet his eye as I march over to the microwave. Being so rude and outspoken towards him really isn’t like me at all, and I hide this fact behind my shield of self-righteous anger, aggressively shoving the milk into the microwave, slamming the door and turning it on.
“I cannot believe how ungrateful you are sounding right now. And do you really think that you’re in any fit state to bathe our daughter?”
“I am not drunk. What do you think I’m going to do? Drown her?”
Quick as a flash, he is next to me by the microwave, grabbing hold of my upper arm that
isn’t supporting Bella.
“You’re hurting me,” I gasp. He is – his fingers are digging in, hard.
“Look at the state of you,” he hisses into my face. “You’re a disgrace, you make me sick.”
I don’t think that I’ve ever seen him so angry. In fact, if I didn’t know better, I would say that he wants to hit me right now. I can see how hard he is fighting to contain it, the way it bubbles beneath the surface of his pinched, white face.
And, for the first time in my life, I am frightened of him.
“Let go of me, Luke,” I say in an equally low, dangerous voice.
The threat of an explosive argument hangs heavy in the air, an ominous cloud that wraps around us, suffocating us. He lets go of my arm as the microwave pings, signalling that the bottle of milk is sufficiently heated.
Pulling open the microwave door, I snatch up the bottle. Bella, while not quite in meltdown stage, is starting to protest at the harsh edge to her parents’ voices. She squirms and moans in my arms, suddenly restless.
“I don’t want you seeing this woman anymore,” he says quietly.
“You what? You can’t be serious?”
“Oh, but I am. Deadly serious. She is clearly poison.”
“Why would you even say such a thing?”
He smiles grimly, and in that moment, I think that I don’t love him anymore. I wonder if I ever did.
“Because she’s a user. Because it wouldn’t surprise me if she paid for those boys to mug you, just so she could swoop in and save the day.”
For a moment, I am rendered utterly stupefied. I simply cannot believe what I am hearing. “You are joking, right?”
“God, the naivety of you. Who knows what kind of a person she is? Maybe she’s out to rob us, and her coming here today was merely to case the joint.”
“That has to be the most ridiculous thing that I’ve ever heard.”
I believe my own words wholeheartedly, yet I still can’t help thinking about earlier, the way she had appeared to be staring so intently at my blue box folder on the bookcase.
Stop it, I tell myself. You’re still drunk and he’s making you paranoid.
“Is it, Tanya? Is it really? So what did you two talk about, then? She clearly got you drunk so that she could extract information from you.”
I am backing away from him now, Bella writhing in my arms. “You sound like a crazy man, Luke, have you even heard yourself? I don’t want to have this conversation, it’s complete insanity. We’ll talk about it when you’ve calmed down.”
“Oh my God, you told her personal stuff, didn’t you? You told her about the affair you had in Brighton, and you told her my business, didn’t you? I can’t believe that you would be so stupid. I can’t believe that you discussed such things with a complete stranger, stuff that we agreed that we would never talk about. It cheapens us, Tanya. How could you do that to me? I would never do that to you. I would never tell my friends what a slut you used to be.”
His words cut into me as surely as a slap across the face. I can’t believe that he’s talking to me like this – he has never said anything this hurtful before. I need to get away from him, and fast. Before I say something that I’ll regret.
“We’re not doing this,” I say simply. I am almost over on the other side of the kitchen, with Luke remaining next to the microwave.
“You’ll regret this, Tanya.”
I still can’t believe any of this, and I can’t believe that he is threatening me. This is it, I think incredulously, I have officially entered the twilight zone.
I have to bite down the urge to swear at him, to tell him where to go, and that is only because I have Bella in my arms. When I reach the kitchen door, I pause. As much as I don’t want a screaming row, especially when still intoxicated and holding Bella in my arms, I still can’t help questioning him:
“What will I regret, Luke?”
“Your decision to invite this woman into your life.”
He grabs the kettle and turns his back to me as he fills it up at the sink. Every line of his body, of his broad back screams, this conversation is over.
Which suits me just fine. Without another word, I fade into the hallway.
*
Even as I kneel next to the bath, I am still shaking. Bella is impervious to my troubled mood, swatting at the bubbles, and making her collection of rubber ducks, fish and boats dance and bob. She sinks a boat, laughing hysterically.
“You’re like King Kong,” I tell her. “Or maybe not, he was more about the aeroplanes, wasn’t he? You’re more like Cthulhu the octopus.”
She gurgles in delight, and I absently stroke her clean, wet hair. I am still reeling from Luke’s reaction to me drinking with a new friend. I do know that it’s irresponsible for me to drink around Bella, but it’s not like I’ve ever done such a thing before. He knows me, for God’s sake. He knows that I’m fundamentally a decent person, that I would never do anything to hurt Bella, that I love her more than life itself.
Does he know you? a little voice taunts in my mind. He knows you had an affair, so he knows that you’re scum. And you know about his hookers, so what does that make him?
Maybe you’re both a pair of scummy bastards. Maybe you deserve each other.
My own husband called me a slut, I tell myself. I still can’t believe it. Okay, so he meant it in the past tense, and he was only speaking out of anger – at least, I hope that he was – but there is no escaping the fact his words sting like hell.
I groan softly, rubbing my face with one hand. I have consumed the best part of two bottles of wine, but more than anything, I am just tired. The buzz has long worn off, and I do believe that the hangover is already setting in.
“I love you, baby girl.”
I continue to stroke her silky hair, suddenly overwhelmed with love for my darling girl.
“Pear pear,” she tells me. My name is pear pear, Mummy, get it right.
“Yes. Pear pear. “I love you, pear pear.”
I focus all my attention onto Bella, doing my best to push the argument from my mind.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
“I made you a coffee,” I call up to the cleaner, who is kneeling on the curving staircase, ten or so steps up.
“Thanks. You didn’t have to do that.”
I like her accent – there is a pleasing, Australian lilt to it.
“No problem,” I say, standing on the bottom step and extending the mug up towards her as she leans down to take it.
“No one who’s ever employed me as a cleaner has made me coffee before,” she laughs.
“It’s really nothing.”
She smiles brightly at me, displaying perfect, white teeth. She’s dressed in baggy, shapeless clothes, and her mid-brown hair is cut into a plain bob, or lob, but there is no disguising how pretty she is. Of the three women that I interviewed yesterday, she was far and away my first choice. The other two were in their late fifties, the same age as the cleaner before sticky-fingered Isobel Stamford, whose name was Janet Cintas. Janet had terrible back problems, and, not only had she done a lacklustre job, probably because she found it difficult to bend down, she quite often didn’t show up at all because of ill-health. I know I’m being ageist, but I had promised to myself that the next person I took on would be young, fit and healthy.
“You’re doing a great job,” I say, stepping backwards so that I am standing on the black and white tiled floor of the hallway once more.
Just then, the shrill ring of the landline permeates the air, and with a final smile at the new girl, I turn heel and lunge towards the living-room as that phone is the nearest. Bella is down for her nap in the living-room and is thankfully undisturbed by the ringing phone.
“Hello?” I gasp into the handset, picking it up in such haste that I have forgotten to look at the little screen to see who is calling.
“Hey.”
It’s Luke, and my heart starts to race. We haven’t really spoken since our argument on Wednesday af
ter my drunken lunch with Beth. That day, after I had bathed Bella and put her to bed, I had gone to bed myself, despite the fact it hadn’t even yet been seven. He was late home from work yesterday – Thursday – and we barely exchanged a word over dinner.
With a quick glance at Bella, who is still sleeping soundly in her cot, I rush back out into the hallway, gently pulling the door to behind myself.
“How’s the new cleaner working out?” he asks me.
“Fine,” I say, genuinely surprised that he is calling me on a Friday morning, as he rarely calls me from work.
I hurry down the hallway, past the cleaner on the stairs, not wishing to conduct a conversation about her, in front of her. I go into the kitchen, where I am able to hear Bella on the baby monitor, should she wake up.
“Do you think you made the right choice?”
“Yes. She’s doing a great job.”
She truly is, and I am relieved that I have cancelled the interviews with the other women that had been lined up for today and the early part of next week. There was no denying that I had taken an instant shine to Anne Golby – the Australian girl currently cleaning our stairs. I really didn’t see the point in interviewing hoards of women for the job when I liked this girl so much. First come, first served, and all of that.
“I suppose you were right to take the younger one, after all the problems you had with that Janet Cintas woman.”
I notice that he said you, rather than we, but I don’t bother pulling him up on it. “Yes. I thought so, too.” I just had – do still have – a really good feeling about this girl. She is bright, for a start. She says that she is working towards her PHD in Bioengineering, and never had any meetings with her various tutors and colleagues in the morning. She also said that she was desperate for cash in hand, and would rather this than taking some crummy bar job. “Did you just call to talk about the cleaner, Luke?”
“No. I’m calling to say sorry. I should’ve said it yesterday, but somehow, I didn’t manage it. I’m stupid, and stubborn, and I overreacted and I’m sorry.”
From the Inside Page 12
