by Beth Thomas
‘It was so sheer,’ she’s saying, as Fletch looks beseechingly towards the dance floor, ‘you could pretty much see right through it. But I had a beautiful figure back then, you know, so it didn’t really matter.’
I start grinning and Matt immediately turns to see what I’m looking at. Even from here, Fletch’s anxiety and discomfort are lit up on his face like a red, pulsating sign, and he squirms in his seat as Granny describes everything in lurid detail.
‘Light and billowy, and so tiny, a bit like a teensy little curtain …’
Matt swings back round to face me, his eyes widened in surprise. I nod gravely and he jerks his head, then turns back to Granny. We watch together in silence for a few moments, and I feel something smoothly click into place in my mind. This feels right, and comfortable, and relaxed. This is what it should be like. This is what I want – to share my family with someone; to share his with him. And it seems that I can almost, almost have it. I just have one cloud, one blot hanging over me that I need to banish, and then I can start a brand new, real life.
Eventually, with the words, ‘photographed me for four hours’ still ringing in his ears, Fletch makes his escape.
FIFTEEN
Eventually the cake is cut, some eight-year-olds have skidded across the floor in their socks, and Great Uncle Morris and the baby Herc have fallen asleep. At midnight, just like Cinderella, we are all kicked out, lest our carriage turns back into a pumpkin and our clothes to rags. Well, there’s a big match tomorrow and they need to get the place ready.
‘Like that’s going to take a long time,’ Lauren says as we all trudge towards the exits, some more sulkily than others. ‘Tip a couple of the tables over and sling a few kit bags around – five minutes tops.’
‘No, they’ll have to wash all the glasses and clear up a bit, too, Lo,’ Justin, aka Beefcake, says, completely un-sarcastically.
Matt glances at me but makes no comment.
When we reach the road, there’s a taxi already waiting, so Mum, Dad, Lauren and Robbie get in, leaving Matt and me standing on the pavement. Mum smoothly gives the driver our address and it pulls away with the words ‘Get the next one!’ shouted from the back seat.
Matt and I look at each other, then turn back to watch the dwindling tail lights of the taxi. ‘Well, that was odd,’ he says.
I nod silently, and close my eyes. I’m definitely feeling the clumsy, clammy hand of maternal match-making, and it’s making my skin shrivel. As soon as I get home, I’m moving out.
‘It’s OK,’ Matt says, stuffing his hands into his pockets and waggling his elbows. ‘It’s a pleasant night – walk with me?’
I smile. ‘OK.’
‘Can I ask you something?’ he says über-casually as we walk, and I feel the ominous sensation of something heavy draping itself over me.
‘Really?’
He puts a hand up. ‘No, Grace, don’t worry, I’m not asking you to explain your whereabouts on the night in question.’ He looks at me with an earnest expression. ‘I mean it, honestly.’ Then his voice turns harder. ‘That would have to be done at the station, under caution.’
I look at him sharply, heart thudding, and he gives me a wide grin and winks. ‘Matt! Oh my God!’
‘Oh come on, you can’t possibly believe that they’re going to think you’ve done something? I mean, seriously?’
‘That’s exactly what I’m terrified of, you bloody sod.’
‘No way!’
I nod emphatically. ‘You have literally just drilled down directly into my very own waking nightmare.’
He stops walking, so I do too. ‘No. Genuinely? You’re not winding me up, to get your own back?’
I shake my head wordlessly.
‘But that’s so ridiculous, Gracie. I mean, look at you.’ He puts both hands out towards me. ‘You’re one of the sweetest, loveliest … Ahem. You could no more plot something evil than, I don’t know, spin straw into gold.’ He laughs once from the side of his mouth.
‘Miscarriages of justice do happen. I know, I’ve Googled it.’
‘Then it must be true.’
‘Are you making fun of me now?’
‘Oh God, Grace, no, no.’ He reaches up and rubs his head, making his hair stand on end. ‘I’m sorry. I’m just … I don’t know. Nervous, I suppose.’
I frown. ‘Why are you nervous?’
He looks at me sidelong, smiles enigmatically, and resumes walking. ‘So anyway,’ he says, making it clear he has no intention of explaining, ‘I wanted to ask you something. Unrelated to any as yet unexplained disappearances.’
‘OK. But I’m not promising to answer on the grounds that I may incriminate myself.’
He huffs. ‘Right then. The thing is, when I … touched your hand, at the table, earlier …’
‘Oh, yes, right. Yes, I remember.’ We’re both studiously avoiding eye contact now. ‘What about it?’
‘Well, correct me if I’m wrong, but you seemed … Well … OK. Look, to be honest, it was a bit weird.’
‘Weird? Why?’
He shrugs. ‘I don’t know. You seemed tense, like you tensed up instantly. Your skin practically went rigid.’
‘Oh.’
‘And then you kept looking down at our hands on the table, as if you felt you had to keep an eye on them. In case they exploded, or something.’
I stop walking and put my face in my hands. ‘Oh, God. Did I? How embarrassing.’
He comes near but noticeably doesn’t touch me this time. ‘You don’t have to be embarrassed, Gracie. It’s only me, remember. I knew you when you had braces on your teeth.’
I lower my hands and find his face very close to mine. Hastily he moves away, clearing his throat. ‘The reason I was … weird,’ I start, ‘is because I’m not used to … being touched. Like that.’
‘Like what? I mean, it was just hands …’
I shake my head. ‘No, no, I don’t mean … What I mean is … When I say “like that”, I mean, in public.’
He widens his eyes and gapes. ‘What? You’re saying …? Adam never …?’
‘No.’
‘Never held your hand?’
‘No, he did, he did … Just not in public.’ I look away. ‘He used to hate it. Always snatched his hand back if I ever … Like he’d been burnt.’
‘Oh Gracie.’
‘No, it’s fine. I got used to it. Didn’t bother me.’
‘That’s so sad.’
‘Is it?’ I think about that for a moment, as we resume walking. It doesn’t seem so terrible, what I remember, to be walking around Ikea or Homebase or Sainsbury’s, opening drawers, stroking wood, picking up bags of pasta, not glued together at the wrist. In fact I recall distinctly that there were lots of other couples doing exactly the same: wandering apart, checking things out on their own, then coming back together to discuss their findings. They weren’t in physical contact with each other the entire time. Doesn’t mean they weren’t happy. I always felt happy when Adam and I were in Ikea doing that. I felt close to him there in a way that I didn’t anywhere else. I’ve never been able to pinpoint why that was, and it didn’t matter anyway.
But now with a jolt it suddenly occurs to me. In Ikea, where the other couples were wandering around independently of each other, I was like them. My marriage was like theirs. It was normal. Standard. My husband and I talked to each other about trivialities like metal drawer runners and voile curtains and scented candles and it was shallow and unimportant and banal but that didn’t matter, there. It was what everyone was doing, there. I fitted in, there. But strolling along the beach on a sunny day, or sitting in the cinema, or snuggling in bed, I did not. We did not. Our relationship had almost no physical element to it, and the only place where I didn’t feel this was in Ikea.
I turn to Matt again, feeling heat in my eyes. ‘You’re right. It was terrible.’
‘Oh, Grace …’
I shake my head and blink the tears away. ‘No, don’t do that. Don’t feel sorry for
me. Like I said, it was my own stupid fault.’
‘No, for God’s sake, it wasn’t. You can’t blame a donkey for wandering into a sand trap and not being able to get himself out again. You didn’t know what you were getting into. And once you were in, it’s very difficult to think about how to get out again. But you can move on with your life now. Start again.’ He looks down at me meaningfully, that sideways look back again.
‘Yes. That’s exactly what I want to do.’
‘But?’
I stop again. ‘I need answers, Matt. I can’t forget about all of this and move on until I know what I’m supposed to be forgetting.’
‘What happened to him, you mean?’
‘Yes. No. Oh, I don’t know. That’s definitely part of it. But I don’t know a thing about the man I lived with for three years. It’s ridiculous. I feel … ridiculous. Kind of ashamed of myself. No, don’t argue. That’s how I feel. So, to feel better about myself, to get back some self-respect, I want to know … stuff. What happened to him, what he was doing, who he was. That kind of thing.’ He’s nodding slowly as I talk, hands in his pockets, his eyes focused intensely on my face. ‘Do you … see what I mean?’
‘Of course I do. Totally. Let me help you?’
I feel an intense and immediate surge of affection for him which makes me want to run towards him and wrap my arms round his middle. I rock forward onto my toes, the pull is that strong. But I manage to resist it, and give him a huge, grateful smile instead. ‘I was hoping you would say that. Thank you, Matt. Thank you so much. I can’t tell you …’
‘Of course I will help you, Grace.’ He smiles to himself and shakes his head. ‘Now let’s go and make a plan.’
When we get back to Mum and Dad’s, the house is in silent darkness. Without even thinking about it, I turn to Matt and whisper, ‘Mum and Dad are asleep, we’ll need to be quiet.’
‘And just like that, I’m fourteen again.’
I giggle. ‘Shall we sing into hairbrushes and dye each other’s hair?’
He looks at me full on. ‘Er, no.’
‘Right.’
In the kitchen, I make us both a mug of tea and we sit down at the table in front of my laptop.
‘What are you doing?’ he says, eyeing the computer as I fire it up.
‘I’m making a plan.’
‘Wha … How? I mean, with your computer?’
‘Well yeah. I’m Googling it.’
‘Googling what?’
I stare at him. ‘How to find stuff out, obviously.’ I launch the engine and start typing, ‘Finding stuff out.’
‘You’re kidding.’
I smile and raise my eyebrows. ‘Yes, Matt. I am kidding.’ I start deleting the words. ‘You can’t Google everything, you know.’ I’ve already tried this one, so I know it won’t work, but I’m not admitting that to Matt.
‘Well thank God for that. I mean, I’m no detective, but even I could see some flaws in your plan.’
Now I’m typing in ‘hotels in Linton’ and he starts nodding appreciatively. ‘Where the car was found?’
‘Yep. Can’t be a bad place to start, right?’
‘No, no, that’s a much better idea.’
‘Thanks.’
The Linton Lodge hotel is still completely booked up, of course. Such a shame, it looks wonderful. Four-poster beds, crackling log fires, intimate seating areas in tucked-away nooks. Perfect for two people to get to know each other better, set amongst the stunning natural beauty of the Yorkshire Dales national park, full English breakfast included.
Mentally I slap myself in the head. We’re not going for a romantic getaway. We’re going to root out information about Adam. I click away from the images quickly and move around the site, eventually finding one twin room available – the last one, it says – in a Premier Inn. I click on the ‘Book Now’ button before it gets snapped up. Then look at Matt. ‘You are coming with me, right?’
‘Course I am.’
‘What about work?’
He shrugs. ‘I can take leave.’
‘Seriously? You would do that?’
‘What, use a few days of my annual leave allowance? Yeah, I’m prepared to make that sacrifice.’
‘OK. Good.’ I navigate through the booking. ‘When are we going? Today?’
He glances at his watch. ‘If by today you mean later on because it’s already nearly one a.m., then probably not. I need to check in with work and organise the time off. But tomorrow will be OK.’
Disappointment snags me for not being able to leave today, but I push it away. ‘OK. How many nights?’
He shrugs. ‘Four? Five?’
‘OK.’ I click on five. ‘I can pay with that cash stash, so even if we come back early, it won’t matter.’
‘Gracie …’
Something in his voice makes me turn worriedly in his direction. ‘What? What is it?’
He presses his lips together in a weak smile. ‘I really … can’t … I can’t let you pay for me …’
I put my hand up. ‘What, because you’re the man and I’m the woman? Don’t be so sexist. I’ve got money, it’s my trip, I will pay.’
‘No, no, I’m not being sexist …’
‘God, Matt, you so are, and you don’t even realise it. Because you think you’re being gentlemanly or something, and it’s probably the way you were brought up, and although it’s very sweet and actually kind of adorable that you think you must pay, it’s absolutely—’
‘No, I mean, I can’t let you pay for me with the money from the safe.’ He shrugs. ‘It could be part of the investigation, so the less I know about it, the better.’
I blink. ‘Oh.’
‘In fact,’ he goes on, ‘I would like us both to pretend as if you’d never told me about that money. So if you ever get asked, I know nothing. OK?’
‘OK. Right.’
‘You sure? I’m deadly serious, Grace. It could mean my career.’
I nod solemnly. ‘I swear I will never let on that I told you about the skeleton money.’
‘Skeleton money?’
‘It’s kind of what I’ve been calling it in my head. For finding skeletons. In closets. I need to get them out and destroy them so that I can forget about them. I know they’re there, and all the while they’re there, I can’t move on. And don’t forget, they’re only there in the first place because of Adam, so it’s only right that he should be footing the bill.’
‘OK, well that’s a bit screwed up …’
I look round at him. ‘Oh, God, is it?’ I bite my lip.
‘Hey, don’t worry, I’m only kidding.’
‘Oh.’
‘You really need to worry about things a bit less, you know.’ He moves nearer, and his voice drops lower. ‘Especially with me. I already know you. That’s not going to change.’
‘Sorry.’
‘And stop apologising.’
‘Sor—’ He puts his hands up and I stop. ‘OK. Fine. No more apologising. Ever.’
‘Excellent. Oh, unless you tread on my toe.’
‘Deal.’
‘Do you promise?’ he asks softly, and as I look back at him sitting there, leaning slightly towards me, his hair all messed up from his vigorous – if somewhat inaccurate – rendition of the cha-cha slide earlier, his brow slightly creased as his eyes pin me with their gaze, I feel calm again. I smile, and his face relaxes too.
‘Promise.’
Actually booking the room could prove awkward but isn’t because there’s only that one twin room left, so there’s literally no choice. I reserve it and fill in the details and get that tickly, bubbly feeling of going on holiday. Even though we’re not.
‘It’s one thirty,’ Matt says quietly. ‘I’d better go. I do actually have to go to work tomorrow. And by tomorrow, I mean today.’
‘Oh, God, I didn’t realise. What time do you start?’
He glances at his watch. ‘In about five hours.’
‘Oh no! Sorry. You’d better get going.
’
‘Yes, I really must.’ I walk him to the front door and open it silently. ‘Night, Gracie,’ he whispers, his face very close to mine.
‘Night.’ I’m leaning towards him and almost fall into his chest as I say this, but he’s turning away at that moment and hopefully doesn’t notice.
And he disappears into the night. Well, into a taxi. Leaving me to go and lie on my single bed and stare at the ceiling and think about everything that’s happened. Well, I’ll be honest, I’m thinking about Matt. Matt who touched my hand in public and didn’t recoil. Matt who had an honest conversation with me about how weird I was being, and didn’t find it awkward. Matt who agrees with me that recoiling from human contact is the weird thing, not me for wanting it. It feels like a curtain has been pulled away to reveal a pathetic old man pulling a few levers. Or a manipulative puppeteer, pulling a few strings.
Which leads me, of course, to think about Adam. It’s obvious, really, now that he’s sunning himself in South America, that he didn’t love me. Not properly. Or at all. Yet another item to add to the list of things I didn’t notice. It should have been obvious from the moment he interrupted me in his office three years ago to correct my Latin. From the moment he leaned in to kiss me after we said our wedding vows, and turned at the last minute to peck my cheek. From the moment he moved away from me that same night and said he was exhausted. Everything about him and the way that he was with me was so different in every way to how Matt is. The difference between Matt’s insistence on being there for me and Adam’s almost complete avoidance could not be more stark.
But the real question that keeps me awake tonight is why? Why didn’t Adam love me? I did everything he wanted me to do, his way, and I never asked questions. I seldom asked questions. Well, I asked questions but I didn’t expect any answers. I stopped expecting answers. I went along with everything he said and everything he did and expected – and got – so little in return. So what did I do that was so wrong, to make him reject me so utterly?
It can’t be answered. The only person who can answer, with any degree of accuracy, is determinedly not here. And lying there in my bed that night, my hands curl into fists and thump the mattress in impotent rage.
