by Lisa Hall
‘Sorry, Rav, what did you say? I was miles away.’ I give a small apologetic smile, shedding any pretence of eating and laying my fork down. Rav’s eyes flick towards my plate but he says nothing.
‘I was just saying that I hope Evie is getting on OK. It would be quite nice to have an extra babysitter on hand if Mum is busy, or Naomi.’
‘Mmmm,’ I say non-committally. I am not in any hurry to leave the children again any time soon.
‘Have you spoken to Naomi today?’ Rav asks, as he finishes his last mouthful of food.
‘Yes,’ I say, ‘she called me earlier. Everything’s fine.’ I wonder now if I should have gone into The Daisy Chain when I received her text this morning, spoken to her face to face instead of over the phone, but I still feel odd about the way I felt seeing her with Rav while I was outside, looking in. ‘What about you? Have you spoken to her today?’
Rav shakes his head, pushes the breadbasket towards me. ‘If you won’t eat the fish, at least have some bread.’
‘I don’t want any, I’m not hungry. So, you didn’t speak to her at all today?’ I thought he would have – it wouldn’t surprise me to learn that the two of them had talked about Rav making my doctor’s appointment before he booked it, after what I overheard yesterday evening.
‘No, Allie, I didn’t speak to her. Maybe you should mention your appetite to the doctor when you go? I thought you needed the extra calories when you feed the baby yourself?’ He frowns, his voice holding a vague note of concern and I feel a pang of guilt before I chase it away with a swig of wine. Anyone can fake concern. I reach for a small piece of bread, buttering it slowly.
‘I had a big lunch,’ I lie. ‘Listen, I told you yesterday, you don’t need to worry. I am absolutely fine. Tired, but that’s to be expected. I honestly don’t need to see the doctor.’ He opens his mouth and I hold up a hand. ‘But if that’s what you want, I’ll go. I haven’t mentioned anything about the bones, or being watched, or anything else weird, have I?’ A bite creeps into my tone, irritation leaching through.
‘No. No, you haven’t. Of course, you know how you feel better than I do. You know best.’ He shrugs, but there is something off in his tone. He doesn’t believe me. ‘Do you want to split a pudding, or should I just get the bill? You do look tired. I shouldn’t have made you come out.’ He gets to his feet.
I put the bread back on the plate, relieved I don’t have to force it down. ‘Let’s get the bill and go home.’ I watch as he makes his way to the gents’, not sure how I feel about this evening. I thought maybe he wanted to cheer me up, but it almost feels as if he brought me out so he could examine me at close quarters. See how I reacted to leaving the children, see how much I ate, see how I behaved when it was just the two of us without the distraction of the house and the children. Something crackles under my skin, a nervous energy. His phone lies on the table next to his empty plate, and I picture him turning the screen dark as I approached from the ladies’ earlier in the evening.
Maybe he was checking to see if Evie had contacted him. I lift the phone, entering his passcode. Our wedding date, the same as mine. The picture on his lock screen is of Mina, holding the baby on the day we brought him home. No signal. The pub is in a dead zone, there is no way for Evie to contact us if she needed to. I feel the first wings of panic flutter in my chest, butterflies beating hard against my ribcage. I swipe across, and there is one unread WhatsApp message. Maybe that is from Evie – there is one weak Wifi bar in the pub. I tap on the WhatsApp icon to open the app, but the unread message isn’t from Evie. It’s from Naomi.
Glancing up to check that Rav isn’t yet at the bar, I open the message, my pulse thudding loud and hard in my ears. Somehow, I think I already know what I will find.
Yes, I feel things are escalating. You’re doing the right thing.
This, from Naomi. I scroll back to see what message Rav wrote that she is replying to.
It’s the children I am worried about – whether they are safe or whether I need to remove them. Passports are sorted.
Oh God. Reading Rav’s words to Naomi makes bile rise in my throat. Passports. Whether I need to remove them. He’s going to take my children? I am still, iced water in my veins as I re-read the message. I think of the two of them talking in the kitchen while I was out, the way Naomi slid into my seat at the table. It’s as if she’s inching her way into my life one tiny step at a time. Has she put the idea in his head that I am mad? Does she want him to remove the children so that she can take my place? I can’t believe that Rav, my Rav, would come to this conclusion of his own accord – he knows how much he and the children mean to me. The door to the gents’ swings open at the far end of the bar and Rav comes striding out. I lay his phone down, pressing the side button to turn the screen dark just he did barely an hour ago. Instead of going to the bar he comes back to the table.
‘Shall we have a nightcap? Do you have enough milk pumped to have a drink?’ There is no sign of his betrayal on his face; if I hadn’t read the messages, I never would have known.
‘No, thanks though.’ I get up and pick up the tiny handbag that feels alien to me now I am used to carrying a huge nappy bag around with me. I feel disconnected from my body, my feet numb. ‘There isn’t much reception here, we should get back.’
Rav’s eyes flick down to his phone on the table and he snatches it up. ‘Yeah, you’re right, we should probably get back.’
Rav is quiet all the way home, his hands light on the steering wheel as the radio plays softly in the background. I don’t even attempt to make conversation – all I can see is the stream of WhatsApp messages on his phone screen. A whole thread of betrayal and deceit. Now I just have to decide what I’m going to do about it.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Stepping into the hallway, I shrug off my light jacket, relieved to be home. The house is quiet, no sound of children, and I breathe out – at least they slept through my not being there. It’s only as I walk into the sitting room that I realize something is wrong.
‘Naomi.’ A stirring of unease rolls in my belly. ‘What are you doing here? Where is Evie?’ I turn to look at Rav as he follows in behind me.
‘Hello Naomi.’ He stands in the doorway, his back reflected in the mirror in the hallway behind him. ‘What’s going on? Evie was meant to be watching the kids.’
‘She had a bit of a problem.’ Naomi gets to her feet in one fluid motion and I am reminded of a cat, a sneaky, stealthy feline. ‘Her nephew is poorly, and her aunt needed her help. She tried to call you guys but there was no reception, I’m guessing. She said it just went straight to voicemail. She didn’t know who else to call.’ She turns to me and gives me a nervous smile. ‘Al, how was the meal? You look lovely.’
I am thrown. After reading the messages, in the car I had built her up in my mind to be some sort of Cruella de Vil creature, but she’s still the same Naomi, the Naomi I have shared secrets with, laughed with, cried with. The Naomi I made my friend. ‘It was fine,’ I say.
‘Do you want to check on the children?’ Rav asks, and I shake my head. There is no way I want to leave the two of them alone together and it makes me feel confused and wrong-footed.
‘I’ll check them in a second. Let me see you out, Naomi.’
‘Oh.’ She looks surprised and turns her face to Rav. ‘Well, I’ll see you later.’
Rav stares at me. ‘Don’t you two want to have a cup of tea together before Naomi leaves?’
‘Rav, I’m really tired. Sorry, Naomi. Do you mind if we catch up later?’ I am already standing by the door, watching as she fumbles around for her cardigan, her shoes, her bag. I can’t bring myself to thank her for stepping in so Evie could rush off. I can’t thank her for worming her way into my house, my life, again.
‘Thanks for coming over, Naomi,’ Rav says. ‘Poor Evie, I hope her nephew is better soon.’
‘I hope so too,’ Naomi says, pulling a sad face. ‘He’s had to go to hospital, I think. Some sort of gastro thing. Bu
t it was no problem, you two should have called me in the first place.’ She looks directly at me. ‘I told you, I’m always happy to help with the kids.’
‘Bye, Naomi.’ I open the front door and she sidles out, waving her fingers at Rav, who just smiles wearily. He waits until the door is closed before he speaks.
‘I thought you two were OK? You said that you spoke to her today and everything was all right.’
‘It is.’
‘Really? Because that just felt really, really awkward. Are you mad at her for something? I know you were annoyed that she picked Mina up the other day, but that was my fault, not hers. Why aren’t you cross with me about that?’
Why are you defending her, Rav? ‘I’m not cross,’ I lie smoothly, ‘I’m tired, Rav, that’s all. This is the first time I’ve been out in months. I just didn’t fancy sitting there with a cup of tea making idle chit-chat when I can catch up with her properly tomorrow. You don’t need to make a big deal out of things.’
Rav looks at me hard for a moment, as if debating whether to call bullshit on what I’ve said. In the end he just says, ‘OK. Fair enough.’
He walks away towards the kitchen, and I debate for a moment whether to follow him. My reflection in the mirror is haunted, for want of a better word, my eyes fiercely dark thanks to the make-up, the pale of my cheeks almost glowing in the dim light. I close my eyes for a moment, tears stinging, before breath on the back of my neck makes them fly open. I see you, I think, a dark figure on the stairs watching me in the glass. I feel you. I know you’re still here. My heart starts to bang in my chest, painfully hard and I turn slowly, my mouth dry. The staircase is empty.
The air is cooler tonight, as I stand watch over the garden from the landing window. There has been a brief shower bringing some break in the weather and the clouds have disappeared now to leave bright moonlight behind. The grass sparkles, and I know in the morning my feet will be wet the moment I step onto it. Mina sleeps soundly in the room to the right of me. I had leaned over her after Naomi left, and kissed her sweaty forehead, her dark curls sticking damply to her skin. I had breathed her in, the scent of the baby shampoo I used on her only a few hours earlier, and her own natural scent, something like fresh peach. The baby is fed and changed and sleeps soundly in the cot beside my side of the bed, Rav sprawled across the other side, snoring heavily.
The fox slinks through the garden, skirting the edge of the woods and the pond, hurrying, urgent, as if he has somewhere important to be. The water on the pond is flat and lifeless this evening, no sign of life. I wonder again how it would be to sink my toes into the cool, flat mud under the water. To step further and further in until the icy cold water closes over my head, clearing away the hot, sweaty, uncomfortable tumble of thoughts that roam around in my mind. Rav. Naomi. The children. The blanket. The figure on the stairs, always reflected back in the darkened glass. I can’t swallow, my body burning from the inside.
‘Allie? What are you doing?’ Rav is beside me, his arms wrapped around his bare torso against the persistent chill that swirls about the landing, no matter how warm it is outside. ‘God, you’re freezing.’
I press my hand to my face, feeling the chill of my fingertips, white in the milky moonlight, against my hot cheek. ‘I didn’t realize how cold it was.’
‘Come to bed, come on. You’ll catch your death out here. I’m going to call a guy, get someone in to sort these windows out before the winter.’ Rav takes my elbow and begins to steer me towards the bedroom. I stop, the thought of lying next to him, thinking over the message thread between him and Naomi, like nails catching on my nerve endings. Sharp and raw.
‘Wait …’ I stop him before he can lead me any further. ‘The baby is going to be up again soon, you’re going to be exhausted for work.’
‘I’m more worried about getting you back into bed and getting warm at the moment.’ He rubs his hand briskly over my shoulder, and I stifle a wince, my skin feeling as if it is snagging on his.
‘I’m OK, I didn’t mean to wake you up.’ I form the lie before he can ask me what I was doing. ‘I got up for a glass of water, and there was a fox in the garden. I was just watching him.’ To his credit Rav doesn’t pull me up on the fact that I don’t have a glass of water in my hand. ‘I can catch up on my sleep when Mina is at preschool tomorrow, but you can’t. Maybe you should sleep in the spare bedroom tonight?’
Rav opens his mouth as if to speak before thinking better of it. He nods slowly, removing his hand from my shoulder. ‘If that’s what you want.’
‘Just for tonight. So you can catch up on your sleep.’ Before he can respond, I go to the cupboard that holds the spare sheets and towels and start looking for a fresh set.
Rav is already in the spare room when I bring in the sheets, standing in front of the unmade bed. We haven’t really used this room at all, and haven’t even begun to start decorating it, focusing instead on the living room, the bathroom, and Mina’s bedroom when we first moved in. The carpet is threadbare, the walls uneven and lumpy, with old curtains hanging at the windows, the fabric so thin they barely keep the morning light out. It’s not very inviting and for a moment I feel a shard of guilt until I remember the WhatsApp thread.
‘Here.’ I shove the duvet cover towards him and yank the pillows off the bed.
‘I thought this was a spontaneous event,’ Rav says, with a trace of bitterness in his voice.
‘What?’ I pause in my attempt to stuff the pillow into the case and follow his gaze. ‘It was spontaneous … oh.’
A vase sits atop the battered chest of drawers that was in the room when we moved in. Neither of us thought about getting rid of it, as we didn’t have anything to replace it, although Avó had given it a good going over with the Dettol before she allowed us to keep it. The vase is one of ours, one that I believed to be empty in the cupboard under the kitchen sink. Only it’s not. It’s here in the spare room and it is filled with flowers.
‘Like you were expecting me,’ Rav says, with a bark of laughter. He reaches out with one finger to touch the petals.
‘Don’t touch that!’ My voice rings out, loud and crashing in the silence of the house. ‘It’s poisonous.’
I can smell it on the air, now that I think about it. The fresh, apricot-like scent of the oleander flowers. They are mixed with the pink bells of columbine, a plant that is toxic if even touched, let alone ingested. I have seen columbines somewhere before recently, their fragile heads bowed under the weight of their bell-like petals, but I can’t place it.
‘Fucks’ sake, Allie.’ Rav is furious, a twitch in his jaw and the fact that he swore at me belying his calm façade. ‘The kids are in the house. What are you doing bringing toxic plants into our home?’
The petals of the flowers are wilted slightly, the water only two thirds of the way up the glass of the vase. ‘I didn’t,’ I whisper. My hands are shaking, and I turn my frightened gaze to Rav. ‘I didn’t bring them in.’
‘Well I didn’t,’ Rav snaps, ‘who else could it be, Allie? You’re the only one who’s here all day long.’
‘I promise you, Rav, I would never bring those plants into our house. If Mina touched them—’ I break off, not wanting to think about it. If she touched them, their pretty, pink, irresistible bells, then put her hands in her mouth …
‘If not you, then who?’ Rav’s voice softens. ‘Maybe my mum thought she was doing something nice; you know she hasn’t got a clue about plants and flowers. I just hope she washed her hands after she touched them. I’ll call her in the morning and warn her not to pick stuff. These grow in our garden, don’t they?’ He comes to me, but there is a wariness in his eyes as he wraps his arms around me. I stand stiffly, not taking my eyes from the vase.
That’s where I have seen the columbine. They grow on the far side of the pond, away from the house. ‘Naomi.’ The words rasp out of my throat and I have to swallow. Or Agnes. But I can’t bring myself to say her name.
‘Naomi?’ Rav pulls away and the
chilly night air hits my skin in the gap between us. ‘Don’t be silly, she wouldn’t pick stuff like that, not if it was poisonous. And she would know, wouldn’t she?’
Yes. She would know. ‘I’ll get rid of them,’ I say. ‘You make the bed up and I’ll get rid of them. I promise you, Rav, I didn’t bring them in.’
Chapter Twenty-Eight
There are none of Rav’s usual light snores from the spare bedroom as I lie awake, waiting once again for the sun to creep its way up the sky, and I wonder if Rav is lying there as sleepless as I am. The flowers are stuffed deep inside the outside bin, as far away from the children as I could get them. It was only as I shoved the stems deep down into the bin, the hardened leather of the gardening gloves scratching at my wrists that I thought about what columbine could mean. It can mean love, strength, wisdom, given as a gift for a birthday in May. Or it can mean foolishness, deceit, errant lovers, unfaithfulness. Flowers can tell a thousand stories, if you’ll just let them speak.
Foolishness. Deceit. Unfaithfulness. I turn over onto my side, gazing through the bars of the cot at the sleeping baby. Given what I read on the message thread on Rav’s phone, I could assign all of those to him and Naomi. I imagine her stealthily creeping through the garden, my gloves on her hands as she snips, snips, snips, before tiptoeing upstairs to put the stems where I wouldn’t find them immediately. Where I wouldn’t find them until the smell of decaying petals led me to them. I blink slowly, hoping that sleep will come, but my eyes ping open, gritty and dry. I picture the dark figure on the stairs, gliding towards the spare bedroom, flowers in hand. Waiting for Mina to find them, to reach out and grasp the deadly petals. The baby snuffles and raises a fist in his sleep. A gift for a birthday in May. Allowing the thought that has been ricocheting around in my mind to formulate fully, I roll over, away from the baby’s innocent form. I could smell the oleander on my hands, as I watched Rav and Naomi through the window after my return from the local supermarket. It was on the air, and I thought then, for a moment, that I could smell it on my skin. Was Rav right? Was it me who picked the toxic stems and brought them into our house? A single tear slides from the corner of my eye, running a sticky, salty track down my cheek. Wouldn’t I remember picking them? There are so many things I am not sure of, I don’t know what to think anymore. The movement in the woods, the feeling of eyes on me. I’m sure – positive, even – that I wasn’t the one to pick those flowers, to bring them into our house where our children sleep. Sitting up, I wipe my hands over my face, and turn to Rav’s side of the bed. Deceit, unfaithfulness, errant lovers. I want to read the messages again, the thread in which Rav mentions passports and getting away. But the cord of the phone charger lies curled sadly on the top of Rav’s bedside table. He has taken his phone into the spare room with him.
