I Invited Her In

by Adele Parks

  ‘Maybe you would, Abi. But then I don’t suppose it would take me long to find out the name of your younger lover. He has a very distinct birthmark on his ass. I’m sure someone will recognise that. Plus, I can get my IT guys to do some digging on the email address. Get a private detective to follow you for a while. It’s my guess that I’d have a name within forty-eight hours. Will he want to become famous for this?’

  ‘You bastard.’

  ‘I’ll have my lawyers send over the papers for you to sign. Don’t shilly-shally, Abigail. I’m not in a particularly patient mood. By the way, I’m moving this divorce petition to Alaska – we can finish up in just thirty days. Do you understand?’

  Abigail hung up the phone and slowly inched towards Liam. He was still sat on the end of the bed, quivering. Abi didn’t know if it was shock or anger.

  ‘Who do you think sent the video to him?’ he asked. ‘You know I didn’t, right?’ He turned to her. His brow, usually so smooth, was creased with concern.

  ‘It was your mother,’ Abi said, confidently.

  Liam’s mouth and eyes were wide with shock. Three big noughts on his face. ‘My mum?’

  ‘Obviously. It’s my fault. I underestimated her. I never imagined Mel would have the presence of mind to copy the film. I could kick myself. I am not someone who usually miscalculates a threat or a foe.’

  ‘It’s private. She shouldn’t have even looked at it.’ Liam’s outrage mounted. ‘Will he do as he threatens, Rob?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Fuck.’

  ‘I know, baby.’ Abi kneeled on her haunches behind Liam, her legs spread wide around him, wrapping her arms around his chest. Pushing her hot body into his. ‘I know you want to go into politics. There’s your internship at Westminster to consider. Your offer from UCL.’ She trailed off.

  The implications hit him. ‘That would all be ruined.’ Abi nodded sadly. ‘How could she? How could she do this to me?’ he demanded.

  ‘She’s angry. She’s hurt,’ Abigail said with false sympathy.

  Liam stood up and then turned to her. His fury and frustration burned; he almost looked like he wanted to cry. It moved her, he was so unguarded and open. Transparent. ‘How can you be so understanding when she’s been such a bitch? I hate her. I’ll never forgive her,’ he spat.

  41

  Ben

  What now? What now? The hammering on the front door was insistent and angry. Ben couldn’t think who would be making that sort of racket. He rushed to answer it before the rumpus woke the girls, whom he’d only just got to bed. They were not as easy to settle at bedtime since Liam had moved out. They missed him. This past week they’d been tricky, sometimes tearful, insisting only their brother reading a bedtime story would do.

  He immediately recognised Liam’s form through the sandblasted glass panelling and sprang the door open. ‘Why didn’t you use your key?’ he asked.

  ‘I don’t have a key anymore, I left it here,’ Liam replied as he pushed past his dad. The sadness of this sentence hadn’t quite sunk in before Liam demanded, ‘Where is she? Where is the bitch?’

  ‘Liam, watch it.’ Ben and Mel didn’t agree on what was the correct response to this situation but there was no way Ben was going to allow his son to refer to his wife like that. They’d never been that sort of family.

  Mel heard the commotion and came out of the kitchen wearing rubber gloves. Somehow this softened something inside of Ben; she was a mother, a wife, doing her best, trying to pick her way through this awful time. They had just been clearing away the pots from supper, Ben had hoped that they might open a bottle of wine and, if not relax exactly, then at least spend some quality time with one another. That looked as though it was off the agenda now.

  ‘How could you do that?’ Liam yelled, as he charged through to the kitchen. Ben hurried after him and carefully closed the door behind them, in the hope the shouting wouldn’t make its way upstairs and into the girls’ bedroom. ‘How could you?’ Liam looked furious, his face split into shards of something that looked frighteningly like hatred.

  Ben was becoming used to seeing pain, anger, fear in the faces of those he loved most in the world. It was so sad. He’d started to be able to read the nuances of the expressions. Liam’s anger was mixed with confusion, disbelief. He looked like a man who had been betrayed.

  ‘I know you aren’t happy that Abigail and I are together now but how could you stoop so low?’ he demanded.

  ‘What?’ asked Mel. Her expression was harder to read. She looked cautious, caught out.

  ‘What have you done, Mel?’ Ben demanded. She shot him a look that could kill.

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘She’s sent the film to Rob.’

  ‘What?’ Ben couldn’t believe it. Would Melanie be that stupid, that vindictive? He thought of her visceral objection to Liam and Abigail’s relationship, he thought of her despair and distraction over these past two weeks as they lived together, Liam and Abi a couple in this house, and when they moved out. He thought of Mel’s threats to do something and he feared the answer was yes, she would.

  Mel shook her head. ‘No,’ she muttered.

  ‘He’s going to post it on the internet!’ Liam yelled. Mel did not respond. ‘He’s going to name her. She’ll never work again. You’ve destroyed her.’

  Now, Mel shrugged. Unmoved. Liam looked as though he wanted to hit something or someone. His mother’s passivity was only serving to incense him further. Liam’s adult anger suddenly diffused; he was drowning in more youthful emotions. He looked panicked, afraid. He didn’t take his eyes off his mother, never once glanced at Ben. It was almost as though he believed his mother – who had caused this problem – might still fix it too, because that was what he’d always been able to depend on her to do. Fix things. The colour rose in his face as he realised that was never going to happen.

  ‘He’s going to find out it’s me and tag me, Mum. Do you understand? Your nasty, spiteful little act will affect me too. I can’t imagine I’ll keep that internship if this film goes viral. Can you? What about when I go to uni? I’ll be a laughing stock.’

  ‘No, you won’t,’ Ben reassured, trying to defuse things. ‘It won’t come to that and even if it does, you aren’t the first victim of revenge porn – it will blow over. People really aren’t that interested in other people’s sex lives, at least not for long.’

  But he wasn’t sure. Maybe his son would become a laughing stock. What if the media got hold of this story? She was famous enough to attract scandal. Rob was wealthy and important – the connection to him would, Ben feared, guarantee coverage. Plus, the tabloids would object to Abigail’s audacity; women laughing in the face of cultural norms were always hung, drawn and quartered. Liam was very likely to be collateral damage in this story. Hadn’t Mel realised as much?

  ‘Rob won’t tag you. He won’t post the video,’ said Mel. It sounded like wishful thinking to Ben. How did Mel know what Rob would or would not do? She peeled off her rubber gloves, carefully put them aside. Ben noticed that her hands were quivering.

  Liam made a sound like a bark, sarcastic and infuriated. ‘He says he’s going to. Unless Abi accepts an insultingly small divorce settlement.’

  ‘Well, she’ll have to accept it then. He can’t expose you that way,’ stuttered Mel.

  ‘Fuck, Mum, have you heard yourself? It’s you that has exposed me by sending him the film. Otherwise he couldn’t blackmail us.’ Mel flinched. It was probably the word ‘us’. Liam shook his head. Despair? Disgust?

  ‘That’s not true, Liam.’

  ‘Don’t worry, she’s going to accept the deal. She doesn’t want to ruin my life before it’s even got started. She loves me.’ Mel blinked, once, twice but didn’t say anything more. ‘Your spiteful trick has cost her millions. Do you understand, Mother? Millions.’ He towered over her. His words were spat out. Mel flinched, practically cowered. ‘I will never forgive you.’

  With that, he turned and stomped out of the ho
use, slamming the front door, leaving his parents gawping after him

  Ben slowly turned back to his wife. Her whole body was quivering now, as though it was doing a little involuntary dance. She reached for the wine on the table and poured herself a big glass. She glugged it down and only then thought to offer him one.

  ‘Do you want one?’

  Ben shook his head. He didn’t want to pull out a kitchen chair, sit down and drink with her. They’d gone through a lot these past few months, he’d put up with her unexpected guest and all the giddiness and carelessness that resulted, he’d got used to being shoved down the pecking order, he’d shouldered a bigger percentage of childcare while she was distracted and infatuated, he’d supported her when she discovered Liam and Abi were having a relationship, even though he thought she’d blown the entire thing out of proportion – it was just sex – but this? He was unsure how to reconcile this. Melanie had hurt Liam. Compromised his future. Why, after seventeen years of nurturing, prioritising, sacrificing, would she do that?

  ‘What have you done?’ Ben asked.

  ‘So that’s it? I’m tried and convicted.’

  ‘Well, you’re not denying it. What were you thinking?’

  ‘You tell me, Ben, what was I thinking?’ she snapped sarcastically.

  His voice was steel. ‘You should have left them alone. This is their business. It’s not our business.’

  Mel poured herself a second glass, and quickly started to drink it. She looked loose, slack. ‘Easy for you to say.’

  That annoyed him. It wasn’t easy for him to say. He knew she wouldn’t want to hear it. He knew saying what he thought might lead to another row and no one wanted that, but he had to say what he believed. None of this had been easy. He didn’t like to see his wife and son fight. He hated the fact that Liam had moved out of their home, that all this turmoil would very likely be detrimental to his A-level results and future chances, even before factoring in the release of the porn film. He hated the fact that the girls were unsettled and Lily was wetting the bed again. It was so selfish of Mel to say it was easy for him. Selfish and inaccurate. He decided to challenge her. ‘Why do you say that it’s easy for me?’ he asked carefully.

  ‘Well, it’s different for you,’ Mel replied. ‘None of this has bothered you the way it has bothered me. You don’t care that he’s sleeping with her. A woman old enough to be his mother.’

  She wasn’t looking at him. She was looking at the pictures hung on the fridge. Paintings and drawings that the girls had done at school, certificates for spelling and swimming, bus timetables, Liam’s fantasy football league table. ‘And do you know why that is?’ she demanded.

  ‘Why? Because I’m a man?’

  ‘No,’ she snarled. She should have said yes. She was not thinking straight – what she splurged next was careless, not thought through in any way. Her words were bound to hurt, were perhaps designed to do so. Maybe, subconsciously, she wanted to hurt him for no other reason than because she was in agony. That’s how horrible she felt. Frustrated. Exposed. ‘It’s different for you because I did six years as his parent before you even knew his name. You are not responsible for him in the same way.’

  Ben stared at her. Silent. Horrified. His nostrils flared, ever so fractionally. He tried to stay calm. He had admirable self-control. When Mel was hot and fiery about something, she didn’t think through consequences, she said things she didn’t mean. He took a deep breath, gave her the opportunity to retract her words, soothe his pain.

  ‘He is my son,’ he said, firmly.

  That was what they’d always agreed. They’d pitied small-minded, idiotic people who sometimes challenged him and said he must feel differently about Liam than he did about the girls, that he must feel less. They’d often laughed at these people’s rude, ignorant, stupid comments. They’d always believed that presence and caring, not biology, made a parent. They’d said it a million times, to one another, to other people. He knew she didn’t mean what she’d just said. He waited for her to take it back, to apologise.

  Melanie threw back the second glass of wine. She was incensed. In pain. Confused. She said, ‘Then why aren’t you angrier? I think you should care more.’

  ‘What did you just say?’ Ben whispered the words. He was beyond hurt. He was hollow. She had just scooped him out. He wished she’d shut up but she wouldn’t. Ben knew she wouldn’t because she never could when she was humiliated or agitated and she was both.

  ‘You don’t feel as protective of him as I do.’

  ‘That’s not true.’

  ‘I want to rip her head from her shoulders. Why don’t you?’

  ‘And so that’s why you sent her ex-husband the film?’

  ‘That’s what you think?’

  ‘Well, nice job. So much for protecting him. You’ve made things worse. He’s right. How is he supposed to go into politics now?’

  ‘I didn’t make the film!’

  ‘That’s your defence?’

  Ben turned his back on her; he couldn’t look at her. He wondered if she would, even now, wrap her arms around him, like a blanket. Whether they could work this through. He waited. She didn’t move.

  ‘I think I’ll sleep in the spare room tonight,’ he said.

  It was a test. She’d tell him not to be daft. She’d run to him and kiss him, apologise, promise she’d sort things out, that they could do so together.

  ‘Fine,’ she said. ‘Abi’s not using it.’

  42

  Melanie

  Saturday 21st April

  I don’t get much sleep, not surprisingly since I don’t have Ben to cuddle up to, but I do have the threat of Rob posting the film on the internet hanging, like a sword, over my head. I lie surrounded by shadows and suspicions, pain and regret. I started the night angry, telling myself time and again that it’s not fair that I’ve been blamed for this latest mess. Vexing myself further by recalling that nothing about this situation is especially fair. I remind myself of what I tell the kids: no one says life is going to be fair, it’s going to be wonderful, dreadful, heart lifting, heart breaking, a learning curve.

  I did not send the video to Rob, I would never do that. How can my family think that of me? However, I fear I am responsible. I wrack my brain, trying to recall whether I left Tanya alone with my phone when I made tea. I think I did. I’m the one that told her about Abi and Liam. I shouldn’t have done that, she’s just a kid too. She’s bound to be jealous, demeaned, frantic and she won’t know where to put all those emotions. I gave her the weapon to lash out. I don’t want Liam to know Tanya is to blame. They had nine months together – it may be crazy of me but I’m nursing a slim hope that he might come to his senses and get back with Tanya. If he knows she sent the video to Rob, the minuscule chance of that happening gets reduced to no chance at all.

  I’m glad Abi will have to accept the reduced settlement. She deserves to be punished. I don’t hold out any hope that as she’s in straitened circumstances some of her glamour will fade for Liam; he’s not a gold-digger. In fact, I fear a consequence of Tanya’s impetuousness will be that Liam and Abi will be drawn closer. I certainly can’t let the video come to light. I know Rob said he wouldn’t seek revenge if Abi took the reduced settlement, but I can’t risk him changing his mind at any point. I need to contact him, explain it’s my son in the video. What a mess.

  Despite the rage Liam poured on me last night, I miss him. Of course I do. I love him. This is not what I wanted for my son. Is it a crime to desire specific things for your children? Maybe. Ben would say so, he thinks projection veers dangerously into controlling. I don’t know how much say I’m entitled to, now that my son is seventeen, but I do know it’s wrong that he’s not living under our roof. In the middle of the night I panicked, imagined them moving back to America. I dashed downstairs to check that we still had his passport; I was relieved to see it in the kitchen drawer, nestled between the other four. He didn’t think to pack it, that’s something.

  I miss
Ben, too. The lonely, sleepless night has allowed me to think about next steps, what I can do to put things right. Or, if not right exactly, then to make things better, a little more bearable. As the birds started to chirp, their happy chorus incongruous to my mood, I realised that while I’m angry with Ben for thinking the worst of me, I do understand why he might. I have not been presenting myself in the best light of late. Far from it. That needs to change.

  The moment I hear the girls stir, I jump out of bed and shepherd them downstairs. I don’t want them coming into our bedroom and seeing that Ben is not here; it would upset them. I’m hoping he’ll get up this morning and, like me, feel calmer; that a cooked breakfast will go some way towards getting him to forgive me. I am so utterly ashamed of what I said last night. I have no idea how the words escaped from my mouth, bad enough that they somehow temporarily formed in my mind. It was the drink and the stress talking, not me. It’s ironic that I blurted out the wrong thing – something I don’t believe or mean – but I haven’t told him what he really needs to know.

  I have a secret buried, like a stone in my shoe, not visible to the eye but always causing me discomfort.

  A deep, old secret and it’s time I told him. Way past time, actually.

  I think maybe I’ll call into work and say I can’t work this weekend. We really need to spend some time together. I’m determined we all have a good time and that can only happen if I clear the air with Ben and assure him that I can get Rob to promise not to post the film, no matter what Abi does. I usher the girls downstairs, luxuriating in their easily bestowed cuddles and sweet simplicity. I chatter to them with a false brightness, then encourage them to put on the TV; as the sound of cartoons fills the house, I start to make breakfast.