by Nina Manning
I laughed.
‘Where’s your drink?’ he asked.
I looked at the empty champagne glass in my hand, unaware that I had finished it.
‘Erm, looks as though I drank it,’ I said, perplexed.
‘Finally, a woman who isn’t on a fucking detox! Come on you, bar!’ He threw his arm through mine. ‘But first, some Steps I reckon?’ and we walked over to Mason’s old hifi system, where Mo put in the CD.
About twenty minutes later Damian found me on the sofa with Mo, reminiscing over music from our youth. I was three glasses of champagne in by this point.
‘Ahh, my husband. Mo, this is Damian.’ My voice was already a little slurred.
‘Hello, mate.’ Mo held his hand out.
Damian took it, nodded and smiled. ‘Good to meet you, Mo.’
A large lady in a red dress came and sat next to Mo and the two huddled together and began bitching about another woman on the other side of the room.
‘What’s the deal here? It’s bloody pretentious as hell. Could your boss be trying any harder to impress me with his extensive collection of vintage wines and spirits? Honestly, Frankie, and why the hell did you tell me not to wear a tie, every bloke here is in a tux!’ Damian hissed.
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t think it would be that kind of soiree. And what’s with you getting your hackles up when Mason came over? I actually thought you were going to start beating your chest and pissing in the corner to mark your territory!’
‘What’s wrong, Frankie? Some women may say that’s a good thing?’
‘No, Damian,’ I leant forward and hissed. ‘It is not a good thing. Not a good thing at all. I am here to prove myself a worthy part of Mason’s organisation. He didn’t have to invite me. No one else from my office is here. It’s an exclusive invitation. If you can’t stop acting like a total Neanderthal and just support me then you may as well just piss off now.’ The emphasis on the ‘piss off’ made Mo turn his head from his heated conversation and look at me. I caught his eye and flashed my best smile.
‘Drink up, my kindred spirit!’ he called over, raising his glass.
I raised my glass.
‘Oh, Christ,’ Damian said spitefully.
‘Damian, hear what I said, buck up or fuck off.’ I whispered it this time so as not to attract any more attention. Damian stood up and walked back to the bar. I watched him slap Mason on the shoulder this time. Mason was chatting to another man but he immediately stopped and began requesting the barman to mix more drinks. I noticed this time it was some sort of spirit and I thought back to our time in Belgium and how I had told Mason that Damian was not a heavy drinker. He had told me he had a supreme memory, yet I watched my husband being handed another drink and then Mason turned and smiled his most sparkling smile.
36
Now
We were seated at the table with little name plaques in front of us. I was between a man named Duncan who had been Mason’s finance director at his last firm and a woman named Louise who was his badminton partner at his local gym. She was pleasant enough and we got through the starters with some light chatter about her three grandchildren and her holiday home in France. The conversation wavered on me for a little while until I gave Mo, who was sitting just two places away, ‘the eye’ and so he swept in, told Louise that his dinner neighbour, Clive, owned a chateau in Burgundy and she was off like a shot.
‘Thank you. I was about to gouge my eyes out with my dessert fork,’ I said.
‘Oh, don’t do that, darling. Those forks are far too pretty.’
I laughed long and hard while Mo smiled modestly.
Then a noise brought me to a complete standstill. I looked over. Damian was laughing so loudly he was now rivalling Kate. I narrowed my eyes at him and then Mason caught my eye and raised his glass at me. I excused myself from Mo who was tucking into his in between course sorbet palette refresher and left the table. I began opening various doors along the corridor we had come down when we arrived. I found the utility room, a small spare bedroom, a huge luxurious bathroom with a roll top bath and was just about to go in and touch up my face when Mason arrived at the door. He motioned for me to go in and when I did, he followed, closed it and locked it behind him.
‘What are you doing?’ I hissed.
‘I’m just checking in.’ He began to edge closer to me.
I took a step back so my back was against the sink.
‘I saw you ply Damian with alcohol. I told you he wasn’t a very good drinker on the hard stuff.’
‘Did you?’ Mason moved another step towards me.
‘Yes, and you told me how you are so good at remembering stuff, the incidentals about people.’ I took a side step just as Mason reached me, then turned towards the mirror and checked my makeup.
Mason was behind me leaning against the sink. A loud knock came at the door.
‘Just ignore them,’ Mason whispered, close to my ear.
I swung around so our faces were inches apart and I was thrust back to the moment in Belgium in his suite when I almost kissed him.
‘What are we doing here, Mason? You can’t be in the bathroom with me, what if that’s Damian waiting outside? How are we going to pull off leaving together?’
‘Staff meeting?’ Mason said in a cheeky hushed tone.
‘No, seriously.’ I began pacing. ‘This is not cool.’
‘Hey!’ Mason said and raised his hands up, ‘Okay, I’m sorry. I’m just checking everything is okay. Things seem a little tense between you and Damian. I thought bringing you both here would distract me from just you. But I’m afraid it has had the opposite effect.’
I closed my eyes and took in a deep breath.
‘Keegan.’
I opened my eyes.
‘While you’re here. Check this out.’
He walked over to the other side of the bathroom, pressed a tile on the wall and a door handle popped out. Mason depressed the handle and a door opened into another room. I peered inside and saw it led into a huge master suite with a super king size bed. All greys and whites and blacks.
‘So, this is where you snuggle up and read at night, is it? With your teddy bear?’ I said as I made my way towards the bed and felt the fabric; the softest Egyptian cotton, no doubt.
‘PJs off,’ Mason whispered next to me. ‘Always.’
I breathed in and wondered what would happen if it was just Mason and I here. I thought about how I had stopped myself going through with anything with him in Belgium. It was the ideal opportunity; all that time alone together and yet… I didn’t.
‘I need to check on Damian,’ I said, and edged my way back into the bathroom. Mason stood up straight and smoothed his shirt down.
‘Yes. Of course. I’m just going to close this door and leave through my bedroom.’
We stood face to face for a second, Mason on the bedroom side of the door, me in the bathroom, looking at one another. He blinked slowly and sighed.
‘It will be as though it never happened.’ he shut the bedroom door. As he did, I watched as the handle to the door once again disappeared as though it was never there. I was alone in the bathroom, pondering over Mason’s words as though whatever this thing had been between us, had ended. A mixture of sadness and relief swept over me.
I made it back to the table and now Damian, who seemed to be the life and soul of the party, was standing up telling some anecdote, swishing his glass around, and spilling his drink onto the table. The waiters kept trying to clear up round him until Mason shook his head, indicating that they were to let him be. I had to admit it had been a long time, if ever, that I had seen Damian this drunk. He wasn’t even this drunk on our first holiday or our wedding. Kate was laughing so uncontrollably it had turned to snorting, which only seemed to egg Damian on even more.
The waiter arrived with our mains, a lamb dish with a delicate ratatouille sauce and a neat square of dauphinoise. I ate mine with intent, trying to ignore Damian’s outrageous display of drunkenness which ha
d attracted the attention of most of the table. I could hear lots of intermittent swearing as his glass was raised over and over again.
‘Your husband is quite the entertainer.’ Mo sidled into me. ‘Everything… okay there?’ he asked with the most seriousness he had used all night since he had informed me that Steps were still his favourite band. ‘I’m going to take him over a glass of water.’
‘I…’ I was about to tell him not to bother but Mo was up and out of his chair and next to Damian. I watched as Mo said something quietly and Damian stopped talking and looked up at him.
‘Hey guys, it’s Buddy Holly. Hey, don’t go getting on any planes, son… what’s… water? I don’t need… did my wife send this over? Frankie… where’s the vodka… can anyone mix a Negroni here? It’s all my wife wants to drink… it’s fucking pretentious as hell but that’s what being a corporate wanker does to you… get off me, man… I said…’
Damian put his hands on Mo’s chest and pushed him forcefully. Mo stumbled backwards and hit the floor. I put down my knife and fork and raced round to the other side of the table just as Mo was standing up and dusting himself down. Damian was swaying about telling everyone he was okay, completely oblivious to the fact that Mo was just getting himself back on his feet. I tended to Mo first.
‘Are you ok?’
‘God, yes, I’m fine babes, it’s your obliterated husband you need to check. Sorry to ruin your night but maybe he needs taking home?’
‘Listen, you were the most interesting person here,’ I said, helping him up.
‘I’ll get your number off Mason. We’ll go for brunch, darling. Just get that husband of yours home.’
We kissed each other on the cheek and I took Damian’s arm and told him we were going.
‘Going? You come all the way here to play dinner parties and as soon as I get a drink inside me you decide it’s time to go.’ Damian pointed his finger at me. ‘You, you, you, it’s all about you.’ Damian swayed from side to side; he looked as though he could barely hold his head up. What the hell did Mason put in his drink?
‘I spend all day at home with our kids so you can fulfil your… dreams.’ Damian threw his arms out wide to emphasise the word. ‘Everything we do is because of you. My whole life. Runs. Around. You.’ Damian poked his finger hard into my chest.
Everyone had stopped eating and talking and they were all watching us. Steps played on, the lyrics for ‘Tragedy’ coming through loud and proud.
‘I think that’s enough, mate.’ Mason approached Damian.
‘You! Mr Valentine with your suave penthouse and bottles of champagne, taking my wife to Belgium a few weeks after you met her, what do you think I am? A blithering idiot? I know your game, sunshine.’ Damian stumbled back and a burly man I had seen hovering about all night stepped in and grabbed his elbow. He looked like he could be a bouncer, and when Mason gave him a nod, I realised that was exactly what he was – some sort of personal bodyguard.
Before I knew what was happening, Damian was being escorted on his way past the dining room into the hallway.
‘Shall I call you a cab?’ Mason spoke softly.
‘I think you’ve done enough,’ I hissed at him. ‘I’ll take it from here.’
I took Damian’s arm from the burly man, grabbed our coats from the coat rack and headed out into the foyer where I called the lift. We stood for a few seconds. When I turned round Mason was in the doorway. Was he gloating or genuinely distressed by the turn of events? I truly didn’t know any more.
Outside it had started to rain. I put my coat on and tried to place Damian’s coat round his shoulders.
‘Oh, piss off, Frankie.’ He shrugged me away and his coat fell to the floor.
‘What the hell have I done? I got a job, I like my job, I took us to Mason’s house to celebrate that and you act like a complete idiot and embarrass me in front of everyone!’
‘There you go again, it’s still all about you. What about me?’ Damian prodded his chest.
‘What about you, Damian, where the hell are you these days, hey? ’Cos I sure as hell can’t get through to you.’
‘That’s ’cos you don’t bloody try, Frankie, you’re either at work, thinking about work or in your bloody dark place mulling over what happened twenty years ago. It’s time to move the hell on!’
I stood and looked at Damian, my hands clenching and unclenching, my palms getting damp from the drizzle.
‘Get over it? That’s all you’ve wanted, isn’t it, for me to just be this happy-go-lucky wife with zero baggage and no grief to compete with your endless issues. We’re just a mess, Damian, look at us, there is no room for either of our problems in each other’s lives. You haven’t got time to think about the sadness that engulfs me daily and I haven’t got the time nor the inclination to worry about what the hell it is you’re playing at these days.’
‘Trying to find a way, just trying to find a way.’ Damian threw his hands in the air.
‘We have drifted so far apart. I don’t know you any more.’ I got closer to his face so I could smell the alcohol. ‘And do you know what, I don’t trust you either.’
‘Then what is the point?’
‘There isn’t one.’
‘So I’ll just go, shall I?’
‘Yes. I think that’s best.’
‘Fine, Frankie. I’m beyond done anyway.’
I saw a taxi with its light on in the distance and hailed it.
Damian watched me.
‘I’ll walk,’ he said as the taxi approached and I got into the cab, feeling a pang in my stomach from everything that had been said. The years of the build-up, the hidden resentment and the hiding of our emotions. It was all leading to this anyway.
‘Where to, love?’ the taxi driver asked and I gave him my address then turned to watch as Damian strode away unsteadily in the rain, his jacket over his head.
I stepped out of the taxi and instantly felt the heel of my shoe crack and break.
‘What the hell?’ I pulled the broken shoe off and then the other one and stood on the cold pavement as the rain soaked through the soles of my tights.
‘You alright, love?’
‘Yes,’ I sighed. I handed the driver some notes, shut the door and fumbled for my keys as he drove away.
I opened the front door and stood in the hallway, expecting to hear a child cry out in their sleep. The weight of the silence closed in around me. I pushed the door to as quietly as I could until it clicked. I didn’t double lock it as I wasn’t sure if Damian would be making his way home later. I shivered under my rain soaked jacket so I removed it and hung it on the bannister. Goosebumps were on my skin and I rubbed my arms, then I pulled off the sodden tights. I couldn’t get a sense of where Aimee might be, there was no light streaming through from the kitchen; sometimes if we were back very late she would doze on the sofa in the snug with the door ajar to hear the children. But the door to the snug was closed. My first instinct was to check on the kids as I always did when I got home and they were asleep.
The stairs were dark and only a thin strip of light from the main bathroom lay across the top landing. I placed my foot on the first step and then my heart leapt as I saw a figure appear from my bedroom door and steal across the landing. I initially thought it was Pixie but my brain quickly worked out that the figure was not as slight as Pixie and that it was Aimee who had made a dash from our bedroom. I stood frozen on the stairs, feeling like an intruder in my own home, unsure whether to make my way upstairs or retreat to the kitchen. Or perhaps I should do what should have been the obvious first choice, confront Aimee and demand to know why she was in my room. I continued up the stairs; the desire to check on the children was still strong. As I reached Pixie’s room I came face to face with Aimee.
‘Oh, my God,’ Aimee said in a stage whisper and threw her hand to her mouth, ‘I didn’t hear you come in.’
‘Are the kids okay?’ I whispered, pushing past Aimee into Pixie’s room. I moved over to the bed. I could
hear heavy breathing coming from the high rise bed as I approached the ladder. I stood on one step and leant in to look at Pixie curled in the foetal position, sleeping peacefully.
I headed out of the room, passing Aimee who hadn’t moved from the landing.
‘I didn’t hear you come in,’ Aimee whispered again as I went towards Maddox’s room. I tiptoed over to his bed. His bed clothes were a tangled mess, and he lay in the middle on them, snoring softly. I touched his head, it was slightly damp around his hair line as it usually was when he slept so heavily.
I came back out into the hallway.
‘Has everyone been okay tonight?’
‘Yes, yes, fine.’ Aimee looked flustered.
‘Okay, I’ll see you downstairs. I need to change.’
I walked to my room, switched the main light on and quickly scanned around, looking for anything that seemed out of place. Everything looked as it was before I left. I could only imagine Aimee had been using my en suite. Or perhaps she had been dozing on my bed, although the bed sheets were still pulled taut.
I changed into pyjamas and comfy socks and went downstairs to find Aimee stood in the kitchen with her coat on and laptop bag in her hand.
‘So, was it a good night?’ Aimee looked at her watch. I looked up at the clock. It was only just after ten.
‘Yes… I had a headache. I left Damian there. He was having a good time.’ I imagined Aimee was getting used to one of us arriving home without the other.
‘Right…’
I paused for a second as I considered asking her outright what she was doing in my bedroom. Aimee was near the doorway, occasionally pushing her glasses back up the ridge of her nose. She wasn’t like other girls her age who would be glued to their phones. I thought about her comment earlier in the evening and how I was going to check in with her but I could feel my head starting to hurt and the stress of what had happened at Mason’s was constricting my thought process. I needed to get into bed.
