by Emlyn Rees
She stood up, putting her hand on the back of the sofa. The duvet Ben had used was scrunched in a heap, the jumper he’d worn yesterday was on the floor. It mirrored the way Kellie had left her room upstairs. She remembered a comment he’d made at lunchtime about life being too short to floss. She’d laughed at the time, agreeing with him, liking him for being so spontaneous, admiring him for thinking that the way he looked was much less important than the way he felt. And that was the whole point about Ben, she mused. He did feel. Lots of things. And he wasn’t afraid to articulate those feelings. He had no side, no way of hiding from who he really was.
Suddenly, she found herself remembering the way Elliot trimmed his nose hairs with nail scissors and the trouser press in the corridor of the flat in London, and the way his shirts were delivered in their plastic wrappers every week. She thought about the hairs on the back of his shoulders which she tried to ignore. She thought about the way he danced, and the fact that it made him look as if he was trying too hard to be young.
Stop it, she told herself, feeling panicked. She mustn’t start thinking negatively about Elliot. She loved him. But still Ben’s words came back to her: If you were mine, I wouldn’t keep you hanging on, not even for a second. It wouldn’t go away. She fingered the heart pendant around her neck and stood by the window, looking out into the dark, willing Elliot to come and find her. Willing him to prove Ben wrong. Willing him to make everything OK again. Willing him to stop her feeling this confused.
But there was no point in hoping for the impossible. Elliot was probably assuming she was with Ben – and from his face earlier on, was assuming much more besides. There was no way he was going to come and find her. She’d have to wait until they were both back in Fleet Town, where she could explain everything.
But Fleet Town and their penthouse suite seemed a million miles away. What on earth had she been thinking? Kellie now wondered. Why had she ever agreed to come to the islands with Elliot in the first place? She pictured their empty hotel room. Had she been mad? How could she ever have spent three days alone there?
Suddenly the light started flickering and she went to the door and took a torch off the shelf. Just as she did, the power cut out completely. She gasped, shocked by the dark.
She told herself not to be stupid. That it was crazy to be frightened, but still, her hands were shaking as she put the torch on, banging it to make the beam stay steady.
In the dark, the cottage felt creepy. She would have to go to the pub, she concluded, and brazen things out with Ben. After all, there was no reason to work herself up into a state. It wasn’t like she was backing down on her decision to cool things off with him, because it wasn’t like she had a choice.
The front door was wrenched out of her hand by the wind. Kellie held on to the hood of her coat, her hair underneath whipping around her face. Ahead of her, the path to the pub looked treacherous in the weak torch beam. It was ridiculous, but without Ben by her side, she felt vulnerable and alone.
Inside the pub, Sally was lighting candles. There was a warm glow from the huge fire. The wind roared in the chimney. Without the jukebox, the pub was strangely quiet. In the corner, a man was tuning up a guitar.
‘It’s looking serious,’ Sally explained. ‘When the power goes down like this, it’s always a while before it’s back on again. Roddy has gone to have a look at the generator, but if it’s still on the blink, I doubt if the power’s going to be back on tonight.’
Kellie spotted Ben over in the corner at a table by the fire. He waved to her.
‘There you are. I was just coming to see whether you were OK. We were just having a chat,’ Ben said, pointing to the man opposite him.
He must be another friend of Ben’s from the island. Kellie walked over and stood awkwardly next to the table.
‘Hi,’ the stranger said. He was handsome, in his early forties, but there was something sad about his face as he half-smiled at her.
‘Do you mind if I join you?’ she asked Ben. ‘The electricity’s out next door, too.’
‘Fine by me,’ Ben said.
The man drained his tumbler of whisky as Kellie sat down and took off her coat. There was a long pause. Ben was watching her re-tie her hair behind her head in a pony-tail, his pint glass poised mid-way to his lips.
‘Maybe you two want to be –’ she began, worried that she’d interrupted something.
‘No, no, stay,’ Ben said. ‘Maybe you can help out. A female perspective could be just what our friend here needs.’
‘You’ve been great, listening to me. I must be boring you rigid.’
Kellie could see now that Ben didn’t know the man either.
‘Not at all. Another one?’ Ben asked, standing up and picking up the man’s glass. He widened his eyes at Kellie and she could tell that Ben had been held captive, listening to the man. ‘What are you having, Kellie?’
She should have come to the pub before, she now realised. Whatever bad vibes there’d been between her and Ben now seemed to have vanished. He’d obviously got over it, whatever it was that had been bothering him, and moved on.
‘Rum and coke, I think,’ she said.
‘Might as well,’ Ben said. He leant down towards her and whispered, ‘I’ve got a feeling it’s going to be a long night.’
Kellie smiled at Ben and he winked. What a fool she’d been to work herself up into such a state about nothing. She and Ben were friends and that was just fine. There was no reason why they shouldn’t have a nice time together. Now she was here, she felt as if they were a team again and she was supporting him.
‘Perhaps you’ve got some words of wisdom for our friend. You see, she told him today. His wife,’ he said, pointing at the man to fill Kellie in on the situation.
There was a long pause as Ben left the table and went to the bar with their glasses.
‘Your wife told you . . . ?’ She was unsure whether she should be asking a complete stranger something so intimate.
‘That she wants a divorce,’ the man said. In the flickering candle light she could see now that his eyes were bloodshot with emotion and whisky.
‘Oh God. I’m sorry,’ Kellie said, realising she’d accidentally stumbled on a crisis far bigger than she’d imagined.
‘Yep. Kind of put a downer on Christmas dinner, let me tell you.’
She’d thought at first that the man was a local, but now something about the way he spoke and the way he was dressed made her think otherwise. He leant his elbows on the table and put his head in his hands. His shoulders began to shake.
Kellie looked on helplessly. She almost patted his shoulder, but she didn’t.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, wiping his eyes. ‘It’s just it’s been such a fucking shock.’
‘It’s OK,’ she said, feeling for him. Whatever the story was for this poor guy, it certainly put her own problems in perspective.
‘I’m a good listener,’ she said, smiling gently at him. ‘If you want to talk about it.’
‘She thinks it’s my fault,’ he said.
‘Thinks what’s your fault?’
‘We lost our son, eighteen months ago. He drowned. Stephanie thinks it’s . . . it’s my fault. But I tried. God, I tried . . .’
Kellie couldn’t believe that this was happening. She felt her cheeks flush. She could hardly breathe. This man was David. The David. Stephanie’s husband. Elliot’s brother-inlaw, and her potentially future brother-in-law too. Her mouth had gone completely dry.
‘Everything that’s been going wrong for the past year between us all makes sense now. She hates me, because she thinks I should have saved him. But how can she think that?’ David appealed to her. ‘I loved him, too.’
Kellie thought quickly. She had to appear like a concerned stranger – and she did care. This poor man was in so much pain. But she mustn’t betray who she was.
‘It was probably just the pressure of Christmas,’ she said, shifting on her seat. Her mind raced with the implications of what David
was telling her. How had everyone reacted? No wonder Elliot hadn’t ventured out to try and find her. Her image of a cosy Thorne family Christmas with them all playing charades shattered. ‘People always go a bit loopy, don’t they? You know, being around their families. What did she say exactly?’
As David started to tell her about the row and about what had happened to Paul, the guitarist in the corner starting to sing quietly, gently strumming his guitar. Kellie thought about the raucous karaoke last night. It seemed like a year ago.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she said, reaching out to touch David’s hand. ‘How awful for you. Especially at Christmas. How was everyone else?’ she asked. ‘I mean, did you have any other family there?’ She tried to make it sound like a logical question.
‘Just my brother-in-law and his wife. Stephanie was so furious with them as well. For interfering, she said. She called my sister-in-law a meddling bitch. She told her to stick her perfect fucking marriage up her perfect fucking arse, when all Isabelle was doing was trying to help.’
‘Oh?’ Kellie said. She could barely compute the magnitude of what he was telling her.
‘But Isabelle will survive. She survives everything.’
‘Here’s some more drinks,’ Ben said, putting them down on the table. He smiled at Kellie and briefly clasped David’s shoulder.
‘Come on, mate, it’ll be OK.’
Kellie took a large glug of her drink, trying to curb her beating heart. She felt unsure of herself, as if each step she took forward into the future was into quicksand. She felt as if she was sinking in all the lies she’d told. She didn’t know which way to turn.
Selfishly, she couldn’t help wondering what David and Stephanie’s row would mean for her and Elliot. How would Elliot be able to make his own announcement now, when Stephanie and David were on the verge of their own divorce? The whole house must be in uproar. And Isabelle had got it in the neck too, according to David, for sticking up for him. She hardly sounded like Elliot had always made her out to be. Worst of all, David had described Isabelle’s marriage to Elliot as perfect – and what had he meant when he said that Isabelle would survive – that Isabelle survived everything? What did that mean?
While Kellie wanted nothing more than to quiz David, she knew that there was no way she could say anything which
would arouse his suspicion. Especially not in front of Ben.
‘What do you think he should do, Kellie?’ Ben asked.
What she thought was that she was in way out of her depth.
‘I’m not sure. Maybe your wife is blaming you because she feels guilty herself,’ she said to David, her conversations with Elliot all coming back to her. ‘You know what doctors are like.’
‘How did you know that Stephanie was a doctor, did I say?’ David asked.
Kellie took a hasty sip of her drink. She looked at Ben and David over the top of it. ‘You must have done. Earlier on.’
David looked tired. ‘You must be right.’
‘Everyone gets a bit emotional at Christmas time,’ Ben reassured him, before turning to Kellie. ‘Everyone says stupid things and makes fools out of themselves.’
Kellie wondered whether he was referring to their walk this afternoon, to what he’d said to her.
‘I don’t know why I’m telling you all this,’ David said.
‘It’s easier to tell strangers,’ Ben said, repeating what Kellie had said earlier.
She glanced at him.
‘The thing is, I really do love Steph,’ David said. ‘I always have. Not in a flashy way. I’m not the type of guy who’s going to give her a diamond necklace, but that doesn’t mean I love her any less.’
Kellie’s hand automatically went to the neck of her buttoned-up shirt, feeling the necklace Elliot had given her underneath it.
‘Then you should tell her how you feel,’ Ben said.
David shook his head. ‘She’s shut me out. It’s like something inside us died when Paul did. It’s too late. If she really doesn’t love me, then what’s the point in staying together?’
‘But what about your other kids?’ Ben asked.
David rubbed his face. Then he shook his head. ‘I don’t know. I really don’t know. I thought everything was fine. That we’d get through this. But now? I don’t know what I’m going to do. I wouldn’t even know how to start being single again. I look at you two together and –’
‘We’re not together,’ Kellie corrected him, feeling Ben’s eyes on her.
‘We’re just friends,’ Ben said.
‘But I could have sworn . . . you look . . .’ David said, then stopped. ‘Stephanie’s right. I don’t have any intuition. I can’t get anything right.’
Chapter 21
Stephanie lay wide awake in the dark in the bedroom in her father’s house, listening to the howl of the wind outside. Every muscle in her body was tense. Her head ached with the hangover from all the wine she’d drunk. Her throat was dry and her skin felt uncomfortable, as if the shame of what she’d done had brought her out in some kind of rash.
Exhausted, she sat up in bed and turned her head towards the door. For hours now her senses had been on red alert as she strained to hear the front door opening, or anything that would mean David had come back. It wasn’t even as if she wanted him to come back – but not knowing whether he would or not, or even where he was, was driving her mad.
She’d lost track of time in the dark, trying to count the minutes between shadows passing under the crack of the door. Now she was sure that everyone had gone to bed. It must be very late. She knew it would be simpler to turn on the light and look at the bedside clock, rather than to torment herself like this, but if she turned the light on, someone might realise she was awake and attempt to talk to her, and that was the last thing she wanted.
She held her head in her hands, wondering what the hell she was going to do. Everything was such a mess. Earlier on, when she’d put Nat to bed, Nat had been inconsolable, sobbing and sobbing for David, until Stephanie had become cross. Now she regretted that too. She wondered what the impact of today would be on Nat’s future. Would she remember crying alone in the dark for David? Would she turn out to be horribly insecure because she thought Stephanie didn’t love her? Would she hate Christmas now for the rest of her life?
And Simon? Well, Simon wasn’t talking to her, punishing her with his silence and his wounded eyes. She didn’t know where he’d been this afternoon, and he’d refused to tell her. He’d never been this rebellious before. He was only eight years old, and already she’d lost his respect for good.
Taylor had only made her feel worse by being overprotective, not allowing Stephanie a moment to talk to him alone. She had been left in no doubt as to what Taylor thought of the situation. She’d been tempted to say something, to make Taylor back off, even something along the lines of how it was a good thing that her days as a spoilt only child were numbered, but Gerald had been watching like a hawk and she had had no choice but to put up with it.
At least the kids were showing their emotions, she thought. That was far preferable to the way everyone else had reacted.
When she’d finally left the dining room, reeling from her conversation with David, she’d been expecting a show-down with Isabelle, or with her father. She’d been prepared for someone to say something to her, to call her to account, to make her apologise. Or even to ask her how she was. The house had thin walls. Surely they must have heard what she’d said to David? Surely they must all have wondered how she was feeling?
In the way that her family always had, however, Stephanie’s momentary blip into emotional irresponsibility had been immediately covered with the familiar veneer of civility. The ‘unpleasantness’ that had occurred at lunchtime had been firmly swept under the carpet.
Nobody had mentioned that David had left the house. Nobody had questioned where he’d gone, although it was obvious that no one knew. Isabelle had disappeared for a lie-down, Gerald had taken the dog for a long walk, Nat had done a jigsa
w puzzle with Elliot by the fire, whilst Stephanie had scrubbed the kitchen, her mind in a frenzy.
Then, a few hours ago, when Taylor and Simon had come back and Isabelle had got up, they’d all sat down together to watch the DVD of The Wizard of Oz, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Everyone had been perfectly polite to each other, as they all had a cup of tea and a slice of Christmas cake. Even Stephanie had found herself playing along, attempting to mend bridges by pretending to be interested in the book Isabelle had given her. There had even been a few jokes made.
However, David’s absence had filled the silences in between with unspoken accusations. The hours had dragged on. Finally Stephanie hadn’t been able to stand the pretence any longer and had busied herself with getting the kids off to bed. Then she’d excused herself, claiming a headache. Now, in the dark, she had a long night ahead in which she could analyse what had happened.
She realised, of course, that she’d been building up to saying what she’d said to David today ever since the accident, and over that time, she’d only focused on the words – words that had gathered momentum, becoming so destructive, that she knew that once she said them, they’d become the wrecking ball that brought down their marriage.
But now, sitting in the rubble of what she’d just done, instead of feeling vindicated, or relieved that the words were finally out, she just felt that she’d created more of a mess than ever. She’d had no satisfaction from hurting David. On the contrary, his reaction had rather startled her. She’d almost made herself believe that when she confronted him, he’d agree that their marriage was over. She hadn’t expected him to tell her that he loved her, right up until the end.
She shivered in the dark. She felt more scared than she’d ever felt. She hadn’t thought about the consequences of actually getting divorced. She hadn’t thought about what it would mean for the children and how it would affect them all. She didn’t even know how she would go about it. There’d be lawyers involved. And estate agents. Strangers would enter their lives.
