The Girl Across the Street

by Vikki Patis

  Amy laughs again. ‘I’ll give you a hand.’

  She starts loading my arms with boxes, and together we manage to deposit them all safely in the boot of my car.

  ‘Thanks again, Amy. I really appreciate it,’ I say, pushing the hair out of my face. Amy waves a hand, walking backwards towards her flat. I watch her for a moment, catching sight again of her bright yellow nails. I wonder where she gets them done, whether she has a favourite salon in town. In that fleeting moment, I imagine us going there together, sitting side by side and chatting, choosing colours, our laughter floating through the room. I shake my head; what a foolish daydream, I reprimand myself. Women like me can’t have friends, people who would see straight through the façade of my marriage.

  ‘Enjoy the party!’ she calls, and then she is gone. I smile, and for half a second, I can almost imagine that I’m excited for tomorrow, looking forward to seeing Jake’s face when he walks into the house and sees the people, the food, the effort I’ve put in to sourcing these beautiful cakes. But Jake is rarely impressed by my efforts.

  Fourteen

  Isla

  Saturday is an unsettled day, with strong gusts of wind. I stare out of the bedroom window, eyes narrowed at the blustery weather. Of all the days for it to rain. I lean my forehead against the glass.

  Jake appears in the doorway, hair still wet from the shower.

  ‘What time are we due at Mum’s?’ he asks, rubbing a towel across his chest. I turn my eyes away from his naked body.

  ‘Not until four,’ I murmur, anticipating his next question. But it isn’t a question. It never is.

  ‘So we have time,’ he declares, dropping the towel and grabbing me around the waist. I learned long ago that there’s no point in resisting. It’s his birthday, I tell myself as Jake removes my clothes. Go along with it.

  Afterwards, he rolls on to his side of the bed, breathing hard. ‘When are you due on?’ he asks. I think for a moment.

  ‘Just over two weeks,’ I say eventually. Jake grins.

  ‘Perfect. Maybe that was it.’ It’s what he always says, undisguised hope in his voice.

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘What an amazing birthday present that would be!’ He stretches his arms over his head and yawns. ‘I’m going to have a power nap. That took it out of me.’

  I force a smile as he closes his eyes. Took what out of you? I think. Your self-esteem? Your ability to choose, to have control over your own life?

  I shake my head. This kind of thinking never gets me anywhere. I chose this, this man and this life. I’ve made my bed, as Judith would say. Now I have to lie in it.

  We arrive at the party a little after four o’clock. The earlier rain has cleared, and the sun is filtering weakly through the clouds. We go straight round the back of the house, entering through the side gate, and see the gazebo set up, the people milling about, drinks in hand.

  ‘There’s the birthday boy!’ Judith’s voice rings out across the lawn, a bottle of champagne in her hand. Jake breaks into a grin and throws his arms around his mother. I hang back, always the outsider.

  ‘Hi, Mum,’ he says as Judith squeezes him.

  ‘Happy birthday!’ Jim calls from his place by the barbecue. He waves a pair of tongs in the air.

  ‘I thought it was just afternoon tea?’ I whisper to Judith as we make our way across the grass. Judith throws me a look of disdain.

  ‘I never said that,’ she sniffs. I bite my tongue.

  Jake joins a group of men on the other side of the gazebo, accepting a bottle of beer and clinking it against theirs, while I wander over to Jim, glancing at the table laid out beside him. My cakes are nowhere to be seen.

  ‘Judith,’ I say, catching my mother-in-law as she attempts to float past. ‘Where are the cakes?’

  ‘Cakes?’ Judith raises one perfectly shaped eyebrow.

  ‘The cakes I brought round yesterday,’ I say through gritted teeth. God, she’s getting on my nerves already. ‘Where are they?’

  Judith smirks. ‘Oh, those. They’re inside, dear. For later. No dessert before dinner!’ She lets out a laugh, high and tinkling.

  I nod towards the table, at the huge chocolate cake displayed proudly in the middle. ‘So what’s that then?’

  Judith narrows her eyes, steps closer to me. ‘Chocolate cake is Jake’s favourite,’ she says, then drops her voice. ‘As his wife, you should know that.’

  I open my mouth to respond, but she dances away, a bright smile on her face once again as she greets more guests.

  Bitch, I think angrily.

  ‘I’m partial to a Victoria sponge,’ Jim says behind me. I turn.

  ‘Well, it looks like you have a whole one to yourself,’ I say, forcing a smile.

  He reaches behind the barbecue and grabs a bottle of red wine. He pours me a glass, handing it to me with a small smile.

  ‘Ah, don’t let her get to you,’ he murmurs. ‘She’s always been a perfectionist.’

  ‘That’s one word for her,’ I retort, then quickly look around for Jake. What if he heard? I look up at Jim and, realising that he did hear, avert my eyes quickly, my cheeks flaming. I expect to be admonished, but he only laughs.

  ‘We’ll say no more on that one.’ He winks, then turns back to the barbecue, reaching for a spatula to flip the burgers.

  I hover on the edge of the party, unsure of what to do, who to talk to. I make my glass of wine last – since I drove here, I will have to drive home – and watch Jake down bottle after bottle of beer, laughing uproariously with his friends, slapping them on the back. I realise that I don’t recognise any of them, not even from our wedding. Squaring my shoulders, I decide to go over just as Jake is regaling them all with one of his stories.

  ‘So we’re walking round this site,’ he’s saying, his cheeks pink with merriment, ‘and the guy points to a machine and says in his broad German accent, “Here it is, the fecking careful.”’ Jake’s friends roar with laughter. ‘The fecking careful!’ he splutters. I sidle up beside him, slipping into the group unnoticed.

  ‘What was it really called?’ one guy asks.

  ‘That was its name! It was spelled differently, obviously,’ he winks, ‘but the way he said it, it came out as “fecking careful”!’

  ‘Sounds like he was a fecking eejit,’ another guy says in a convincing Irish accent, to a chorus of laughter.

  ‘What did the machine do?’ a woman asks. She’s wearing a bright pink dress that fits closely against her curves. I watch Jake’s eyes run appreciatively up her body; the woman notices, then shoots me an embarrassed glance. I drop my eyes.

  ‘No idea. But whatever it was, you had to be fecking careful with it!’ The group collapses into laughter again. Jake is shining, always happy to be the centre of attention. He glances down at me, a shadow passing across his eyes.

  ‘Ah, Isla!’ He puts an arm around my shoulders, squashing me against him. ‘Everyone, meet Isla, my beautiful wife. Isla, this is everyone!’

  I try to smile at the group, but I can feel my cheeks heating up. They all raise their drinks in my direction.

  ‘Nice to meet you,’ the woman in the pink dress says, her eyes kind.

  ‘Finally!’ a guy roars. ‘Where have you been hiding her, Jake?’

  ‘Though we can see why,’ another says, winking at me. ‘She’s a beauty. Where did you find her?’

  I shrink under their collective gaze. I can feel eyes running up and down my body, taking me in.

  ‘On the side of the road,’ Jake laughs, and I freeze. ‘Took her home one day, and she‘s still here!’

  More laughter. Judith’s voice cuts through the noise.

  ‘Much like a stray cat; if you feed it, it’ll never leave.’

  As always, Jake’s laughter is the loudest. I pull away from him, tears welling up in my eyes. Why is he always like this?

  I slip away, into the house, ignoring the laughter behind me, and lock myself in the downstairs toilet. I rest my head in my hands, scrunch m
y fingers into my hair. My breath is shaky, but I push the tears away. No. He will not make me cry.

  After a few moments, my breathing returned to normal, I stand and wash my hands, smooth down my hair in the mirror. As I push open the door, I almost bump into the woman in the pink dress, her fist raised to knock.

  ‘Oh!’ we both exclaim, then, ‘Sorry.’ Our eyes meet, and we smile.

  ‘All yours,’ I say, slipping past, aiming for the front door. I need a cigarette.

  ‘Actually,’ the woman says, ‘I was looking for you. Are you okay?’

  I turn back, eyebrows raised. ‘Me?’ I say stupidly. The woman nods, holds out a hand.

  ‘I’m Jess.’ I take her hand, noticing her perfectly manicured nails. ‘Men are wankers,’ she says, ‘and mothers-in-law are worse.’

  I laugh despite myself. ‘That’s putting it mildly.’

  Jess is smiling, her brown eyes twinkling. ‘Where can we smoke around here? I’m desperate.’

  I feel a smile spread across my face. ‘Follow me,’ I say.

  Together we slip out through the front door, our shoes crunching over the gravel driveway. I lead Jess around the side, through some tall bushes, to a low wall.

  ‘Ah, excellent!’ she exclaims, dropping down on to the wall, slipping her heels off and swinging her bare legs. ‘These shoes are horrid!’

  I laugh and sit down next to her, lighting a cigarette and passing it to Jess before lighting my own. We smoke in silence for a moment, Jess’s bright pink toes wiggling in the air beside me.

  ‘How do you know Jake, then?’ I ask, though I’m not sure I want to know the answer. Jess sighs.

  ‘I worked with him last year, on a project in Bristol. He got on well with my boyfriend – guy with the checked shirt, glasses? – when we took the clients out for a meal, and they kind of stayed in touch. I have no idea why.’ She pauses to take a drag on her cigarette. ‘Jay, my boyfriend, is so different to Jake. He’s a total nerd.’ Her face lights up, her lips stretching into a grin. ‘So am I, truth be told. We play board games together on Saturday evenings.’

  I blink. ‘No way! You’re so…’ I grope around for the right word. ‘Glamorous.’ Jess giggles.

  ‘I scrub up all right. Oh, I did the whole private school thing, horse-riding and back-stabbing, excelling in both areas. My parents expected me to go to Cambridge.’ She flicks the cigarette butt into the gravel. ‘I ran away to Bristol to study art and live like a hippy, according to Mother.’ Her laugh is tinged with something – hurt? Irritation?

  I screw my face up in confusion. ‘But you work with Jake?’ I can’t imagine Jake ever being in the same room as a hippy artist.

  ‘Worked. Once. I designed the marketing materials. One of the most boring jobs I’ve ever worked on,’ Jess winks, ‘but it paid the rent.’

  I smile, grind my cigarette out under my heel. ‘Wow. I can’t believe it.’

  Jess nods. ‘I know, I know.’ She turns to me then, reaches out to touch my arm. ‘I’m sorry to say,’ her words come out in a rush, ‘but your husband is a bit of a…’ Now she is stuck for the right word. I incline my head.

  ‘Dickhead?’ I supply, then mentally admonish myself. What has come over me? I expect Jess to raise an eyebrow, but instead, she bursts out laughing. She rummages around in her bag and pulls out her own pack of cigarettes, offering them to me. Her fingers brush against mine as she hands me a lighter.

  ‘I like you,’ she says, blowing smoke out of her nostrils. I smile.

  Strangely, Jess reminds me of Beth, despite her BBC accent and expensive jewellery. She holds her cigarette between her thumb and forefinger, keeping the smoke in her lungs for a moment before blowing it up to the sky. For a moment, I wish Beth were here. I feel a need for her honesty, how easily she makes me laugh, takes my mind off everything else.

  ‘Thanks for checking on me,’ I say, giving Jess a small smile. She returns it, her eyes twinkling.

  ‘Any time.’ She leaps down from the wall, smoothing down her dress, then stares up at the house behind us. ‘I’ve always hated these houses,’ she says, and again I’m reminded of Beth. How similar they are, despite their different backgrounds. How much we all have in common. I try to imagine sitting around a table with Jess and Beth, drinking wine and chatting, then banish the thought from my mind. Don’t get carried away, I tell myself as we head back inside.

  Fifteen

  Isla

  ‘Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you!’ I can hear the crowd singing as I follow Jess back through the house. Judith is walking across the grass, carrying the huge chocolate cake. Jake is still in the gazebo, another beer in hand, a wide grin on his face. I stay in the background, hidden amongst the crowd.

  ‘Happy birthday, my dear boy!’ Judith trills, planting a kiss on Jake’s cheek as his father takes the cake and begins to cut it into slices.

  Jake puts an arm around Judith’s shoulders. ‘You’ve outdone yourself, Mum,’ he declares, still grinning. ‘Can’t I take that straight home with me?’

  ‘And not even share a slice with your old dad?’ Jim says, handing Jake a paper plate containing a huge slab of cake. Jake laughs good-naturedly.

  ‘Better keep it away from Isla,’ he says, fixing his eyes on me as I begin to move towards him. I freeze, seeing the dark clouds gathering in his eyes. His smile remains, but there’s something wolfish about him now. Dangerous. ‘She’ll eat the lot!’

  Judith lets out a laugh at my expense, throwing her head back when Jake mimes a huge stomach. I catch Jess’s eye, am grateful for her grimace.

  I notice Jim step forward then, mouth opening, ready to say something in my defence. I give a small shake of my head and he stops, closing his mouth and frowning. He throws his paper plate on to the trestle table with such force, I expect to see it bounce on to the floor.

  Jake raises an eyebrow at me before allowing his mother to lead him away. There’ll be hell to pay later, I realise. A wave of cold fear washes over me.

  ‘Don’t mind him,’ Jim says softly. I look up at him, my father-in-law, and I can see the concern in his eyes. ‘He always was the class clown.’

  I shake my head. I don’t trust myself to speak.

  ‘How about some cake?’ he says, attempting to brighten his voice. ‘Ta-da!’ He throws out an arm to indicate the table behind him. Right in the middle are the cupcakes I had bought, laid out in their boxes.

  ‘These look much better than that,’ Jim whispers, winking conspiratorially. ‘Shall we have one?’

  I can’t help but smile. Jim, despite his long working hours and stressful job, has always made an effort with me, always tried to make me laugh, make me feel welcome.

  ‘Why not?’ I grin, and reach out to nab a red velvet cupcake. Jim devours two, washing them down with a swig of beer. He turns to me then, face serious.

  ‘How are you, Isla?’ he asks. I see the look in his eyes, flinch away.

  ‘I’m fine,’ I say, swallowing the lump in my throat. What else can I say? This is Jake’s dad, after all.

  Jim sighs. ‘Have you been up to much?’

  I think for a moment. ‘I repainted the bathroom.’ I realise how pathetic that sounds, take a sip of my soft drink to mask my discomfort.

  ‘Read any good books lately?’ Jim asks, the twinkle back in his eye. I remember the evenings we spent in his study when I lived here, staying up late discussing our favourite books. It turned into an unofficial book club, Jim with a glass of brandy, me with a cup of tea or a glass of red wine.

  I’m telling him about the psychological thriller I’ve just finished when Judith bustles up beside us.

  ‘Have you seen Jakey?’ she asks, her voice almost a whine. Jim frowns.

  ‘He’s probably off enjoying himself, love,’ he says, throwing a look at me.

  ‘I wanted to give him his present!’ Judith huffs. I fight the urge to roll my eyes.

  ‘I’ll go and find him,’ I say, setting down my empty glass. ‘I need to use
the loo anyway.’

  Judith tuts. Nodding at Jim, I make my way into the house. I check the downstairs toilet – empty – and decide to try the bathroom on the first floor. As I climb the stairs, I become aware of a low murmuring coming from the landing above.

  ‘Jake?’ I call, and the murmuring stops. I push open the bathroom door, and, finding it empty, turn down the hall towards Jake’s old room. The room I spent so much time in, hiding from Judith. The door is ajar, and as I poke my head round, opening my mouth to call Jake’s name again, a hand suddenly grips my shoulder. I scream, twisting away, and stagger against the door, my heart pounding in my ears.

  ‘What are you doing up here?’ Jake demands. I bring a hand to my chest, trying to calm my breathing.

  ‘You scared the shit out of me,’ I pant. I see a flash of movement behind him, and try to peer around him, but he steps into my line of sight.

  ‘What are you doing up here?’ he repeats, thunder in his eyes. His cheeks are flushed, and I can smell the alcohol on his breath.

  ‘Looking for you,’ I reply, casting my gaze towards the floor. Something catches my eye. Is that… a pair of tights?

  Jake’s hand snakes out and grabs me by the chin, forcing my eyes up to meet his. My heart tightens.

  ‘Judith wants you,’ I say, hearing the tremor in my voice and hating it. ‘She wants to give you your present.’ Jake’s fingers tighten ever so slightly, and then he lets go. I take a step back.

  ‘Brill,’ he says, his grin back in place. ‘Let’s go.’ He holds out an arm and I take it, heart still fluttering in my chest.

  The rest of the afternoon passes without incident. Judith unveils Jake’s gift with a flourish: a state-of-the-art watch, which looks like it came with a hefty price tag. Jake is thrilled; I sigh and wish we’d got a taxi so I could drink.

  We finally leave a few hours later, Jake shouting goodbye out of the passenger window, one arm thrust into the evening air, his friends cheering as I manoeuvre out of the driveway.