The Perfect Couple

by Lisa Hall

  I scan the room anxiously, looking for Caro’s parents. ‘Have you seen the Osbournes? I’m a bit worried about bumping into them.’

  Sadie looks around before discreetly inclining her head towards a table at the front of the room, next to a small stage. ‘Over there. But honestly, darling, don’t worry. They understand. They know Rupert needed to move on, no one expected him to be a lonely widower forever.’ There is something in her voice, sadness maybe, before she pins on a bright smile.

  ‘Thank you,’ I say, reaching out and squeezing her hand in a warm burst of appreciation. ‘I’ve never… no one I’ve ever been out with before has had a wife who passed on, so I just don’t know what to expect or how to react sometimes. I’m constantly worried that I’ll put my foot in it.’

  ‘Oh, no need,’ Sadie says, ‘everyone understands people have to move on. I was the one who told Rupert it was about time he sorted himself out, after all. You’re one of us now. Anyway,’ she smiles brightly and changes the subject, ‘what did Rupert think about your plans for the garden?’

  ‘He wasn’t as pleased as I hoped,’ I say, glancing along the table to make sure he is still occupied with Miles. ‘He shouted at me a bit about the pool, saying he doesn’t need one.’

  The memory of his harsh words makes the back of my throat feel thick and I blink rapidly.

  ‘Oh God, really?’ Sadie rolls her eyes and reaches for my hand. ‘I suppose he came out with some old crap about not spending the money? That’s what Rupe does, I’m afraid.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Oh, he’s got such a chip on his shoulder about Caro’s family being so much more well off than his. He won’t want to pay for the pool because he’ll feel guilty that it’s Caro’s money, which is just plain ridiculous, if you ask me. If I were you, I’d just get the plans drawn up anyway. Once he sees it, he’ll come around. In fact, I’d go so far as to say he’d be thrilled.’ Sadie shrugs, and takes a huge sip from her glass. ‘You didn’t let him upset you, did you? The rotter. Honestly, darling, I’ll defend you to the ends of the Earth if he shouts at you again. I told you, you’re one of us now.’

  I want to cry; I feel so pathetically grateful. Sadie is an important person in Rupert’s life and to have her approval means so much. I raise my glass to her, and we drink, and finally I begin to relax.

  Sadie gets more and more drunk as the evening wears on, taking full advantage of the free wine. I, however, am trying to be on my best behaviour, conscious as I am that Caro’s parents are here. And I’m glad I did keep my wits, as I bump into Mrs Osbourne in the Ladies. I’m not sure she knows who I am, and I avoid eye contact, concentrating instead on washing my hands and scarpering back to our table. I slink into my seat, telling Sadie that I saw Caro’s mother.

  ‘Did she say anything?’ Sadie’s eyes are wide as I tell her. ‘The last time I saw her was at Caro’s memorial. She didn’t speak to us then, and I thought it was because she was upset but, in all truth, she never really liked me.’

  ‘Really?’ An auction has begun, and I sneak a glance at Rupert, who is already bidding on things with Miles. ‘Why not?’

  Sadie shrugs, a sloppy gesture now she is three sheets to the wind. ‘Who knows? She’s a funny old woman. Wouldn’t leave Rupert alone until he held the memorial.’

  ‘Why?’ I lean in close, so no one can overhear our conversation. ‘Why did she want to have a memorial? Surely the funeral would have been enough?’

  Sadie blinks. ‘There was no funeral.’

  ‘No funeral?’ I frown, the alcohol in my veins making everything feel a little muddy and blurred. ‘What do you mean there was no funeral? Everybody has a funeral.’

  ‘Not if there’s no body.’

  Not if there’s no body. Sadie’s words are at the forefront of my mind as I swim up into consciousness after a ragged few hours’ sleep. My mouth is dry, and my tongue feels too big. A persistent banging thuds at my temples and my eyes ache, although from tiredness or alcohol I’m not sure. I didn’t imagine it – Sadie definitely said there was no funeral for Caro. I close my eyes again, thinking on how I had pressed her on it as she stumbled over the words, slurring and mumbling.

  ‘They never found her,’ Sadie says, a tiny hiccup escaping her mouth as she speaks. ‘They found her car, and her purse was in it and she’d left a note saying she was sorry.’

  ‘Oh my God, that’s awful.’ I press my hand to my mouth, imagining Caro’s body being dragged out to sea, crashing against rocks, being nibbled by tiny fish. ‘Poor Rupert.’

  ‘Poor all of us,’ Sadie says, ‘it took us a long time to accept that she was gone. I mean, there was never any doubt that she meant to do it, not with the note and her state of mind at the time. The police said she never would have survived the fall, and that with the current she might never… wash up.’

  I have barely slept, her face, underwater, hair drifting across wide, staring eyes, floating into my mind every time I try to sleep. I glance to my left, where Rupert lies snoring, oblivious to the bombshell that Sadie dropped last night. Rupert never told me that they had never found Caro’s body. Another lie by omission. I lie unblinking, staring at the ceiling as another thought strikes me. Who’s to say that Caro is even dead?

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The image of Caro, broken and bloated, appears to me when I least expect it – every time I close my eyes, as I tackle the mountain of ironing that Anya has left, as I walk around the supermarket, picking up food items and putting them down again, unable to keep my mind from wandering. Rupert must know that something is up, by the number of times I’ve opened my mouth to ask him things, abruptly changing my mind and pressing my lips closed before the words have a chance to tumble out.

  I haven’t slept since Sadie told me they never found Caro’s body, and I feel weirdly disconnected, moving through life as if on autopilot. Finally, after a week of sleepless nights, the final straw comes as I stand in the kitchen, holding an envelope with Caro’s name on it. It’s nothing important, a circular from some charity that she must have donated to before she died, her name still on some list somewhere, but as I stand there staring at her name in bold, black font, the phone rings and I shriek, my frayed nerves jangling. Crushing the envelope deep into the bin, I glance at the clock and see that if I’m quick I can probably catch Rupert as he goes on his lunch break. He’s not on site today, working out of the Swindon office instead, his hi-vis and hard hat still tucked into the cupboard under the stairs as I grab my coat.

  The air is damp as I wait outside Rupert’s office, the cold mist settling on my chest as I pull my scarf closer around my neck. It feels as though spring will never come, the days still holding the dark gloom of winter. I long for sunshine, the warmth of the sun’s rays on my back, Rupert’s strong fingers rubbing sunscreen into my skin as we lounged on the beach in Barbados. I wonder how many times he did that with Caro, I think, my eyes filling with unexpected tears. I almost miss him, so busy am I rummaging in my coat pocket for a tissue, as Rupert strides past me with his head down, lost in thought.

  ‘Hey!’ I run after him, my fingers catching on the sleeve of his thin jacket. ‘Rupert.’

  He stops abruptly, a frown etched deep into his forehead before he smiles a puzzled smile. ‘Em? What are you doing here?’ He leans down to kiss me, his breath scented with coffee, warm on my cheek.

  ‘I thought maybe we could have lunch together.’ I tuck my arm into his, and we start to walk along the street, dodging the rubbish that spills from an overflowing bin as we pass.

  ‘Oh. We can do, I only have half an hour, though. Are you all right?’ He stops and turns to study me closely. ‘You look awful.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘I didn’t mean it like that, I just meant… you’re pale, and you look exhausted.’

  ‘I am a bit tired,’ I say, ‘I just wanted some company. Surely you can spare a lunch hour for your old lady?’ I nudge him, and give a laugh, showing him that I am just fine.
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  ‘Of course, come on.’ Rupert leads me to a pub tucked down a small alley. It’s a proper pub, the kind I imagine my dad used to go to. Not that I would know. He left before I was old enough to remember him. We order drinks – a pint of IPA for him, a large white wine for me – and both of us order steak and chips.

  ‘Rupert,’ I say, once the food has been delivered and we’re halfway through our drinks. ‘I wanted to talk to you about some things.’

  ‘Oh?’ He pauses, his last few chips crammed tightly on his fork, almost at his mouth. ‘What things?’

  ‘Well… about Caro. I feel as though you haven’t been entirely honest with me about what happened.’

  Rupert sighs, laying his fork down beside his plate. ‘Emily, look, I told you before…’

  ‘I know,’ I interrupt, ‘I know it’s painful for you to talk about. I do understand that. But to hear from Sadie that Caro was pregnant when she died, I mean… I just felt…’

  ‘Sadie needs to mind her own business. What happens between you and I is nothing to do with her, nor is my relationship with Caro. Look, I wasn’t going to show you this until tonight.’ He digs deep into his jacket pocket, pulling out a piece of white paper, carefully folded in half. ‘Here, look at this.’

  I reach across the table for the paper, uncertainty making my heart skip a little in my chest. Slowly, I unfold it and scan the words written there, as Rupert’s eyes never leave my face.

  ‘Well?’

  ‘I don’t know what to say.’ I smile, folding the paper again. It’s a three-night stay at a luxury cottage in the Cotswolds. I mentioned to Rupert that it looked lovely after I saw it in one of Sadie’s glossy, upmarket magazines, but I never expected him to book it. I press my hands to my cheeks, trying to hold back my grin. ‘Thank you. This is incredible.’

  ‘You deserve it,’ Rupert says, taking my hands in his. ‘Listen, I know things have been tough for you, it’s not been an easy few months, has it? I know that it’s difficult to step into someone else’s shoes.’

  I shake my head, blinking rapidly. He’s right, it hasn’t been easy at all. In fact, it’s been a hundred times harder than I ever imagined it would be. Maybe he was paying attention to me when I said things weren’t right after all.

  ‘I can see that you’re exhausted – let’s go to the cottage, have an amazing weekend, just the two of us, and then I’ll get my Emily back… the Emily I know and love. A fresh start for both of us.’ He gets up and pulls me to my feet, wrapping his arms around me. The Emily I know and love. I let myself smile into his shoulder.

  Later that afternoon, I mull things over. By booking the cottage, Rupert clearly wants to make amends for all the arguments we’ve had recently. I let my gaze fall on our wedding photo, the two of us smiling at each other as if no one else existed. I love Rupert, and I love my life with him. He’s made mistakes when it comes to telling me about Caro, I can see that, but how would I react if my loved one had died? Wouldn’t I find it hard to talk about things?

  Reading over the booking again, I smile to myself. We’ve had a stressful few months since the wedding, and Rupert is clearly making an effort. Maybe I should too. Sadie’s words ring my ears. I’d get the plans drawn up anyway. A spark of excitement lights in my belly. I should do it, as a surprise. And then Rupert will be thrilled, just like Sadie said, and he’ll know that I care about him, that I’m committed to the relationship and to making him happy.

  I run upstairs into the spare room that Rupert uses as an office, riffling through the filing cabinet until I find the folder marked ‘Orangery’. Holding my breath, worried in case the plans aren’t there for whatever reason, I slide out the paperwork, shuffling through until I find it.

  ‘Bingo.’ I unroll the plans and see the garden area marked out. It could work. We could put in a small pool close to the house, with a cute little cabin alongside for a changing room. We would still have room for the borders and shrubs, and even a barbecue area. I could sell it to Rupert that it’ll save us money on holidays in the long run, as we won’t need to go away, and anyway, like Sadie said, he’ll be happy once I take the initiative and show him how lovely it could be.

  On impulse, I dial the number on the business card in the file for the building company.

  ‘Hi,’ I say, excitement making my breath come short as a gruff voice answers, ‘I wondered if you could help me? I’m looking at getting a quote for a swimming pool…’

  The builder remembers the house, and Caro (not such a surprise, really), and he asks me to send over my ideas via email. It’s not long before he gets back to me.

  ‘Yeah, your idea isn’t going to work, I’m afraid.’ He sounds apologetic and I try not to let my disappointment come through.

  ‘Really? What’s the problem?’

  ‘It’s too close to the house, to be honest. The site you’ve marked out is where the first soakaway is. The second soakaway is next to it, which means you don’t really have the space to fit a pool in there. You could do it further down the garden, but that makes access to the site a bit difficult. It’ll cost you.’

  ‘Oh. OK. Thank you for your help anyway.’ Despondent, I hang up, and re-roll the drawings. I tidy the file away, not wanting Rupert to know I’ve been in his office. I had been so thrilled by the idea, and so excited when Sadie had said that despite Rupert’s response, he would have loved it, and now it’s not going to work anyway. I’ll just have to find some other way to make things up to Rupert.

  ‘Bloody hell, Rupert, this is gorgeous.’ I crane my neck to peer out of the car window at the yellow stone cottage, as he pulls onto the wide drive.

  ‘Come on.’ Rupert hops out of the car and I race him to the front door, letting him catch me and kiss me until I am breathless and panting on the doorstep. ‘Let’s check out the bedroom.’ He waggles his eyebrows at me as he unlocks the heavy front door and pushes it open, and I follow him inside.

  The ‘cottage’ – if you ask me, it’s more of a mansion than a cottage – is stunning. Flagstone floors lead into a country-style kitchen, the kind I can imagine myself bringing up a huge brood of children in, and then out onto a terraced area, with a pool and a hot tub tucked away in the corner for privacy. I trail my fingers over the sharp, marble kitchen counters, slide off my shoe and dip my toe in the icy cold water of the pool, run my fingers over the fronds of the thick ferns that line the garden borders, eager to soak up every part of this stunning house. It’s not the sunshiny, scorching heat of Morocco or the Caribbean that I was craving, but this will definitely do. I turn to Rupert as he stands at the kitchen counter, wrestling the foil from a bottle of vintage champagne, and let a knowing smirk play across my lips.

  ‘Come on, then. You’d better show me what this bedroom looks like.’

  The weekend is perfect. That’s the only way I can describe it. Away from the threat of the ringing telephone, the nectarine-scented air of the house, the memory of Lola’s tiny, broken body curled up in the driveway, I can push away the thought that Rupert lied to me, even if it was by omission. I tell myself that to keep this life we are living, I can look past the secrets he’s kept – that we all have things we don’t want others to know about – and I begin to relax, realizing that this is exactly how I wanted my married life to be. Rupert cooking breakfast as I sip coffee at the breakfast bar, a post-coital glow making both our cheeks turn pink, long walks in the damp, drizzly rain into pubs with roaring open log fires, good ale and hearty lunches, sitting in the hot tub under the stars, champagne glasses in hand as our breath streams out into the cold night air, matching the steam that rises from the water. It’s as we sit in the hot tub, Rupert’s thigh pressed against mine, that I broach the subject one last time.

  ‘We never did finish that conversation, you know.’ I sip at my champagne, the bubbles going to my head as the water heats me from my core.

  ‘Which conversation?’ Rupert leans his head against the padded cushion on the moulded seat and closes his eyes. Sweat trickles from hi
s temple, running down the side of his face. It’s too hot in the water, but frost is already starting to glint on the surface of the terrace, and I can’t face getting out just yet.

  ‘The one about children.’

  Rupert opens one eye to look at me, and then closes it again. ‘What about them?’

  ‘Well, do you want them?’ I sit forward, raising my shoulders out of the water. I resist the urge to hiss in a breath as the cold night air hits my skin. ‘I’m not asking about Caro, or anything, I’m just asking if one day in the future you want to have kids.’ I let out a small laugh, a tiny shrug. ‘We are married, we should probably talk about it at some point, so why not now?’ I am feeling much more like my old self, like the old Emily, thanks to this weekend. The old Emily would never have hesitated to ask Rupert what he wanted.

  ‘I think I would always have the concern that something might go wrong, if we were to get pregnant, after what happened with Caro,’ Rupert says finally, ‘even though I know you and Caro are not the same.’

  Em isn’t Caro, and she never will be. I splash water over my face as the words float through my mind, holding my hot palms over my eyes.

  ‘But I wouldn’t say never,’ Rupert says, sitting up. ‘One day it would be nice to have a family. For there to be three of us, instead of two.’

  ‘That’s all I’ve ever wanted,’ I say quietly, and I let him untie my bikini top, and we don’t leave the hot tub until much, much later.

  Rupert is relieved that Emily seems to have forgiven him for being economical with the truth. He didn’t lie to her, he would never do that, but he admits that he didn’t quite tell her the whole truth about what happened with Caro. And now thanks to Sadie, Emily knows more than he wanted her to. He glances across at her as she snoozes in the passenger seat next to him. It’s been the perfect weekend – he must remember to thank Will for suggesting it – the only blot on the landscape is Emily’s mention of children. It’s not that he doesn’t ever want them, he didn’t lie about that, it’s just that every time he thinks about babies, he thinks of his child that never was. He hadn’t handled things very well when Caro had told him they were going to have a baby.