by Dawn Goodwin
‘You should just make stuff up like everyone else. It’s all make-believe, all those status updates about how amazing their kids and husbands are, when in actual fact most of them are miserable, their kids are underachieving brats and their partners are having affairs. It’s all about one-upmanship, another way for us all to feel inadequate. You must be curious though, about what people get up to?’
‘Not really.’ I swirled the remaining drops around my glass.
‘You could post photos of bottles of wine – you’re an expert on that and we are single-handedly propping up the prosecco export market,’ Scarlet teased.
‘And Ocado!’ My daytime beverage deliveries were a regular occurrence now.
‘Come on, where’s your iPad? Let’s have a quick look. It could be a laugh.’
The iPad lay abandoned in the lounge and as I half-heartedly went to retrieve it, I said over my shoulder, ‘So tell me more about the ex then – what did he want?’
‘Oh, just digging I think. Turns out he divorced my old friend recently and was wandering down memory lane – a bit of “what if, which is never a good idea. I’m more of a “no regrets” girl. Once you’ve made your bed, lie in it and make it as comfortable as you can or get a new one, but don’t cry about it, you know?’
‘Regret can sometimes keep you company when you’re lying alone in that bed you made for yourself,’ I replied as I came back into the kitchen and saw her roll her eyes.
‘Lighten up!’
‘Sorry. I don’t know if this thing is even charged.’
Scarlet refilled our glasses while I turned on the iPad and opened the Facebook page. The cursor flashed above the password box.
‘Don’t tell me, you don’t know your password.’
‘My password is always the same for everything.’ Since she was born, it had always been ‘Grace01’. I would never forget it.
The Facebook page loaded and I noticed the ‘notifications’ icon light up.
‘What about you? Any dodgy ex-boyfriends in your past?’ Scarlet asked.
‘No, not really. A couple of boyfriends, but nothing serious until I met Tom. He was considered the Golden Boy, I guess, so I won the star prize - or that’s how I saw it then. I was the woman you would’ve hated, the one who got the guy. Funny how things work out. Look at me now: I don’t work, I’m not much of a wife, I wear beige and hardly leave the house. Sometimes I think deep down he wishes he had ended up with Felicity instead of me.’
‘His life wouldn’t be any more peaceful though, would it? I bet she’s seriously high-maintenance. Be careful, Ron, anyone might think you still love him if you care this much about what he thinks,’ she teased.
‘I do still love him,’ I said emphatically. ‘There’s just… stuff…’
‘Then change the “stuff” if it means that much to you. If you keep hanging out with me, maybe some of my fighting spirit will rub off on you.’
‘Some stuff you can’t change.’ I had seen flashes of this stubborn positivity in Scarlet and part of me envied her for it. She was a woman of contradictions – more likely to change her mind than admit she may have been wrong about something, and dangerously loyal. I could imagine she was quite a force of nature as a young woman. She still was now and I loved her for it. I needed a tornado to sweep through my life and shake things up because the quiet was killing me slowly. But to make a change, you had to have the will and the energy; I was still lacking in both.
I turned back to the Facebook page in front of me. The notifications alert immediately flashed red in the corner.
‘It seems someone has been trying to get in touch with me.’
I clicked on the notifications and opened up a friend request.
The kitchen swirled around me as I looked at the picture in front of me. I could hear Scarlet talking to me from a distance, but I was struggling to maintain my equilibrium.
Grace’s face stared back at me. Someone had created a Facebook page for her.
‘Ron? Ron, are you okay?’
I threw the iPad onto the kitchen counter and darted for the downstairs loo. The glass of prosecco came back up and I was left feeling shaky and cold, kneeling on the toilet floor.
Scarlet tucked her head around the door. ‘Hey, what happened?’ She crouched down next to me.
Could I tell her what was going on? Or would she think I was mad? No, I needed to process this myself first.
‘Sorry, too much prosecco too quickly, I think,’ I mumbled.
‘Okay, I’ll give you a minute and I’ll put the kettle on.’
She pulled the door closed behind her and I took another minute to try and steady myself. My brain whirled and dipped, trying to comprehend all of the little coincidences of the day. Was someone trying to wind me up? Did I do this? No, I couldn’t have. A little voice said, Well, you do go on the school run still, but I didn’t want to acknowledge it. But why had Scarlet been so insistent that I look at my Facebook page? Did she have something to do with this?
When I returned to the kitchen, Scarlet was tapping away at my iPad.
‘Let’s look at Felicity’s Facebook page.’
If she was acting, it was Oscar-worthy.
‘No, it’s just going to annoy me.’ I wanted her to leave, but didn’t want to have to explain why.
‘Oh come on…’ She pulled up the page, ignoring me. I took in some more air, not wanting to look at the screen but feeling compelled to all the same.
I pulled my eyes away from the red notifications alert to concentrate on the page Scarlet had opened. Felicity’s thumbnail was a photo of her and Ian standing arm-in-arm against the backdrop of a beautiful beach. As Scarlet scrolled down, the status updates all seemed to involve how far Felicity had run or details of apparently regular date nights with Ian. Then Scarlet clicked on Felicity’s photos and the timeline was full of images of Tabitha riding horses, hanging out with friends, eating ice cream on holiday, interspersed with Felicity and Ian in romantic clinches. She was very good at portraying the perfect wife and mother.
‘Okay, that is nauseating,’ Scarlet said, grimacing.
‘Told you.’ I was thoughtful for a minute as I studied the photo in front of me. Felicity was standing gazing up at Ian as he handed her a glass of champagne at a garden party. The tag was My thoughtful, gorgeous man looking after me as usual. I was surprised at the bilious hatred that bubbled in me and washed away the earlier trepidation.
‘She thinks she’s just perfect, doesn’t she?’ Scarlet said.
‘I could tell her a few home truths,’ I replied venomously.
‘Oh, really?’
‘I can safely say her and Ian are not what they appear in these photos.’
Scarlet’s face ignited at the idea of proper gossip. ‘Oh?’
‘I don’t want to talk about her.’
Scarlet looked annoyed, but I ignored it. My eyes continued to scroll though the photos as we travelled further back in time with Felicity. Now the photos were more familiar and my face started to appear, smiling, happy. Then I saw Grace’s face in a photo from one of Tabitha’s birthday parties, grinning at the camera with a plastic tiara on her head and cake icing around her mouth. I quickly turned the iPad over so that I couldn’t see any more.
‘You keep alluding to this “thing” that happened. Am I allowed to ask what it was yet?’
Part of me desperately wanted to tell her, but would our friendship metabolise into pity if I did? And what about the niggling doubt still casting its shadow?
I plunged in, my voice small. ‘I had a daughter.’
‘Yes, I know – Grace.’
‘She was in an accident last year.’
There. It was out and the ground hadn’t opened up and swallowed me whole.
Scarlet was quiet for a moment, then leant over and took hold of my hand, breathing out as she did so.
‘What kind of accident?’
‘She was hit by a car. The driver was drunk at the time.’
‘W
ow. I don’t know what to say.’
I shrugged, looked away.
‘I wouldn’t begin to know where to start dealing with something like that. Why didn’t you say anything sooner?’
‘I didn’t want you to look at me differently. People do that. Once they know, all they see is that, like a black pity cloud hanging over me, like it’s contagious or something. I want you to see me as more than my circumstances.’
‘I get that. For what it’s worth, I can’t see the cloud, but I can see a true friend. I’m not going to ask if I can help or tell you I’m sorry – even though I am – because that won’t help. But I can listen if you need to talk.’ She patted my cold fingers.
‘Well, I may need you more than ever in the next few weeks. It’s her birthday soon – the first since the accident.’
I could feel my insides tugging and pulling, as though my head and stomach were in a jousting match.
‘What about the rest of your family?’
‘I don’t have any close by. My parents have retired in Spain and Tom’s family is miles away in Australia. They were all here after the accident, but I couldn’t ask them to put their lives on hold for me.’
‘Well, I’m here, whatever you need, but especially if you need someone to take your mind off it all. You shouldn’t have to feel alone.’
‘One thing I have proved over the last few months is that it is so easy to live like a hermit these days. You don’t need to leave the house anymore.’
‘That’s a bit sad though, isn’t it? And I wouldn’t say healthy.’
‘Sometimes it’s necessary.’
‘You know, if it wasn’t for me, you’d be a right misery all of the time. Speaking of which, you need another night out – so tonight, Mrs Pullman, you’re coming with me. We need to blow off some steam.’ She pulled her best Austin Powers villain face, one little finger to her mouth. ‘Life is too short to be good all the time, isn’t it?’
‘I don’t know. Today has been hard.’ I grimaced.
‘Exactly, so yes, tonight! You have credit in the bank with Tom for last night, so ride the wave and use it. We’ll go out, have a dance and a laugh, take your mind off it for a bit. It’ll be great! You had fun the other night, didn’t you?’
She came around behind me and put her hands over my eyes. I recoiled, not sure what she was doing and immediately ill at ease.
‘Relax.’
I sat ramrod straight, barely breathing.
‘Can you hear the music?’ Her voice was really close to my ear and I could feel her breath tickling my earlobe. I turned my head slightly, but she said in a low tone, ‘Na-ah, keep ’em closed. Just remember the beat and how it felt to let go the other night, the music reverberating through you, the sounds of laughing. It was fun, that’s all. No thinking, no worrying. Now, open your eyes, refill that glass and let’s do it all again.’
That was her answer to everything and I desperately wanted to feel some of her enthusiasm, even for just a moment, so I ignored the prickles of doubt and gave in.
Tom
As Tom put his briefcase down in the hallway and threw his keys on the table, he looked up to see V standing in the kitchen doorway. She was swaying gently on her feet, but he hoped it was because she was wearing ridiculously high heels and not from alcohol. She was dressed in a pair of skin-tight black jeans that he hadn’t seen before and a purple top adorned with sequins that caught the light as she moved. He had to admit she looked amazing. Her hair was piled up, showing her long neck, and subtle make-up gave her a sense of drama. It was so unlike how she would normally dress that he was momentarily dumbstruck.
He recovered himself and said, ‘Going somewhere? You look… amazing.’
‘Yes, Scarlet and I are going out tonight.’
It was on the tip of his tongue to say ‘Again?’
She teetered towards him and grabbed a wrap that was draped over the banister. ‘Don’t wait up – Scarlet wants to make a night of it.’
‘Can I drive you somewhere?’ He was suddenly nervous about letting her go. ‘Where are you meeting her?’
‘At the new Mexican place in town. It’s okay, I’ve booked an Uber.’
‘No, let me drive you. Please.’
‘It’s fine, really. You’ve just got home. Relax.’
‘Wait!’ He couldn’t explain his unease. ‘How much do you really know about this woman? Is she a mum from school? You’re spending so much time with her…’
‘No, she’s not from school – thankfully – and I know all I need to, okay? See you later.’ She seemed rattled by his question and moved to the door quickly, before pausing and turning back. ‘But thanks – for worrying about me.’ She kissed him lightly on the cheek, grabbed her throw and clutch bag, and opened the front door. As she was closing it, he could’ve sworn she said over her shoulder, ‘Be careful not to wake Grace when you go up.’
He stood for a moment, his eyes on the closed door, willing her to come back and say she had decided not to go. He had an ominous sense that his world was shifting underneath him again, but pushed the feelings aside and headed into the empty lounge. The lamps were lit, but there was an air of abandonment, a lack of life. It was spotlessly clean, not an ornament out of place, but it had no soul. Tom walked over to the bay window and pulled the curtains aside to watch V walking down the driveway, her heels clicking faintly on the paving. His mind swirled in a hundred different directions, pulling him from last night to memories of when this room was full of colour and laughter, and back to tonight and her casual, throwaway comment.
He slumped into the armchair next to him and sighed as the silence of the house settled around him.
Shifting his position to undo his tie, he heard a metallic rasping sound coming from the armchair. He reached down the edge of the seat cushion and his hand caught on something shoved down the side. He stood up and lifted the cushion. Stuffed below were four pill packet sleeves, the pills all missing. He looked at the writing on the other side and recognised them as the sleeping pills the doctor had prescribed for V after Grace’s accident. He thought she had stopped taking them; in fact, he had suggested she stop because he was worried about her becoming dependent on them.
He heard a car pull up. Through the gaping curtains he saw V get into it. The door slammed shut, the car pulled off and she was gone. Clutching the pill packets in one hand, he replaced the seat cushion on autopilot.
More movement outside caught the corner of his eye. Felicity was in her front garden, with two lurid orange traffic cones in her hand. The cones were a long dispute that had rumbled on for over a year. Never able to find a space outside her door, Felicity had started placing parking cones in the street whenever she moved her car. V and Tom used to laugh about it, especially as they knew it annoyed many of their neighbours who struggled even more to find parking spaces when the cones were out. Tom and V had off-street parking, which wound Felicity up somewhat in return. Now the humour of the situation was stale as Tom had listened to Felicity moan and rant about it far too much. She could latch onto a topic and suck the life out of it if you showed the tiniest bit of interest. That’s what their pillow talk had eventually turned into: her moaning about middle-class trivialities and him fighting the urge to run screaming for the door. So why had he kept going back there? Because when she wasn’t talking, she was a lot of fun. Because it was a good way of distracting him from his feelings of abandonment, ridiculous as they were at the time.
V mustn’t have seen her when she left (or had chosen to ignore her), but Felicity would’ve seen V no doubt. Tom could just imagine her gossiping going into overdrive on the school run tomorrow as they all speculated about where V had gone, and he had another flash of momentary pride at his wife for getting out there and starting to live again. He was under no illusions about V and Felicity’s relationship these days. There was an underlying current of tension that had probably always lain dormant, but was now fully awake. He didn’t think it had anything to do with the affair
. Rather, it was more likely that V had distanced herself from her old friends as much as she had her husband in a weird form of self-preservation.
He realised he was staring at Felicity, who had now noticed him and was summoning him over. He considered her for a moment, the pill packets still clenched in his fist, then reached over to pull the curtains together and headed into the kitchen, his thoughts in freefall.
V’s iPad was lying face down on the counter and he picked it up while shoving the pill packets into his pocket. Perhaps her search history would shed some light on what was going on with his wife these days. The screen came to life and immediately loaded Felicity’s Facebook page. He scanned her status updates with a sardonic shake of his head, then clicked the back button.
He froze in shock when the page created in his daughter’s name filled the screen. Who had done this? Veronica?
Felicity’s words rang loud in his head as he scrolled through the images and status updates. If V had created it, then Felicity was right and she really did need help. The updates made it sound like nothing had happened. Grace was apparently going to parties, taking part in music festivals and behaving like any 9-year-old girl would.
He turned off the iPad and sat in the silence once again.
*
The glare of the laptop screen illuminates my fingers as I pour over the websites, enjoying every minute of this retail therapy. I have added the credit card number so many times now, I can recite it by heart.
Toying with her has become a guilty pleasure, certainly more enjoyable than I originally anticipated. She is making it easy too, but it is time to turn the screws and ratchet up the pressure a notch.
The call about the piano lessons was a stroke of genius on my part. It will have rattled her, but this will ensure she starts to come apart at the seams. I add a few more items to my online basket and check out one more time, making sure her address is listed in the delivery details and not mine.
Once the payment has cleared, I go into the search history and clear it, including the activity on Facebook now that Grace has her very own page. No one would think to check, but it pays to be careful.
