by Lynda Renham
‘It’s only me Mrs Larson.’
I look over the bannister to see Jack.
‘You found the key okay?’
‘Yes, should I have knocked?’
‘No, that’s fine. I’ll be working on the bedroom today so you just carry on. I’ve cleared the kitchen for you.’
At some point she will come in. At some point I will guide her to the bedroom. Soon she will realise what it feels like to have your life stolen from you and that’s a moment I will treasure.
*
Maria looks back at me through the mirror.
‘It’s a lot to take off,’ she says.
Her own hair is immaculately styled and she tucks her streaked locks behind her ears.
‘That’s what I’d like,’ I say, stepping into the overall.
Trudi, the junior, sprinkles water over my head and begins massaging in shampoo.
‘Are you at home for Christmas?’ she asks, rubbing in coconut conditioner.
I give a small nod. I’m not in the mood for small talk and close my eyes as the warm water runs down my neck. I’m led back to Maria where a cup of strong coffee awaits. Maria snips and I watch my hair fall on to my shoulders. The loud buzz of the hairdryer drowns out the radio in the background. I flex my neck and ignore the thumping of my head. Fifteen minutes later and I’m all done. I glance at my reflection and smile.
‘What do you think?’ Maria asks.
I much preferred it the way it was but it will soon grow out.
‘It’s terrific,’ I say.
I leave the hairdressers and catch a taxi to Harley Street. I stand outside Dr Grant’s clinic and look at the brass plaque outside. I’m too nervous to go in, so I jump on a bus to Oxford Street. I occasionally catch my reflection in a shop window. It’s like looking at a stranger. The thick-rimmed glasses make me look so plain. Maybe I should get more appealing frames. I think better of it and catch another bus back to Harley Street where this time I go into the clinic and make an appointment with the receptionist and then make my way back home.
*
It happens sooner than I imagined. I’m thrilled to see Ben again but I’m not prepared for her and I’m afraid the surprise shows on my face.
‘Oh hi,’ I say.
She stares at me.
‘Your hair looks different,’ she says.
She has caught me off guard. I didn’t expect to see her again today.
‘Do you like it? I thought your style was so tidy. Mine was such a wreck.’
‘Hello Sweet Pea.’ I can’t resist him and lean down to touch his cheek.
‘I liked your hair as it was,’ she says.
‘Ditto, do you want to come in for a coffee?’ I laugh.
‘I went to Ikea with Helen. Both Ben and I are knackered.’
‘God, you’re brave. I never go to Ikea,’ I lie.
She looks behind me. She can smell the paint.
‘I’ve been painting the kitchen. I know we looked at that great wallpaper but … Anyway come and have a look and tell me what you think.’
She takes Ben out of the stroller and follows me to the kitchen. She’s surprised to see the painter. Her eyes widen when she sees the colour.
‘Sorry, did you think I was doing it? I’m giving out the orders. This is Jack. If you ever need a painter I can recommend him, he’s the best. Are you sure you don’t want a coffee? I’m just about to make one.’
‘I’m fine, really. You’ve gone for the same colour as …’
‘Yes, your kitchen is so lovely, I had to copy you,’ I say casually.
Ben reaches his arms out to me. I can barely hide my elation.
‘Is it okay?’ I ask.
Before she can answer I’ve taken him into my arms where he belongs.
‘Hello darling.’
She can’t find her keys in that awful muddled handbag of hers. I could offer my set but of course I don’t.
‘Everything okay?’ I ask, while not caring if it was or wasn’t.
‘This damn handbag, I can never find anything in it. I can’t find my keys now.’
She walks straight into my traps. She’s forever making things easy for me.
‘I’m sure they’re there. But you know if you ever do get shut out you can always come in here. There’s a spare key under an old paint tin in the garden. That’s how Jack gets in if I’m not around.’
I’m not sure if she’s heard me as she makes no comment. She asks to use the loo. I try to remember if I’d left the bedroom door ajar. I do hope so. She goes upstairs and I take Ben into the lounge. I don’t want Jack to see me with him. I can’t help wondering why Clare has come. Was she going to ask for the vase? I hear her footsteps on the stairs and I step into the hall with Ben. Her face is ashen. She’s trying to hide it but she’s clearly shaken. Her hand grips the bannister. I know she has seen the bedroom. I try to hide my smugness but I’m sure it shows.
Chapter Thirty-Five
‘I preferred your hair the way it was,’ Tom says, pulling off his shirt.
‘It was unmanageable.’
He shrugs.
‘In fact, I preferred how you had it a few years back and …’
‘Tom,’ I say sharply.
‘Okay, I’m just saying,’ he finishes lamely.
I pull a brush through my hair and say cheerily,
‘I’m enjoying having Ben.’
He stops fiddling with his tie and looks at me.
‘You’re not finding it a strain? I don’t mind you doing it but if it becomes too much …’
I sigh.
‘No I’m not finding it too much at all. In fact …’
His phone bleeps and he looks down at it.
‘Oh Christ, I’d better phone James.’
‘It’s Saturday,’ I groan. ‘We’re expected at Clare’s in ten minutes.’
‘It won’t take long. It’ll take you another fifteen minutes to do your make-up and whatnot.’
He wraps his arms around me and buries his head in my breasts.
‘I wish we didn’t have to go,’ he mumbles. ‘I’d much rather stay here with you.’
‘She’s gone to a lot of trouble,’ I say stroking his head. ‘I really should get my dress on.’
‘Okay. I’ll see you downstairs. Wear your contacts tonight. You look far better with them.’
‘I don’t want sore eyes,’ I lie.
He nods absently, his mind is on the call he’s about to make.
*
‘Thanks for inviting us,’ says Tom, handing Clare the bunch of flowers I had bought from the garage. She has the photos I took of Ben on display and a pain shoots through my heart. I turn away and smile at Clare’s friend, Helen.
‘Hello,’ I say. ‘I think we met in Marks.’
‘Good memory,’ says Helen. ‘I’ve been admiring your photos of Ben.’
I’m forced to look back at the photos. I keep a smile pasted on my face.
‘If you’ll excuse me,’ says Clare.
She looks harassed and anxious. A few seconds later I hear her footsteps on the stairs. I wonder if she’s yet noticed how fast her diazepam is going down. She’s made a big effort with the food. I’m not so sure the Melba toasts were a good idea but Helen seems to like them.
‘Clare made them. I think it’s the first time she has,’ Chris says, offering a tray around.
‘We were just complimenting you on the toasts,’ says Tom when she returns.
‘I had a bit of time to spare,’ she says looking embarrassed.
‘I hear you’re going to be looking after Ben when Clare’s at school,’ says Helen.
Helen doesn’t like me, I can tell. She’s more suspicious of me than Clare.
‘I’m looking forward to it,’ I reply.
‘So, you don’t work full-time as a photographer then?’ asks Helen.
Right from the beginning I had a feeling Helen might be a problem. She’s no fool. I sip from my glass.
‘I work from home,’ I say. ‘Ben is no tro
uble.’
‘It’s very good of you. I said to Clare, not many women would have another woman’s child free of charge.’
‘What are friends for but to help?’ I smile.
I must keep calm. To lose it now would spoil everything. I keep the smile pasted on my face and feel my jaw ache from the effort.
‘As long as you don’t take on too much,’ Tom says, kissing me.
God, does he have to make me sound like a bloody fragile doll. I brush him off gently. Helen raises her eyebrows but says nothing. I can see I’m going to have to work on her.
*
Just when I was beginning to think the evening was a total waste of time Helen starts banging on about the flowers and how Clare should put them in some water. She winks at Clare and I know that Clare has mentioned the vase to her. I purposefully give Clare a questioning look which does the trick and she seems unnerved.
‘Let me help,’ I say, adding to her agitation.
‘It’s okay, you relax.’
There’s a murmur from the baby monitor and Clare rushes upstairs. Helen follows her and I smile to myself.
‘Thanks for a lovely evening,’ I say to Chris.
‘Thanks for coming. It’s the least we could do to thank you for everything.’
He hasn’t noticed my hair is in the same style as his wife’s. I wonder if he notices much at all. Tom had commented on the similarity. I know he doesn’t like it. I want to tell him it won’t be forever. Soon everything will be the same, exactly the same. If he was more open I could tell him, but I know he will drag me back to those stupid doctors and we’ll be back where we started. I can’t have that. Not now, not now I’m so close.
Clare marches back into the room and we all turn to look at her.
‘I’ll put the flowers in water, can you get a vase Chris?’ she says and pointedly nods towards me. I feel a tingle of anticipation run down my spine.
Chris turns to me and says,
‘Ah, Sharni, now you and Tom have the house a bit straight would it be okay to have our vase back, or do you still need it?’
Helen has followed Clare into the room and is watching us all expectantly.
‘I gave Clare the vase,’ I say triumphantly.
I look Clare straight in the eyes. She turns away. She feels uncomfortable.
‘Oh, well there you go then,’ says Helen. ‘Why don’t you put the flowers in that?’
‘I don’t think you did Sharni,’ Clare says. ‘I’d have remembered. It’s a special vase.’
‘Well, someone’s got it wrong,’ says Helen.
Tom taps me on the arm but I’m not stopping now. I’m going to enjoy making a fool of her.
‘I came round with it Clare, don’t you remember? I was a bit late bringing it back. I apologised for that. You were having trouble with your washing machine.’
She struggles to remember. Her face shows recognition but of course she doesn’t recall having the vase. I decide to kick her while she’s down.
‘The postman knocked but you didn’t hear him,’ I smile at Chris.
‘I remember you brought a package,’ she says reluctantly.
‘I gave you the vase and you put it under the sink.’
‘Well, let’s get it then,’ says Helen as she marches to the kitchen. I could have kissed her. We all watch as Clare argues with Chris.
‘I wouldn’t have put it in the cupboard under the sink,’ she hisses.
‘Perhaps you were in a rush,’ he says.
‘You don’t believe me?’
I want to ask her how it feels. How it feels not to be believed. Helen rummages in the cupboard while Clare stands over her sipping a glass of wine. She’s nervous, edgy even. She’s starting to wonder if she did forget.
‘I wouldn’t bother Helen, it isn’t …’ she begins as Helen pulls out the vase.
‘Is this it?’ she asks, her cheeks red.
‘But …’ Clare begins.
Helen retreats to the garden for a smoke. I keep silent. I’m enjoying Clare’s discomfort. Tom joins Helen and I continue to look at Clare. She seems to shiver under my stare and turns to look at Helen and Tom from the kitchen window.
‘I didn’t know Tom smoked,’ she says finally.
‘I think I’ll join the smokers. I could do with some air,’ says Chris.
God forbid he should have to face a confrontation.
I sip my wine and say, ‘Tom and I had a bit of an upset some years back. We almost broke up in fact. We found different ways to cope. Tom took up smoking and I gave myself the luxury of a breakdown.’
I’m not sure why I’m telling her this. The last thing I want is to make things easier for her, but I want to stay the vulnerable one. I need her to like me for a bit longer.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she says.
I shrug.
‘It’s past.’
I look at the vase, that hideous awful vase.
‘I’m sorry about the vase. I don’t know why you don’t remember.’
‘I get anxious,’ she says. ‘I … I lost a child and ever since …’
Tears fill her eyes. My heart hardens but I manage to say, ‘I’m sorry Clare, when did that happen?’
She doesn’t answer but instead kicks me in the stomach by saying, ‘Anyway, I have Ben now.’
‘Yes, you do,’ I say and this time I’m unable to hide my feelings. I make an effort to put it right by draping a comforting arm around her shoulders but it’s so forced I feel sure she can tell. Thankfully the others are at the door.
‘They’re coming back, why don’t you go upstairs and freshen up. I’ll make coffee,’ I say removing my arm.
‘Everything okay?’ Tom whispers.
‘Yes, but I think Clare is tired. We should go after coffee.’
‘Sure,’ he smiles.
*
I pick up The Lovely Bones and then put it down again. Tom taps on his Apple Mac.
‘How did you find tonight?’ I ask.
‘Yeah, okay. Chris is alright. She’s a bit intense for me. I don’t know why you like her.’
I slide down under the covers. I twiddle my toes and say, ‘Are you happy with the kitchen?’
‘Sure.’
‘Do you think she’s a good mother?’
‘Who?’
‘Clare,’ I snap.
He groans.
‘I don’t know Sharni.’
I fight back a sigh. I really thought I could talk to him. Maybe tell him how I’ve been feeling. Open everything up with him but I can see that I’m not going to be able to do that.
‘I wish you’d stop smoking,’ I say.
‘I’ll try again,’ he says, but I know he isn’t really listening to me.
‘I’m going to sleep,’ I say, turning over.
‘I’ll only be ten minutes,’ he says, kissing me on the cheek.
Twenty minutes later I can still hear the tapping of his keyboard. I think of my time with Ben next week and drift into sleep.
Chapter Thirty-Six
I look up at the office building. I’d been here before, many times. I’d stood outside looking up at the windows knowing that he worked here. I’d watched him leave the building often, sometimes he was alone and sometimes he was with work colleagues. I probably hate him more than I hate her. How can he stand by and watch it happen? What’s wrong with him? She’s an evil woman and an even more evil mother. I’m almost glad she lost her baby to a cot death. She thinks I don’t know about that. There’s nothing I don’t know about Clare Ryan. I probably know her better than she knows herself. I can’t let the same thing happen to Ben. I can’t and I won’t.
I confidently stroll into the foyer and make my way to the reception desk. The receptionist smiles warmly at me.
‘I’d like to see Chris Ryan,’ I say.
She clicks her mouse and studies the computer screen.
‘Ah, I don’t have an appointment though,’ I say with an apologetic shrug.
‘Oh,’ she says, li
fting her eyes.
‘I’m his neighbour, Sharni. I just wanted to ask him a quick question.’
She seems to size me up and then says, ‘Yes, he’s free. He’s having lunch. He has a meeting in ten minutes though. Go in.’
I open the door and am hit by a scrunched up ball of paper.
‘Oh,’ I say. ‘Was that a reject?’
He’s surprised to see me. He’s wondering how I know where he works. I’d covered myself by checking with Tom first.
‘I hope it’s okay for me to call in. The girl at reception said it was your lunch break,’ I say coyly.
‘How did you know where I worked?’ he asked.
‘Tom mentioned it.’
‘Oh right.’
He’s handsome if you like that kind of man, the boyish helpless looking type. He’s the kind of man Clare would go for. His brown hair is cut in the newest style. It makes him look innocent. His heavy-lidded eyes look curiously at me. He’s weak. He doesn’t think things through. Everything is superficial for him. I show him a copy of Vogue that features the Chanel shoot. He’s impressed as I knew he would be. Success appeals to him.
‘Clare will be pleased to see a copy,’ he says.
‘She said it was your anniversary in a few weeks. Seven years together,’ I lie.
He won’t question it and if he does she’ll say she thought he’d told me, and then she’ll doubt herself, find herself wondering if she told me after all.
‘Yeah, a whole seven years,’ he smiles. ‘I would have got less for murder.’
‘You know what they say about seven years,’ I say with a wink and nudge his arm. I then mention the photographs. I’m confident and bold. I make it all sound perfectly innocent and he believes me.
‘That sounds great, thanks Sharni.’
‘Give me a text tomorrow when I’ve got my diary in front of me and we’ll fix a time,’ I say handing him my card. I could fix a date now but I want him to have my contact number in his phone.
It was that easy. Helen was going to be a bit harder. I’ll work on her next. Most importantly though, I need to change Ben’s doctor’s appointment as there is no way she is going to take him for his vaccinations. God knows, she’ll most likely mess that up too just like she messes everything else up.
My time with Ben is one of the happiest of my life and they are for him too. I’ve finally got him off that stupid blanket and he now loves his cuddly rabbit. I knew he would. He’s getting decent food inside him instead of that ghastly processed rubbish and now he has a mummy who loves him with every part of her being, just as a mummy should. All I have to do now is get rid of this imposter, who calls herself mummy, and everyone can be happy again. I know it will take time and I’m prepared for that. I’m scared to attend my appointment with Dr Grant. Every time I think about it my stomach churns and I feel I’m going to throw up. What if I’m wrong? What if I have everything wrong? No, it isn’t possible. The camera never lies. I’m not wrong.
