The Truth About You, Me and Us

by Kate Field

  ‘Damn, they must have run out of them by the time I reached the buffet. Just my luck!’

  Craig laughed, and put his arm round her waist. ‘Have a hot old one instead. Come and dance. Don’t shake your head. When else can I get my hands on so many gorgeous women without Sally complaining?’

  He winked, and Helen let herself be dragged to the dance floor. The DJ was playing classics from the last forty years, and Craig danced with abandon, flinging out his limbs exuberantly and keeping up a largely incoherent conversation. But then, for a heart-stopping moment, she thought she heard the word ‘Daniel’. She lost her rhythm for a second, but Craig was still dancing and smiling as if nothing untoward had happened. She was imagining it, she told herself firmly, and vowed to stick to water for the rest of the night.

  ‘Come on Eileen’ brought a surge for the dance floor and Helen escaped. The party was spread through the downstairs of the hotel, and she’d hardly seen any of it yet. She headed down a corridor until she found herself in a quiet sitting room, where some of the older guests were having tea or a nap. The end wall was covered in a montage of A3 and A4 photographs of Craig on various birthdays, from chubby baby to sullen teenager. Helen pored over the photos as they became progressively more recent, until her gaze was snagged by the picture of Craig’s thirty-fifth birthday party.

  Helen remembered the night well. Sally and Craig were part of the crowd that Daniel had introduced her to when they had moved from London to Lancashire about a year into their relationship: hard-working, respectable people – quite a different crowd from the one that Helen had left behind. The party had been tame by her London standards, but for the first time she hadn’t felt such an outsider in the group. Sally had organised a barbecue, and they had stayed outside eating and drinking by candlelight long after the feeble autumn sun had faded. It had been almost morning before she’d rolled into bed with Daniel, and even then, they hadn’t slept for hours. It was one of the memories that had both tortured and comforted her when Daniel had left a few months later.

  She stared at the Helen in the photograph. Her arms were wrapped around Daniel, her head resting on his chest, her expression adoring. It was a long time since she’d seen herself looking like that. The long blonde hair had gone, cut back to an easier shoulder length in its natural shade of brown. Since Megan’s birth, skirts had covered her knees and not just her knickers. But there was something more than physical that marked the difference between the Helen she had been, and who she was now. The photograph had been taken a lifestyle ago.

  ‘Hey Danny, come and take a look over here, isn’t this you?’

  The voice startled Helen. Lost in the picture of her former self, she hadn’t noticed that other people had wandered over to look at the photos. Heavy footsteps thudded across the room and the movement created a draught that made her shiver.

  ‘Where?’

  One word. Such a simple word, too, nothing significant about it – or not to anyone but Helen. Because it was Daniel’s voice that had spoken it. He was in the room, somewhere behind her – perhaps within touching distance – and she closed her eyes briefly and took a deep breath, as if to inhale his presence.

  ‘Here.’ A long finger and slim arm reached past Helen and pointed towards the very photograph she was still staring at. She edged cautiously to one side, trying not to draw any attention to herself, though she was aching to turn round. ‘It is you; I’d know that gorgeous smile anywhere. But who is that you’re with?’

  ‘Craig and Sally.’ There was a slight hesitation. Helen stopped shuffling, and held her breath. ‘And Helen.’

  ‘Helen?’ The unknown woman laughed. ‘You’ve never mentioned her.’

  The stem of Helen’s glass almost snapped under her fingers. Never mentioned her? That couldn’t be right. He wouldn’t airbrush her from his past like that. But she would never previously have believed that he could stand so close to her and not instantly know her, however much she had changed.

  ‘Nothing to tell. It was a long time ago.’ Daniel’s tone buried the subject. ‘Come on, let’s go to the bar. I need a drink.’

  Footsteps faded behind her. Helen couldn’t help herself. She glanced over her shoulder. It was him, it really was him, her Daniel – though plainly not her Daniel anymore. She could never not know him: the shape of his head, the broad set of his shoulders, that firm bottom… She had to turn away, to stop her eyes devouring him until he was out of sight. She wasn’t prepared for this. Why had no one told her he would be here?

  Avoiding the bar, Helen prowled round the hotel until she found Sally, and dragged her away from her friends.

  ‘Daniel’s here,’ Helen said, stopping in a quiet corner where they wouldn’t be overheard.

  ‘Yes. I hope it’s not too awkward. Of course it had to be plus one, so we couldn’t object to Tasha.’

  ‘Tasha? Who’s Tasha?’

  ‘Daniel’s girlfriend.’ Sally frowned. ‘God, I’ll kill Craig, birthday or not. He didn’t tell you, did he? He promised he’d spoken to you and you were fine about it.’

  ‘But what’s he doing here? In England?’

  ‘Who, Daniel?’ Sally asked. ‘He’s come back. Surely you knew?’

  ‘No, how could I? We’ve not been in touch since he took the job in Hong Kong.’ And then it all began to fall into place, why Sally had been so keen to speak to her earlier on. She had been trying to warn Helen about Tasha, in case she didn’t know that Daniel had a new girlfriend. It had been kindly meant, she supposed. But what if Sally and the others had been doing the same with him? What if they had warned him about Megan?

  Helen gripped Sally’s hand. ‘Please don’t let anyone mention Megan to Daniel. This is really important. Will you make sure everyone knows?’

  ‘We’ve never talked about you to him. You asked us not to.’ Sally extracted her hand from Helen’s. ‘So he still doesn’t know that you have Megan?’

  ‘Why should he? Megan has nothing to do with him.’

  The lie had never felt so heavy on her tongue. Sally looked at Helen sharply, with the accumulated suspicion of many years rampant in every feature. And who could blame her? It was amazing that Helen had got away with her secret for so long. Logically she should never have become involved with their mutual friends again; but she had never been logical where Daniel was concerned. She had run into Anita, another of the gang, when Megan was a few months old – when the absence of sleep, of money and of Daniel were overwhelming her – and the appeal of maintaining a link with him, with their past, had been impossible to resist. It had always been a risk, continuing the acquaintance: the ultimate game of Russian roulette, gambling with exposure not death; and perhaps, deep down, she had hoped she might lose, and that it might bring him back. But now she was confronted with six foot of solid reality, she knew better. She mustn’t lose. Because what would happen if he found out the truth? What if he tried to take Megan from her? He couldn’t find out.

  Helen fled to the ladies, and sank onto a closed seat, her head heavy in her hands. What the hell was she supposed to do? Her first instinct was to rush home, grab Megan and – what? Run? Hide?

  Her second thought was a better one. She would have to face Daniel at some point; now would be as good a time as any. She had the advantage over him: she had gone past the first shock. There were plenty of people about to make a scene unlikely. She had had enough to drink to give her the courage to do it. And – though she wished it wasn’t a consideration – she looked her best. She would be in control of this first meeting; and perhaps by forcing it now, it would lessen the risk that he might ask about her and hear of Megan. It had to be now.

  Acting before she had time to reflect, she refreshed her make-up, combed her hair, and went to the bar. She ordered a large vodka and tonic and turned to survey the room. There he was, by the window, brushing arms with the tall blonde whom Helen had seen with Valerie Blake earlier. Tasha, Sally had called her, whatever sort of name that was. But it wasn’t the name th
at made Helen stare at her – it was the way she looked. It was as if the old Helen had stepped out of the photograph and taken her rightful place at Daniel’s side. And seeing them together, Helen realised that she had deluded herself all these years. She would never be resigned to this. It would take more than the passage of time to make her feelings for Daniel any less than they had ever been.

  Helen transferred her gaze to Daniel, and allowed herself a few moments to absorb those familiar features again. Then she took a generous swig of vodka and nudged her way through the crowded room to the window.

  ‘Hello Daniel.’

  He broke off from what he was saying, and looked at her for the first time in over four years. Initially his face was blank, polite; then he bent forward a little, and studied her. His eyes travelled slowly up and down. She waited, gazing steadily back, amazed by her own stillness.

  ‘Helen?’ It was barely more than a whisper, and caused a tremor in her out of all proportion and expectation. But the sight of Tasha flashing gleaming white teeth, and rubbing her hand up and down his back, was the slap she needed to recover control.

  ‘Danny? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’

  Ignoring Tasha, he stared at Helen.

  ‘You look… different,’ he managed at last. Then he actually shook himself, and straightened up. ‘This is Tasha. Tasha, this is Helen… Is it still Walters?’

  The chip of ice in his voice took Helen by surprise. Goosebumps crept up her arms.

  ‘Yes, of course it is.’

  ‘You haven’t married since we last met?’

  ‘No. Have you?’

  ‘No. A bad experience put me off commitment.’

  There was nothing in his eyes but anger. He couldn’t be faking this. He really did seem to hate her. They stared at each other, his eyes hostile, hers confused, then Tasha laughed and linked her arm in his.

  ‘But I’m trying to put you back on to commitment, aren’t I?’

  ‘If you can’t, no one can.’ Daniel turned his head and kissed Tasha hard on the lips. Helen felt it like a punch. But what had she expected, really? That he would see her again and take her into his arms, the last four years forgotten? She gulped her vodka, knowing that part of her had hoped for exactly that, and had done since the day she had let him go.

  Tasha was either oblivious to the tension, or tactful enough to change the subject. Helen didn’t feel inclined to give her the benefit of the doubt.

  ‘That’s a fantastic bag,’ Tasha said, stretching out and fingering Helen’s crazy patchwork bag, which was dangling from her wrist. Instinctively Helen moved her hand away. ‘I saw some just like it earlier today. Do you know all those fancy stitches are done by hand?’

  ‘I do. And those hands happen to be mine.’

  ‘Wow! I thought your name sounded familiar.’ Helen couldn’t help a flash of satisfaction at Tasha’s evident admiration. ‘Hey Danny, you didn’t tell me you had such clever friends.’

  ‘I was only doing it as a hobby before,’ Helen replied. ‘What do you do?’

  Small talk with Daniel’s girlfriend! She had never imagined that it would be like this if they met again – and in over four years apart, she’d had plenty of time to role-play every possible scenario in her head. But it had honestly never occurred to her that he would simply stand by and shoot her with looks of animosity. And this was before he found out that he had so much more reason to dislike her than he knew.

  ‘I’m a personal fitness trainer,’ Tasha said, running her fingers through her long blonde hair, and tying it up loosely in a scrunchy that had been decorating her wrist. Helen used to do that with her hair. ‘People hire me for one-on-one exercise sessions. It’s a dream job. Getting paid to keep fit!’

  Helen nodded, though she had always been too lazy to keep fit, and living with Daniel had provided her with as much exercise as she could need. No wonder she’d grown almost two dress sizes since he left. And look what had happened to him: he’d found a new Helen, several years younger than the last one, blonder, with white teeth, and not an ounce of flab on her. Was he even conscious of the similarity? Had he picked Tasha because of the resemblance to the Helen he had known, or did he merely have a preference for tall, slim blondes? Helen tucked her hair behind her ear, for the first time regretting what she had done to it.

  ‘Well,’ she said, turning to Daniel with what she hoped would pass for a natural smile. ‘It was good to catch up with you again. I’m glad you’re doing so well.’ Though he hadn’t actually told her anything. The fact that he’d bagged himself a personal fitness trainer was the only achievement she had found out. But she’d had quite enough now. The first meeting was over, and she had survived. Time to quit while she was ahead.

  By midnight, Helen was worn out by the effort of avoiding Daniel, and headed upstairs to her bedroom. She was fumbling with her key, blinking away tears of exhaustion – or so she told herself – when she heard steps behind her. Glancing round she saw Daniel. She could tell at once that he was drunk. He used to be able to hold his alcohol well, but his eyes were unnaturally wide and bright, and there was a slight stagger in his walk. He had always been a funny drunk, but there was nothing funny about him now.

  Helen tried to force her key in the lock, but she wasn’t fast enough.

  ‘Why did you do it, Helen?’

  ‘Do what?’ The words jerked out as a reflex response, but as she turned and saw his face, his anguished expression told her that it was too late to prevaricate. He must have found out about Megan, and her heart reared in apprehension about what might follow. But before she could speak, he carried on.

  ‘Why did you stay here? Why didn’t you join me in Hong Kong? We had it all planned – the new job, the new life out there together – all the arrangements were made. It was what we wanted. You were looking forward to it. Why didn’t you come?’

  Helen’s relief was so overwhelming, she almost missed his next question.

  ‘Was there someone else?’

  ‘No. There was no one else.’ She fiddled with the key in her hand, unable to meet his gaze.

  ‘Don’t lie. You were always a rotten liar. Who was he?’

  ‘No one. I didn’t stay because of another man.’ She could look at him now she was telling the truth, although only half of it.

  ‘Then why?’

  She smiled. Now that the moment had come, it was easier than she had expected, but then this was a scene she had rehearsed well over the years, as she had imagined what might happen if they ever met again. She knew exactly what she had to say, what smokescreens she had to create to protect her secret until he was safely out of the country again. Because she had to protect it: seeing him here in front of her, still in every way the man she loved, convinced her that there was no alternative. She couldn’t bear him to find out what she had done to him and couldn’t bear to consider the consequences if he did.

  ‘I realised it was too big a step. I couldn’t follow you there. It was too much commitment.’

  If anything, his eyes grew wider.

  ‘And it wasn’t a commitment when you moved from London with me? You didn’t hesitate then.’

  ‘Hong Kong hardly compares with Lancashire. From here I could be back in my old life in a couple of hours if I changed my mind.’

  ‘So it was never serious?’ He took a half step back, and leant against the wall. ‘Is that why you weren’t concerned about having a six-month visa? Was it only ever a temporary thing until you decided to go back?’

  His voice sounded strained. She was clearly a better liar than he gave her credit for. He wasn’t really believing this, was he? Could he have forgotten what they had together?

  ‘You shouldn’t have expected anything else.’ Helen ploughed on, determined to finish, however much it pained her. If she destroyed herself, he would surely never make any effort to contact her in future. ‘You knew what I was like. I skimmed from one relationship to another before you. I’m not cut out to make an effort or do long h
aul, in anything. You should have listened to your mother. Didn’t she warn you against the blonde tart?’

  He didn’t deny it. He couldn’t. Helen had overheard Valerie say it. She could see from his face how he was thinking, how he was reassessing all their time together in this new – false – light. It felt like she’d taken a cheesegrater to her heart.

  ‘And what about Alex?’ he threw at her at last. ‘Did you have to dump her too? Was it really necessary to hurt her as well?’

  Helen flinched. He had deviated from the script here. Of course she had never wanted to hurt his sister. Alex had been one of her closest friends, as good as a sister to her too. But what choice had she had? Alex could never have kept Megan a secret from Daniel.

  ‘I wish we could have stayed friends,’ Helen said. ‘But it was impossible.’

  ‘Nothing is impossible. You couldn’t be bothered, could you?’ The weariness with which he said this, as if he expected no better from her, hurt Helen more than any words would have done. ‘Typical selfish Helen, not stopping to think of anyone else’s feelings. Aren’t you even going to ask how she is?’

  ‘I don’t need to. Sally mentioned she’s engaged. I’m happy for her.’

  ‘Even though you don’t believe in commitment?’

  Helen let this pass. There was only so far she could go in defending a lie, and she was already close to the border. She turned her back on him, and put the key in the lock. She had to get away. She had wanted him to think she was shallow and frivolous, so that he wouldn’t look further into why she hadn’t gone with him to Hong Kong. Her job was done. Nothing good could come from prolonging this conversation.

  ‘I came back for you, you know.’

  She stopped.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I flew back. After you emailed to say you weren’t coming. You didn’t reply to my messages and your phone number wasn’t recognised. I couldn’t get away for the first six weeks, then I pleaded a family crisis, took a week off, and came home.’