The Friend

by Dorothy Koomson

  I’d had to avert my eyes to stop myself from staring, remembering his naked body against mine. Frankie kicked his legs up in the air, while trying to stuff both hands into his mouth at the same time.

  ‘What have you been thinking?’ I asked Ed.

  ‘We should get married.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘We’re his parents—’

  ‘Actually, legally, I’m not any more. I’ve technically kidnapped him.’

  ‘We’re his parents. Let’s get married. We could move somewhere, anywhere, live together. I don’t want to live without him, you’ve proved you don’t want to live without him. Let’s get married and bring him up together.’

  ‘I think that’s the perfect plan,’ I said. ‘Except you’re already married, we’re not in love, you only just broke up with your wife and I have kidnapped a child. Oh, and it’s a stupid plan.’

  ‘I’m not married.’

  ‘But you and Bronwyn …’

  ‘We never got married. Yes, she called me her husband, I called her my wife, and for all intents and purposes we were a married couple, but not legally. It’s a bit of paper that we just never got around to signing.’

  ‘OK, that’s not a stumbling block. But the rest of it is. You just broke up with her. We are nowhere near a relationship. I’ve committed a heinous crime. I stand by what I said – it’s a stupid plan.’

  ‘We do have a relationship – we’re his parents.’

  ‘But we’re not in love with each other.’

  ‘Look, let me be honest here, Max. I … I want to be with my son. I’ve always enjoyed your company, sex with you wasn’t exactly terrible, but we don’t have to have sex if you’d rather not. If you look at it overall, though, I think we could have a good life together, the three of us. We could move somewhere like Cornwall? Or Brighton – I’ve always fancied living near the sea. There’s coast up here, of course, but I reckon down south, away from here and all of this would be good for us. I think it could work. I really do.’

  ‘So it’d be a marriage of convenience?’ I said. When I said it out loud, when I named it for what it was, it sounded cold. Clinical. When I named all the other things I had done they sounded cold as well. I sounded cold.

  ‘If you want to call it that. I suppose it could be. But so many people who are married don’t even have that after a few years.’

  ‘I think you’re on the rebound from Bronwyn and you’re scared that I won’t let you see your son. I will, you know. You can see him any time you like.’ Apparently, at some point, I had decided I was keeping Frankie. I was talking about him, making future plans for us. That future could also involve Ed in a very real way, if I were stupid enough to do what he was asking. It’d be stupid because of how I felt about him. I couldn’t go into it cold, view it as an arrangement that meant we would both get what we want – to see our son – and be happy with that. I would want more from him. I had feelings for him. I had more than ‘feelings’ for him: I was in love with him. I could not be detached and business-like with him. The most stupid, damaging thing in the world I could do would be to marry him. Which obviously meant stupid me was probably going to do it.

  ‘I’m not on the rebound.’

  ‘Well, I think you are. But you could always prove to me that you’re not.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Let’s try it for a year. We could move, like you said, live together – separate rooms – so we get to see Frankie every day and then, if you’re sure you’re over Bronwyn, and you still want to get married after a year, we do it then.’

  ‘I’m not on the rebound,’ he repeated. ‘But fine. If it means I get to see him, then fine.’

  ‘What about Bronwyn?’

  ‘What about her?’

  ‘I stole her baby. She’s going to track me down and probably try to kill me to get him back.’

  He shook his head. ‘She won’t. She won’t come after you. That’s the whole point. Why we had to split up. She won’t do anything that will jeopardise her public image. Her plan was to wait until he was one, then to throw a huge party, tell everyone she’d used donor eggs and welcome him to her world. If we went to the police, or came to get him back from you and you went public, it would destroy her reputation – rich white woman pays poor brown woman to have a baby. No, she couldn’t stand the idea of that being found out. That’s why we had to split – I wanted to do anything to find him; she had her limits.’

  ‘You’re just saying that to make me feel better about what I did. She may not be a nice person, but she doesn’t deserve to have her baby taken away.’

  ‘Sadly, I’m not being kind to you. That’s why I know I’m not on the rebound. She actually smashed my phone when I started calling the police and said she would do everything she could to destroy you and your parents if I did. Anything to stop me letting the world know what we’d done.’

  ‘How can you want to marry me – even if it is a convenience thing – when you were calling the police on me?’

  ‘Because, Maxie, if I had been in your position, I would have done exactly the same thing.’

  10:45 p.m. ‘We didn’t wait a year to get married. We moved to Brighton and got married on Frankie’s first birthday. It was stupid, of course. Because I still loved Ed. In almost every way, we have a good relationship, we get on really well on so many levels, but he doesn’t love me. And, of course, I did this thing. I did this terrible thing and it’s always there.’

  Cece releases her hold on me and, with a shaking hand, picks up her wine and gulps it down. I want to know what she’s thinking, what she’s going to do. I chance a look at her and she is staring at me.

  ‘I don’t know what to say,’ she eventually confesses. ‘That doesn’t happen very often, believe me. But I … Ah, look, come here.’ She gets up from her side of the table and comes to mine, gathers me up in her arms and holds me close. I cling to her and she holds me closer, kisses the top of my head and holds me.

  She won’t be doing this when I tell her about Yvonne.

  ‘Don’t tell me about Yvonne,’ she says. ‘Not tonight. I don’t think I can handle any more. Look, let’s go back. The kids should be asleep; we could both probably use an early-ish night. All right?’

  All right, I replied in my head. ‘All right.’

  THURSDAY

  Maxie

  11:20 p.m. Frankie was overjoyed that he got a midweek sleepover at Oscar and Ore’s, that Harmony stood over him while he did his homework, and that he got to have something other than porridge for breakfast. His little face beamed with being a boy who was winning at life. He couldn’t contain himself, shouting out his good fortune to Mrs Carpenter, who was standing on the gate this morning as always. ‘That’s lovely, Frankie,’ she said and smiled at me. ‘Good morning, Mrs Smith.’

  I mumbled a good morning, and Mrs Carpenter turned her grin up when she looked at Cece who was beside me. Immediately Cece whipped her gaze away.

  ‘Good morning, Mrs Solarin. Have you thought any more about what I asked?’ Mrs Carpenter called. Everyone around us looked at her, wondering what was going on. I noticed Teri openly earwigging – she kept switching her gaze between Mrs Carpenter and Cece, suspicious about what that was about, wondering if she should know about it.

  ‘Erm, still thinking, Mrs Carpenter,’ Cece replied, obviously mortified. ‘Still thinking.’ Teri kept her gaze fixed on Cece, her eyes narrowed slightly. Teri really was trying to take Yvonne’s place by acting like she had whenever Mrs Carpenter showed any interest in anyone outside of Yvonne.

  I raised an eyebrow at Cece and she whispered as we walked away, ‘Mrs Carpenter wants me to join the Parents’ Council. I’m the right sort, apparently.’

  We got to the end of the road and stood there awkwardly. We hadn’t talked any more about it when we’d got back to her house last night. She’d made me a cup of tea and then showed me the spare room where Frankie was sleeping and said goodnight. I’d slept through, for the first time in months. T
hey do say the truth shall set you free; who knew it would also put you to sleep? Cece, on the other hand, looked like she hadn’t slept at all.

  ‘I’m going to go back to bed,’ she said. ‘I didn’t sleep much. Shall we talk in a couple of days?’

  ‘Yeah, yeah.’ I didn’t know what I wanted her to say – maybe to say it was all right, what I did? That it wasn’t that bad?

  ‘We’ll talk again soon, OK?’

  She gave me a hug and then left.

  I’ve been in my office this evening and left Ed to get Frankie ready for bed. Frankie has talked non-stop about last night’s adventure, and where Ed would have been cautious and unsure before, he grinned at his son, genuinely happy for him. Once I hear Ed going to bed, because I’m in the office, I go in.

  He sits on the edge of the bed, taking off his socks. He pauses when I come in, gives me a smile and then starts to move to leave. Neither of us has brought up what happened in the kitchen the other night. I doubt he’s forgotten it, because I haven’t.

  ‘We can’t do this any more, Ed,’ I tell him.

  He stops midway getting off the bed and sits heavily back where he was. I cross the room and climb onto the other end of the bed. He waits for me to finish what I was about to say. When I don’t speak because I’m scared suddenly of making such a big pronouncement, his whole body sags and he looks up to the ceiling. ‘Do what?’ he asks.

  ‘This. Us. How we are. Together and apart. We just can’t do this any more.’

  His body sags a little more and he lets out a sigh, which sounds like a small sob. ‘OK. If you want a divorce, I’ll accept that.’ Another sigh. ‘I’ll accept that.’

  ‘You want a divorce?’ I ask him.

  ‘No!’ He twists at the waist so he can look at me. My husband is weather-beaten, life-beaten. His skin shows his many travels, his heartaches, his many joys. ‘You’re the one who said it was over.’

  ‘I didn’t,’ I reply. ‘I didn’t say that at all. I was trying to say that we can’t carry on with this marriage as it is. We have to talk about what I did. We have to accept that maybe getting married to me wasn’t the best idea for you, and work out the best way forwards. We can’t keep going in this state that we are in.’

  ‘Why do you say it wasn’t the best thing for me? What about you?’

  I sigh. I’ve told Cece one of my biggest secrets – why shouldn’t I tell my husband my other? ‘Because I love you. I married you because I love you. It’s painful in all sorts of ways that you don’t love me, but there it is. I don’t want to get divorced, I know there’s no way to make you love me or forgive me for what I did, how I wrecked your life, but there it is.’

  Ed lies back on the bed and he allows his arms to flop out on either side of him as he stares at the ceiling. Through the gap of his unbuttoned white shirt, I watch his muscular chest rise and fall. When he is away staying in hotels, he runs for miles, he works out in gyms, he works on his body so he can remove the pain from his mind.

  He closes his eyes, takes a few breaths in, lets them out. His face almost melts; he’s about to cry. ‘You married me because you love me,’ he says. He’s scoffing at me. I shouldn’t have told him – it is ludicrous if you think about it. How could he love me when I changed the course of his life? He would be bringing up Frankie with Bronwyn; he would be living in his cottage in the countryside; he’d still have his original circle of friends. With me he has sex when he can bring himself to, and someone to talk to about everything apart from his past.

  ‘How can you love me when I took advantage of you? I let Bronwyn use you. I used you. I changed the course of your life and I’ve made you live with me and stopped your chance of a proper relationship, hell, a proper marriage with someone else. I see how men look at you – that teacher at that stupid party. I saw him watching you most of the night … He’s not the only one … How can you possibly love me?’

  ‘When you put it like that …’ I say to him and he tips his head back against the bed to look at me, frowning, trying to work out if I’m messing about with him or not. ‘You must have known how I felt about you, Ed? Surely. I wasn’t too subtle about it. Why do you think I was so willing to have sex with you all those years ago? Like Bronwyn said, we could have used a turkey baster.’

  ‘She didn’t want me to use a turkey baster,’ he says. ‘She wanted me to have sex with you as punishment for falling in love with you. Did you never realise that? You had to be punished for not doing what the other young women who worked for her did by “seducing” her, and I had to be punished for having feelings for you. If I did as I’d been ordered to, if I got you pregnant, then I’d never have anything to do with you again because of the agreement. And she’d always have that over me.’

  ‘Was she really that calculating?’ I ask him.

  ‘Yes. Yes, she was. She’s like Yvonne. Bronwyn was an amazing woman, I loved being with her, but she has this side to her. I was weak. And I have hated myself every single day for being a part of what we did to you. I hate myself more than I hate her because I shouldn’t have indulged myself in making love to you those two weeks.’

  ‘Did you fall out of love with me because I stole Frankie?’

  Ed frowns, then rolls over onto his front, before he sits back on his knees. ‘Why do you think I’ve fallen out of love with you?’

  ‘Erm … our marriage? The way I can barely get you to be in the same room as me if Frankie’s not there? The way I have to practically beg you to have sex with me? The way you’ve never kissed me? Take your pick.’

  ‘I’ve never fallen out of love with you,’ he says. ‘I just keep remembering what I did to you. I relive it over and over. Every time I touch you, I tell myself it has to be the last time because I don’t deserve to have pleasure with you. I don’t deserve to have anything good because of what I did. I hate myself for everything I did to you. I thought you must hate me for it, too.’

  ‘Never. I’ve never hated you. Why would I? You did some questionable stuff but look at me. I am queen of questionable stuff. I’ve never had a stupid idea I haven’t followed through to its stupid conclusion. Except for Frankie. Except for you.’

  I go towards him, place my hand on his face. I love the feel of his skin under my hand; I stroke my thumb across the crest of his cheekbone. I stare into his eyes, and find myself lost in the labyrinth of emotions they hold, just like I used to be all those years ago. When we were younger and stupid enough not to be honest with each other.

  ‘I’ve loved you since the day I met you,’ he says. ‘In that nursery in London. I remember seeing you and thinking, wow. I do that all the time: I look at you and I think, “wow”.’

  I kiss him. Without hesitation, he kisses me back.

  Part 13

  MONDAY

  Cece

  6:45 a.m.

  Can you come over for coffee after drop-off this morning? About 9? I really need to talk to you. Thanks. Cece x

  9 a.m. Maxie arrives first. She looks refreshed, relaxed, happy. Not what I was expecting after her confession the other day. Especially not with the other part of her story untold. Or maybe I should expect nothing less, since she is at last unburdened and it is now my problem. I cannot work out how I feel about it. What to think about it. Instead, I replay those other words she uttered: ‘Yes, I did try to kill Yvonne.’

  ‘Come in, come in,’ I say. I greet her with a hug, give her my cheek to kiss and gratefully relieve her of the packet of chocolate digestives she’s brought with her. Do the right thing, Sol told me.

  9:03 a.m. Hazel is next. She is chaos, her coat open, her bag only half on her shoulder, her hair wild. She has also brought her knitting bag, as well as the heavy grey bags that seem to have moved in under her eyes. She seems wary of me, and I wonder if it’s because she has started looking herself up and has discovered things she’d rather not know. ‘What’s up?’ she asks as she wanders down my corridor into the kitchen. When she sees Maxie sitting at the table, she whips round to look a
t me. ‘What’s going on?’ she asks. The doorbell sounds so I raise a ‘hold that thought’ finger at her and dash back to the front door.

  9:05 a.m. Anaya arrives. She is calm and serene. She is in her gym gear and she seems to have had a lot of her worries lifted. She has sent me one text since we spoke and it said: ‘All locked out.’ I assumed it meant her mother-in-law no longer had a key to her house. ‘We’re in the kitchen,’ I say to her.

  ‘We?’ she replies and looks down the corridor as though the monster that lives under her bed has crawled here and is waiting patiently to devour her.

  I take her hand and pull her along until she is in the kitchen. Maxie is standing by the back door, her arms folded defensively across her chest, Hazel is half sitting on a chair, ready to make a run for it, and I drag Anaya into the main area.

  ‘What’s all this about?’ Maxie asks, clearly wounded that I haven’t just sent the text to her, but to the others, too.

  ‘For one reason or another,’ I begin, ‘I know a lot of stuff about all of you. And those things all relate in some way to Yvonne Whidmore and what happened to her. I want … no, I need you to tell me what happened that night at the beach hut.’

  ‘Why should we?’ Hazel says. Hazel, the strongest link. The one who will not break first.

  Maxie adds, ‘Yeah, why should we? What’s it to you?’

  Anaya, the weakest link, moves to the table, sits down and pulls out a chair in silence.

  ‘When I met you, it was all still fresh what happened to Yvonne, but you were all still friends. From what you’ve all said, you were really good friends and Yvonne tried to control that? Look what’s happened. She isn’t even around and she’s not only managed to control your friendships, she’s ended them. She’s basically won without trying. Do any of you want that? Truly? I think you need to talk about what happened that night and then work out what you’re going to do next.’