by Debby Holt
‘I don’t understand,’ Freya said. ‘I don’t understand the photos on the mantelpiece.’
‘Your father promised to keep me informed of your progress. For a long time, I kept the pictures in a folder and then, a short time ago, I bought frames for them.’ She took off her gloves and took a seat opposite Freya. ‘I don’t expect – or deserve – anything from you. I do want you to know that not a day has gone by in the last forty-six years when I haven’t thought of you. I have a friend – Stephen’s sister – I visit in Bath. Every time I stay with her, I’m aware you live nearby. I’m an avid reader of your blog on your website. It’s very good.’
‘Thank you.’ Freya had wolfed the omelette in seconds and now she put her knife and fork together.
Eliza fixed her eyes on those of Freya. ‘May I ask you something? On your website you call yourself Freya Eliza Cameron. Why did you do that?’
‘I suppose…’ Freya hesitated. ‘I wanted to remember I once had a mother.’
Eliza tried to speak and failed. She took out a tissue and blew her nose. Freya watched her try to recover her composure. She reached out for her mother’s hand. ‘Eliza?’ She smiled. ‘It’s very nice to meet you.’
At midday, the next morning, Freya sat on the train to Darrowbridge, gazing out of the window and thinking about Eliza Sample. Eliza was elegant and sophisticated. She’d abandoned her seven-year-old daughter to live a glamorous life with a man she loved. Yet when she told Freya she’d never once stopped thinking about her, Freya believed her.
Freya could still remember the strong conviction that had sustained her throughout her own pregnancy: the belief that motherhood would be her crowning achievement. And when the twins were born, she was exalted, giddy with the knowledge that these tiny girls were why she was here.
They were supposed to be boys. Sylvie, a self-styled foetal diviner, had assured her they were boys. Their names were already chosen. They were going to be Peter, after Freya’s father, and Philip, after Felix’s, though as Freya told Felix, she had never cared for the name of Philip and liked the idea of shortening it to Pip. Pip and Peter. They would grow up to be gorgeous young men with the twinkling eyes of their father and the intellectual brilliance of their paternal grandfather.
She had never forgotten the moment when the doctor – who seemed to delight in telling Freya not to push – finally told her to push now this minute. Freya, duly obliging despite the fact she felt she was giving birth to an elephant, released into the world the first of her babies and asked faintly, ‘Is Peter all right?’
She barely had time to register Felix’s odd response, ‘I’m not sure about Peter, but the baby is beautiful,’ before the officious doctor told her to push for England and, four minutes later, Pip followed Peter into the world.
Only they weren’t Peter and Pip. Sylvie had made a big mistake and Freya didn’t mind at all. She sat cradling her baby daughters while Felix talked to the midwife. She gazed down at their little heads and imagined talking to them about life and love.
They had been such sweet little girls. Anna had been far sturdier and more confident, organising endless games in which Tess, always so pliant, was happy to join. And then, about the time they left Wimbledon, adolescence kicked in and Freya felt quite at sea with them. Tess took to spending long periods in her room, while Anna spent most of her free time with her terrifyingly confident new friend, Olivia. Sometimes Anna would return from meals with Olivia’s family and talk admiringly of the heated discussions that took place round their kitchen table, ignoring the fact that it was difficult to have heated discussions with daughters who were so very unforthcoming.
It went without saying that she was proud of them. Freya was the first to admit that it had taken her a long time to work out what she wanted to do with her life, apart from being a wife and mother, of course. She had already tired of modelling by the time she met Felix and, despite her protestations, found it remarkably easy to leave the clothes shop in Wimbledon. She was delighted that the girls were so focused on their chosen careers. It was possible that they were quite contented with their lives. She didn’t know because she never had those sorts of conversations with them.
But she should have done. She should have tried harder. It was the same with Felix. All these months, she’d known something was wrong and she’d just paddled along, waiting for things to get better. It was too late for her and Felix. It wouldn’t be, it mustn’t be, for her and her daughters.
Felix spent the afternoon cleaning the house. Freya rang at three. Her voice on the phone sounded cold and clear. She was running late, she said. She intended to go straight to Ivy’s home before checking in with Pam. She thought she would be with him a little after six.
The last time he’d seen Freya, he told her he wanted a divorce before scurrying off like a frightened rabbit. He had no idea what he would say to her.
The doorbell rang at six twenty-five and there she was in her jeans and long black jumper.
‘Freya,’ he said, ‘come into the sitting room.’
‘This isn’t a social call. The kitchen will be fine.’
And then her face changed as Serge, huffing and puffing, pushed his way through Felix’s legs to get to her. She knelt down to greet him. ‘Hello there, little Serge! How are you? Let’s go into the kitchen, shall we?’
Serge was happy to go wherever Freya wanted. In the kitchen, he stood up on his hind legs, waiting to be lifted onto her lap. She said gently, ‘Not now,’ and brought her chair right up to the table, clasping her hands together, her face cold and pale.
‘Would you like a glass of wine?’ Felix asked
‘I’d prefer water.’
‘Well, I shall have wine.’ He attended to their drinks, hating the silence, unable to speak. He joined her at the table and cleared his throat. ‘Freya,’ he said, ‘before we get down to business, I wanted to say, I am fully aware… I have behaved…’
‘I stayed with my mother last night,’ she said.
‘Your mother?’
‘Yes. She got in touch with me at last. She’s rather good fun. I always thought she didn’t love me but she did. You’d like her. She said something that made me think. She said she and Dad had never been good at talking to each other. It seems that you and I are the same. So I’m talking to you now, Felix, and I want you to listen very carefully and then talk back to me. Do you understand?’
Felix nodded. ‘Yes.’
‘I saw Anna yesterday. She thinks – and she thinks you think – that fourteen years ago I had an affair with Xander Bullen. Is that true?’
He was shocked to his core. He took a swig of his wine and then nodded.
‘So all this time – all this time – you believed I was unfaithful and you kept it to yourself. You know, I look back at our married life and I wonder if there was anything real about it at all. All these years you’ve thought these things about me and you never felt I deserved to hear them? You believe Xander and I had an affair. Why? Where’s your evidence? Tell me. Tell me now.’
Felix’s mouth was dry as dust. He took his glass to his lips again, had a sip and put it down again. ‘It was after we put the house on the market. I went out to the garden to tell Xander we no longer needed him. I think he must have thought… Well, I don’t know what he thought but he told me he was in love with you. He said he’d told you and you’d been kind to him.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me this at the time?’
‘I rather hoped that you’d tell me.’
‘I thought you’d be cross with him. He needed the work and…’ She frowned. ‘You said you believed him. So what’s this about? He had a crush on me. I told him not to be silly. He got over it. So why…?’
‘He told me it only happened once.’
‘It did. He never brought the subject up again.’
‘Freya,’ Felix said, ‘I heard you.’
‘I don’t understand. What did you hear?’
‘You remember that night I came home with a
black eye? I’d been home before that. I came back at six. Xander’s red hat was lying on the hall table. I stood in the hall and I heard the two of you making love in our bedroom.’
Freya sat and stared at him. ‘I don’t believe… Felix, this is rubbish!’
‘I know what I heard. It was unmistakable.’
‘I don’t know what you heard but it wasn’t me. I wasn’t there. At six o’clock, I was at the shop. They’d thrown a surprise farewell party for me. What with all the excitement over your mugging I forgot to tell you. Do you understand, Felix? I wasn’t there.’ She pushed her hands through her hair and he noticed for the first time how tired she looked. ‘I’d like that wine now.’
‘Right,’ he said. ‘Right.’ He rose and went to the fridge. He heard Freya’s voice, sharp and worried, behind him.
‘The question is: who exactly was upstairs?’
Felix gave Freya her wine and sat down beside her. ‘What time did you get back from your party at the shop?’
‘About seven, I suppose.’
‘And were the girls there?’
‘I think Tess was out, or she might have been in her room, I can’t remember. Anna was in the kitchen making a sandwich. She said she didn’t want dinner. She wouldn’t talk to me. I don’t know why…’
Felix swallowed hard. ‘There must have been something she said to you. Did she look upset? What did she say?’
‘I’ve told you, she wouldn’t say anything to me. I do remember her eyes were very red. I wanted to tell her about my party but she took off with her sandwich and I…’ She put a hand to her mouth and rubbed her index finger along her lower lip. ‘You should have seen her last night. She was so angry with me. She actually brought up Xander. She accused me of sleeping with him and… Why would she do that? Unless…’ She pushed her chair back. ‘I can’t believe it. She was a child. It doesn’t make sense.’ She stood up and pushed her hair back from her face.
Felix felt a little sick. ‘The alternative,’ he said, ‘is that Xander brought a girl to our house, took her upstairs, made love in our bedroom, while Anna made tea in the kitchen.’ He reached across for his tablet and opened the cover.
‘Felix?’ Freya came back to the table. ‘What are you doing?’
‘I’m going to try to talk to Anna,’ Felix said.
He pressed the Skype button. His eyes remained fixed on the screen as a photo of Anna’s face came up along with the word ‘connecting’. Freya moved her chair away from Felix.
And now at last Anna herself appeared, sitting on her sofa, smiling and waving. ‘Hi, Dad. I’ve got Tess here with me. She’s in the shower. She’ll be out soon.’
‘Anna,’ Felix said. ‘I want to ask you something. I won’t be angry or shocked but I need you to tell me the truth.’
‘Are you all right, Dad? You sound very serious.’ She leant forward, concerned, and then her face changed. ‘Is Mum with you?’
Freya moved closer to Felix. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I’m here.’
‘Mum, if this is…’
‘Do you remember the evening I got mugged?’ Felix asked. ‘That afternoon, when you finished at school, what did you do?’
They both watched her eyes veer away from the screen. Guilt was written all over her face. Felix couldn’t bear it. She folded her arms and asked warily, ‘Why?’
‘Anna, Xander Bullen told me he had an affair with your mother. One reason why I believed him was because on that particular evening I came home at six and heard two people making love in our bedroom.’
There was a strange expression on Anna’s face: half relief and half straightforward bewilderment. ‘Dad, I went back with Patrick after school. His mother gave me a lift back. I got home a few minutes before Mum. I don’t know what you’re talking about. If you did hear a noise upstairs, it wasn’t anything to do with me.’
Felix could see Tess in the background, draped in a towel with her hair hanging wet around her shoulders. He wondered how long she’d been there. She came forward now and sat down beside her sister.
‘It wasn’t Anna,’ she said. ‘And it wasn’t Mum. It was me.’
Freya stifled a cry and Felix gripped the edge of the table with his hands. He forced himself to sound calm and measured. ‘Tess… just tell us what happened.’
‘I’ve been meaning to tell you… I just didn’t know how to… I hadn’t realised you thought… Xander came over to say goodbye. I was on my own in the house. He said he loved me. I was so happy he loved me. He took me upstairs and we kissed on the landing. He wanted me to show him I loved him. He took me into your room and he kissed me again and then he sort of lost control and I got scared and tried to get him to stop but he didn’t seem to hear me and we made love and it hurt and I hated it.’ She stared out at them with great haunted eyes.
Felix felt physically sick. He had been in the house when his daughter was being raped in his bedroom. He could have raced up the stairs and saved her. Instead, he had assumed his wife was making love and he’d been too much of a coward to confront her. He could have pulled the bastard off Tess but he had walked away and got drunk. He could scarcely take in the full extent of his culpability. He felt a hand on his arm and moved aside to let Freya speak.
‘Tess,’ she said, ‘of course you hated it. That wasn’t making love. That was rape.’
They saw Anna’s face crumple and then Tess cried out, ‘I’m so sorry. This is all my fault. I never thought… I never meant… I’m so sorry… I’ve ruined everything!’
‘Darling Tess.’ Freya’s voice was soft and urgent. ‘Darling sweetheart, this is not your fault, this is not your fault at all. You were thirteen, you were a child. That man was twenty-nine! He was sixteen years older than you. If I had him here now, I would kill him for what he did to you. Nothing matters but you. You are not to blame yourself. I forbid you to blame yourself! Do you understand? I forbid you!’
Tess was half-smiling, half-crying, but she nodded and then she nodded again.
‘That’s my good Tess. Now I tell you what I want you to do. Go and get dressed and dry your hair before you catch pneumonia. Go now. I want to have a few words with your sister but I’ll talk to you tomorrow evening. Do you know that we love you? Do you know we love you very much?’
‘Yes. I know. I love you too. And I’m so sorry, Mum, I’m…’
‘I know you are. I’m sorry too. Now go and get some clothes on and dry your hair. Go now!’
They watched her turn and disappear from the screen. They waited a few moments and then Anna whispered, ‘She’s gone.’
‘Good.’ Freya’s voice was brisk now. ‘Listen carefully. I want Xander Bullen’s address. You told me yesterday that Olivia’s friend was going to visit him. I need his address and I need you to find it out this evening and text me the details. I don’t mind how late it is but I want the address tonight. Will you do that?’
‘Yes, all right. Mum, those things I said…’
‘There’s no time for that now. Get me that information and look after your sister.’ Freya reached for the tablet and switched off the connection.
Felix slammed the table with his hand. ‘Oh God,’ he said. ‘That fucking bastard!’
‘She was thirteen,’ Freya whispered. ‘She was thirteen and I never realised.’
‘You were brilliant with her. You did everything right. I couldn’t speak. I wanted to but I couldn’t.’
He walked over to the wall and kicked it.
‘That won’t help,’ Freya said.
‘It helps me. I should have seen what sort of man he was. Tess was always hanging around him. She idolised him. I remember thinking he was very kind to her. You see what he did? I went out to tell him I had something serious to say and he…’
‘He used me as his smokescreen. I was just as bad. When he professed his love for me, it seemed very sweet and rather flattering. I remember telling him he should look for younger women.’ She took a tissue from her bag and blew her nose. ‘It makes my flesh creep to t
hink about it.’
‘Do you realise I was there? I stood there in the hall, listening to those sounds, hating myself and hating you and all the time I could have stopped it. I could have stopped it.’
‘We’re both to blame. I should have told you what Xander said to me. You should have told me what Xander said to you. If we’d had a halfway healthy marriage, none of this would have happened. I enjoyed his attention. I should have seen that he was only fully engaged when he was with Tess.’
Felix kicked the wall again.
‘Felix!’
‘I’m sorry. I don’t care if he lives in the Outer Hebrides. I’ll drive off tomorrow and find him.’
‘We’ll both find him.’
‘I’ll kill him.’
‘That wouldn’t help Tess. Feel free to beat him up. I’ll beat him up too.’ Freya bent down to pick up her bag and stood up. ‘I need some fresh air. I’ll walk down to Pam’s. I told her I wouldn’t be long.’
Felix put a hand to his forehead. ‘I’ll come with you.’
‘No. I need to be on my own. I need to think. I’ll ring you as soon as I hear from Anna.’
Felix thrust his hands through his hair. ‘I could have saved her…’
‘We can talk about that later. Don’t dwell on it now. We’ll sort out Xander tomorrow and then we’ll sort out Tess.’
He nodded and followed her through to the front door. There were huge questions to ask and huge decisions to make but they would wait. As he opened the door, he said, ‘Freya, I’m sorry I doubted you.’
She stared at him without expression. ‘You should be,’ she said. ‘I take responsibility for lots of things, but it was you who killed our marriage. Goodnight, Felix.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
They were lucky and, realising this, set out with an odd sense of exhilaration. Xander Bullen did not live in the Outer Hebrides, he lived in Hampshire, an easy journey along the motorway and down the A34. Freya had brought her case with her. Felix would drop her off in Andover later and she would go back to London and see Tess. For now, all that mattered was the meeting with Xander.
