"Art? Have you seen my handbag?"
He flinched and looked over into the hallway.
"It's over the banister like it always is," he answered.
I followed his gaze.
"Oh, weird. It's usually at the other end."
I was sure I hadn't left it there, it was normally further up with the strap draped over to the right. I'd been taking it off at the same time in the same place for months. As I opened it and looked in, I saw my phone was in the wrong pocket.
"Arthur, have you been in here?"
"Wh-what?" he stammered. "Why would I be in your purse?"
"How am I supposed to know?"
As I delved deeper I saw some other things were misplaced and something else caught my eye. Evangeline's address was folded the wrong way so the writing now faced outward.
"Arthur! I know you were in here!"
His eyes remained fixed on the television. He was watching a true crime show, one of the ones he always regarded with derision,
"Modern day Penny Dreadfuls," he called them. "Nothing more than violent pulp fiction for the brain dead."
Now he was watching enthralled as though his life depended on it.
"Hey!"
I waved a hand in front of his face.
"Are you listening to me?"
Slowly, he swiveled his eyes in his sockets and looked up.
"I haven't been in your bag," he said.
"But the twitch below his left eye told me he was lying.
Beside us, a voice spoke from the television telling the story of a man so obsessed with his wife he bugged her phone and car before killing her.
"Why are you watching this crap?" I asked. "Aren't you usually tuned into PBS?"
He pressed a finger to his lips and turned back to the screen.
"Shhh..."
With the conversation officially over, I grabbed my coat and headed out to the car. He was up to something or rather he knew I was. He'd been through my bag, I knew it and the thought of him stumbling across Evangeline's address made me nauseous. What did he think of it? Had he noted it down? And he was definitely looking through my phone, was he reading my messages?
"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck."
I slammed my hands against the steering wheel before pressing my forehead against it. What a mess. I should never have found Sean, should never have made things painful and complicated again but.... if I hadn't then I would never have discovered where my daughter was, and would never have felt the sweet feeling of being in her father's arms again.
Looking over my shoulder I glanced into the living room and saw Arthur's still shape in the chair with his head facing the television. Then I pulled out the address and double checked the house number.
"My baby lives in Martingale, the lucky girl."
As I pulled out the driveway, I wondered what her parents were like. Were they rich? Famous? Beautiful? At least I knew one thing for sure and that was they were obviously better parents than me and Sean. They were there for her when we couldn't be. So why was I driving out there looking for her? What would I even do when I got there?
This is madness, Paige. Turn back.
I had no right to see her. I'd given that up the moment I legally told the world I didn't want to be her mother. Did she even know she had a real mother? Did she look like me?
No matter how much my brain told me to leave her alone, I found myself hurtling along the highway speeding toward the rich, leafy suburb desperately wanting to see her. All I needed was a glimpse, a fleeting moment to see that I'd made the right decision in giving her up. She'd be almost eight years old now and I remembered being that age as though it was only yesterday. I was free and loving back then, didn't have a single thing to worry about. During my eighth summer, we'd gone on vacation to Florida. I'd spent every day on the beach jumping into the waves and eating so much ice cream that every photograph of me showed me with a smear of chocolate across my face. A few years later Sean came into my life.
I turned off the highway into Martingale and found myself on a long stretch of road lined with oak trees and winding landscaped garden. It was everything I imagined it to be with large colonial style homes spread far apart with garages so big some of them held boats, while others housed the occasional quad bike or spare convertible.
"Four-three-two-five," I mouthed as I looked at the numbers on the houses.
It had to be one of these.
"Four-three-two-one... Four-three-two-three... Four-three-two-five."
I halted, my tires screeching on the tarmac. The house stood proud and tall with pillars at the front door and two lions on either side of the long driveway. At the sidewalk, a looming gold fence separated the house from the outside world.
"Woah..."
It would seem that Evangeline had the best start in life. Yet, although this gave me a warm feeling of comfort, there was a swell of sadness in me, the feeling that I should have given her this myself. As I looked up at the house I looked for a sign that a child resided there but saw nothing. In one of the upstairs windows, the curtains twitched and I caught a glimpse of a small hand. My heart raced as I leaned forward, trying to see a face, but the hand disappeared and the curtain swung back into place. A moment later, the blinds in the bottom right hand window slid up. It looked like strangers were a rare occurrence.
They knew I was watching and were probably wondering who the hell I was. I felt a pang of shame and looked away from the house, scared that they thought I was some sort of stalker, although in reality I knew I was.
Something white in the rearview mirror caught my attention and I turned round in my seat to see better. There was a white BMW pulling into the end of the street. From where I sat, the driver was faceless but I could just about make out a mane of gray hair and a black suit jacket.
"Arthur?"
It couldn't be. He may have looked through my purse but he wasn't that creepy.
"Stop being paranoid," I told myself. "Your nerves are frayed right now, that's all."
I took a deep breath and turned back to the house, the golden gates were gliding open along with the front door.
"Shit."
A tall man emerged in the doorway; suave, suited with oxblood brogues and a head of neat blond hair. He was looking right at me. My palms grew sweaty the closer he approached. His stride was purposeful and fast. It was then that I noticed the blonde bob and the blue dress in the doorway as his wife looked on nervously.
"Hello there."
He politely tapped the window.
"I couldn't help but notice you looking at our house. Can I help you with something?"
Thinking fast, I said the first thing that came into my head.
"I'm so sorry," I said in the softest, most middle class voice I could muster. "I didn't mean to disturb you it's just that I grew up in this house and I was back in town for a few days. Thought I'd swing by and have a look. Really, I'm so sorry. I must look so strange just parked out here."
His expression softened and he smiled.
"Oh you should have said!" he beamed. "You must be part of the illustrious Barker family. It's a pleasure to meet you."
"Yes... I'm,erm, Elizabeth Barker."
He shook my hand firmly and opened the door for me.
What are you doing? This is wrong, so wrong.
"Since you've made the effort of returning to Martingale, would you like to come in and see the house?"
Evangeline will be in there!
"Yes, I'd love to. That would be terrific."
He led me to the front door and called inside.
"Susan! We have a guest from the Barker family!"
She hurried out in her pleated skirt and unmovable hair and shook my hand.
"Oh, wonderful! Your family was so loved in this neighborhood."
I smiled weakly and pulled my hand away.
"How does it feel to be back?" the man asked. "And my God, where are my manners? I'm Sebastian and this is Susan."
"It feels… ve
ry strange."
And I wasn't lying. The house felt more like a museum with the obligatory smell of polished antiques married with the decadent undertones of something musky. Upstairs, a shriek echoed, followed by the galloping of miniature footsteps. I gasped and looked up to the ceiling.
"I'm sorry, the children playing. They're a noisy bunch, aren't they?" Susan laughed.
"It sounds like they love this house," I said.
"Oh they really do," Sebastian replied. "We've spoiled them, haven't we Susan? Given them the whole top floor."
"Wow," was all I could say.
Looking up the stairs, I could only dream of what childhood paradise resided on the top floor. Meanwhile, the footsteps reached the landing and a moment later, a head popped over the banister with blonde hair cascading down toward us. As my heart skipped, I thought for a second that I was looking at myself when I was a child.
"Mommy?" the girl asked.
"Yes, sweety."
"Can you come braid my hair?"
"Of course, Evangeline. I'll be up in a moment."
Evangeline... they kept her name.
She looked so beautiful, so innocent and free. For a second our eyes met and I smiled at her, tears swelling in my eyes. I wiggled my fingers at her and she smiled and waved back. Then she giggled and shrunk back over the banister and ran away, her footsteps rushing down the hall above us.
"She's our cheeky little princess," Susan smiled.
"She's beautiful," I said as I dabbed my eyes.
The couple saw my tears and shared a concerned glance.
"Are you okay?" Susan asked. "I suppose this is bringing up a lot of memories."
"Yeah, erm, sorry... I better go. Thank you so much for showing me your home."
"Are you sure you're okay?"
I dashed out the door before I could answer.
"Thank you," I called over my shoulder as I hurried up the drive. "Thank you so much!"
As I dived into the car, I looked over at the front door and saw them both standing looking confused. They probably thought I was nuts. Maybe I am. But I saw my little girl and she was perfect. The most perfect child anyone could ask for.
You did the right thing, I thought. She has a great life.
Adjusting the rearview mirror to dry my eyes, I caught sight of the white BMW again. The driver was still seated, still watching. I could even be forgiven for thinking he was looking right at me.
I twisted the key in the ignition and pulled out fast, the tires screaming as I sped down the street. Decadent houses flashed by with long lawns in front of luxury cars. When at last I exited the neighborhood and reached the edge of the city, I pulled into a hotel parking lot and reached for my phone. Sean answered on the third ring.
"Paige? This isn't a good time."
"I saw her!"
He paused for a second.
"Evangeline?" he whispered.
"She's gorgeous, Sean. A real princess."
"You went to the house?"
"I had to!"
"And you met her?"
"Not quite," I admitted. "But I saw her..."
On the other end of the line, I heard a scream followed by the sound of something smashing.
"What the hell is going on?" I asked.
The screaming grew louder.
"I'm - I'm moving out," Sean explained. "I'll fill you in when I see you."
He hung up leaving me feeling empty.
Was that all he had to say about it?
Behind me, the BMW pulled into the parking lot, its number plate obscured by the car in front.
Okay, there's no way I'm being paranoid. That car's definitely following me.
Chapter Five
Arthur
The house resembled a small, Spanish church with pristine white walls and a tower. The main door was solid oak and at least twelve feet high with a pillar on each side that gave off the impression it was even bigger.
"Who the hell are these people?"
A moment ago a concerned looking man walked out wearing a three piece suit and a Rolex that glinted in the sun. Who is he, some big shot lawyer? Is this, the man she was having an affair with? Is this the man I could smell on her?
He smiled as he saw Paige and ushered her into the house where she was warmly greeted by his wife.
"What the fuck?"
She smiled and shook her hand, obvious that they were meeting for the first time. They didn't seem to know her so why did she have their address?
I leaned back in my seat and stared off into the distance wondering what had become of my life. I should have been working, should have been securing a big sale today but instead, here I was, stalking my own wife. Closing my eyes, and feeling the rare winter sun on my face, I felt myself begin to drift off. Who knew how long I had to wait out here, may as well relax. But no sooner, had my thoughts began to drift off, I heard Paige's frantic voice from the driveway.
"Thank you so much!" she shouted over her shoulder, her voice shrill and neurotic.
She's leaving pretty soon and, wait, is she crying?
I watched her hurry to her car and speed away. I waited until she reached the end of the street before following her.
What are you doing, Arthur, you lunatic? Following your own wife, really?
She was hurtling down the highway, driving a steady eighty miles an hour in the inside lane. Wherever she was going she was in a hurry to get there. When the Bellgrove Hotel loomed up on the right and she swerved into the parking lot, I knew this must be where she was really heading. The house in Martingale was something else entirely. So it was in here that the mysterious Mr. S was waiting for her. I expected her to touch up her makeup before heading inside where she'd strip down to her stockings and heels and give him a lap dance as they waited on room service bringing up champagne. At least that's what I imagined affairs to look like from all the movies I'd seen. They were sordid and creepy, dirty and cheap.
Parking in the furthest away corner, I wriggled down in my seat to remain out of sight, but she seemed to be looking in the rearview mirror, her pale face and platinum hair facing me. I slinked further down my seat and eventually, she turned away and pulled out her phone.
I thought back to the show I was watching earlier. Paige was right, I did usually watch PBS but I had some learning to do.
Dialing Gerald's number, I listened to the ring tone for what felt like an eternity. When I was on the cusp of hanging up, he answered.
"Arthur? Where the hell are you? You missed the meeting this morning."
"Listen, I watched the show you told me to."
"Oh... yeah?"
He sounded worried.
"Yeah, and I went over to the shop on Degman Boulevard for the supplies but the guy was a jerk, wanted to know why I needed all the stuff."
I could hear him tapping his fingers nervously along the edge of his desk.
"I..erm... I can't believe you're really doing this, Arthur."
"What? It was your idea."
"I was joking!" he said enraged. "You're really going to bug your wife's car and phone?"
I took a deep breath.
"Yeah. I'm really gonna do it."
The tapping grew louder.
"You're not going to kill her, though, are you?"
"What? No! That's crazy," I protested. "I just wanna know what son of a bitch she's fucking."
He went silent for a moment. There was the sound of him shuffling papers around and the slurp of him drinking his coffee.
"Okay, just don’t... don't kill her, alright?"
"Gerald, you nutcase. I'm not killing anyone."
I hung up laughing as I shook my head. Some people are too paranoid.
For a long while, I watched her. After thrusting her phone back in her bag she rested her head against the steering wheel. It looked as though she was crying but from this distance I couldn't be certain. I waited to see Mr. S, glancing at the entrance to the hotel every few minutes hoping to see him. What is she doing here
? I thought. Why is she taking so long?
Flipping open the glove box, I pulled out my notebook where I scrawled the Martingale address and S's phone number. Part of me wanted to phone up and demand to know who he was, the other part of me wanted to wait and play the long game.
The rain started to fall again, the heavy mist descending on the parking lot, but I could see the lights on Paige's car glow through the fog as she reversed out. Leaving already? She tore out onto the street before I could start the engine, her tail lights disappearing into the traffic.
I looked back down to the number. What the hell was she doing? So she wasn't going to Martingale to meet her lover and she wasn't meeting him here either. Chewing on my pen, I came to the realization that things were more complicated than I first anticipated.
"Mr.S..."
My heart was thumping. I tried to swallow down my anxiety but failed.
"Mr.S... What if you're not even a mister after all?"
My head was swimming. There were too many thoughts floating around, too many scenarios drifting through my mind. All of them involving Paige being ravaged, fucked to within an inch of her life, satisfied by someone else. The thoughts confused me. I found myself growing hard at the thought of her coming to someone's touch. I also felt like crying.
"Jesus Christ, Arthur. Get a grip of yourself."
Reaching into the door, I pulled out my hip flask and took a mouthful of scotch. It burned away the pain for a moment and I could finally breathe. Then a thought dawned on me. Her therapist. All this began when she started seeing him! Or was she seeing him because of all of this? But what could I do? Phone around every psychiatrist's office until I found someone who's name began with S?
"Think... Arthur. She must have told you something..."
It dawned on me that she hadn't told me a thing. With no other option, I called her office.
"Hello, Price and Ballard Finance, Sandra speaking, how may I help you?"
"Sandra, it's Arthur."
"Oh, hello Mr. Manning. How are you today?"
"Oh yeah, terrific, actually, I'm planning a little surprise for Paige. She's been feeling a little under the weather recently and I wanted to cheer her up."
"Aaw, that's so sweet of you Mr. Manning but she's not-"
Best Friends To Lovers Romance Series: Complete Series Boxed Set Romance Page 8
