Before I Let You In

by Jenny Blackhurst

  ‘Post-natal depression?’ asked Karen. He shrugged.

  ‘I don’t know. She doesn’t seem depressed, but there are all these little things going on. That thing with the car, for Christ’s sake. We managed to convince social services it was a huge misunderstanding, but now I’m starting to worry I did the wrong thing. She looks like she’s taken something.’

  When they entered the living room, Eleanor was sitting on the sofa in her dressing gown, her knees pulled up to her chest and a towel wrapped around her head.

  ‘I told him not to call you,’ she said, without looking at either of them.

  ‘He didn’t, our Spidey senses were tingling,’ Bea quipped. Eleanor didn’t even raise a smile.

  ‘I suppose he’s been telling you I’m going mad. He might be right.’

  ‘Don’t be silly, Eleanor, you’re not mad. You’re tired, under a lot of pressure. Why don’t you tell us what’s gone on? Adam was very cloak-and-dagger about the whole thing.’ Karen sat on the other end of the sofa, Bea on the floor next to Eleanor. They looked at each other while Eleanor sat in silence, unmoving. After a few minutes she reached up and unwrapped the towel from her head, pulling it on to her lap.

  Bea let out a tiny squeak from inside her throat. Eleanor’s hair, usually shiny blonde and beautiful (although admittedly less shiny and beautiful lately), was missing big clumps where it looked as though she’d taken a razor to her scalp. What was left was still wet and clung to her head in rat’s tails.

  ‘What did you do, Els?’ Bea asked quietly after a few moments’ shocked silence.

  ‘It was an accident.’ She reached up to touch the straggly strands that still hung down limply, but her hand didn’t make it all the way up. ‘There was hair removal cream on the windowsill next to the leave-in conditioner. Adam thinks I did it on purpose. He doesn’t think anyone could be that stupid.’

  ‘Oh God, sweetheart, how long did you leave it on for?’

  ‘I fell asleep,’ she said simply by way of an answer.

  ‘Right.’ Bea stood up. ‘This is bound to be fixable. You’ve plenty of hair left to do something with while the rest grows back. Adam, fetch me the hairdryer, I’ll see what I can do.’

  Eleanor sat motionless while Bea busied herself plugging in the hairdryer, getting out a comb and shine spray and generally faffing around trying not to show her panic.

  ‘Excuse me a second.’ Karen slipped out of the living room door and up the stairs to the bathroom, which was still in disarray. The tube of hair removal cream sat on the windowsill next to the conditioner. Aside from the fact that they were both in tubes, they couldn’t have looked more different. The hair removal cream proclaimed Veet in large pink letters. Karen squeezed the bottom and thick white cream oozed out on to the palm of her hand. She washed it off, then placed the tube back on the windowsill and picked up the conditioner. Beads of water ran down its surface and the tube was squeezed in. There was no way Eleanor had used the other one by mistake; Adam was right, she was neither that stupid nor that distracted, and the conditioner had clearly been used whereas the hair removal cream was still dry.

  Karen squeezed out a little of what was left of the conditioner. The cream that seeped out of the nib was thinner, but there was a similar sharp, acrid smell. Without thinking too much about why she was doing it, she replaced the cap and crammed the conditioner into her pocket.

  ‘What do you think?’ Bea asked brightly the minute Karen re-entered the room. ‘You can’t even tell now, can you?’

  She’d done a good job, Karen had to give her that. Eleanor’s hair was dry now, and styled in a side parting to cover the left side where most of the damage had been done – that must have been where she’d been sleeping on it. You could barely tell there was anything wrong, as long as she kept her head perfectly still, and there was no wind.

  ‘It looks great,’ she enthused, trying desperately to keep her voice from cracking – the last thing she wanted to do was to show Eleanor how bad it really was. Anyone who had seen Eleanor before Noah had come along would know how much pride she took in her hair; that it would be the final nail in the coffin after the diminishing control she had over her household lately.

  ‘Then why does your face look like you’re staring at the Bride of Frankenstein?’ Tears welled in Eleanor’s eyes. ‘I know you’re lying.’

  And Karen was lying. When she told Eleanor it would all be okay. When she told her she could trust her. It was all lies – but she was used to them by now.

  53

  Bea

  She’d left Eleanor fast asleep on the sofa, Adam barely taking his eyes off his exhausted wife. He’d been paper white since they’d arrived and Bea had had to assure him a hundred times that it wasn’t his fault and that it was a simple mistake. Not that she really believed that; it was a crazy mistake to make and she had no idea how tired or rushed off your feet you’d have to be to make it. And yet even as she reassured Adam, all she could think about was Karen and Michael, Michael and his wife. Clearly she’d not been able to talk about it with Eleanor – Karen had been there the whole time and Eleanor could barely string two words together – but she had to speak to someone about it. The whole thing was driving her crazy.

  Her laptop was open and asleep; she pulled it over to where she had been sitting and with a tap brought the screen to life, then typed Michael Lenton into Google. Thousands of results, none of which looked promising. She clicked on to images; none of them matched Karen’s Michael. She scrolled further down, watching pictures of grey-haired men and seventeen-year-old boys appear, until at last she saw it. A photo of Karen’s Michael, looking very suave in a grey suit, white shirt and cream waistcoat. He was a fair few years younger, but it was definitely him. And on his arm was a very beautiful young woman in a wedding gown. It was the photo she’d already received.

  She clicked on the photograph and it filled the screen. At the bottom was the caption ‘Michael and Emily Lenton find their dream cars for their dream wedding’ and a box that said ‘Visit website’. The website, advertising cars, was no longer available.

  Bea opened another tab and typed in Emily Lenton. The familiar ‘Find Emily Lenton on Facebook’ appeared – there were plenty to choose from, but none matching the picture of the woman standing next to Michael. Bea clicked on a few until she hit upon one with the profile picture of two children, twin girls around thirteen years old. Most of her photos were private, but when Bea came to an old profile picture from Christmas Day 2013, she knew that Fran had been right.

  54

  Karen

  Karen woke naturally – no alarm, which meant it was the weekend. The sunlight was warm on her face and bright in her eyes; what time was it? And why were her curtains open? When she tried to lift her head off the pillow, it felt like someone had poured wet concrete inside it in the night, and as she moved her neck from side to side and bent her arms, she discovered that almost every muscle ached.

  What had happened last night? It wasn’t like it was a total blank – having a glass of wine, going into town, meeting the guy … Oh Jesus, the guy.

  She turned slowly to the right, hoping to hell she wasn’t going to see what she thought was waiting there for her. A tumble of dark hair lay against the pillow, falling over half a tanned face. He was naked – well, his top half at least, and she wasn’t about to check the bottom in case he woke up and caught her peeking.

  Something must have gone seriously wrong last night. There was no way she would ever bring anyone back here, to the bed she and Michael shared. And how could she feel this rough? She’d barely drunk anything – just a few glasses of wine. So how was it that everything was so hazy? She could see snippets of the evening like a trailer for a movie – meeting this guy (as usual she hadn’t asked his name, which made things more difficult now) and inviting him back with her – but the point at which she’d decided to take him to her house instead of the room she’d booked in advance was missing from the slideshow.

  She
groped on the bedside table for her phone as quietly as possible. She didn’t want him waking up until she’d decided what to do with him. And put on some clothes.

  The phone slipped through her fingers and on to the floor with a thud. She winced and checked over her shoulder; he was still asleep. Swiping her finger across the screen, she grimaced at the time: 9.04. What if Michael came back early? She didn’t think he’d be too impressed having to manoeuvre around Mr Floppy Hair to put his suits back in the wardrobe.

  She rolled out of bed and slipped into her dressing gown, pulling it tight around herself to cover her nakedness.

  ‘Hey, psst.’ She shook the man’s shoulder and his eyes fluttered open. He smiled when he saw her standing over him.

  ‘Morning,’ he murmured. ‘Ready for round two?’

  ‘No,’ she snapped. ‘Sorry, no, you have to leave. Please.’

  He looked confused and still half asleep. ‘Is there a problem?’

  ‘Oh come on.’ She walked round the room grabbing at the clothes he’d tossed casually aside the night before. ‘Don’t tell me you didn’t notice the men’s shoes in the hallway? The Armani watch on top of the jewellery box? The photographs?’

  He smiled guiltily. ‘Okay, I did notice those things. And now I’m guessing that Mr Scary Control Woman is coming home and that’s why you’re so desperate to get rid of me. I’m also guessing you won’t be calling me.’

  ‘You’re smart, I’ll give you that.’ She passed him his clothes and turned around. ‘I’ll call you a taxi.’

  ‘What, not even any time for coffee?’

  ‘There’s a Starbucks ten minutes down the road. Should I call your taxi for there?’

  ‘No, don’t worry about it. I’ll get myself home. But just for the record?’

  She turned to look at him. He was dressed now, and looking at him properly, she could see why she’d chosen him. And she had no doubt that she had chosen him. Despite how fuzzy her memories of last night were she didn’t feel as though she’d done anything she hadn’t wanted to do. And she certainly hadn’t been taken advantage of. She’d have to figure out why she’d screwed up so badly, taking him back to her house instead of the hotel, but she knew he wasn’t to blame.

  ‘Yes?’ she said impatiently.

  ‘I don’t know what kind of set-up you’ve got here,’ he waved a hand around the room, ‘but whatever you’re mad at your old man for, it’s really not right to go around using people to get back at him.’

  She just stood there, mouth half open, not knowing what to say. When she found her tongue, all she managed was ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘Your shit is your own problem, not mine. But if the situation was reversed? If I’d approached you in that bar last night, had a few drinks and a laugh, invited you back to mine and screwed your brains out then woken you up in the morning and kicked you out on your arse before my wife came home? I’d be an arsehole.’ He swung his coat over his shoulder and stuck his arm in.

  Oh God, he was right. She rubbed a hand over her face, letting everything he’d said sink in. How many of the others felt that way? Used and discarded when they woke to find her gone in the night? She’d assumed they were all there for the same thing as she was, but all along she’d been the one in control; she’d been the user.

  ‘I’d like you to go now.’

  She left the room before he could see the tears spring to her eyes, and shut herself in the bathroom. She heard the bedroom door open, then the front door open and slam behind him and footsteps crunch up the path, followed by the creak of the gate. He was gone. She knew she had to set about erasing every trace of him and sort herself out before Michael came home, but all she could seem to do was sit on the cold bathroom floor and cry.

  55

  Karen

  Jessica and Karen sat facing one another across the low coffee table in the centre of Karen’s office. Karen had not left the room this morning, not to get coffee or go to the toilet – when Jessica turned up, she had been ready and waiting. Molly had shown her in in the usual way and Jessica had seemed somewhat subdued. Instead of asking her how she was feeling, if anything of significance had happened since their last session or if there was anything she wanted to talk about, Karen had decided that enough was enough.

  ‘What do you want from me?’ she asked as soon as her patient was comfortable. Jessica looked at her with those blank, unreadable eyes without so much as a flinch.

  ‘I want you to help me with my headaches. That’s why I came here.’

  Karen shook her head. ‘No, I think we both know that’s not true. So I’m going to lay my cards on the table, although I realise I’m risking giving you exactly what you want by doing so. I’m going to ask you again. What do you want from me?’

  Jessica sat back, appraising her in silence. Eventually she replied.

  ‘I’m not sure I really know. I can’t say it was planned, me coming to you like this, but here we are.’

  Karen was momentarily wrong-footed, although she didn’t let it show. She had been expecting more of a denial; perhaps Jessica was as weary of this game as she was. She felt exhausted and her day wasn’t about to get any easier. Bea had texted her before work imploring her to meet both her friends for lunch. They needed to talk, she’d said. Karen had no idea what had happened now, but lately every day brought a new drama, and she had a bad feeling about this latest one.

  ‘Are you having an affair with my best friend’s husband?’

  Jessica let out a sharp laugh. ‘Is that the Adam you mentioned before? No, I haven’t been near your friends.’

  Karen didn’t believe her for a second. Maybe Jessica thought that if she admitted it, Karen would have all the evidence she needed to go to the police about the things she had done. No matter; she had all but admitted that she had lied about the tension headaches. This had to be the end of things.

  ‘You know I can tell Eleanor about you? All I have to say is that you pose a threat to her family. I have every right to warn her about you.’

  Jessica smiled but said nothing.

  ‘Although I suppose that’s what you want, isn’t it? For me to tell Eleanor all about what’s happened in these sessions. You probably thought I’d do it before now; I realise that’s why you came to me. You thought I’d tell Eleanor and break up her marriage for you. That way you get Adam to yourself and you don’t risk him being furious at you. You can’t be blamed; you thought our sessions were confidential.’

  ‘Looks like you’ve got this all figured out. So what now, Doc? Are you going to call the police on me? Is that what you planned to do all along?’

  Karen stood, her physical and mental advantage over Jessica giving her a sense of control that she’d never once felt in their sessions together.

  ‘I’ll admit that I haven’t had a clue what to do about you. You’re young and in love; I can understand how that feels.’

  ‘Don’t patronise me.’ A snarl crossed the girl’s face. ‘You have no idea how I feel.’

  ‘Maybe I do, more than you know actually. But that’s still no excuse for the way you’ve behaved. You’re lucky so far that no one’s been hurt. If you stop this now, maybe no one will be.’

  Jessica stood, grabbed her handbag and moved to the arm of the sofa as though she intended to leave. Karen felt a surge of triumph, followed by the slightest sense of unease. She hadn’t expected it to be this easy – she had elevated Jessica Hamilton to movie villain status and it was slightly anticlimactic to settle this with a few stern words.

  ‘I know what you’re doing,’ Jessica said. ‘I’ve seen the things you’re capable of.’

  Karen thought back to the letter. I know what you’re doing. I know what you’ve done. She’d known then it was from Jessica, and it felt good to have her suspicions validated. At least she wasn’t going crazy.

  ‘I don’t know what you think you know about me …’

  Jessica leaned forward, closing the gap between them. Karen saw that the redness in her cheeks th
at had been present in their first session – which she had attributed to the stinging cold – was back, only now she recognised it for what it really was: anger.

  ‘I’ve seen you, Karen Browning. I’ve seen your heart and I’ve seen the person you really are. You act like you’re morally unimpeachable and you think no one will ever see the real you, but you’re wrong. You are wrong and you will not get away with it for much longer.’

  Karen’s chest felt as though it had been filled with lead as Jessica stormed from the room. She should feel good; she should feel vindicated, but she just felt like this was in no way over.

  56

  Karen

  The pair of them sat opposite her in the café, watching, waiting for her reaction to the news Bea had just delivered. They knew Michael was married.

  She felt numb. She was certain of how she was supposed to react, shouting, screaming, crying, but she couldn’t give them what they wanted.

  ‘But you already knew that.’ It was a statement, not a question from Bea as she searched Karen’s face for signs of surprise, confusion or bewilderment. Karen was too exhausted to conjure them up. Biting on the loose skin inside her lip, she cast her eyes to the floor.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Bea. Karen would never do that with a married man.’ Eleanor moved towards her, putting a hand on her arm, and Karen felt herself begin to well up. ‘Are you okay? What are you going to do?’

  She didn’t know what to say. Eleanor was obviously so desperate for her to be upset, to prove to her she’d been taken in by this awful cheat that she didn’t want to tell her the truth: that Bea was right. Karen had known exactly what she was getting into when she became involved with Michael. She knew about his children and his wife, his other life and the home he owned. They weren’t separated and Emily knew nothing about her. She thought he worked away in the week when in reality he did a job he could do from anywhere – remote working, they called it – and he could easily have been at home with her and the kids. But he wasn’t. He was with Karen.