Just My Luck

by Adele Parks

  “We’ll ask if we decide we want it.”

  “What length of lease is on it?”

  “Monthly.”

  I consider this. I’m surprised; a monthly lease offers us the most flexibility. And freedom. It’s the careful, considered thing to do. My husband has been the complete antithesis to careful and considered since we won the lottery. Well, since before then, really. “Why, Jake?” He shrugs. “Isn’t a six-month rental more usual? Wouldn’t it have been better value?”

  “That’s the point, though, isn’t it, Lexi? We are not usual. We don’t have to worry about what is better value.” He runs his hands through his hair.

  “Everyone worries about money. Even the Queen turns her lights out at night at Buck Palace.” I’m trying to make a joke because I fear this isn’t one. There’s something lurking in the murky depths of our relationship. Something that will bite or sting.

  Jake shrugs. “I think that HRH’s decision is more environment related.”

  “No, I don’t think so. She’s trying to be thrifty. I don’t think the environment is one of her issues.”

  “Well, we don’t know, do we? Environmental groups probably make her feel she has to switch her lights out. She probably wants to leave them on. I really don’t think she cares about spending money. Some people don’t care about spending money, Lexi.”

  “In that case, well done environmental groups. Maybe I should hire them to get you to act differently.”

  “Jesus, Lexi.” He shakes his head. “I’ll ask for a discount and take the place for six months, if that’s what you want,” he says impatiently.

  I stand in the vast, cold kitchen and consider how utterly ludicrous it is to be arguing about the Queen’s thriftiness or otherwise. We are ludicrous. Then I realize something much worse. We’re not arguing about that at all.

  I ball up my courage. I grip the side of the table, watch as my knuckles and the tips of my fingers, under the nails, turn a glassy white. “Do you still love me, Jake?”

  “Lexi, what a question.”

  “Do you?” I force myself to look at him. I confront our twenty-five-year history. I see it flashing between us like some sort of kinetic energy. From the moment I realized he was staring at me in the Student Union, his eyes bored into me. Singed me, set me on fire. Just as a ray of sunlight reflected through a lens can cause a forest fire. Our first kiss and fuck. Which happened within about fifteen minutes of one another, such was the strength of our lust. I remember as I pulled up my knickers thinking that I’d broken all the rules and probably lost him because of it. I’d been taught nice girls didn’t shag their dates up against a wall in the halls of the student residence. Nice girls at least waited to get their dates into their hard, skinny beds. I thought as his itch had been scratched, I’d never see him again. In fact, he never left my side.

  At least not for many years.

  I remember our wedding day; it was a big and busy occasion. A blur of beams and best wishes, dreams realized and freshly formed. He carried me over the threshold of our hotel room. Then he stood on my dress and it tore. We laughed and he told me he’d spent all day thinking about tearing the thing off me anyhow. The births of Emily and Logan; one such an easy child, the other a worry and a stress. I see Jake pacing up and down our small sitting room with a squally Logan thrown over his shoulder, his huge hand gently rubbing the baby’s back. Covering it. Protecting it. First days at school. Holidays. Sick days. Paydays. I see a string of them bob in front of me like clothes on a washing line being buffeted in the wind. Fresh, buoyant, brilliant. I remember the simple joy of watching the TV, him sitting up straight and me spread out on the sofa, my head in his lap, knowing that The Graham Norton Show was good anyway, but all the better because we laughed at the same bits. That all flashes in front of me and I ask for a third time, “Do you love me, Jake?”

  “Of course I do.” He pulls me into a hug and kisses my forehead, more or less in the spot he’s been staring at this entire conversation. “We’re struggling because there’s been a lot of change. That’s all.”

  I bury my face into his shoulder. I don’t want him to see the tears that are threatening to out me. “There’s nothing else?”

  “No.”

  “Have you told Jennifer that they are not getting the cash for changing their story?” It’s the closest I can bring myself to asking the question I want to ask.

  Is it over?

  “I think they’ll work it out,” he replies, pulling his face into something approximating a smile, but he isn’t fast enough. I see the wince first and I know then one of two things.

  Either it isn’t over.

  Or it is, and he is sad that it is. Both things break my heart.

  Everyone wants something they don’t have. A few hundred years ago it was food and a long life. Now it’s Insta likes and other people’s husbands. My husband does not know that I know he is having an affair with my best friend and has been for at least two years. Two years is her husband’s best guess. I suppose it could be longer. I never used to keep anything from him. I’d have sworn that there was nothing he kept from me. Now we share the same secret, but he doesn’t know it.

  It fucking kills me.

  CHAPTER 28

  Saturday, April 20

  According to the rota, it was Jennifer’s turn to host supper that Saturday. Lexi wasn’t much looking forward to it, but thought it was essential that the supper went ahead. Considering everything. They needed to keep things on an even keel just a little longer. She comforted herself with the thought that at least it wasn’t Carla’s turn to host. That would have been trickier. Lexi would never admit it, as she always tried hard to keep the delicate equilibrium of their threesome intact and therefore avoided drawing comparisons or expressing preferences, but the truth was she liked going to Jennifer’s home for supper more than she enjoyed going to Carla’s. Both women had incredibly stylish and comfortable houses. If anything, Carla’s should have been the most welcoming. There was more space, and the kids had their own playroom to hang out in as soon as they were excused from the huge round table that comfortably seated everyone and was certainly designed to encourage conversation. They had a fridge especially for chilling white wine and a selection of cut-glass decanters to allow red wines to breathe. But the luxury and excess had become the problem.

  Lexi had never been particularly hung up on the fact she was the least well-off of her three friends. It was just a fact. Even when Patrick made the occasional snobby comment about the temperature of her house in the winter (too cold) or the wine in the summer (too warm), she let the gibes wash over her like water off a duck’s back. Lexi didn’t blame Carla for her husband’s boorishness. She actually felt a bit sorry for her. All the money in the world didn’t compensate for a husband who could behave like a prat.

  But, over the past few months, Lexi’s perspective had changed. She had started to find Patrick’s flashy ways annoying, even cruel. He had so much, and she worked with so many people who had next to nothing. She tested him, talked in general, nonspecific terms about her cases at work to gauge his reaction. He was dismissive, derisive. She hadn’t cared too much that the man was a snob, but now she realized he was so much more dreadful than that. He was heartless, callous, pitiless. Now, she found his constant talk about his wealth, his profits, his business actively repulsive.

  An awkwardness had sprouted up between her and Carla as Lexi started to look at things differently. She used to be so good at compartmentalizing, but now one thing bled into another. In these past few months Lexi’s work had become increasingly all-absorbing. Certain cases had burrowed their way into her head and heart. Toma Albu, for example, had leached into her home and social life. She knew very well that she shouldn’t have been investigating his claims privately and with such vigor. She was overstepping. She couldn’t tell her boss what she was up to because she knew Ellie would rein her i
n. Remind her of the proper channels that ought to handle the matter. But Lexi doubted the proper channels could go far enough—they didn’t have the resources. There was only ever a certain amount that could be done. Lexi had wanted to gather hard, empirical evidence. She couldn’t let this atrocity go unpunished. And now she had it and didn’t know what to do with it. She hadn’t confided in Jake, either. He wouldn’t approve of her casting aside the bureau’s guidelines, not that he was a stickler for rules himself, but he would be worried for her safety if he knew she was running around town with Toma, a desperate, emotional and vulnerable man.

  A sexy, single and handsome man. What would he say?

  And because she hadn’t told Jake what she was up to, she hadn’t told Jennifer or Carla, either. Lexi was self-aware enough to understand that the fact she was keeping quiet about something that was so important to her had probably contributed to the unease between her and her friends. The unpleasantness about the buying of the lottery ticket that had occurred last week hadn’t helped matters.

  Patrick had made things so unbearable for everyone.

  It was complex. There was a web of crisscrossing relationships and a shared history that tied them all together. Their relationships and the children’s relationships were interwoven; the warp and weft of their lives, which had always been neat and regulated, now was entangled, knotted. She needed things to go ahead as usual. She needed everyone to carry on until she’d thought this through fully. Until she decided on her next step.

  Lexi thought perhaps she could talk to Jennifer. Sometimes they did have conversations outside of their relationship with Carla. This wasn’t a secrecy thing, or a matter of leaving anyone out. Their particular intimacy had grown over this past year, largely from the fact Emily and Ridley were dating. They saw a lot of one another when they dropped off or picked up the kids. Jennifer was always so interested in Lexi’s life. She was the friend most likely to lend a sympathetic ear if Lexi wanted to grumble about the kids, Jake or work. They sometimes did have a small moan about Carla’s flashy extravagance, Patrick’s arrogance. Only occasionally. They really tried not to. And so Lexi was bitterly disappointed when on Saturday evening, at about five o’clock, she received a WhatsApp message from Jennifer saying that they were making an impromptu visit to Fred’s sister and they would have to postpone dinner that week. The message was sent via the group chat. A second later, Carla posted, too. Oh, well, let’s skip this week then. I’m exhausted and could do with putting my feet up.

  Lexi couldn’t remember another occasion when any of them had canceled at such late notice without at least the courtesy of making a phone call. Jennifer didn’t even like her sister-in-law; she was always grumbling about her undisciplined children and dirty house. Why had she suddenly decided to visit? Unless there was a family emergency... It didn’t add up, and if there was a family emergency she would have mentioned it. Wouldn’t she? Lexi told herself that it was perfectly reasonable for Carla to want a night in, although normally if one of them couldn’t manage the Saturday-night meetups, the other two would discuss whether to go ahead or do something different. A creeping, prickly sensation crawled up Lexi’s spine, and she felt suspicious of the proximity of when the messages had been posted.

  She shook her head, trying to clear it. She was being crazy, paranoid.

  Maybe, yet she couldn’t stop herself imagining them sitting, heads together, planning how to pull out of the evening.

  The bleak and humiliating thought swelled in Lexi’s head, spread through her like a disease and caused twinges in her gut. Last week, when Patrick had said the lottery was common, she had felt a sting of something like shame. Hurt. Anger? How dare he? The vile man. How dare he judge them. Because it was them, she realized now. Her and Jake. And it seemed as though it wasn’t just Patrick judging and finding them lacking. These messages suggested Carla, Jennifer and Fred were trying to distance themselves, too.

  She forced herself to think about things she’d been trying to ignore. It wasn’t just the lottery business, not really, not if she was honest with herself. Lexi recalled Sunday outings that they had not been invited to but had only heard of afterward—trips to National Trust properties or for country walks. “Not outings, just jaunts. Impromptu jaunts,” Jennifer had insisted, the last time Lexi realized she had been excluded.

  “What’s the difference between an outing and a jaunt?” Lexi had asked, embarrassed to find herself pursuing the matter, a dog with a bone.

  “We don’t plan these things in advance, they just organically happen. It’s because we live closer to one another, you live farther out.” Lexi had thought it sounded almost reasonable at the time. Although, in fact, they only lived five miles away, not what anyone could describe as an insurmountable distance. She wanted to believe they were telling her the truth because the alternative was awful. But then there was the occasion that Carla and Jennifer had gone to London to the Good Housekeeping Show and hadn’t asked her to join them. They’d explained it away. “You were working, we knew you wouldn’t be able to make it.” It would have been nice to be asked, though.

  “Honestly, Lexi, Carla never feels left out if we have a coffee when you pick up Emily from our house,” Jennifer had added, reasonably. Lexi felt foolish—was she making a fuss?

  Why would they be cutting her out, and was it just her or was it Jake, too? Fred and Patrick had memberships to the same gym, and they played squash together once a week. Jake had looked into becoming a member and periodically brought the matter to the table, but the monthly fees were exorbitant, and they couldn’t justify it. Had they become the third wheel? Lexi felt confused, rejected. She hadn’t felt like this since she was at school. It was a given that kids, teens, did thoughtless and mean things from time to time. Forgot to be inclusive and supportive. They were not fully formed, but coming face-to-face with the same sort of behavior from adults was so much more shocking. It suggested a lack of progress for humankind. Lexi felt depressed.

  “Are we not going out tonight, Mum?” Logan asked. It was seven o’clock, and usually by that time Lexi would be on at them to get in the car.

  “No, Jennifer canceled. They’re going away this weekend so can’t have us over.”

  “Oh.” Logan sloped back up to his room, not too concerned. Playing Fortnite at home or on Ridley’s console was all the same to him.

  Lexi threw a glance Emily’s way. She was at the breakfast bar, reading something on her phone. Her head was bent as if in prayer, which struck Lexi as appropriate as Emily worshipped her phone. “Have you any plans tonight?”

  “No.”

  “Not seeing Megan?”

  “No.”

  “Did you know Ridley was going away?”

  “No.”

  “Would you like to watch a movie with me and Dad?”

  “No.” Emily’s phone buzzed. A smile spread across her face. Most likely the message was from Ridley. “I’ll be in my room.” Emily stood up quickly and rushed out of the kitchen.

  Lexi and Jake watched the film in silence for about twenty minutes. Normally Lexi was the sort of person who gave a running commentary when watching movies at home; she only just managed to suppress this urge when they were at the cinema because she feared being shushed. She liked to guess at how the plot might turn out or she would ask, “What’s she been in before? It’s bugging me.” Tonight she couldn’t concentrate on the plot.

  Jake pressed Pause and said, “Well, as I’m not needed to be a taxi driver for the kids tonight, I’m going to have a beer. Do you want a glass of wine?”

  “Maybe later. Actually, I’ve just remembered I need to nip out.”

  “Out? Where? Why?” Jake looked put out that their quiet night in was threatened.

  “I said I’d drop off a book at Diane Roper’s. It will only take me five minutes in the car.”

  “You’re going now? On a Saturday night?”

&
nbsp; “She needs to read it for book club on Tuesday. I promised I’d get it to her today and I forgot all about it. Sorry. Look, watch the film without me. I won’t be long, and I’ll just catch up.” Lexi stood up, hunted out her car keys and headed to the front door.

  “Aren’t you forgetting something?” asked Jake.

  “Like what?”

  “The book.” He looked questioning, unconvinced.

  “Oh, oh yes.” Lexi ran upstairs and grabbed a book from the towering pile beside her bed. She took the top one without even checking its title.

  Lexi drove along the narrow, winding country roads that she knew so well, a route she had taken hundreds—maybe thousands—of times before. She knew every twist and bump. She was headed toward Great Chester, the smart village where Jennifer and Carla both lived. A village she and Jake had never been able to afford to buy in. It was often featured in articles about Britain’s most beautiful places to live. She wasn’t planning on stopping, she just needed to drive by. To check. Of course, Jennifer wouldn’t be lying to her. Of course, she was at Fred’s sister’s, just as she’d said. But Lexi couldn’t stop herself. She had to see the closed-up house, still and quiet. She wanted to be reassured by the fact that there would only be one car on the drive. Jennifer and Fred had two, but they preferred to use his for long journeys.

  She had been planning on driving past at a sedate speed, just taking time enough to ascertain that her friend was indeed away, as claimed. However, she immediately saw that both cars were parked on the drive, the downstairs windows were wide-open and Ridley’s bike was propped up against the fence, advertising a confidence in the sleepy, safe, practically crime-free habitat. Lexi gasped, shocked that her fear had been justified, disappointed to be proven right. She stopped her car right in front of Jennifer’s home, suddenly aggressive and provocative, she almost wanted to be seen now. She wanted her so-called friends to know she had caught them out in their lie. It was still light, and she could easily see into the house and right through to the back garden. There, she could see Jennifer and Fred. She was sitting at the table; he was pacing about.