by S. J. Watson
‘I’m just going out.’
‘Where on earth to?’
I try to sound calm, breezy, even though I feel the opposite. ‘I thought I’d go and meet Anna and Ryan, after all. In the jazz bar.’
‘You’re sure?’
‘Yes. I feel awful, about over-reacting. I want to apologize. Anyway, it might be fun. And Anna’s right. I don’t see her very often.’
He looks puzzled, bemused. For an awful moment I worry he’ll suggest coming with me, but then I remember Connor. ‘I won’t be late. Would you make sure Connor goes to bed?’
‘Of course.’ He picks up another plate.
‘He has school tomorrow.’
‘I know. You go. Enjoy yourself. Will you take the car?’
I know why he’s asking. He wants to make sure I won’t slip up and have a drink. He needn’t worry; I won’t go to Ronnie Scott’s. I can’t risk a confrontation in a noisy club, full of strangers. Instead I’m going to wait outside Anna’s hotel.
‘I will,’ I say. ‘And leave this, will you? I’ll tidy the rest of the dinner things in the morning.’
He nods. ‘Okay.’
I head straight to the hotel. When I arrive I park the car and call Anna again: still no answer; once again it goes straight to voicemail. I slam the steering wheel. I’m going to have to go in.
The lobby is large, impressive, but I barely notice it. I go into the bar and find a deep leather sofa, near the door. Through the glass partition I can see the main entrance. I won’t miss them.
A waiter comes over to ask if I’d like a drink. ‘Mineral water,’ I say, and he nods, as if that’s what he’d been expecting all along. He goes back to the bar and delivers my order with a whisper, a glance over his shoulder towards where I sit.
My drink arrives with a bowl of pretzels. The waiter hesitates for a moment, blocking my view of the entrance, then bends towards me. ‘Waiting for someone?’ he says as he wipes the table before setting my drink down and tidying the snacks and napkins. He’s trying to sound casual, but his question has an edge of disapproval. ‘Yes,’ I say. My voice cracks with nerves. ‘Yes, I am,’ I say more forcefully.
‘Very good.’ I don’t think he believes me. ‘A guest?’
‘Yes. She’s staying here.’ He doesn’t move on. ‘She’s just got engaged. In fact, could I get a bottle of champagne? A surprise, for when she arrives? Two glasses?’
He nods, then stands up. ‘Very good.’ He turns to leave. When I look back into the lobby I see Anna. She must have arrived while I was talking to the waiter. She looks different somehow, sadder and more serious than when she’d left my house an hour or so ago, and it takes me a moment to recognize her. I begin to stand, but she’s already heading into the lift. I could shout out, but the door between us is closed and she’d never hear me. Nevertheless, my heart lifts – for a moment I’m in luck: she’s alone – but then it plummets. I see Lukas just a few steps behind her. I freeze, then watch as he waits to let a couple go ahead of him. By the time I’ve started moving again I can see that I’m going to be too late.
‘Shit.’ The lift doors are about to close, but then Anna sees me, over her fiancé’s shoulder. She stares for a moment, she looks shocked, but before I can even smile the lift doors have closed and she’s out of sight.
I head out of the bar and into the lobby. I run over to the lift, but it’s already ascending. I watch, cursing silently, as it stops on the third, fifth and sixth floors; I have no way of knowing which is theirs, much less what room they’re in. When it begins to come back down again I turn and head back to my seat, scrabbling for my phone, imagining their conversation.
‘I’m sure I saw Julia in the lobby,’ she’ll have said. ‘I wonder what she’s doing here?’
‘No,’ he’ll say. ‘It wasn’t her.’
They’ll get to the room. ‘Come here . . .’ he’ll say, and he’ll kiss her, undress her, the way he had with me. She’ll feel herself give in to him. Their hands, their mouths, will find each other. His prick will already be stiffening when she begins to undo his trousers.
I push the thought away. I have to stay focussed. My phone is already buzzing when I find it, and I answer it quickly. It’s Anna.
‘Is that you? Downstairs?’
She sounds happy, relaxed, if surprised. I can hear Lukas in the background. It sounds like he’s pouring drinks.
‘Yes.’
‘I thought I saw you when I came in. Is everything all right?’
‘Yes.’ I realize there’s no point in pretending. ‘Actually, no. Listen, I have to see you. I’ve been trying to ring you. I left a message. I’ll explain. Can you come down?’
She sounds hesitant. Intrigued.
‘Why don’t you come up here?’
‘No. No, you come down. Please?’
I think of the printout I’ve brought with me. I don’t want to show it to her, but I might have to. Will she believe me? Surely she’ll have to, but still I’d rather not have to do that to her.
‘Is Hugh with you?’ she says.
‘He’s at home. Please come down. Please let me explain.’
I hear her cover the mouthpiece of her phone, confer with Lukas. It’s obvious what he’ll say. ‘Anna!’ I say. ‘Anna . . .’
After a few moments she answers. ‘We’ll be down in a couple of minutes.’
‘No!’ I try to control my voice, but still I must sound desperate, panicked. ‘No. It’s better . . . could you come alone? Please?’
She hesitates. ‘Give me five minutes.’
Even though it’s late, she’s changed into a pair of trousers, a sweater, trainers. The bar is less busy now; the few people there are finishing their nightcaps before heading upstairs. The bottle of champagne on the table in front of me looks out of place. ‘Julia!’ she says, once we’ve kissed. ‘Is everything all right? You sound so worried!’ She lowers her voice. ‘Is everything okay with Hugh?’
‘Yes.’ I look over her shoulder; there’s no one there, just the waiter, collecting glasses, checking the new arrival. We sit.
‘Good. I was worried something had happened. Or, you know, Hugh had found out about that guy.’
She mouths the last two words silently, as if she thinks there are spies everywhere, eager to report back. ‘No, not that,’ I say. ‘Nothing like that.’
‘Good!’ She raises her glass. I nod. Mine is still empty.
‘What is it?’
‘Have you listened to the message I left on your phone?’ She shakes her head.
I can’t speak. I don’t want to tell her. I don’t want to destroy her happiness, even if it is founded on lies. But then I think of all the things Lukas did to me, the things I asked for, and the things I didn’t. I can’t fail her the way, deep down, I know I failed my sister. I can’t let her down, just to save myself from a difficult conversation.
‘It’s about Ryan.’
‘Ryan?’
‘Listen.’ I take her hand. I tell myself it’s what Kate would have done. ‘I don’t want you to think I’m . . . y’know . .
. jealous . . .’
‘Jealous? You’re not making any sense!’
‘Of you and Ryan, I mean.’
‘Why would you be jealous? Julia, what’s this about?’
I hesitate. I’m searching for the right words, but they seem just out of reach.
‘It’s just—’
‘What?’
‘Do you know if you can trust him?’
‘Of course! Why?’
‘It’s just, you haven’t known him that long, and—’
It sounds petty, lame, and already I know I’ve said the wrong thing. I see Anna’s expression change to one of anger.
‘I’ve known him long enough,’ she says. ‘What’s this about, Julia? I wouldn’t expect this from you, of all people!’
I take a deep breath. I begin to speak. ‘I don’t think he’s who he says he is,’ I say. I close my eyes. ‘Sorry—’
‘What?’ She sounds shocked. ‘What on earth are you saying? What d’you mean?’
I tread carefully. I need her to work it out for herself. I need her to realize that the man she calls Ryan is lying about where he goes every week.
‘What does he do? On Tuesdays?’
‘He goes to work . . .’
‘In Paris?’
‘It varies. He travels a lot.’
‘London?’
‘Sometimes . . . What’s this about, Julia?’
‘The thing is,’ I say, but then I stop. The atmosphere in the room has shifted, the door to the bar, swung open, has admitted a current of cool air. Over Anna’s shoulder I see Lukas, scanning the room, looking for us. He looks utterly calm.
‘Shit!’
‘What?’ She looks over her shoulder. ‘Oh, hi!’ She calls him across the few tables that separate them, and when he notices her he waves.
I grab her hand. ‘Listen.’ I talk quickly, I have to get it out before he gets here. ‘You can’t trust him, he isn’t who he says he is. He’s seeing someone else. You have to believe me—’
‘Julia!’ She’s shaking her head. I feel a rising urgency; any moment it might tip into panic.
‘Just leave him!’ I’ve spoken too loudly. The waiter has noticed and no doubt Lukas as well.
She pulls her hand away and stands up. She looks at me with disbelief. Disbelief and anger.
‘I’m sorry—’ I begin, but a moment later Lukas arrives.
‘What’s up?’ Anna’s face relaxes. She turns to kiss him, then looks back to me.
‘Julia was just leaving.’ She smiles. ‘Weren’t you?’
‘No. Listen to me . . .’
Lukas steps forward, puts himself between me and Anna. As if it’s me who’s dangerous. He looks angry, protective towards his future wife.
‘What’s this about?’
Anna turns to face me. ‘I know what this is about.’ She sounds upset but determined. ‘You’re jealous. Just because you and Hugh are falling apart and we’re just coming together. Or is it about the money?’
‘The money?’ I have no idea what she’s talking about.
‘You know we’re going to sort our wills out on Friday—’
‘What?’ My mind whirrs. I don’t know anything about that. I cast my mind back, try to remember our last conversation.
‘Anna, no. No, it’s not that at all. That money is yours. Kate left it to you. I want you to have it.’
I think back to the conversation we’d had in Paris, all those months ago. I’d told her as much then.
‘Listen,’ says Lukas. He puts his hand on my arm and I flinch. ‘I don’t know what’s going on here, but you two need to calm down.’
Anna is angry now. The bar staff have noticed; a man is coming over. ‘Miss,’ he’s saying, to me, and then, ‘Is everything all right here?’
‘Fine,’ says Lukas. ‘It’s fine. Nothing we can’t handle.’ He begins to steer Anna towards the door. She’s looking at me with an expression of disbelief, shaking her head as if she can’t believe the person I’ve become. I wonder what else she’s thinking, maybe that Kate was right all along, I’m a jealous bitch who betrayed her, stole her child and wouldn’t give him back. ‘I think you’d better leave,’ says Lukas firmly, turning to me, and at the same time I feel a hand on my arm. It’s the barman, turning me around, escorting me in the opposite direction.
‘He’s Lukas!’ I shout as they reach the door, but she’s looking away and my voice is swallowed by the cavernous bar. The other patrons look at me – they think I’m drunk, a troublemaker, a jealous ex – but I’m not sure Anna heard me. It’s only when I break free of the waiter’s grip on my arm and turn round to say it again that I see I’m too late.
She’s gone.
I pay and leave. There’s nothing else to do, and I can’t stay, not after the commotion I’ve caused. When I reach the car I open the window then light a cigarette from the packet I’ve started to keep in the glove compartment. I think of Hugh – he doesn’t approve of smoking in the car – and wish I could be with him right now.
I screwed it up. I don’t know what I could have done differently, but I screwed it up.
I exhale, sit back in the leather seat. I’ve parked on a side-street just off Portland Place and can see the doorway to the hotel framed in the wing mirror. Even though it must be after midnight now, people are still coming and going.
I wonder if Anna was right. Maybe it really is all about my sister’s money, though not in the way she imagines. I imagine Lukas, hearing about Kate’s death, moving in on me but then finding out my sister had left all the cash to her best friend.
But no, that makes no sense; he was definitely seeing Anna first, before Kate died. I’m back to square one.
Again the same thought forms, the one that’s been haunting me. It grows, I can’t shake it, can’t hold it down. It’s because I know he lives in Paris, now. It rises to the surface, inexorable, unstoppable.
It was him.
But it can’t be. There’s Kate’s earring; they’ve made an arrest. Plus, we know the police checked everyone out, all Kate’s online contacts. They’re satisfied. It can’t have been him.
So why did he target me, then? Or am I not a target at all – was it just sheer chance?
I finish my cigarette then toss it on to the pavement, through the half-open window. Straight away I feel the urge to light another; I fight it, but it seems pointless, futile. I have to calm my mind. I have to sort it out. I lift my bag off the passenger seat and begin to rummage inside it.
It happens quickly. I don’t see him come out of the hotel, don’t hear him approach, I’m barely aware of him opening the door. I look up and he’s there; I’ve gone from alone to not-alone in an instant. My heart leaps with sudden terror.
‘What the—?’ I begin, but he turns to me.
‘Surprise!’ His exclamation is dry and humourless. His face is inches from mine; he smells of aftershave, the one I’m used to. The fragrance of wood – sandalwood, I think – mixed with something else, something medicinal. He looks paler than I rem
ember, his features thinner. I try to tell myself that if I met him now I wouldn’t look twice, but it’s a lie.
‘Lukas,’ I gasp. My muscle memory kicks in once again; instinctively I shoot as far back in my seat as I can, move as far away from him as I can get without opening the door and running. I wonder if that is what I should be doing. Running.
‘What d’you want?’
‘Oh, sweetheart. Don’t be like that . . .’ His voice sounds thick, not like him at all.
‘Where’s Anna?’ I have visions of her upstairs, pacing. I wonder if she knows he’s with me; it’s possible he’s told her he’s just popped out for a walk, to get some air.
He smiles. It’s bitter, resentful. ‘Relax. I don’t know what you think is going on, but let me tell you, you’re wrong on every count.’ He pauses. ‘Anna’s upstairs,’ he says. ‘I left her in the shower.’ He grins. I wonder if I’m supposed to find his comment suggestive, sexual. Titillating. Is this the game he’s playing? The three of us, upstairs, naked.
‘She knows I’m here. She sent me. She’s sorry about losing her temper. She wants you to come up and have a drink with us. Sort things out.’ He shrugs. ‘So how about it?’
I want to believe him, but I don’t. How can I? Anna thinks I’ve met him for the first time tonight.
‘Who are you? Tell me what you want.’ He ignores me.
‘No? Didn’t think so.’ He turns. ‘Look. Anna’s a big girl. She can look after herself. I don’t know why you want to come and interfere.’
‘Interfere?’
‘Warning her away? Telling her I’m not who she thinks I am? Maybe I’m exactly who she thinks I am, just not who you thought I was.’ He looks thoughtful. ‘Maybe it’s you who doesn’t know anything about me. Not her.’ He leans towards me. ‘Anna trusts me, you know? She tells me everything . . .’
I think of the printout I have in my bag. I should’ve given it to her when I had the chance.
