by K. L. Slater
‘Maria! For goodness’ sake, calm down… what on earth’s brought this outburst on? What do you mean, “what I’m getting into”?’
She shakes her head, biting down hard on her back teeth so I can see the muscles working in her jaw.
‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you. If you mention this to Mr Mortimer, I’ll deny everything and we both know who he’ll be inclined to trust.’ She glares at me as I fight and fail to respond with a suitably cutting reply. ‘Now, if you don’t mind, I have to get on.’
And with that she dumps the dishcloth in the sink and storms out of the room. I hear the door to the small cloakroom click across the hall.
I just sit there, on the kitchen stool, in shock. Five minutes pass and I hear Maria let herself out of the front door. I walk to the lounge and stand in the doorway. She passes in front of the window as she heads down the drive to the bus stop just down the road from the front gate.
I feel a bit shaky, so unexpected was her reaction. She must have been harbouring ill feelings towards me since I arrived here… since I first met George.
If she can keep her true feelings so well hidden, it makes me wonder if she really is as fond of my boys as she appears to be. Should someone who can act so volatile on the turn of a coin be left in sole charge of our children?
George becomes aware I’m standing there and turns around in his chair.
‘Want to watch something on TV? Or shall we just have a drink and chat?’
‘Yes please,’ I say, forcing myself to remain calm. ‘A drink and chat would be perfect.’
He disappears into the kitchen and returns with two gin and tonics. ‘I thought we’d try the rhubarb and ginger one tonight. Someone I work with has recommended—’
‘George, something happened just now, in the kitchen, with Maria,’ I say in one breath. ‘She attacked me… verbally, I mean. She said I’m interfering and ruining everything. She said I don’t know what I’m getting into, here with you!’
‘What?’ George’s hand freezes halfway to lifting his glass to his mouth.
‘That’s what she said. I just asked how long she’d worked for you and suggested I can soon take on more duties with Romy. I was making conversation, that’s all, and then she just turned into this crazy woman.’
He takes a sip of his drink and puts his glass on to the coffee table, his brow furrowing. He doesn’t say anything.
‘You don’t believe me, do you?’ A whooshing sound starts in my ears. ‘She was… like a different person. Aggressive and bitter in the space of a few seconds. I don’t think she should be around our kids.’
‘Maria’s been with me a long time, Darcy,’ he says softly.
‘I know she has. But she has a big problem with me living here, George. I’m not sure there’s room for both of us in this house.’
I wait for him to start defending Maria, to tell me it’s all in my head or that I must be mistaken but he does none of those things.
‘That must have been unnerving for you,’ he says. ‘I hadn’t realised how territorial she’s obviously become. I’ve probably given her more licence to run things in the home than I ought to have done.’
I nod, relieved he’s taking me seriously.
‘She seemed to flip when I said I’d like to do more in the house and play a full role in Romy’s life.’
‘I don’t know what’s got into her but you shouldn’t have to put up with that,’ George says grimly. ‘I’ll speak to her tomorrow.’
Forty-Nine
1995
The day after his crutches went was the day his problems really started again at school.
Instead of choosing the long route to the library at lunchtime, he picked a more direct way, though it was still much quieter than the main drag across the quad where everyone gathered. Walking slowly, he turned a corner and ran straight into the Panthers.
‘We wait in the shadows until our prey appears… and then we pounce!’ one of the older boys hissed, jumping in front of him like a warrior.
He stopped short, almost lost his balance. While he struggled to right himself and catch his breath, the tallest boy, the boy who had pushed him from the tower, stepped forward.
‘So,’ he sneered. ‘Looks like you survived.’
He did not reply but stared straight ahead, feeling the weight of his books in the rucksack on his back. He began to run through the chapters in his mind, trying not to think about the tightness in his chest or the bone-deep ache in his legs.
The tall boy carried on talking, his sneering face seeming to move in and out of the younger boy’s blurred vision. But the words of the book played in his head like an audio and he couldn’t stop it, couldn’t focus on what was being said to him.
His rucksack was pulled roughly from behind and he toppled over backwards, landing on the hard, cracked concrete. He heard himself yell out in pain, felt his bones crunching, his muscles snapping.
He tried to grab the shoulder straps, tried to hang onto the bag with its precious contents, but it was too late. One more tug and it came away, the books spilling out onto the floor.
Four very special hardback books.
‘Well, well.’ The tall boy crouched down and picked one of them up. ‘Now this is interesting.’
Fifty
The next day, George doesn’t have an early-morning departmental meeting for once, so the five of us have breakfast together.
The kitchen is nice and big. George explained that around seven years ago, they had an extension built and installed a living area and the bifold doors that open out on to a wide expanse of composite decking.
‘Lucy’s original idea was for us to start the day with fresh air by taking al fresco breakfasts.’ He grinned. ‘But of course, the weather soon put paid to that. I think we might have managed it a handful of times that summer.’
George doesn’t say much about Lucy and their life together, but piecing together the odd mention, I get the feeling she was a gentle, caring person. Certainly someone Maria thought highly of, anyway.
Perhaps someone I might have got on well with under different circumstances.
We’ve not spoken about Maria’s outburst since last night, but I don’t feel as if George doubts what I’ve said. It makes me wonder if he’s witnessed her temper before.
I’m going to bide my time and see what comes of it before I demand Maria apologises or, even better, leaves her position. After our conversation about Opal, I don’t want it to seem as if I’m issuing one ultimatum after the other to George.
During the morning, once I’ve taken the kids to school and picked up George’s work shirts from the ironing service, I change our bedding and put a wash on. Maria’s not in until later and that suits me fine. I don’t want to face her again until George has spoken to her.
I did try and lessen her working hours once before but George was having none of it.
‘I’m only teaching classes part-time,’ I told George when we first moved in. ‘I can pick up some of Maria’s duties.’
‘This house takes more upkeep than you’d imagine. Let’s get you settled in first, then we can talk about the help.’
Before I sit down for a coffee, I double-lock the front door and ensure that the gate leading down the side of the house to the back garden is bolted from the inside. Then I rattle the handles of the bifold doors to ensure they’re secure.
I’ve always been aware of security, but never like this. Now I find myself constantly aware of potential opportunities for someone to creep in. I glance out of the window, not to admire the garden, but to watch out for Opal Vardy. George would probably call me paranoid, but he seems to ignore the fact that she stalked us at Christmas and challenged me in the street.
I crank up the coffee machine, make a latte and drink it sitting at the breakfast bar, staring out at the lawn and wondering what I’ll do if a figure suddenly appears at the glass.
I can’t carry on like this; it’s silly. I’ll make myself ill. It’s just that I know how easy it is t
o skulk around the edges of someone’s life without them being able to do anything about it legally.
It feels like I’m waiting for her next move, when actually I need to put myself more into a position of control.
* * *
After lunch, on my own Instagram page, I post a picture of the school I find on Google with the simple tagline: ‘Looking forward to picking the kids up today.’
Usually Maria picks the children up after school, as sometimes it’s too much of a rush for me to get there from my afternoon classes. Of course, Steph or Brenda used to do the honours for the boys a lot, but after yesterday’s showdown that’s certainly not going to be happening again.
I’m keen to collect them myself today anyway, because my intention, in posting the Instagram status, is to attempt to draw Opal out from the shadows. I scribble Maria a note telling her there’s no need for her to go to school, imagining her bitter thoughts when she reads it later.
I collect Romy and Kane first, and then walk around the other side of the building to where the older children’s classrooms are. I’m purposely walking in a relaxed manner, chatting to the children, but inside, my guts feel like they’ve been liquidised.
Contrary to what George would have me believe, if Opal is as crazy as I suspect, she could attack me, try and grab one of the kids… I could literally throw up just thinking about it. But I can’t let that stop me from living an ordinary life and ensuring our kids’ safety.
I take a deep breath and call to Harrison, who is heading towards the climbing frames that sit on a patch of AstroTurf next to the concrete area of the playground. As usual, he ignores me and begins to climb the tallest frame.
‘Can I have a go on there too, Mum?’ Kane asks me hopefully. ‘I won’t climb too high.’
‘Go on then.’ I nod, and he and Romy scamper off to join Harrison. It’s another chance to hang around and see if my bait has the desired effect.
I’ve been watching the kids for a few minutes, trying to look relaxed and casual, when movement to the left causes me to glance sideways.
A slightly built figure dressed in jeans and a padded coat with a hood, steps out from behind the school building. Whoever it is sticks deliberately close to the wall. I think it’s her. I think it’s Opal.
The boys are now both swinging like monkeys on the climbing frame and Romy is standing watching them with that wide-eyed look of hers, as if she’d like to join in but is mentally running through all the reasons why she shouldn’t. She’s worryingly cautious for a six-year-old.
If it is Opal, I’m torn between rushing the children home and the possibility of actually speaking to her. Even though I wanted her to turn up, the thought of facing her freaks me out. She’s completely obsessed with George, in the same way I’ve been obsessed with Daniela, but she’s far bolder with it. I know only too well the pain such behaviour causes the person doing the stalking. How you battle in vain with yourself to try and stop your negative and destructive actions.
It’s the easiest thing in the world, if you’ve never been through it, to think it’s simply a case of choosing to stop. But it’s an addiction of sorts, and you don’t have to be a mad axe murderer to become obsessed with someone else.
You don’t want to necessarily hurt the object of your interest either. In my case, I was always looking for something – anything – that made Daniela look slightly less perfect and could make me feel a smidgeon better about myself.
What Opal is after though, I’m not entirely sure. Probably just to be with George.
I stand still and watch the figure. The figure watches me back.
Then slowly, cautiously, she begins to walk towards me.
‘Hello, Darcy,’ she says when she gets closer.
There are one or two parents still around, chatting, but with us being delayed on the play equipment, most of the kids have been collected now. Soon we will be the only ones left.
‘Why are you doing this?’ I say in the face of her steely glare. No tired eyes and worn expression in evidence today. ‘Me and George… we’re together now. You’ve got to accept that.’
‘I don’t have to accept anything,’ she says sullenly. ‘I’m not hurting anyone.’
‘You’re hanging around our children’s school and you call that not doing anything?’ She averts her eyes, stares at the floor, and it gives me the impetus to continue. ‘You need to accept that your relationship with George is over and get on with your life. Take it from someone who knows these things.’
She looks as if I’m speaking a foreign language, as if I couldn’t possibly understand.
‘You think you know him, but you don’t,’ she says in a monotone. ‘You haven’t got a clue who George Mortimer is. Only I really understand him.’
Here we go. Here’s the bit where she tells me that George loves her and I’m just standing in the way of their happy-ever-after. I almost roll my eyes but manage to refrain from doing so.
‘You need to stay out of George’s life, out of my life. You need to stay away from our children, or I promise you, I’ll get the police involved.’ My tone grows colder. ‘You’re wasting the best years of your life following someone around who doesn’t want you. You should deal with it.’
My intention is good, even if I sound like a queen bitch.
She laughs. ‘I’d like nothing more than to get on with my life. But first, he has to give me what I want.’
Fifty-One
She turns and looks over at Romy, and my chest feels as though it’s been crushed by a heavy weight. What if she snatches her, right here, right now? What will I tell George… that I lured her out and had a chat to her?
His voicemail from earlier today replays in my mind. His voice was buoyant when he told me about the interview. His lifelong career dream is about to be realised; he’ll never forgive me if I mess this up.
‘Romy?’ She spins around when I call her name, dark blonde curls bouncing, cheeks like shiny red apples in the cold. ‘If you put on your gloves, you can have a little climb too. Stay on the lower bars, though.’
‘Ha! You’ve got to use the baby’s bars!’ Kane calls unkindly.
I scold him and turn back to Opal, relieved now that Romy is further away on the climbing apparatus.
‘I know what you have on George.’ I lower my voice. ‘He’s told me everything.’
‘Oh, I doubt that.’ Opal laughs, and her eyes gain a manic gleam. ‘I doubt he’s told you everything.’
But he has told me. He may not be dealing with this in the way I’d prefer, but he has been honest and open and I do see his dilemma even if I disagree with it in principle. If he goes to the police about Opal, she could cause a lot of trouble for him.
I look at her, look through her aggressive manner and I see that she is scraggy and pale, with dark circles under her eyes. For a second, I can see myself, just months after Joel died, when I felt at my lowest ebb. Desperate. Alone.
‘You and I, we have more in common than you think.’ I soften my voice slightly.
‘I’m sure that’s not the case,’ she says snappily.
She doubts everything. Just like I did for so long.
I don’t feel any warmth towards this woman who is making our lives so difficult, but I’m trying really hard to empathise. It’s in all of our interests if I can somehow solve the problem that is Opal Vardy. The boys and I are trying to build a new family with George and Romy, and so I regard this approach of mine as a sort of investment for the future.
I’m sure George wouldn’t see it that way, but to date, he hasn’t had much success in getting Opal off his back and I’ve issued a genuine threat that I’ll be moving out with the boys if he doesn’t resolve the situation soon.
She’s getting antsy now, looking around, her eyes darting here and there. She’s a bag of nerves, and unchecked bags of nerves can be dangerous things to have around.
‘How much?’ I say without thinking.
She looks at me and frowns.
�
��How much for you to just walk away and leave us alone?’
She shakes her head incredulously. ‘Has he put you up to this?’
‘Of course he hasn’t. He doesn’t even know I’m speaking to you.’ I’m taking a risk here. If she wants to cause trouble, she could easily make sure George knows about our conversation but I’m willing to take the risk.
The malice suddenly leaves her face and she seems to relax a touch.
I turn and check on the kids. They’ve stopped bickering now, and Harrison is helping Kane and Romy with their climbing.
‘I suppose what I’m asking,’ I continue, ‘is exactly what is it that’s going to get you to move on with your life?’
‘Something he will never provide me with,’ she says spitefully, turning on her heel. ‘I’m here to stay. So you might as well get used to it.’
* * *
On the way home, I speak to the kids.
‘That lady I’ve just been talking to… have any of you seen her before?’ I keep my tone light, feigning mild interest.
‘I think I have,’ Harrison says. ‘I might have seen her around at the end of school. Is she your friend now, Mum?’
My heart rate speeds up and I think about the stuff he’s already told Joel’s family. The last thing I want is him logging more fuel for their attempt to discredit my abilities as a mother.
‘It’s best not to mention anything about her to anyone.’ It’s hard to find the right words, so in the end I just come out and say it. ‘People can get the wrong idea. Like your grandparents, for instance. They worry about things, so we’ll just keep this between us, OK?’
‘OK,’ the boys chime together.
I don’t know when they’ll be seeing Joel’s family again but it’s best to talk to them about keeping things private, just in case.
I look at Romy in the rear-view mirror. She’s staring out of the window, seemingly in her own little world.
