by Jane Corry
‘Did I have a choice?’ I retort.
‘Come on,’ he says, holding out his arm as if suggesting I take it. ‘We all have a choice. But you wanted to see me, didn’t you?’
‘You flatter yourself,’ I retort, ignoring his arm.
‘Well, I wanted to see you.’ He rubs his jaw again and then takes a packet of pills out of his top pocket and swallows a couple without water.
‘Everything all right?’ I can’t help asking out of natural politeness.
He grimaces. ‘It’s my wisdom teeth.’
‘So it wasn’t simply an excuse to see my husband, then,’ I retort.
‘No, it wasn’t. They really are playing me up and I had to get them looked at, even though I get extremely nervous about seeing the dentist.’
‘Who just happened to be Stuart.’
He gives me a wolfish grin. ‘You could say it killed two birds with one stone. I needed my teeth looked at. And I was curious to see the kind of man you married, Pops. Not like me, is he?’
‘That’s precisely the point,’ I snap back.
We fall into line, walking side by side in perfect sync, past the clusters of snowdrops and armies of purple crocuses beside the neatly clipped lawn edges. I’m so angry because of his lie about Sandra that it’s tempting to confront him with it straight away. But I’m biding my time.
‘How did you know Stuart and I were in Devon?’ I say quietly. ‘Did you follow us?’
Matthew gives a deep, rich, throaty laugh, which makes a woman – about my age, at a guess – shoot him a look of admiration as she passes by. She glances at me as if to check out the kind of companion who is walking with a man like this. ‘Don’t be so melodramatic, Pops. It was nothing like that. Your daughter told me. The older one.’
I go cold. ‘Melissa? How? You’ve never met her!’
He touches my arm in an overfamiliar gesture. ‘Darling, haven’t you heard of Facebook? Melissa accepted my invitation weeks ago.’
I go cold. ‘Why would she do that?’
‘Because my profile says I am happy to pass on tips to aspiring actors, perhaps? It’s a recent addition. I thought it might interest her. And our friendship has been most informative. I’ve learned so much about your family.’
In that moment, I could happily put my hands around his neck.
‘Did you talk on the phone?’ I demand.
‘Only online. Stop panicking. It was all above board. I simply asked if acting was in the family and she said her mother had wanted to be an actress but ran an agency instead. She mentioned her grandmother – Betty, isn’t it? – and her sister too. Oh – and she said that her dad was always working long hours. But most of our conversation consisted of me giving her advice on how to get into the profession. It’s good that she’s going to drama classes after school, isn’t it? That might help.’
He’s talking as if he knows my family. How dare he?
‘I don’t understand what it is that you want from me, Matthew,’ I thunder. ‘And don’t give me any more of that crap about how unhappy you are with Sandra. I know she’s dead. I checked out her Facebook page and saw her brother’s eulogy.’
I wait for his surprise but he simply holds out his hands in a ‘mea culpa’ gesture. ‘It’s true. Took you long enough to find out, I must say. Mind you, if I’d still been a name, you might have read about it in some magazine or newspaper. But when you’re no one any more, no one cares. Not even her so-called loving brother Tom, who refused to lend us any money when she was ill and won’t even help me now.’
‘You’re disgusting!’ I splutter. ‘Why would you lie like that? I heard you on the phone to her – or so I thought – at the Christmas party.’
‘I know you did,’ he said. ‘I saw you coming so I had a one-way conversation.’
He says all this without a hint of apology.
‘Why? To make me think you were a good, kind man, who put his career second to look after his disabled wife?’
‘Exactly! I knew you’d fall for it, Pops. You always were too kind for your own good.’ He looks solemn for a moment. ‘Although sometimes I do find myself having conversations with Sandra out loud in the house, especially when I’m lonely. It helps to feel I can still talk to her.’
He looks genuinely pained for a moment. But then Matthew always was a good actor.
‘You really expect me to believe that?’ I retort scornfully. ‘You seemed to have no difficulty renouncing your love for her not so long ago in Worthing. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if you were relieved she’s dead.’
It’s a terrible thing to say and I know it. But then a truly awful thought occurs to me. ‘Please tell me you didn’t kill her!’
‘Don’t be absurd, Poppy.’ There’s such genuine anger in his voice that I do believe him this time. ‘It was pneumonia that got her in the end. That bloody MS had left her vulnerable. I’m certainly not a murderer.’
‘But you are a liar! You said you were going to tell Sandra about us. You said I had to tell Stuart too so we could be together. Is this why you’re trying to scare me?’ I want to stamp my feet on the ground like a child, despite a man in a blue anorak staring at me as he walks by. ‘If so, it’s too late. You had your chance with me years ago and you threw it away.’
He shakes his head. ‘You’ve got the wrong idea completely. It’s not you I want, Pops. It’s your money. Fifty thousand pounds, to be precise.’
‘Fifty thousand?’ I repeat, stunned. ‘Are you mad?’
He sighs and sits down on a bench, motioning that I should do the same. Numb with shock, I do so.
‘Come on, Pops. You can afford it. I read that write-up about you that said how well you were doing. It’s what gave me the idea, actually. Otherwise I wouldn’t have bothered going to the Christmas do. All that stuff about forming an agency myself was just an excuse. It was you I wanted. Why else would I have asked the receptionist to get me a room as close to yours as possible after the Christmas party? Good on you for resisting, mind – at least on that occasion. For a second there I really thought you were the devoted wife.’
I feel sick. ‘But what about Worthing?’
He looks smug. ‘You played right into my hands by telling me you couldn’t find a hotel. Of course I wasn’t really in the area by coincidence. I made a special trip down to see you. I couldn’t believe my luck when you told me about Doris’s accident and how you were worried in case your home insurance might not cover you.’ He makes that wolfish grin again. ‘And it was fun, wasn’t it, Pops? You were pretty hot. Even more than in the old days. Consumed with desire, in fact.’
I burn with shame as I remember how much I’d wanted him only a few weeks ago. How he’d melted into me like we were one body. He was right, I had been consumed with desire. I hadn’t just gone along with him. I had instigated it by suggesting we went upstairs.
‘So you were playing with me the whole time?’
He shrugs. ‘It was very enjoyable, I grant you that. But yes, I knew you’d feel guilty afterwards. Like I said just now, it’s part of your sweet nature, Pops. So I thought that if I pretended that I wanted you to leave your husband and family there and then, you’d do anything to get me out of your life. Like paying me off. That piece in the magazine said you were a “highly successful” businesswoman. I’ve checked out your house. I know what it’s worth. Yes, fifty thousand pounds is quite a tidy sum, but you shouldn’t go leaving your bank statements in your handbag. I had a little look when you went to the bathroom.’
I can barely speak for rage. ‘That’s all our savings. We don’t have any more. Besides, why do you need so much?’
He shrugs. ‘I built up debts during Sandra’s lifetime. The state gives you a certain amount of help, naturally. But you know me. I haven’t changed. I like the best.’
I think back for a minute to the natty little open-top Ford Escort his father had given him for his nineteenth birthday – how all the other girls, including Sandra, had envied me when he’d driven
me around in it! Then I recall Matthew’s fashionable student wardrobe of clothes, bought with the big allowance he got every month.
‘The parents left me without a penny,’ he says, as if reading my thoughts. ‘Too many step-siblings to provide for, I suppose. So I had to take out a loan to pay for private carers. My wife wasn’t going to want for anything. I was determined about that.’
He sticks out his jaw defiantly, still rubbing it. ‘I heard about a new treatment in the States. This MS consultant had made a breakthrough. Sandra was so excited when I told her. But then we found out the cost. She said it didn’t matter and that she had faith in the hospital over here, where she was already a patient.’
There’s a deep breath. I get the feeling that for once he isn’t acting. ‘But I was never going to let her go without that treatment. Not if there was the slightest chance it could have saved her.’
‘You said you couldn’t forget me,’ I say in a small voice. ‘You said Sandra knew that.’
‘Well, she didn’t,’ Matthew said quietly. ‘I did care for you, Pops, and over the years you did indeed come into my head every now and then. But the truth is that Sandra and I were made for each other. We were two of a kind. It’s why I borrowed thousands of pounds. I’d have done anything to have saved her. I lost count of how many credit cards I maxed out. We were in America for two months and the bills kept racking up. Not just the medical ones but the hotel and all the other expenses.’
He pauses and I say nothing, waiting for him to continue. Matthew is so convincing. I simply don’t know whether to believe one more word from his mouth.
‘Anyway,’ he says quietly, rubbing his eyes. ‘The new treatment didn’t work. We came back home and Sandra never knew about the credit cards. And then she got pneumonia. It was hell, watching her struggle for breath. Lying on the hospital bed with the life draining out of her.’
His brow furrows. ‘After she died, it was a very black time for me. To make it worse, I was flat broke, living off baked beans and without heating in the winter. Of course, I tried to get work, but even the walk-on parts were drying up.’
His face is close to mine now. There is a fury in his eyes that sends shivers through me. ‘I had to sell the mews cottage where Sandra and I lived but it still wasn’t enough to pay off those loan sharks. Do you know where I am now, Poppy? In a tiny one-bedroom rented flat in Deptford, with kids who play music all night on the floor above me.’ He gives a bitter laugh. Now I know he’s telling the truth. ‘I never thought I’d end up somewhere like that.’
And though I hate him more than anyone else in the world right now, there’s a part of me that understands. I know how it feels to be disappointed with the way things turned out. And I can only imagine what it’s like to watch a loved one die.
‘Why are you telling me all this?’ I ask.
He looks thoughtful for a moment. ‘I need to share the pain in order for you to believe me. You see, I’m completely serious about you coughing up. I’ve invested a lot in this. You’re my last chance.’
Any compassion I’ve had for Matthew is now disappearing fast. I can feel a large knot of terror and stress gathering at the base of my neck from where it leads into my shoulder. A sharp pain begins to throb in my temples. What an utter fool I’ve been.
‘So anyway.’ His tone is brisk, businesslike. ‘What it all comes down to is that I need fifty grand to pay off my creditors. And you’re going to give it to me, Pops.’
‘And what,’ I quiver, ‘makes you think there’s the slightest chance I am going to agree to that?’
‘Well …’ He reaches down to the flower bed next to him and plucks the head off one of the snowdrops. ‘Because if you don’t, I will tell your husband and your daughters we slept together in Worthing. I’ve got a feeling they won’t like that at all. Then I’ll tell everyone in the industry that you seduced me and that I was too overcome with grief to resist. On top of the trouble over poor Doris and your lack of care towards a client, it won’t look good. Will it? People like their agents to be upfront and honest.’ He tears the snowdrop petals into tiny little bits. ‘I will destroy you Pops. Personally and professionally.’
I’m so stunned by his ruthlessness that I can barely move. Then a thought occurs to me, and I almost laugh.
‘You’re a fool, Matthew. I don’t have insurance. If Doris sues me as you’ve encouraged her to, I’ll have to pay her the money. There’ll be nothing left for you.’
Matthew grins. ‘Fifty grand for a fractured shoulder? Don’t be ridiculous, Pops. Your reputation might be ruined, but you’d be able to afford to pay her out of what your husband earns in a month.’
That takes the wind out of my sails. I try another tack. ‘How will I explain it to him when he discovers all our savings are gone?’ I ask.
He shrugs. ‘That’s up to you. You didn’t think of him in Worthing, did you?’
It’s true. ‘We’re not made of money, you know,’ I say desperately. ‘I mean I know we look good on paper. But we have outgoings. Overheads. The girls. I’ve just had to get in carers for Dad too.’
‘You have a house that’s worth at least a million. Like I said before, I’ve checked it out online. I’m sure you’ll find a way to manage. Meet me outside Waterloo mainline station at the bottom of the steps on the east side. Let’s say 6 p.m. this Friday. And make sure it’s in cash.’
He smiles at me. ‘Otherwise you’ll leave me no option but to send Stuart – and those sweet-looking daughters of yours – that picture of us curled up in bed.’
A potent mixture of anger and fear boils up inside me; scalding my insides. I stand up. I can’t bear to be near him for a second longer. This man has ruined my life once before. He’s not going to succeed a second time.
‘I’m not doing it. And if you ever contact me again,’ I spit, ‘I’ll go straight to the police.’ Then I turn on my heel and storm off.
28
Betty
When Stuart left for university, everything changed. It’s fashionable to talk of empty-nest syndrome now but as far as I knew, the phrase hadn’t even been invented then. I kept finding myself laying the kitchen table for three instead of two. Jock and I struggled to think of things to say to each other.
How lonely I felt! There was so little to do without my son to fuss over. The long empty days stretched out before me without any obvious purpose ahead. There’s a limit to how much housework you can do. If only I was qualified for a job! When I suggested to Jock that I did some kind of training, he looked disapproving. ‘People will think I can’t afford to support my wife. Anyway, you’re too old to start a career.’
But I was only in my early forties. Magazines were full of articles about women who had led second lives after having children. I thought about getting voluntary work at a charity shop but once more, Jock vetoed it. ‘I’m not having a wife of mine touching dirty old clothes that others have worn. What will people think?’
‘They’ll admire me for helping out,’ I pointed out. ‘Like many others.’
‘Well, not my wife.’
At times, I thought about leaving Jock and starting a new life of my own. Once more, there were plenty of magazine features about that too. But I knew it would break Stuart’s heart, despite the fact he was away at university. When he came back for ‘the vacation’ as he called it (such a fancy word!), he always gave us a big hug and seemed really pleased to be home. He was so tall by now that he towered over both of us. But, I reminded myself, even grown men need their parents.
Other women in my position filled their time by seeing friends, but I didn’t have any. In fact, I went out of my way to avoid socializing, always turning down dinner invitations from neighbours or a suggestion from one particularly kind older woman in our road that I should join the local keep-fit class with her. I didn’t deserve friends after what I had done to Jane.
Eventually, the same woman persuaded me to go to a ‘hobbies’ talk at the local Women’s Institute. The speaker confided
that she had taken up knitting when she’d lost ‘someone close’. Her words caught my attention. So I started doing the same. Then I got bored so I went on to crocheting followed by tie-dyeing skirts, making papier mâché plates for my son’s old Scout pack’s bazaar and anything else that caught my eye. It didn’t matter what it was. Just so long as it stopped me thinking about Jane. Since Stuart had left home, she’d started to appear in my dreams again almost every night, accusing me. I feared I would go mad. Maybe I had already.
‘Got another craze, have we?’ Jock remarked when he came home to find me making circular floral plaited rings out of salted dough for the town craft fair. I’d got the recipe from a woman’s magazine. They were rather pretty, actually, and sold very well as decorations. I gave the profits to a local charity for bereaved families. Jock was in senior management now. It wasn’t as though we needed the money any more.
When I’d had enough of salted dough, I did a class in making stained-glass panels. The year after that, I went on a botanical drawing course. I wasn’t particularly good but it was a distraction.
‘You never stop, Mum,’ Stuart would say when he came home. By now he’d qualified and was working for a dental practice in London. Occasionally he brought home girlfriends. They were all perfectly pleasant but none of them lasted. ‘Why doesn’t he settle down?’ Jock would grumble.
I wondered that as well. Yet at the same time I also wanted him to choose carefully. Not like I had.
Years passed in this way. Endless hobbies, all filling the gaps between Stuart’s visits home.
But then you arrived, Poppy. I knew from the minute he first introduced you that you were different. For a start, you’d been hurt. I saw straight away that you were a survivor. Initially, I thought it was because your mother had abandoned you and your father. This convinced me even more that I had done the right thing in staying with Jock. I couldn’t have allowed my Stuart to be as bruised as you were. I felt the pain in your voice as though it belonged to me when you talked about your parents.
