sunday, august 18, 2013

afternoon

anna turns on her heel and runs into the house thesecond she sees him. my heart hammering againstmy ribs, i follow cautiously, stopping just short of thesliding doors. inside, they are embracing, his armsenveloping her, the child between them. anna’s headis bent, her shoulders shaking. his mouth is pressedto the top of her scalp, but his eyes are on me.

“what’s going on here, then?” he asks, the trace ofa smile on his lips. “i have to say that finding youtwo ladies gossiping in the garden when i got homewas not what i expected.”

his tone is light, but he’s not fooling me. he’s notfooling me anymore. i open my mouth to speak, buti find that i don’t have the words. i have nowhereto start.

“rachel? are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

he relinquishes anna from his grasp and takes astep towards me. i take a step back, and he startsto laugh.

“what on earth’s wrong with you? are you drunk?”

he asks, but i can see in his eyes that he knows i’msober and i’m betting that for once he wishes iwasn’t. i slip my hand into the back pocket of myjeans—my phone is there, hard and compact andcomforting, only i wish i’d had the sense to makethe call already. no matter whether they believed meor not, if i’d told them i was with anna and herchild, the police would have come.

tom is now just a couple of feet away fromme—he’s just inside the door and i’m just outside it.

“i saw you,” i say at last, and i feel euphoria,fleeting but unmistakable, when i say the words outloud. “you think i don’t remember anything, but ido. i saw you. after you hit me, you left me there,in the underpass?.?.?.”

he starts to laugh, but i can see it now and iwonder how i never read him this easily before.

there’s panic in his eyes. he shoots a glance atanna, but she doesn’t meet his eye.

“what are you talking about?”

“in the underpass. on the day megan hipwell wentmissing?.?.?.”

“oh, bullshit,” he says, waving a hand at me. “i didnot hit you. you fell.” he reaches for anna’s handand pulls her closer to him. “darling, is this whyyou’re so upset? don’t listen to her, she’s talkingabsolute rubbish. i didn’t hit her. i’ve never laid ahand on her in my life. not like that.” he puts hisarm around anna’s shoulders and pulls her closerstill. “come on. i’ve told you how she is. she doesn’tknow what happens when she drinks, she makes upthe most—”

“you got into the car with her. i watched you go.”

he’s still smiling, but there’s no longer any convictionthere, and i don’t know whether i’m imagining it, buthe looks a little paler to me now. he relaxes his gripon anna, releasing her once again. she sits down atthe table, her back to her husband, her daughtersquirming on her lap.

tom passes his hand over his mouth and leansback against the kitchen counter, folding his armsacross his chest. “you saw me get into the car withwho?”

“with megan.”

“oh, right!” he starts laughing again, a loud, forcedroar. “last time we talked about this, you told meyou saw me get into the car with anna. now it’smegan, is it? who’s it going to be next week?

princess diana?”

anna looks up at me. i can see the doubt, thehope, flash across her face. “you’re not sure?” sheasks.

tom drops to his knees at her side. “of course sheisn’t sure. she’s making this up—she does it all thetime. sweetheart, please. why don’t you go upstairsfor a bit, ok? i’ll talk this through with rachel. andthis time”—he glances up at me—“i promise i’ll makesure she won’t bother us anymore.”

anna’s wavering, i can see it—the way she’s lookingat him, searching his face for the truth, his eyesintently on hers. “anna!” i call out, trying to bringher back to me. “you know. you know he’s lying.

you know that he was sleeping with her.”

for a second, no one says a thing. anna looksfrom tom to me and back again. she opens hermouth to say something, but no words come.

“anna! what does she mean? there’s?.?.?. there wasnothing between me and megan hipwell.”

“i found the phone, tom,” she says, her voice sosmall, she’s almost inaudible. “so please, don’t. don’tlie. just don’t lie to me.”

the child starts to grizzle and moan. very gently,tom takes her from anna’s arms. he walks acrossto the window, rocking his daughter from side toside, murmuring to her all the while. i can’t hearwhat he’s saying. anna’s head is bowed, tearsdripping from her chin onto the kitchen table.

“where is it?” tom says, turning to face us, thelaughter gone from his face. “the phone, anna. didyou give it to her?” he jerks his head in mydirection. “do you have it?”

“i don’t know anything about a phone,” i tell him,wishing that anna had mentioned this earlier.

tom ignores me. “anna? did you give it to her?”

anna shakes her head.

“where is it?”

“i threw it away,” she says. “over the fence. by thetrack.”

“good girl. good girl,” he says distractedly. he’strying to figure things out, work out where to gofrom here. he glances at me and then looks away.

for just a moment, he looks beaten.

he turns to anna. “you were so tired all the time,”

he says. “you just weren’t interested. everything wasabout the baby. isn’t that right? it was all about you,wasn’t it? all about you!” and just like that, he’s ontop again, perked up, pulling faces at his daughter,tickling her tummy, making her smile. “and meganwas so?.?.?. well, she was available.

“at first, it was over at her place,” he says. “butshe was so paranoid about scott finding out. so westarted meeting at the swan. it was?.?.?. well, youremember what it was like, don’t you, anna? at thebeginning, when we used to go to that house oncranham road. you understand.” he glances backover his shoulder at me and winks. “that’s whereanna and i used to meet, back in the good olddays.”

he shifts his daughter from one arm to the other,allowing her to rest against his shoulder. “you thinki’m being cruel, but i’m not. i’m telling the truth.

that’s what you want, isn’t it, anna? you asked menot to lie.”

anna doesn’t look up. her hands are gripping theedge of the table, her entire body rigid.

tom gives a loud sigh. “it’s a relief, if i’m honest.”

he’s talking to me, looking at me directly. “you haveno idea how exhausting it is, coping with people likeyou. and, fuck, i tried. i tried so hard to help you.

to help both of you. you’re both?.?.?. i mean, i lovedyou both, i really did, but you can both be incrediblyweak.”

“fuck you, tom,” anna says, getting up from thetable. “don’t you lump me in with her.”

i look at her and realize how well suited they are,anna and tom. she’s a much better match than iam, because this is what bothers her: not that herhusband is a liar and a killer, but that he’s justcompared her to me.

tom goes to her side and says soothingly, “i’msorry, darling. that was unfair of me.” she brusheshim away and he looks over at me. “i did my best,you know. i was a good husband to you, rach. iput up with a lot—your drinking and yourdepression. i put up with all that for a long timebefore i threw in the towel.”

“you lied to me,” i say. “you told me everythingwas my fault. you made me believe that i wasworthless. you watched me suffer, you—”

he shrugs. “do you have any idea how boring youbecame, rachel? how ugly? too sad to get out ofbed in the morning, too tired to take a shower orwash your fucking hair? jesus. it’s no wonder i lostpatience, is it? it’s no wonder i had to look for waysto amuse myself. you’ve no one to blame butyourself.”

his expression changes from contempt to concernas he turns to talk to his wife. “anna, it was differentwith you, i swear. that thing with megan, it wasjust?.?.?. just a bit of fun. that’s what it was meant tobe. i’ll admit it wasn’t my finest hour, but i justneeded a release. that’s all. it was never going tolast. it was never going to interfere with us, with ourfamily. you must understand that.”

“you?.?.?.” anna is trying to say something, but shecan’t get the words out.

tom puts his hand on her shoulder and squeezesit. “what, love?”

“you had her looking after evie,” she spits. “wereyou screwing her while she was working here? whileshe was looking after our child?”

he removes his hand, his face a picture ofcontrition, of deep shame. “that was terrible. ithought?.?.?. i thought it would be?.?.?. honestly, i don’tknow what i thought. i’m not sure i was thinking atall. it was wrong. it was terribly wrong of me.” andthe mask changes again—now he’s wide-eyedinnocence, pleading with her: “i didn’t know then,anna. you have to believe that i didn’t know whatshe was. i didn’t know about the baby she killed. iwould never have let her look after evie if i’d knownthat. you have to believe me.”

without warning, anna jumps to her feet, pushingher chair back—it clatters onto the kitchen floor,startling their daughter. “give her to me,” anna says,holding her arms out. tom backs away a little. “now,tom, give her to me. give her to me.

”

but he doesn’t, he walks away from her, rockingthe child, whispering to her again, coaxing her backto sleep, and then anna starts to scream. at firstshe’s repeating give her to me, give her to me, butthen it’s just an indistinguishable howl of fury andanguish. the child is screaming, too. tom is trying toquieten her, he’s ignoring anna, so it falls to me totake hold of her. i drag her outside and talk to her,low and urgent.

“you have to calm down, anna. do you understandme? i need you to calm down. i need you to talk tohim, to distract him for a moment while i ring thepolice. all right?”

she’s shaking her head—she’s shaking all over. shegrabs hold of my arms, her fingernails digging intomy flesh. “how could he do this?”

“anna! listen to me. you need to keep him busyfor a moment.”

finally, she looks at me, really looks at me, andnods. “all right.”

“just?.?.?. i don’t know. get him away from thisdoor, try to keep him occupied for a bit.”

she goes back inside. i take a deep breath, thenturn and take a few steps away from the slidingdoor. not too far, just onto the lawn. i turn andlook back. they’re still in the kitchen. i walk slightlyfarther away. the wind is getting up now; the heat isabout to break. swifts are swooping low in the sky,and i can smell the rain coming. i love that smell.

i slip my hand into my back pocket and take outmy phone. hands trembling, i fail to unlock thekeypad once, twice—i get it on the third time. for amoment i think about calling detective riley, someonewho knows me. i scroll through my call log but can’tfind her number, so i give up—i’ll just dial 999. i’mon the second nine when i feel his foot punch thebase of my spine and i go sprawling forward ontothe grass, the wind knocked out of me. the phoneflies from my grasp—he has it in his hand before ican raise myself to my knees, before i can take abreath.

“now, now, rach,” he says, grabbing my arm andhoisting me to my feet effortlessly. “let’s not doanything stupid.”

he leads me back into the house, and i let him,because i know there’s no point fighting now, i won’tget away from him here. he shoves me through thedoorway, sliding the glass door closed behind us andlocking it. he tosses the key onto the kitchen table.

anna is standing there. she gives me a small smile,and i wonder, then, whether she told him that i wasabout to call the police.

anna sets about making lunch for her daughter andputs the kettle on to make the rest of us a cup oftea. in this utterly bizarre facsimile of reality, i feel asthough i could just politely bid them both good-bye,walk across the room and out into the safety of thestreet. it’s so tempting, i actually take a few steps inthat direction, but tom blocks my path. he puts ahand on my shoulder, then runs his fingers undermy throat, applying just the slightest pressure.

“what am i going to do with you, rach?”