My Husband's Lie: A page turning and emotional family drama Page 11

  I hurriedly replace the picture book on the seat where I found it, refolding the newspaper, before taking it away. Tucking it inside my bedside-table drawer where it can no longer poison the air with its words. I have no idea what to do now. Do I speak to Lauren about it, or not? I certainly don’t want her asking questions of her friends, but neither do I want to bring this thing into our home any more than it already is.

  I don’t know how long I sit there, perched on the edge of my bed as I try to make sense of the last few minutes. Because one thing’s for sure; the newspaper clipping was only the start of something, not the end. What came next I have no knowledge of, but I can imagine. And it’s something I’m going to have to find out. Maybe I should go and speak to Anna again, and see what else she knows. But, even as I think it, I know I won’t, not yet anyway. This whole thing needs to stay at a distance, where I can keep an eye on it.

  My laptop screen flickers into life as I boot it up and I’m amazed to see it’s only just gone ten. A little over an hour since Drew left. He won’t be home for ages yet but I just want him here so that I won’t be on my own, wondering why someone has hidden the details of a child-abuse case in our home.

  There’s not much to go on. After an hour of searching the internet in every way I can think of, I’m left with little more than I already knew. It’s obviously very old news and took place long before social media existed. Reporting was done the old-fashioned way, in print, and very little of it has been archived. I can find nothing that might help me.

  Georgia is okay though. And by that I mean she’s alive and, I’m assuming, well. A trawl of Facebook allows me to discover that she’s living near Hereford, although there’s no mention of family. But there are no further details about the incident when she was thirteen other than those in the newspaper. She was sexually abused but her attacker was never found. Several local men were questioned, but they all had substantiated alibis and, without DNA evidence to go on, it seems the investigation ground to a halt.

  As a child I’d been to Guides once or twice until I decided it wasn’t for me. Meetings were held in the local community hall, at the other end of the village from Pevensey, and if Georgia lived locally her walk home would have taken only a matter of minutes. That’s all it had taken to change her life forever, but there was still a life out there that had continued almost unaltered, someone who knew that they were guilty. And it made me wonder who else might know. Perhaps the person who had hidden the article away, maybe as a reminder, or maybe to bide their time. I sit up straight. Damn, why hadn’t I thought of that before?

  We’d been gone from the village for twenty-three years and I had no idea who had lived in the house after we moved. It could have been one person or it could have been ten for all I knew. But the decor is still very dated and it seemed logical that if the house had changed hands more recently that some of the work we still needed to attend to would have already been completed. And I can’t help but think of Anna’s description of its most recent occupants: a man who gave her the creeps, who didn’t like children, and his wife, the opposite, perhaps long-suffering…

  But my questions have no answers and I can’t begin to think how I can find out. I pace the house like a caged animal until it’s time to go and collect the girls from school. They hurry home with me, lured by the promise of an impromptu baking session.

  It’s nearly seven o’clock by the time Drew returns. I’m sick with longing to have someone to talk to about all of this, yes – but mostly to be folded into his arms and told that everything is going to be okay. But he’s buzzing when he arrives, a grin stretching from ear to ear as he shrugs off his jacket and throws down his folder onto the kitchen table.

  ‘I’ve bloody done it!’ he exclaims, as he sweeps towards me, arms outstretched so that I can share in his joy. ‘My first order… Oh God, Thea, honeycomb houses are going to be a thing… I’ve had to promise all sorts to get it, but I don’t care!’

  He whirls me round, but it feels weirdly like it’s happening to someone else and I don’t know how to be. Drew has been working towards this for years and I’ve thought so many times about what this moment will feel like for him; the realisation that this could be what changes everything, what brings the dream that bit closer. But all I can think of is, not now… not when there seems to be so many other things to think about. Not when I want to talk to him. And I hate myself for it.

  So I pretend. I have to. And I grin back at him and make whooping noises that bring the girls running. ‘I told you!’ I say. ‘I knew it was just a matter of time.’ And I beckon the girls in. ‘Come and give your amazing daddy a big hug.’

  We dance a weird entwined jig around the kitchen until Chloe breaks away. She fetches the tin from the side and shows her father the muffins we’d ended up making earlier. ‘Look, Mummy said we should make these for you so that we can celebrate,’ she says proudly.

  ‘Aha!’ he replies. ‘Well how clever of Mummy to know we’d be needing them.’

  His eyes light up as he grins at me and I don’t disagree. I’d forgotten I’d even said that and I marvel that I could still be that person without even thinking about it.

  ‘Which reminds me,’ I add, as another thought comes to me. And this was something I had consciously planned, a while back in fact for this precise moment. I’m very grateful for it now.

  I cross to the pantry and bring forth the bottle of champagne that I’d stashed there. It isn’t ice-cold, but it’s been on the marble slab for days and is pretty chilly.

  ‘Ta-dah!’

  Drew does that thing with his eyes that melts me from the inside out and he pulls me in to press his lips against mine. ‘What did I ever do to deserve you?’ he says. And I can’t possibly answer.

  He hasn’t eaten yet and, now that his elation is settling, he’s suddenly ravenous and wary of drinking the champagne on an empty stomach. So I rustle up a quick plateful of beans on toast, leaving him to eat it as I chivvy the girls to have their bath. Half an hour later, I’m eating a chocolate chip muffin and drinking champagne as I sit and listen to Drew talk. It’s the only thing to do but the contrast of his mood against mine tastes bitter.

  ‘So, who is this charity then?’ I ask. ‘Come on, tell me all about it.’

  He shoves in a mouthful of his cake before replying. ‘They’re only small, an organisation that runs short-break, respite holidays for people with disabilities. They’ve just received a grant to allow them to expand and want to create a woodland centre on a parcel of land which they’ve been able to buy. However, access isn’t great at the moment and there’s not a lot of cash left over to build anything the traditional way.’

  ‘Which is where the honeycomb houses come in…’

  Drew nods. ‘They want two to start with, but in time hopefully more, the beauty of them being of course that they can all slot together. They’ll use one for sleeping and eating and the other will be somewhere their service users can have access to the nature that’s all around them.’

  ‘So what else did you have to offer them to secure the deal? Don’t tell me you’ve got to sleep with the managing director…’

  Drew grins. ‘Damn, I didn’t think of that,’ he replies. ‘If I had maybe I wouldn’t have had to give them a discount.’ He chews thoughtfully. ‘Still, I made sure that in return I can follow the project from start to finish and use it for publicity. It will mean a bit of to-ing and fro-ing, but worth it in the long run. Let’s just hope everything goes according to plan.’ He finishes his muffin, crumpling up the paper case and dropping it onto his empty plate. ‘Anyway, what sort of a day have you had? How are the girls? Is Lauren okay? She seemed all right when I came in.’

  I look at him, puzzled by his question. The events of yesterday seem so far away and I’m struggling to make any reply that isn’t vague.

  Drew looks at his watch. ‘I’d best go and listen to the girls read,’ he says. ‘I could use a shower too, but after that, I’m all yours…’ And he dra
ins his glass of champagne with an unmistakable look in his eye.

  And so time slips further and further away and there no longer seems to be a moment when I can possibly release the fears I’m holding deep inside of me. It wouldn’t be fair.

  But I know that Drew will notice something soon, when his euphoria wears off and other things start to nibble at his consciousness. Because I can’t keep up the pretence that everything is fine for long.

  It’s night-time now and he’s turned away from me, onto the side he generally favours when he’s deeply asleep. His breathing is quiet and even and, although I’ve willed myself to relax, I know that my current state of wakefulness is as good as it’s going to get. And I silently begin to count the hours until morning.

  Eleven

  It’s been an odd couple of days. Like there’s something in the water. I smile at my choice of words as I empty the washing-up bowl of suds and hang up the dishcloth to dry. It’s like when you catch something out of the corner of your eye but, when you look, there’s nothing there. So I’m probably just imagining the hush that has fallen as I walked past a group of mums, or caught someone looking at me with more than a passing glance… It feels as if the questions endlessly circling my own head are being repeated by everyone else. Who left the newspaper clipping in our house? What really happened? What does it mean? But I know that they can’t be asking these things because I still haven’t told anyone else about my discovery, not even Drew…

  And now the weekend has arrived at last, and for that at least I’m grateful, because that means Rachel. And hugs and good conversation. I hadn’t realised I’d missed her quite as much as I have until I’m faced with the prospect of seeing her again. I’ve been constantly rushing to check the front window for the last half hour, and listening out for their car, but now they’re finally here and I can’t contain my excitement.

  By the time I fling open the front door, they’ve already pulled up outside and spilled from the car, stretching legs and laughing. Then hugging Drew and the girls, who were playing outside, but came running at the sound of tyres on gravel.

  Rachel is staring up at the house, shielding her eyes from the sun. Her hair is shorter than the last time I saw her but her smile is the same as she spots me coming towards her. We pause for just a second, feeling distance occupying the space between us, but then it’s gone, vanished by the memory of our friendship that fills it.

  ‘Thea, look at this place!’ she exclaims. ‘You said it was gorgeous, but I didn’t realise it was this gorgeous. The photos don’t do it justice at all.’ She throws up her hands. ‘In fact, this whole place is magical. I think I’d forgotten the countryside even existed. You know, green spaces that don’t suddenly stop the other side of a handful of trees. The green here goes on forever.’

  Gerry comes forward and hugs us both. He looks tired, his face grey and puffy in comparison to Drew’s, which glows golden in the afternoon sun. He’s grinning at us, taking in what he sees. ‘You’re never coming back to London, are you?’ he says. ‘We must be mad thinking you would.’

  I give Rachel a quizzical look.

  ‘For some bizarre reason we thought you might get bored, with all the endless gorgeous scenery,’ she says, pulling a face. ‘Or fed up with the peace and quiet… the fresh air, no traffic jams, no commuting…’

  Gerry breathes in deeply, the swell of his round stomach expanding. ‘As if you would… Still, you never know, maybe this will be the weekend when we decide we’ve had enough of London too.’

  Drew grins at him. ‘We do have paramedics in the country, Gerry,’ he says. ‘You could do a lot worse.’

  Rachel looks away, a wry smile on her face. This isn’t a new conversation. In fact, I’d bet it was a topic of discussion for most of their journey here.

  ‘Anyway, come on in,’ adds Drew. ‘Let’s get you something to eat and drink. And then, I can show you to your room.’ He rolls his eyes. ‘I’ve always wanted to say that…’

  I take Rachel’s arm. ‘Anyone would think he’s lord of the manor,’ I say. ‘We do have five bedrooms now, but they’re not that big.’

  She laughs. ‘I was wondering when we’d get to meet the butler…’

  Admittedly the hallway is a bit of a conversation-stopper. With its beautiful tiled floor and mahogany panelling either side of the staircase which sweeps upward to the galleried landing, it’s very Homes & Gardens but, fortunately, Rachel and Gerry know us well enough to see beyond that and the relaxed chatter continues unabated.

  Half an hour later, having done the tour, I’m back in the kitchen making a pile of sandwiches as Rachel comes in from the garden.

  ‘Honestly, you should hear those two out there, like a couple of old men,’ she says.

  Drew and Gerry have set up camp for the afternoon by the look of things. The deckchairs are out, the beers are set up on the table and they don’t look as if they’re planning on moving any time soon.

  ‘That’s okay,’ I reply. ‘At least it will mean I can have you all to myself for a while.’ I turn to hug her. ‘Oh, it’s so good to see you again, Rachel.’

  Her eyes are shining. ‘I know!’ She sighs dramatically. ‘This week has gone so slowly and, if anything, I think Gerry has been worse than me.’

  She glances back out through the open door. ‘He misses Drew something chronic, not that he’d admit to it, of course…’ She breaks off. ‘He’s had a bit of a rough time at work actually, and his mates in the service are great, but he and Drew always used to swap stories about how bad each other’s jobs were. Perversely it used to make him feel better.’ But then she grins. ‘Or perhaps it was the beer… Anyway, it’s good to see you too, Thea. It feels like you’ve been away forever.’

  I brighten my smile. ‘So, come on then, tell me all your news. How’s your business going now that term has started again? I bet the dinner-party season will soon be in full swing.’

  Rachel rolls her eyes. ‘Yep. But you know me, Thea, I love it and hate it both at the same time. But actually, I’ve been asked to do some teaching at a local deli that’s just opened. They were looking for a way to get some more punters through the door and the owner asked me if I’d do some classes there. I don’t think it’s going to be particularly lucrative but—’

  ‘It could lead in all sorts of directions, Rachel. I think that’s brilliant news.’

  ‘Unless his business is a total flop, of course.’

  I tut. ‘Yes, but with you doing your thing, how could it be?’

  Rachel has automatically taken over the buttering of the slices of bread I’ve cut. She grins. ‘I hadn’t thought of that.’ She scoops up another curl of butter from the pot. ‘It will be nice to do something a little different though, and good experience too.’

  ‘For when you move to your farmhouse in the country, you mean? And run your brilliantly successful cookery school.’

  She blushes, peeping across at me from under her lashes.

  I stand back to look at her better. ‘You’re actually thinking about this, aren’t you?’ I say. ‘I mean, really seriously thinking.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know, Thea. Sometimes I think we are and then we talk ourselves out of it again. I guess it’s just that now you two are gone, London seems… Well, London is like it’s always been, but maybe I’m just more aware of its shortcomings now. You get so caught up in everyday life that you simply carry on, like a hamster in a wheel – can’t get off it – and haven’t got time to look at what might be around you either. Or you’re too afraid to. Sometimes it takes a change in someone else’s life to make you take stock of your own.’

  She puts down the knife. ‘And you guys look so well, and happy. Relaxed, tanned, carefree… Do I need to go on?’ She grins again. ‘You are, aren’t you? Please tell me you are…’

  ‘Yes, we are,’ I reply, laughing. ‘It hasn’t all been plain sailing, nothing ever is, but being here again feels right. Like it was meant to be.’ I ponder the look on her face. ‘Your interest in o
ur welfare is lovely, Rach,’ I say. ‘But why do I get the feeling there’s more to this conversation than just plain curiosity?’

  Her face lights up in excitement. ‘Possibly because the reason why we left Jamie with his nanny and grandad is so that Gerry could take Monday off as holiday and we can spend the day exploring.’

  I let out a little squeal. ‘Exploring with a view to house-hunting?’

  Rachel just smiles. ‘We can stay in a hotel though if…’

  I silence her with a fierce look. ‘You will not,’ I say. ‘Don’t be so silly. You’re more than welcome to stay here, especially if that’s the reason.’

  ‘You’re going to think we’re stalking you.’

  ‘As if…’ I nudge her arm. ‘Come on, you’ve got me all excited now. Let’s get these sandwiches made, and then I can show you around the village. Not saying you have to move here of course, but…’ I wink at her as she continues buttering the bread.

  Come two o’clock it’s absolutely boiling and I wonder if we’re in for another storm. After the rain midweek, a mini heatwave has arrived as predicted, causing Drew and Gerry to drag their chairs across the lawn into the shade from the willow. They both look as if they could fall asleep at any minute. Taking pity on them, Rachel and I decide to take the girls with us on our walk and, lured by the promise of an ice cream and a paddle in the stream, they readily agree.

  We’re just heading out of our gate when I spy Anna walking back up the lane with Fergus and Tilly trailing behind. Neither of them look pleased to have been for a walk. Fergus I can understand – his tongue is lolling out and he looks hot and thirsty – but it’s unusual to see Tilly looking so dispirited.

  I wave and wait for them to reach us.

  ‘Hi Anna, what a gorgeous day!’ Lauren is already dancing around Tilly and Anna smiles a little, relieved perhaps to see her daughter looking happier, but it doesn’t completely hide her obvious tension. I stand back. ‘This is my friend, Rachel, from London.’