My Husband's Lies Read online

  She drops her head on his chest for a moment, then gently pushes him away with the flat of her large bony hand. ‘Food,’ she says. ‘It’s on the kitchen table. I prepared you a box of tins and dry food, then there’s meat and dairy for the fridge and I’ve frozen some meals. Put them in the freezer as soon as you’re there.’

  Dan smiles in the lift to the penthouse apartment, remembering how nervous he felt last time he was in it. A clean shirt and the aroma of coconuts. He’d supposed Seb was trying to seduce him. The thought seems silly now.

  ‘Fart scene,’ Seb says. ‘That’s what you’re thinking.’

  ‘I didn’t think you were listening.’ Dan laughs, thankful Seb doesn’t know what he’s thinking.

  ‘I’ve seen it now. On YouTube.’ He lifts his eyebrows. ‘You finally make sense.’

  Seb’s face suddenly transforms with the huge grin Dan rarely sees. He hopes it lasts. He still feels guilty for misjudging him, Penny too. He’s always been socially conscious, but never really understood that mental health problems are as genuine and damaging as any illness. Seb gave him that insight. Sat at his mum’s kitchen table and gesticulating with his injured hand, the words abruptly flowed.

  ‘It’s like claustrophobia, Dan. The walls cave in without hope; there’s no happiness, no desire, no fucking energy. It’s as though it’s sucked out.’ He briefly met Dan’s eyes before dropping his gaze to his palm. They had both stared at the blood seeping through the white flannel. ‘You can’t imagine. The need just to stop becomes overwhelming.’

  Dan listened, saying nothing, unsurprised when Seb admitted to being diagnosed by a French doctor as bipolar. Prescribed stabilisers, he’d never collected the prescription; he didn’t like being labelled or dependent on pills. And besides, he felt he coped better smoking weed.

  Dan broke his silence and became angry then. ‘For fuck’s sake, Seb. My limited knowledge may only come from reading the Sunday Observer, but can’t cannabis bring on psychosis or make things even worse? And anyway, you shouldn’t be self-prescribing, look where it’s got you tonight.’

  Seb promised to see an English doctor; he even managed a small smile and ‘Scout’s honour’. Dan doesn’t want to spoil his contentment by raising it now, but wonders if he’s seen the promise through.

  The apartment smells of polish and lemons; it’s as cream-coloured as Dan remembers. Seb lugs the suitcase through to the master bedroom, then comes back to the kitchen where they drink lager and empty the boxes. With a raised eyebrow, Dan takes the piss out of the few sentimental knick-knacks Seb has brought – his album of sporting certificates, a framed photograph of him and Will as small boys, a scrapbook bursting with football memorabilia, a Thomas the Tank Engine alarm clock.

  Seb lightly flushes and laughs. ‘Mum packed everything but my clothes.’

  ‘Yeah, right. I believe you, honest,’ Dan replies with a mock-serious face.

  They move onto another box, extracting pairs of mismatched crockery – patterned china bowls, plates, cups and saucers, bone-handled knives, ornate fish forks and dimpled serving spoons, items clearly purloined from Yvette’s erratic kitchen. They line them up on the dark island like Noah’s Ark. For a moment they stare at the scene.

  ‘Yup, goes well,’ Dan comments, his eyes sweeping the glossy kitchen. ‘You’ll only be able to invite one friend to the tea party, though.’

  They laugh, but the unpacking takes only minutes. Dan swigs the last of his beer and looks at his watch.

  ‘Don’t go yet,’ Seb says. ‘Let’s eat one of Mum’s delicacies for lunch.’ He dips into the cool bag, chock-a-block with plastic boxes, and extracts the first one. Squinting at the tiny scrawl on the label, he reads, ‘Ratatouille with bacon. Six minutes to heat. How does that sound?’ He stands at the microwave looking doubtful. ‘How are you with new gadgets?’

  Dan moves next to him, remembering his quip to Geri this morning. Her parents and sister have travelled up from Birmingham to take her shopping, so he knows he has time. ‘Dab hand at everything. Domestic goddess, that’s me.’

  He programmes six minutes, then stares at his reflection in the dark oven door. Seb’s shoulder is touching his. He’s looking at him, not the microwave.

  ‘That so?’ Seb says and Dan turns his head, wondering if Seb can hear the hammer of his heart.

  Dan takes a deep breath. ‘You said you’re not gay, right?’

  ‘I did.’

  Dan backs away to the kitchen island, sits on a bar stool and turns the empty beer bottle with the tips of his fingers. Eventually he speaks, his voice croaky. ‘Then the night of Nick’s wedding …’ He doesn’t want to ask, but he really needs to know; not a night has gone by without him examining what happened from every angle. ‘You invited me – at least I think you did – into bed. Suppose I’d said yes? What then?’

  Seb rests against the sink, his arms folded. ‘I’ve no idea. I’ve never … I’ve never done anything further than a fumbled snog with a guy and that was … different.’ He shrugs. ‘He came onto me and I wanted to know what a kiss would be like, so I thought why not. But the wedding … I suppose I was pissed. Then the brandy—’

  ‘Oh, right.’ Dan drops his gaze, colour flooding his cheeks. So, he had got it wrong. He can’t quite identify the strange mix of emotions fogging his mind, but at least he now knows.

  Seb steps forward, leans on the granite surface and dips his head to Dan’s. ‘The brandy made me brave. Perhaps I thought I was in with a chance.’

  Dan lifts his head in surprise. Seb’s voice is warm and playful.

  ‘I had a crush on you when I was eleven, Dan. Daniel Maloney, dark and handsome, so fit, a sporting hero. Super Dan, as Will used to call you—’

  ‘Really? I had no idea.’

  ‘I know,’ Seb replies dryly. ‘I was invisible. Staring at you longingly in my striped pyjamas from the top bannister when you came to see Will.’

  Dan laughs unsteadily. ‘Now you’re taking the piss,’ he replies.

  ‘It was agony, actually.’ Seb pauses for a moment, his eyes piercing. ‘Then when I was thirteen. The swimming gala. You noticed me then.’

  ‘You didn’t win. Against all expectations you came fourth. You scraped the bronze because someone was disqualified. You were crying in the showers and I held you.’

  ‘You said you didn’t remember.’

  Dan’s throat feels dry; he picks up a new beer bottle and nods at the microwave. ‘I think six minutes is up,’ he says.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Jen

  Jen bumps onto the Chorlton Green kerb, the loud clink of dishes dragging her back from dark thoughts. Geri’s at her front door, chatting to her neighbour. She lifts her hand to wave.

  Climbing out, Jen stifles a yawn. ‘You are so good to us,’ she hears as she makes for the boot. A rattling milk float overtakes, blocking the sound. When she turns, Geri’s there in her slippers, holding out her arms to help, her broad smile lighting her face as usual.

  Geri takes the proffered platter. ‘That smells delicious. Thank you so much! Without you we’d be subject to Dan’s attempts at haute cuisine. He’s been looking up salad recipes on the internet, so be warned.’ She studies Jen’s face for a moment. ‘Fancy a sit-down before you bring everything in? It’s the least I can do.’

  Jen smiles wryly. ‘If I sit down I might not get up again.’ She watches the milkman and thinks of her wakefulness last night; three hours of worrying about everything, from Holly’s weight loss to why Ian asked about her napping, from Will’s unexpected gift to accidentally poisoning the guests tonight. ‘One of those nights, tossing and turning,’ she explains, then focuses on Geri’s huge bump. ‘Listen to me complaining! At least I can toss and turn.’ She steps to Geri and greets her with a kiss on both cheeks. ‘Dan not home?’

  ‘Not yet. He’s being really sweet by helping Seb move to his new flat. Mind you, I think he was glad to escape his duties for a while—’

  ‘Duties?’

&nb
sp; Geri rubs her belly and looks thoughtful. ‘The midwife put the fear of God in him. Not that Dan believes in God, of course.’

  Jen smiles and picks up a roasting tray. ‘Very true. Probably why he’s the best of us all.’ She follows Geri to the hall and takes the dish through to the kitchen. ‘I’ll get the next box—’

  She’s stopped by Geri’s inquisitive gaze. God, she must look rough.

  ‘Quick coffee first?’ Geri asks.

  Jen looks at her watch, she really doesn’t have time and the smell of fried eggs makes her feel strangely sad. When she lifts her head, Geri speaks again. ‘Any particular reason for the tossing and turning?’

  ‘Holly’s PE teacher phoned to say she’s too thin. A neglectful mother, she all but said. I feel like a really crap mum.’ The words are out before she can stop them. She hadn’t intended to say anything to anyone. It’s ridiculous, she knows, but the anxiety about Holly makes her nauseous, which is pretty ironic.

  ‘You are not a crap mum, Jen! Far from it. I’m sure the teacher just put it badly. What are you planning to do?’

  Not in the mood to elaborate, Jen gathers her escaped hair and threads it back in her ponytail before replying, but she’s saved by the loud peal of Geri’s telephone. ‘Think that’s yours, Geri. I’ll grab the rest of the food and shoot off.’

  Retreating to her boot, Jen adjusts tin foil and sighs. She scoops out the heavy platter and almost bumps into Dan.

  His grin’s as bright as Geri’s. ‘Bloody hell, Jen. There’s only eight of us. We’re not feeding the five thousand.’

  ‘Bit biblical for you, Dan,’ she comments wryly. She hands him the plate and nods to his open front door. ‘There’s a couple more in the hall.’ Looking down at her clothes, she wonders how she must look. Despite washing the hoodie several times, the butter stain remains stubbornly, like a reminder of Will. The jolt of sadness is there, but she tries for her jovial tone. ‘I’ve brought them now in my chavvy trackie so I can go glam later. And drink myself to oblivion. If I’ve forgotten anything, it’s tough.’

  Dan narrows his eyes. ‘Are you coming in for a drink?’

  It’s tempting to let it out, but she’s said too much already. ‘Nah, already bored Geri, poor woman.’ She climbs in the car, breathing through the sudden impulse to cry. ‘Besides, you’re the hostess with the mostest, Danny boy. Time’s ticking. Haute cuisine salad, I believe. You’ve work to do.’

  Dan squats down by the car door. ‘Everything OK? Want to talk?’

  She gazes for a moment before answering. His dark eyes are glowing and there’s an air of suppressed excitement about him, but he’s always had a knack of knowing when she’s low. ‘You’re a sweetie. You know that, don’t you, Dan? Not just a pretty face.’

  He nods after a moment. ‘OK. See you later,’ he says. ‘Don’t forget your beautiful smile.’

  Pulling onto the drive, Jen doesn’t move for some time. She stares at her small semi. She loves this house; she loves the bay windows, the white render, the round toilet window; she loves the paved driveway that could do with some attention, the privet, the firs. And she loves what’s inside; not just the snug dining room crowded by school photographs and the piano, the messy cushion-strewn lounge and open fire, the compact bright kitchen. She adores her family, her beautiful girls and her Ian. She wouldn’t want it any other way, she really wouldn’t. Would she?

  She glances at her watch, not particularly registering the time, but automatically working out how many minutes of the football match have passed. She’s usually checked the score by now, anticipating Ian’s mood when he returns. Even if United win, he’ll be cross if they don’t play at their best, if they’re half-hearted or let in any goals. She just ignores him, of course, lets him rant for a while before he retreats in a sulk. But that isn’t so bad. What did her mum once say? ‘Better football than a woman.’ And, of course, Nola should know.

  Loving, reliable Ian. What did he mean by her napping?

  Closing her eyes, she pictures a hot noisy coach of football supporters and smiles at the memory. Fourteen years ago! How fast time has passed. It was an away match to Anfield at university and she sat next to another student, biting her nails. Other than his ginger hair, she barely noticed him, but they were sitting together again at the ground. Although she did the usual effing and jeffing, he watched the match with a rigid face in near silence. But at half-time he turned, showing a warm, friendly smile.

  ‘You’re noisy,’ he said. ‘Tell me, what madness made us choose to go to uni in Liverpool of all places?’

  No one would ever replace Will, but she immediately liked him; he came from Manchester, his home a stone’s throw away from Old Trafford, and she instinctively knew he was steady and dependable. United scored and they hugged. It turned to a clumsy kiss which became a long snog.

  Steady, dependable Ian. The one thing that’s certain. Oh God. Everything’s fine there, isn’t it?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Penny

  Debbie sounds different on the phone. She said calling was fine, but still.

  ‘Are you OK to speak for a minute?’ Penny asks.

  ‘Of course. I said to call. How are things going?’

  ‘Much better, thanks. You know you suggested writing stuff down? Well I haven’t managed much about me, but it got me in the writing zone, the scientific one, at least.’ She smiles, feeling pleased and a little bashful. ‘Which is a good thing. Doing nothing is driving me nuts. Just medical articles. I thought I’d send them off to some journals, see if they get published.’

  She needs to get to the point; that isn’t why she’s calling. She spent ages in Costco, mulling things over. Tonight will be the first time she’s seen the A Team since the wedding. It’s important to get it right.

  ‘Excellent!’ Debbie says. ‘You sound as though you’re a little restless. Do you feel ready to go back to work?’

  ‘Oh, I want to. Will isn’t so keen.’

  ‘Why?’

  He still thinks I’m crazy; that I’ll do something mad. ‘He worries. He just wants me to get better. Do you think work would be a step back?’

  ‘What do you think?’

  ‘I feel really fine. I think it would help me get back on track. Get over the …’

  ‘Over what?’ Debbie asks eventually.

  Penny sighs. ‘The embarrassment of it all. It can’t get much worse, can it? A psychotic episode at someone’s wedding? Not just someone, but close friends.’

  Feeling her chest tighten, Penny pauses before asking her question. She didn’t think about it before, but she popped into Sainsbury’s for milk on the way home from therapy on Thursday, and there he was in the dairy aisle, someone she knew, an old pal. No, not a pal, but an ex-boyfriend from uni. A flatmate, in fact. He pretended not to notice her, but she caught the alarm on his face before he scuttled away. So, it’s important to get it right with the A Team. They’re her friends, her only friends, she needs to show them she’s normal.

  ‘Are you still there, Penny?’

  ‘Sorry, yes.’ She remembers him laughing. Struggling to shake away the old memory, she takes a quick breath. ‘Do you think it would be weird to apologise to our friends?’

  ‘Is that important to you?’

  ‘Yes, it is.’

  ‘Can you explain why?’

  Because she didn’t apologise back in time. Or at least explain that it wasn’t her fault. Well, not really.

  ‘I think an apology is due and it might make the whole thing seem less … odd.’

  ‘Then why not?’

  ‘Will thinks I should leave it.’

  ‘But what do you think, Penny?’

  She doesn’t reply. Pictures Will staring at his phone as though willing it to ring. Not coming to bed until he thinks she’s asleep. And even then not dozing, but staring into the black night.

  Debbie’s voice makes her jolt. ‘Are you still there, Penny? Making decisions is difficult but often a sign of progress. How wou
ld you feel about deciding for yourself?’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Nick

  Nick and his wife arrive early at Dan’s. He shakes hands with Dan, trying not to catch Lisa’s eyes. ‘Told you so!’ they say.

  They had an argument before leaving home. She was still in the bathroom when the taxi arrived.

  ‘Hurry up,’ he’d shouted up the stairs, ‘the taxi is waiting.’

  ‘You ordered it too early. I told you I wouldn’t be ready,’ she’d called back. ‘We’ll be the first people there, just you see.’

  She came down the stairs eventually, applying bright lipstick.

  ‘What?’ she asked, looking at his face.

  ‘Well, if you didn’t wear so much make-up, it wouldn’t take so long.’

  He knew he’d said the wrong thing the moment it was out. Speaking without thinking, as usual. He glances at her now. Her face is so pretty, she doesn’t need to wear make-up at all, let alone the amount she smears on when they’re going out. He’d belatedly tried to explain it in the taxi, but she wasn’t for relenting.

  ‘Didn’t your mother teach you anything, Nick?’ she said tersely, her body positioned away. ‘If you have nothing nice to say, then don’t say anything at all.’

  The smoke from the newly lit fire catches Nick’s throat and he coughs, feeling stupid. He needs something to do. ‘Shall I crack open a bottle?’ he asks as they wait for Geri. He brought a few bottles of wedding champagne and knows Lisa will soften after a couple of glasses. Turning briefly, he takes in her tight features. Bloody hell, the sooner the better.

  Dan grins. ‘Thought you’d never ask. Looks pretty good stuff. Sure you don’t mind wasting it on us?’ he replies. His eyes flicker from him to Lisa. ‘I can hear Geri now. Shall we do the honours in the kitchen?’