My Husband's Lies Page 20

Lifting his chin and with resolve, he takes a deep breath. Stop, just stop. Today isn’t about him. No more self-indulgence. More important things are going on. God, far more important.

  He leaves the cloying toilet and stands at the door. Time for action, stop a medic, just ask. Heading towards a blue tunic, his steps are cut short. ‘Dan!’ The shout comes from behind him, a bellowing voice he’d know anywhere.

  ‘Here! I’m here.’ Will lifts his hand and turns back to the counter, speaking in a deep clipped voice to the same hassled receptionist Dan spoke to earlier. Clearly Will isn’t accepting ‘take a seat and wait’ as he had previously. But then he didn’t feel qualified to kick up a fuss. He wasn’t family, just a friend, the fool who’d called the ambulance.

  Will finally turns. His scowl is replaced with perplexed surprise. ‘Bloody hell, Dan. Hospital cutbacks or what? You’ve walked a long way to have a piss.’

  Like a shock of freezing air on Dan’s skin, the worry is instant. A long way to have a piss? He reels at the words.

  Will’s smile is mixed with a puzzled frown. ‘I thought the maternity unit was on the other side of the building. You got all our messages, didn’t you?’ He studies Dan’s face. ‘Are you all right, mate? Jen’s been calling you all evening. She thought we were together, so she called me too. We’ve all left messages on your mobile. Geri has gone into labour, Dan. Her waters or something. She’s here in the maternity unit. Jen’s with her. Bloody hell, mate, you’re in the wrong place, you’d better get moving.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  Jen

  Jen leaves Geri napping in a maternity ward of four, stalking back to the corridor to check her mobile for missed calls. It’s dark through the windows, the whole building strangely silent. She’s still hot and agitated. With the hospital, with Will and with bloody Dan Maloney.

  No answer from Dan, she put Geri in the passenger seat of her car on a towel, drove the fifteen-minute journey to the hospital, reassuring and chatty, then ended up having a heated row with the woman on reception, who tried to turn them away on the basis of staff shortages on a Sunday.

  ‘Labour might not start for twenty-four hours,’ the woman said with pursed lips. ‘Ms Hesk is better off at home until then.’

  It was hard not to shout. Her waters have broken, she has high blood pressure, Jen argued, she was bloody well staying put. Of course she didn’t add that Geri’s partner had gone AWOL, that there was no one bloody home to look after her. She’d phoned Dan twenty times, then moved on to Seb, but there was no answer from him either. So in desperation she’d called Will, who answered immediately.

  ‘Jen,’ he said. ‘Finally. What’s up? Why have you been ignoring me? I’ve been tearing my hair out.’

  ‘You have no hair, Will,’ she couldn’t help but reply.

  ‘Now you’re smiling, aren’t you?’ he said. ‘That’s why I love you so much.’

  The words threw her for seconds. She had to wrench her mind back to why she was calling. Where the hell was Dan? she asked. Geri’s waters had broken. She’d tried Dan’s mobile a hundred times. Where did he go after the football? What football? Will asked. The football at Seb’s, she explained. But Will didn’t know, said he’d track down Seb and try to find out. She hasn’t heard from him since. Nor Seb or bloody Dan.

  Deep concern now setting in, she looks again at her mobile, briefly speaks to Ian at home to fill him in, then drops on a bench and closes her eyes, wondering what to do next. This isn’t like Dan; something terrible must have happened. So, what now? Dan’s parents? The police? And what the hell will she say to Geri when she wakes?

  ‘Jen?’

  She jumps at the sound. Dan Maloney is standing in front of her, looking dreadful. His face is pale, his eyebrows are knitted, the white of his eyes tinted pink. ‘What’s happening, Jen?’

  Standing up, she lets rip, but not half as much as she would’ve done had it not been for his desperately anxious face. ‘But Geri’s fine. Her waters have broken but labour hasn’t started yet, so she’s sleeping on a ward,’ she finishes. ‘Where have you been, Dan? Why haven’t you answered my calls?’

  ‘Long story,’ he replies, rubbing his face. ‘But I lost my mobile. In a taxi, I think.’ He pulls her into a hug. ‘Thanks for being here. You’re a really good person; a really great friend. We’re all lucky to have you.’ He releases her eventually and looks to the end of the corridor with flickering eyes. ‘Which way do I go?’ he asks. Then, taking an unsteady breath, ‘It’s fine; I’ll find her. Sorry and thanks again. It’s late, go home to your family.’

  Jen nods, picks up her coat, fishes for the keys in her handbag, then lifts her head. She can still see Dan’s retreating back. She’s never seen him like that before. There was a strong smell of whisky on his breath; he looked as though he’d been crying.

  After nipping to the loo and tackling her badly smudged mascara, she finds Dan staring blankly at a vending machine in the waiting area.

  ‘They told me Geri’s still asleep,’ he says. ‘It felt wrong to sit in the ward with the other women and their babies, so I’m waiting here.’ He looks at the coins in his hand, then back to Jen. ‘I thought you were going home.’

  Shaking her head, Jen smiles wryly. Did she really think she’d leave Dan in this state? She stands on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. ‘Hospital coffee,’ she says, selecting two pounds from his palm. ‘Just can’t resist it.’

  They sit together in the empty room, gazing at their steaming coffees. Dan flexes his right hand and stares at his knuckles, so Jen looks too. How strange; they’re red and grazed. What on earth has he been doing? She slides her hand onto his. ‘You would talk to me if something was troubling you, wouldn’t you?’ she asks. She looks at his hollow eyes, feeling a surge of love and concern. ‘You know me, the soul of discretion.’

  He turns towards her, a small smile breaking the tension in his jaw. ‘Like when I stole from Mum’s swear box to buy sweets?’

  ‘Yup. I was your confessional.’

  ‘The bloody confessional,’ he mutters. He drops his head in his hands and for a moment she thinks he’s going to say something momentous. But he shakes his dark head and looks back, his brown eyes searching and gentle. ‘Same goes here,’ he says. ‘Are you OK, Jen? Geri thought you were worrying about something. About Holly? There’s nothing wrong, is there?’

  ‘Just a mum worrying. You’ll know what I mean soon enough,’ she replies. But her voice is a croak, she’s trying hard not to cry.

  Dan stands, moves the drinks, then crouches down to look into her eyes. He gazes for a few moments before speaking. ‘You can trust me too, Jen. I could tell something had gone wrong at the dinner party. I’ve loved you and Will for twenty-three years—’

  ‘Oh God, is it so obvious?’

  ‘Only to me and I wouldn’t dream of telling anyone, not even Geri.’

  The tears flow then. She pulls a tissue from her handbag and wipes her face. ‘That isn’t even it; well, not really.’

  ‘What then?’

  She takes a deep shuddery breath. She’s spoken to God about it a million times, but she needs to say it out loud. ‘Suppose Holly was really ill with something serious? Suppose she needed me and Ian to donate something. Blood, bone marrow, a kidney, whatever? They’d do tests, wouldn’t they, to see if we were a match?’

  Dan’s eyes study her intently, trustful and dark.

  ‘Suppose those tests showed that Ian isn’t Holly’s father? What then, Dan? What then?’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  Nick

  The images hit Nick again. Patrick, poor Patrick. His strangled words. The chair as it clattered. Every time he drifts, the film bursts in his mind like a bloody Snapchat story. If only it was; if only it would vanish. Like a snap, he needs to live in the moment and stop fiddling with the past.

  He yawns, points the remote and flicks through the TV channels until he finds sport. Wrestling, but what the hell. It was Lisa’s turn to make dinner over an
hour ago, but she’s been chatting on the telephone. Not that he minds. The first caller was his mum. She’s phoned several times since the Sunday lunch spat. Not saying anything specifically, but trying to build bridges, he supposes: ‘Poor Dad has been so grumpy with the pain in his hip’; ‘You know how stubborn he is’; ‘His bark is worse than his bite’. When Lisa has answered in the past, she’s given the phone straight over to him. But tonight she shook her head and smiled, engaging in light-hearted conversation with her: ‘No sign of the baby yet.’ ‘I’m sure, but you know Dan, he’ll find it a breeze.’ ‘Yes, due next week.’ ‘Of course I’ll let you know.’ Then rolling her eyes. ‘I’m sure Nick will love it. He can’t get enough of your apple tart.’

  Wishing it was right this bloody minute, Nick wonders when the pie will arrive. The current caller is Penny. Unlike the conversation with his mum, he listened disinterestedly for a few moments to Lisa’s exclamations before zoning out.

  ‘Of course we’re coming! Wild horses wouldn’t hold us back.’ ‘Glad you appreciated the pun.’ ‘Oh God, I’ve got nothing to wear! What are you wearing?’ ‘Are hats compulsory?’ ‘No, I’m still coming even if it means I have to wear my flipping wedding gown!’

  His stomach rumbling again, Nick contemplates whether it’s worth grabbing a biscuit to tide him over until food appears. On balance he decides not. Lisa is in his good books, not only for driving to the middle of the Cheshire countryside to collect him yesterday, but for giving him space and not prying. She pulled up in the car park and took one look at his face. ‘Oh, Nick, I’m so sorry. Tell me when you’re ready to talk.’ Then when he climbed in, she took him into her arms and rubbed his back. ‘You’re flipping freezing, poor lamb.’ Handing him a bag of crisps and a banana, she smiled. ‘Not much, because I didn’t want to delay getting here, but I thought you’d be hungry.’

  He’d wanted to cry. Not just because he felt so dreadful about upsetting Patrick, not only because Lisa was being so sweet, but because he missed his mum. In that moment he longed to be a little boy again. No responsibilities at all; nothing bad in his life. Just cushioned, protected and loved. As Lisa drove away, he’d turned back to look. He couldn’t put his finger on why, but he knew somehow he’d left his childhood behind in that pub.

  He tries to concentrate on the wrestling, but the bloody video hits him again. Patrick’s pale troubled face. And that rocking, that freaky bloody rocking! He’d never seen it before. It was as though he was the adult and Patrick the child. Topsy-turvy, disorientating and disturbing. And what the hell did he mean about the fishing? He’s tried not to speculate, but his mind has needled ever since. Then Patrick is ignoring his calls and texts, which makes it bloody worse. Well it would, if that was possible.

  Lisa mentioned it before bed last night. ‘Want to talk about Patrick?’

  He said he was too tired and needed sleep, but predictably he dreamed, deep sticky dreams of the brook at Wilmslow Park. Tightly holding Patrick’s hand and wading upstream, his wellies slowly filling with water. Getting tireder and colder. The sun no longer glinting on his brother’s fair hair. Then his small tremulous voice, eventually breaking through. ‘It’s getting really deep, Patrick. I’m afraid. Can we go back?’ ‘No, Nicky, we can never go back. We’re here to find Susan.’

  Blocking his view of the TV, his pink-faced wife brings him back from his thoughts. She punches the air. ‘Result!’

  ‘So what was that all about?’ he asks, hitching to one side of the sofa to see the end of the round.

  Lisa moves too. Points two fingers to his eyes, then to hers, the usual sign to make sure he’s listening. ‘Short notice, but would we like to go to Chester races next Saturday. Some of Will’s clients have dropped out. We’ll be in the members room, there’ll be a meal, champagne, our own balcony – the works!’ She beams, her face glowing. ‘I have flipping nothing to wear, but one can’t possibly refuse a freebie and you’ve got your nice navy suit …’

  ‘Why didn’t she ask Jen and Ian?’ he asks.

  Lisa puts her hand on her hip. She’s put on a few pounds since the wedding, but he likes her that way. ‘I thought that too,’ she replies thoughtfully. ‘But it’s short notice, as Penny said, so I expect she didn’t want Jen to be in a quandary about the girls. Maria’s probably old enough to look after the other two, but she can be a bit of a stroppy nightmare apparently. Still, what the heck? I don’t care if we’re second or tenth choice. We’ve got the golden ticket, Charlie!’ She plucks the remote from his hand and slides onto his lap. ‘I love an outing, don’t you? Especially a free outing.’ She leans in for a kiss. ‘God, I’m flipping hungry. Tell you what, shall we order a takeout for dinner? It’ll take them twenty minutes to deliver.’ Cocking her head, she grins. ‘Now, what can we possibly do while we wait?’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  Jen

  ‘Do you want me to call school and say you’re sick?’ Ian asks, already up and dressed in his grey corduroy trousers. ‘You didn’t get into bed until the early hours. You must be shattered.’

  Jen bolts up immediately. ‘Oh, God. I’d forgotten! I wonder if the baby has arrived.’

  Picturing Dan’s face, she goes back to last night. She stayed with him in the waiting room until a midwife appeared saying Geri was awake and asking after him. He looked pretty terrified. She guessed the alcohol had worn off with the amount of coffee they’d drunk, but still wondered what was going on in his head, and she’d hesitated before leaving. But she wasn’t Dan’s mum and she had her own family to worry about, so she left him with a tight hug and a kiss.

  She turns on her mobile and waits for it to load. ‘Oh Ian,’ she declares. ‘How lovely! It’s a boy. No need to call the school, thanks, love, I’m awake now. Though a cup of tea would be great.’

  ‘Wonderful news!’ she texts back. ‘Love and congratulations to you both. Tell us when you’re ready for visitors. I know you won’t be able to fend off family, but friends can wait.’

  She knows she’s sounding like somebody’s grandma, but can’t help sharing her pearls of wisdom. She’s been there, seen it and done it! She’s aware she rubs some people up the wrong way, but she’s only ever tried to help. Her brothers had kids before she did, but they didn’t pass on any pearls, and her mum was of the old better not to know conspiracy school, so she had no idea what to expect for the birth or the aftermath. Maria was pulled out with forceps at the end of a long labour; Jen had to have stitches and couldn’t pee properly for weeks. The A Team came to visit her in the hospital only hours after the birth with flowers and chocolates and the cutest pink dress she still keeps in the bottom of a chest; she had to hide the catheter bag under the bed for fear of traumatising the poor lads for life.

  Dan texts back almost immediately. ‘I’m still coming with you tomorrow. A promise is a promise. Don’t try to talk me out of it.’

  She deletes the text quickly. Ian has asked several times when Holly’s results will be available, but she’s been vague. Tomorrow’s the day; she’s already made an appointment with the surgery to collect them in person rather than over the phone. After her confession last night, Dan promised to go with her.

  Breakfast runs late, the girls asking questions, pleased and excited with the news. They pile out of the house, Holly and Maria running one way to start their school day, she and Anna the other.

  ‘Is it OK if I tell everyone at school about the new baby? And can I take off my scarf? I’m boiling,’ Anna asks after five minutes skipping.

  ‘Course, love,’ Jen replies, shaking herself to the present. She sees hazy blue sky and budding leaves. Anna is right; it’s a fairly balmy day again. The frosty weather seemed to last for so long that she’d got in the habit of zipping up anoraks, helping kids with their mittens, sorting out which hat belonged to which child at the end of each school day.

  Anna darts ahead to another girl from her class. There’s a chunk of soft ginger hair she’s missed. Jen sighs. What a crap Mum, she should’ve helped
with her bobble. The anxiety spreads again in her chest. Holly’s results are tomorrow, oh God they’re tomorrow. Then another urgent thought: Dan knew about her and Will; he’s always known. He could see something was wrong between them. Oh God, was it really so obvious? Has she been careless? Could Ian possibly know? What did he mean by his question?

  ‘Morning, Mrs Kenning,’ the head teacher says as she passes. He’s talking to another teacher in the playground, his Mr Incredible face ridiculously close to hers, poor woman. On the occasions he engages with Jen, she finds herself backing away. Fortunately they are few; his preference for new recruits is young, slim and blonde. Being in her thirties, dark and on the plump side, Jen feels outnumbered by his clones, often wondering how she managed to get a job at his school at all, never mind her cushy job-share.

  But there’s someone who fancies her; someone who hasn’t much hair but who is good-looking and broad and knows when it’s appropriate to invade her personal space. ‘That’s why I love you so much,’ Will said last night. He said it with a smile in his voice, so he was just being flippant. Yet still the phrase has been saved in its own special file.

  Since they split at eighteen, Will has often said that he wants her, he’s said that he needs her, but he’s never said that he loves her before.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Penny

  There’s a stain on Debbie’s jacket. It looks like chocolate. That’s a surprise. With her rosy scrubbed cheeks, she’s never looked like a mum who’d give her kids candy. Jen gives her girls chocolate, more than Penny would allow. But then her girls are much older now. Thirteen and twelve? And even Anna, little Anna, must be seven or eight.

  The mention of Will’s name pricks her ears. ‘Sorry, I was miles away.’