My Husband's Lies Page 30

  Jen nods to the church. ‘Maybe a wedding next time?’ she asks her.

  The expected smile doesn’t appear and Jed replies instead. ‘Looks like that’s the way it’s going.’ He grins at his wife. ‘A smashing new outfit, eh? Mother of the groom. Really pull out all the stops? Wouldn’t that be nice?’

  Annette seems to relent with a small smile.

  ‘No Father Peter today?’ Jen asks her.

  She puts a hand to the silver cross around her neck. ‘He wasn’t invited—’

  ‘Because he’s not very well,’ Jed interrupts. ‘Bit doddery these days. None of us are getting any younger, mind.’ He turns to his wife and kisses her cheek. ‘Though looking at this beauty you wouldn’t think so, would you?’

  Lisa and Penny are chatting in the shade of a tree, and as she joins them, Jen takes a deep breath. ‘Not long to go, Pen. So exciting! Everything packed?’

  Her eyes like Lady Penelope’s, Penny blinks. ‘Yes. Bit of a headache, though. Going to find the ladies,’ she says.

  Watching Penny walk away, Lisa briefly touches her stomach. Peering carefully at her face, Jen sees dark smudges under her eyes and pallid skin beneath her make-up.

  ‘Oh, Lisa!’ she says, squeezing her hand, the words out before she can stop them. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not saying a word, but I know you don’t have family in Manchester and that Nick’s parents are a bit long in the tooth, so if you need anything, any time, just ask.’ She pauses for a moment, looking into Lisa’s face. ‘But do ask. Really do. I know I have a tendency to be a bit full on at times, but I’m trying hard not to be, so—’

  Lisa cuts her short with a friendly smile. ‘Full on would be great. Thank you, Jen. I’m pretty full on myself. We’re so excited, but we’re keeping it quiet for now. You know, early days.’

  They’re interrupted by giggling on the blossom-patterned grass. Will has one arm around Holly’s shoulders as though making an arrest and he’s pulling Anna along with his other hand. ‘Beautiful young ladies for sale!’ he’s calling. ‘I need a camel. Will anyone do me a swap?’

  Her eyes dart involuntarily towards Penny. Her face is frozen for just a moment before it relaxes into a pleasant smile. Déjà vu again. She’s seen that baffled expression before. At Nick and Lisa’s wedding? Or perhaps Teddy’s party? She’s not sure, but she’ll shelve the thought for now, the water level in the bowl-head feels precariously high.

  Nick approaches from behind and puts his arms around Lisa’s waist.

  ‘Jen has guessed,’ Lisa says with a smile.

  ‘Sorry,’ Jen replies. ‘But even if I hadn’t dragged it out of Lisa, I would have worked it out looking at you two love-doves. Anyone would think you were newly-weds. Any development with Patrick and the sister thing?’

  Lisa turns to Nick, bites her lip and looks at him questioningly.

  ‘On the back-burner,’ he replies. His pale eyes flicker and shadow, and for a second Jen glimpses Mouse’s face. Then it clears and he pecks Lisa’s nose with a kiss. ‘More important things going on just now. Oh, and we’ve sold the house above the asking price. Just need to find somewhere we like.’

  ‘Next door is up for sale. Wouldn’t it be great, popping in and out, borrowing sugar …’ Jen starts with a straight face. Then she laughs. ‘Don’t worry, I’m only joking. But please remember my offer. You’re going to have your work cut out. Finding a house that you love, making it your own. Any time for a holiday?’

  Nick shakes his head. ‘Nah, holidays are on hold this year.’

  Lisa is still looking at Nick. ‘I’ve been thinking,’ she says, her face flushing. ‘I know we’ve got to find a flipping house and then do it up, but we can fit in a weekend if we need to, can’t we?’

  Nick’s eyes widen with alarm. ‘What? To Bristol?’

  ‘No, of course not.’

  ‘What? Grand Cayman?’

  ‘For a weekend? Don’t be daft! It’s nothing, just a thought.’ Her eyes flash to Jen’s. ‘Men, eh? Now if it was a boys’ weekend away with beer and sport …’

  Ian appears from nowhere, his face more relaxed. ‘Roll up everybody,’ he calls. ‘The priest has arrived. It’s time for Teddy’s big moment.’

  Rushing to Dan’s downstairs loo the second she arrives, Jen looks in the mirror. As expected, her mascara has badly smudged beneath her eyes, so she washes her face with soap and cold water, then applies some hand cream in lieu of moisturiser. It gives her a strange glossy glow but it’s an improvement. She’s already embarrassed herself hugely; she doesn’t intend to again.

  Inevitably she cried at the font, but that was OK, everyone expected her to. But the crying had a knock-on effect. By the end of her choking attempt to say the baptismal vows, half the congregation were laughing through their tears as the young priest looked on in surprise.

  When she emerges from the toilet, one of Geri’s elderly relations clasps her greasy hands between papery palms. ‘Oh, the joy of a good old cry,’ she says. ‘I wish I could do it more often.’

  Jen wryly smiles. ‘It’s not out of choice.’

  ‘How does it go?’ the woman asks. ‘That saying about tears? “The messengers of overwhelming grief, deep contrition and unspeakable love”. Yes, that’s it. They’re the things that make us human, though, aren’t they?’ She releases Jen’s hands. ‘Lovely to meet you. Perhaps next time we meet it’ll be at Geri’s wedding. If I’m still here to share another tear. Wouldn’t that be nice?’

  Jen almost weeps again, but busies herself in the kitchen glancing with pleasure at her cake, removing tin foil and cellophane. Dan ordered the party food from a delicatessen in Wilmslow and it was delivered prepared and displayed on silver platters, but the girls are earning money as mini waitresses, so she supervises them. Not that she needs to. Maria has been a revelation the past few weeks. Loving and kind, maturing so beautifully.

  No more excuses to hide, Jen finally mingles. Some guests are in the lounge, others outside on the patio. There’s a strong smell of honeysuckle and the paved area is dotted with terracotta pots of bedding plants dazzling with colour – deep blues, rich purples and bright pinks. Jen bobs from guest to guest offering fizz, wine or beer, listening to snatches of conversation, or joining in for a few moments before moving on. She can breathe and balance this way; she knows Will keeps trying to catch her gaze, but she can’t risk a head-on collision.

  She absently eats food, peers at Annette’s photo album; chats to Geri’s family and takes turns with Teddy. She hears Will tell a story of how Dan, pissed and confused, ended up in the wrong hospital department on the eve of Teddy’s birth; she notices Penny knock back a paracetamol with a whole glass of champagne; she listens to a tale Jed Maloney tells about the A Team fathers placing bets at Sports Day; she sees Seb place his hand on the back of Dan’s neck as he cuddles his son; she spots Ian watching sport on the TV when he thinks no one is looking. Then suddenly it’s time for Will and Penny to leave. The afternoon has disappeared. She doesn’t feel ready.

  The A Team gather in the hall. Jen turns to the kitchen. ‘You can’t go yet, you haven’t had any cake!’

  ‘It’s beautiful, Jen. You are clever. Too beautiful to spoil by eating,’ Penny replies. Her eyes seem dark and huge; they flicker to Will. ‘Sorry, guys, but we really must go; we have loads to do at home before we leave. I’ve been so excited over the last few days, I haven’t been focusing on the packing as I should’ve, so …’ She turns back to Jen, her face pale and tight. ‘Did I say? We’re letting the house fully furnished. Will didn’t fancy getting tied up in a long lease, so it’ll be more a temporary home from home type of let …’ She looks at the girls. ‘So you never know, we might get an actor or a footballer living there!’

  Jen’s tears spill again as she stiffly hugs Will. Yearning to return his tight grip, she quickly moves on to Penny. ‘Sorry, I’m such an embarrassment, I know. I’ll just miss you both so much.’

  ‘But you’ll be coming to visit us soon. You gave the office th
e order, didn’t you, Will?’ Penny says. ‘Minimum four bedrooms and a swimming pool.’ She looks to her husband, but his head is bowed. Then she turns to the girls, a desperate smile on her face. ‘You’re all set to come, aren’t you, girls? Bikinis and pool games. Sandcastles and the sea. It’ll be such fun!’

  The girls nod solemnly and Anna bursts into tears. Then Will beckons them to one side, slips them each a tenner, then opens his arms to give a group hug, jostling until they laugh.

  Jen pulls back as the others say their goodbyes. She hears her mum’s words. ‘It’s OK. With God’s help it will be OK.’ They pound in her head as she makes for the garden and fresh air. By the time she returns with a steady smile and dry face, Penny and Will Taylor have gone.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

  Nick

  Lisa opens the front door, picks up a pamphlet from the mat and turns to Nick. ‘Weird, isn’t it? This has been my home for five years, but now we have an offer I feel odd coming in, as though I don’t belong anymore.’ She gives a tired smile. ‘I’m going up for a bath. Bring me up—’

  ‘Hot water with one dunk of a decaf tea bag.’

  She pecks his lips. ‘Please. Who’d have thought I’d go off flipping tea, of all things. Give it ten minutes, I’ll be soaking by then.’

  Nick flicks on the kettle and flops in a chair. After the champagne, he had one sip of brandy at the party, but the moment the heat touched his lips, the gloopy smell of Toilet Duck came flooding back, so he moved on to beer. He drank several bottles of strong lager, so he should be pissed, but he just feels deflated, sad to see Jen crying like that, downcast that Will has pretty much left them forever.

  Life shouldn’t change; life should stay the same where it’s comfortable.

  Going back to Lisa’s comment at the door, he breathes out the flash of irritation. Not belonging anymore; not fucking belonging anymore! He knows it’s not her fault and he’s trying very hard not to take out his frustration on her, but his brother is his uncle, he has half-brothers, nephews and nieces. His parents are his grandparents, for God’s sake. He pops round to see them as usual, but his attempt to act normal is exhausting. He still loves them and doesn’t want to be unkind, but there’s a slight feeling of revulsion when he visits. It has been in plain sight, but they’re old. His father’s eyes are puckered and rheumy, his mother’s bony hugs and her perfume feel cloying. But at least Patrick’s still Patrick, thank God. He drives over in the Merc on a Saturday afternoon for high tea and Scrabble. He seems to enjoy his new routine.

  Nick snorts softly. But then Patrick would; the highest word score ever and he always bloody wins.

  He hears the kettle click, but doesn’t move. However hard he tries, it’s there in his head and his chest. Breathless uncertainty. Life has shifted irrevocably; there’s no solid ground. He has a mum he’s never met. A mum he’s never met! At least not since she pushed him over a bannister. Or did she? Was she singing a song, a sweet loving tune for her precious little boy?

  Like a pendulum, his mind swings; one day she’s the devil, the next day a saint. And as for Uncle Derek, the bloody paedophile … Well, there’ll never be scope to forgive him.

  He met Dan and Will in the week for a goodbye drink at their usual haunt. No one mentioned Jen and he was relieved she wasn’t there; she might have asked questions, not just in passing like today, but one of her gentle interrogations, that glowing iris of concern which always makes him spill.

  He laughs wryly to himself. Perhaps that’s the cure to his constant anxiety. Maybe he needs Jen and the sweet-smelling stench of Toilet Duck to help him to spew it all out. But can he really say it? Can he say it out loud? ‘I might be the product of rape. I might be the result of a grown man forcing himself on a teenager. Taking her virginity, her innocence, her life. What does that make me?’

  ‘Nick! Nick? A drink anytime soon?’

  His wife’s lilting voice breaks through his malaise. Thank God for Lisa. Thank God for her. He has no right to be irritated or frustrated with her. She’s been patient and kind. Listening to him when he’s needed to talk; occasionally pressing him when he can’t. ‘Better to talk, Nick, to let it all out. Keeping fears in just makes them worse, makes them bigger than they are.’

  But what can be bigger or worse than rape? That the constant thought of Derek’s film nights and Lisa’s advice were doing his head in. He’d dreaded the words coming, but knew that they would sooner or later: ‘I’m worried about you, Nick. I think you need to know the truth, good or bad,’ Lisa said. So he had to draw a line. He did it only last week. Sat Lisa down. Said he understood she meant well, but the past was the past. No more enquiries at the university, no more prodding and poking on the internet, no more gentle probing Patrick over coffee about postcards and France. They had a baby on the way. The future was their focus; she was banned from his past.

  ‘About flipping time!’ she now says from the bath.

  Passing her the mug, Nick finally smiles. Her pink naked body looks beautiful. Though it’s too early for the pregnancy to show, he feels drawn to her soft belly already. A new baby is on the way. His baby! The thought is amazing, exciting, and though he did very little, he feels inordinately clever. And it’s reassuring too; something in his life that’s normal and real. Makes his firm decision the right one. Burying the past. Looking forward, not back.

  Lisa soaps the sponge and hands it to him. ‘My shoulders please! A good old rub.’ Then after a moment, ‘Jen was sweet today.’

  ‘Oh yeah?’ he replies, smiling to himself. In the past he’d have agreed and said that Jen was bloody brilliant, but his foot-in-mouth disease seems to be getting better. With Patrick too. Reading up on autism has helped, but it isn’t just that. It’s the thing Lisa mentioned about love. Growing up, Patrick was always there, constant and patient; he has an aching desire to repay it somehow.

  ‘She was,’ Lisa continues. ‘Really thoughtful about me having no family locally, offering to help when the baby comes.’ Turning her head, she smiles. ‘Much as I hate to admit it, Mother Hubbard isn’t so bad …’

  Nick laughs. The words ‘I told you so’ fight to pop out, but another thought emerges. ‘Oh yeah, I forgot. What was all that about the mysterious weekend away? I thought we said the house would come first, that we wouldn’t have time. Or the money, for that matter.’

  ‘That’s true.’ Lisa pulls the plug, stands and holds out her hand to step out, but she doesn’t meet his eyes. Instead she wraps herself in a towel, her expression terse. ‘Bit chilly out here. Be a love and get my dressing gown, would you?’

  He gazes at her face, her rigid pale face. She’s Lisa, his wife, but he doesn’t recognise her right now. The open honesty is missing.

  Heat sweeps his whole body. ‘Lisa? What’s going on? Why won’t you look at me?’

  She lifts her eyes to his. ‘See, I am,’ she says, smiling. But the green is flecked with … what? Apprehension? Sorrow? Fear?

  Nick doesn’t move. His legs are heavy, his feet stuck to the ground. Something is wrong, very wrong. Oh God, Susan. The one thing he can’t face. He told her to stop. ‘What have you done, Lisa?’ he asks quietly. Then he finds himself yelling, even louder than his dreams. ‘What have you done? What the fuck have you done?’

  She flinches away. ‘Nothing, nothing much.’

  His scar throbs as he stares. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘Let me past, Nick. You’re scaring me. I’ll tell you when you’re calm.’

  ‘Tell me fucking what?’

  The tears fall as she mumbles. ‘I’m sorry, I stopped like you asked me but …’

  He can’t hear her voice. He can’t focus on anything except the room caving in, getting smaller and smaller. Slipping down to the floor, he bends his head to his knees. He lifts it eventually. ‘Just tell me, Lisa.’

  Covering her mouth with trembling fingers, she takes a step back. Then she lifts her chin and holds out her hand. The open honesty floods back to her face. ‘
Come on, let’s sit down. We need to talk properly.’

  Almost not breathing, Nick perches at the kitchen table, looking out to the black night as he waits for Lisa to sit down.

  His mind is in overdrive. A weekend away, she said at the christening. What did that mean? And though she’s banned sugar, she’s adding it to his tea. Oh God, oh God, she’s found Susan, hasn’t she? His bannister-pushing singing angel wants to see him. The thought scares him shitless; he wants to punch the bloody air.

  He knows he should wait for Lisa to speak, but the words fire out. He can hear his own excitement. ‘We’re going to France to see Susan, aren’t we?’

  Lisa sits, her face solemn. ‘No Nick, not Susan.’ Then taking a deep breath. ‘But her grave. Susan is dead, Nick. I’m sorry, so sorry.’

  The words make him jolt. That’s not the right answer. ‘No, you’re wrong. She isn’t dead. Jamie told us. She lives in France. We worked it out, remember? Patrick’s holidays in France? He goes to meet her.’

  ‘He does go to France, Nick, but it’s a …’ She seems to search for a word. ‘A pilgrimage, I suppose. She died twenty-five years—’

  But Nick’s mind has jumped to the vision of his brother, rocking, distressed, tormented. ‘Patrick, God, Lisa, you haven’t … Please tell me you haven’t forced Patrick to …’

  She puts a hand on his arm. ‘I haven’t, Nick. He came to me. You told me to stop and I did. Then Patrick turned up on Thursday when you were at the pub. He wanted to talk, so I listened. I’m so sorry, Nick. I didn’t know whether to tell you, but I thought it through and decided I would, but not today, with the christening and Will leaving …’

  Willing away the sudden nausea, Nick takes a deep breath. ‘What did Patrick say?’

  ‘Not much, I didn’t want to pry. She died when she was twenty-four. A teacher, he said. Many friends but no husband or kids.’ She clears her throat. ‘I thought visiting her grave might give you some certainty, some closure …’