Mad About You (21 page)

I wanted to talk to Babs about it, but when I got to work and saw how pale and stressed she looked, I decided not to say anything. She was clearly dreading telling Gary later. I tiptoed around her all day, glad of the distraction of work. I pushed my problems to the back of my mind and focused on doing a good job.

When it was time to go home, I went over and hugged her. ‘Good luck tonight,’ I whispered in her ear.

Babs shrugged me off. ‘I don’t need luck.’

I took her by the shoulders and forced her to look at me. ‘Babs, he might not take it well. If he doesn’t, call me. OK? I’m here for you. We can sort this out with or without Gary.’

My delusional little sister took a step back from me. ‘For the millionth time, Emma, it’s all going to be fine. He adores me.’

As she turned to pick up her coat, I saw that her hands were shaking.

I was walking towards Manor House tube station, feeling worn out from the whole sorry day, when I heard someone calling my name. I spun around and saw, with surprise, Henry pushing his way through the rush-hour crowds, waving at me. I realized I was trembling. The strange voice had frightened me. God, I was a nervous wreck.

‘I thought it was you,’ he said breathlessly, when he reached me.

‘Is this where you work?’ I asked.

‘My office is on Devonshire Square. I’m just coming from a meeting with a client.’

‘Oh, right.’

‘So, how are you?’

‘Uhm … OK, I guess.’ To my absolute horror, I began to cry.

‘Gosh, Emma, are you all right?’ Henry put a comforting arm around my shoulders.

‘I’m fine – I’m so sorry.’

Henry handed me a linen handkerchief. I think he was the only forty-five-year-old man who still carried them.

‘I’m so sorry,’ I said, wiping my face and ruining his clean handkerchief with mascara. ‘I’ve just had a bad day.’

‘When I have bad days, I always find a brandy helps. How does that sound?’ he asked gently.

I gave him a watery smile. ‘It sounds perfect, but can I have wine instead?’

‘Absolutely.’ Henry steered me into a pub across the road, settled me into a comfy corner seat and got the drinks.

He handed me a large glass of white wine. ‘Can I help in any way? I hate to see you so upset.’

I took a deep sip. ‘It’s silly, really,’ I said, willing myself to stop blubbing. ‘It’s just this thing with James. He’s been getting these texts.’ I looked down, embarrassed. ‘Sextexts, quite explicit, actually. And then a vibrator and handcuffs were sent to our house, addressed to me. I don’t understand what’s going on. At first we thought it was one of the London Irish players messing around, but now I think it’s someone else and … and I don’t know what to think.’

Henry was taken aback. ‘Sounds very odd indeed. What does James think?’

‘He says he has no idea but …’ I hesitated, took another
sip of my wine and decided to be honest. ‘Henry, I’m beginning to wonder if he’s having an affair.’

Henry shook his head. ‘I doubt that very much. James is devoted to you and the children. He’s certainly never mentioned anything to me. I know men can stray, but I also know my little brother. He’s just not that kind of a man. Now, about those texts and parcels. Having spent years at boarding school, I’ve seen how utterly moronic men can be, especially when they wind each other up. Perhaps one of the younger players has just taken the joke too far.’

‘James has asked them repeatedly. He even called a special meeting to confront them and demand that it stop. But they all denied it and the captain says he thinks they’re telling the truth. I’d been telling myself that was all it was, even after the vibrator appeared, but after this morning … it just doesn’t add up. It has to be a woman.’

Henry nodded thoughtfully. ‘It does happen, I suppose. I had a case a few years back of a woman who became obsessed with and stalked a married man.’

‘Was he having an affair with her?’ I asked immediately.

‘Not at all. In fact, John barely knew her. She worked in the local shop where he bought his newspaper every day. She was in her fifties and seemed perfectly nice and normal. John would have a little chat with her in the mornings about the weather or what-have-you, but that was it. Suddenly he was receiving text messages of a sexual nature and emails. She sent love letters to his house. She sent flowers and chocolates to his office. She then began sending emails to his boss describing their sexual exploits in graphic detail.’

I couldn’t see how this story was supposed to help cheer me up. ‘What did he do?’ I asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

‘The poor fellow became paranoid and began to suspect
all the women in his office. He accused his secretary, who went straight to HR and John was in very hot water at work. He almost lost his job. He never imagined it was this older lady from the corner shop.’

‘But what happened? How did he find out it was her?’

‘She eventually called in to John’s wife and told her she was having an affair with her husband and that she was pregnant with their lovechild. Thankfully, due to the stalker’s advanced years, the wife knew this couldn’t be possible and she called the police.’

‘She actually confronted his wife in person?’ I felt nauseous. ‘Did she go to jail?’

‘No, there wasn’t enough evidence. Unfortunately, John had thrown away the letters and deleted most of the emails and texts, so we were only able to get a barring order.’

‘And then did she stop? Did she stay away?’

Henry lowered his voice. ‘She was fired from her job. The owner of the shop was appalled when he found out what she’d been doing. When he fired her, she flew into a terrible rage and tried to stab him with a pair of scissors. After that we had a stronger case and she was sent to a psychiatric hospital.’

‘Bloody hell, Henry! How is this reassuring?’

Henry smiled ruefully. ‘Probably a little too much detail. But the reason I’m telling you, Emma, is to show you that there are lonely women out there who can become fixated on nice friendly men, of which James is one. I would bet my life on him not having an affair, and the fact that this person has been posting things addressed to you is most peculiar. If it is a woman, she has to be unhinged in some way and living out a fantasy through James. And, like John, it could be something as simple as the fact that he buys his newspaper or his coffee from her.’

I looked at him in despair. ‘Then how do we figure it out?’

‘Get James to think of all the women – even the much older ones – he speaks to or even waves at during the week. It doesn’t matter how unlikely a woman seems, think it through and see if it fits. But don’t accuse anyone until you’re absolutely sure or you could find yourselves in a lot of trouble. The best thing to do is keep the evidence – and do
not
respond to any of the messages.’

‘We responded in the beginning because we thought it was a joke.’

‘Well, don’t respond any more. In most cases the individual will get bored when they receive no reaction and stop.’

Henry’s phone rang. He looked at the number and sighed. ‘It’s the War Office.’ He answered, and Imogen’s booming voice bellowed into the earpiece so loudly that even I could hear her.

‘I’ll be at the stables until six thirty. I need you to pick up some fillet steaks on the way home. Don’t go to Hardy’s for them, go to Kavanagh’s, and make sure you tell him they’re for me. Under no circumstances are you to bring home small ones. Get medium to large. Don’t forget Thomas’s recital is tonight. We must be there at eight sharp. We also need …’

When she finally paused for breath, Henry said, ‘Imogen, can I call you back? I’m just having a quick drink with Emma.’

‘Emma who?’ she barked.

‘My sister-in-law.’

‘What on earth …?’

‘We bumped into each other at the tube,’ he explained.

‘Why are you drinking with her?’

I tried to pretend I couldn’t hear her foghorn voice. Poor Henry looked embarrassed. ‘I’ll call you back in five minutes.’

‘What are you two talking about?’ she demanded.

‘SEX!’ I wanted to shout, just to wind her up. But out of respect for Henry, I kept my mouth shut.

‘Just this and that. I’ll call you back,’ he said, for the third time.

‘Don’t bother, Henry. Unlike you and Emma, I don’t have time to sit around chit-chatting. I’m far too busy.’

Busy sitting on horses and driving everyone within a mile radius mad, I thought grumpily.

‘All right. We can chat later. I’ll send Emma your best.’ Henry tried to cover his wife’s rudeness.

‘I hope I didn’t get you into trouble,’ I said.

‘Not at all, Emma. Imogen can be a little, ah … abrupt at times.’

‘Abrupt’ was the nicest word I could think of to describe Imogen. Henry really was a saint. ‘Thanks for being so nice to me. I’m so sorry about offloading all of this on you. I’m afraid you caught me at just the wrong moment.’

Henry squeezed my hand. ‘Emma, my dear, it’s always a pleasure to see you. I’m delighted we bumped into each other and had this chat. Now, please do remember that James is the best of men. You know you can trust him. He would never do anything to hurt you or the children, of that I’m sure.’

‘I’ll try, Henry, but marriages do get stale and husbands and wives do wander. Even my mother admitted that your forties are a difficult time and affairs happen.’

Henry polished off his brandy. ‘The way I see it, marriage is a contract where you commit to being with someone. Then when you have children it’s your responsibility to give them the best life possible.’

He was old-fashioned in his ways, but he was a true gentleman. It was such a pity he hadn’t married someone nicer. He deserved a sweet wife who loved him, not a sergeant major who bossed him around.

‘You and James have something very special,’ Henry said, looking into his glass. ‘You don’t just have a marriage, you have a true friendship. It’s worth protecting and fighting for. Don’t let some unhinged individual ruin that.’

He was right: James wasn’t just my husband, he was my best friend. We talked about everything. I trusted him and valued his opinion above all others. I’d be lost without James, completely lost. I was going to give him the benefit of the doubt, go home and work this out.

We stood up and walked out of the pub. As we parted ways at the tube station, I reached up and kissed Henry on the cheek. ‘Thank you, Henry. You have no idea how much this conversation’s helped me. I owe you one.’

‘My dear girl,’ he said, with a grin, ‘that’s what family is for.’

At home the house was tidy, the children fed and happy, as usual. I could have cried with relief. I felt utterly weary and was dying to have a hot bath and a glass of wine. Once I had the children in bed, I would do just that.

Yuri and Lara ran over and hugged me. Thankfully, they had forgotten they hated me. That was the wonderful thing about kids: they were endlessly forgiving. I could learn something from them. I held them close and told them I loved them. They were like my very own Valium. I felt calmer and happier once I’d hugged them.

Claire was wearing a pair of skinny jeans. I realized I’d never seen her legs before – they were always hidden inside oversized tracksuit bottoms. She had great legs, long and slim. I also noticed she was wearing mascara. Oh, to be young and in love, I thought, looking at her radiant face.

‘Are you seeing your boyfriend tonight? How’s it going?’ I asked her.

Claire smiled. ‘Yes, I am. It’s going well, thanks. I think he really likes me.’

‘Of course he does. What’s not to like? You’re great,’ I enthused.

I heard the front door bang. The next moment James came into the room and dropped his bag on the floor.

‘You’re home early.’ I didn’t look directly at him. I felt awkward after this morning.

He approached me. ‘I decided to come home and give the children their bath so that you can have a break.’

He was trying to catch my eye. I remembered what Henry had said and looked up at him. He had black circles under his eyes and his shoulders were hunched. I willed myself to be nice. ‘That’s great, thanks.’

‘No problem. I’m happy to help.’

We were like two strangers. I didn’t want Claire to sense the tension so I tried to act normally. ‘Guess what? Claire has a boyfriend,’ I said. ‘And it’s going really well.’

Claire went as red as her new runners.

‘I presume he’s a Liverpool fan?’ James said, with a half-grin. He was trying too.

‘Of course he is,’ she said, and smiled.

‘Did you see the game this weekend? They were robbed.’

‘I was gutted,’ Claire agreed.

‘Hopefully they’ll beat Newcastle this weekend.’

‘If Gerrard is back from injury, I reckon they’ll beat them easily.’

‘That’s the spirit.’ James slapped her on the shoulder. He was being overly jovial, but Claire didn’t seem to notice. ‘By the way, your lasagne the other night was fantastic, best I’ve ever had. If you ever tire of childcare, you could open a restaurant.’

‘Don’t even think of encouraging her into another profession,’ I said. ‘She has to stay right here and keep us all in order.’

Claire smiled at me. ‘There’s no worry of me leaving this house,’ she said. ‘I love it here.’

‘Well, thank you so much for your work today,’ I said. ‘The house looks great and the children are as happy as ever.’

As Claire was picking up her bag to go, she turned to me. ‘Oh, I almost forgot, Emma. When we got back from school there was something on the doorstep for you.’ She pointed to a small parcel on the side-table. It was addressed to Emma Hamilton. I felt sick.

‘Who delivered it?’ James asked tersely.

Claire looked surprised by the change in his tone. ‘I didn’t see. It was just here when I got back with the children.’ She looked from James to me and back again. ‘Is everything all right?’

‘We’ve been getting deliveries from some fruit-cake lately and they’re very upsetting for Emma,’ James replied.

‘Who’s sending them?’

‘We don’t know.’ James’s jaw was set.

Claire looked puzzled. ‘That sounds a bit weird,’ she said.

I opened the parcel with trembling hands. Inside, in pink wrapping paper, there was a whip. The card read:
James loves to tie me up and whip me. He’s a naughty boy
. I let it fall to the floor and began to cry.

James swore and Claire looked startled. She came over to me. ‘Are you all right?’

I pushed back my shoulders and wiped my eyes with a hand. ‘I’m fine, thanks. Look, Claire, you head off home. I’m just a bit upset, but I’ll be fine.’

I ran upstairs and locked myself into the bathroom. I sat on the floor and stared into space. I could hear Claire saying goodbye to James and the front door closing. I rested my head on the side of the bath. James came up and asked me to open the door, but I didn’t answer him. He talked through the door: he kept saying he didn’t understand … and why … and who … I wanted so much to believe him, but my head was aching with all the possibilities. Was he innocent? Was I being a fool?

As I soaked in a hot bath, I could hear James putting the children to bed. I heard him reading
Goldilocks
to Lara and
The Gruffalo
to Yuri. When the house was quiet, I dragged myself out of the bath and put on my dressing-gown. I opened the door and found James sitting on the floor with a bottle of wine and two glasses.

‘Drink?’ He offered me a glass. I gulped it down. At this rate I’d be an alcoholic by the end of the week.

James spoke quietly but firmly. ‘Emma, I need you to believe me. I do not know what is going on and who is doing this. When I find out, I’m going to kill them.’

I decided to tell him about Henry. ‘I bumped into Henry today. I was upset and ended up telling him everything. He said he had a client who was stalked by this older woman who sold him the newspaper every day. He said she seemed nice and normal but it turned out she was obsessed with this guy and stalked him. She ended up being violent.’

‘I read the newspaper online,’ James attempted a joke.

‘I’m scared, James. This person knows where we live and she wants to get rid of me. What if she attacks me – or, worse, the kids?’ I shuddered. ‘She could throw acid in my face or something. It’s really scary, James.’

He reached over and hugged me to him. A phone buzzed. We looked down at his, but it was mine.
I hope u liked my gift. Go back to Ireland u stupid cow. James is mine
.

I held my hand to my mouth to stop myself screaming. Now she had my mobile number as well! ‘James!’ I cried.

James had turned green, but he was trying to look composed. ‘Don’t worry, darling. Don’t panic. I’ll call Henry and see if he knows a police officer we can talk to or a detective. I’ll stop this, I promise. I won’t let anyone hurt you or the children. We will not let this person ruin our lives. We just have to figure out who the hell it is.’

I knew I wasn’t supposed to reply. Henry had specifically said not to, but I didn’t care, I texted back:
Fuck off you psycho.

Another message came back:
I’ll never go away. NEVER.