My Husband's Wife (22 page)

She followed Gerri into a vast kitchen, where a multitude of shiny and remarkably similar-looking chrome and silver appliances sat squarely on acres of white granite work surface. There wasn’t so much as a crumb on the tops, and the pristine oven and hob still looked brand new. She pictured her own kitchen at this time of the morning, with its chopping board invariably smeared with butter and toast crumbs and a jam-dipped knife resting on the side. The middle of Gerri’s kitchen was occupied by a large island with a set of matt-black leather bar stools at one end of it. The whole place felt cool and untouchable.

Rosie looked outside at the rectangular infinity pool; the water seemed to hover on the horizon, as if it was part of the sea.

Gerri was quiet, as if giving her the chance to take it all in, like a saleswoman whose product doesn’t need talking up.

‘This is so lovely.’

‘Yes. It is,’ Gerri said. ‘Do you want the grand tour?’

‘Oh!’ Rosie trilled a little laugh, nervous and yet eager, yes, to have a look around. ‘Okay.’

‘Follow me!’ Gerri skipped to the right and along a corridor, with Rosie stepping behind. She let her French-manicured fingers trail along the wall. ‘I was thinking of painting this wall a colour but got so flustered by the pressure of it, I just snapped and said go with white. I mean, if it ain’t broke...’

Rosie nodded, not sure what, if any response, was expected. All she could think was that if a paint colour decision was the most pressure Gerri had in her life, then she should consider herself very lucky.

Gerri stopped and held out her arm, as if revealing a magic trick.

‘Wow!’ Rosie was amazed. The fanfare was warranted.

The hall wall had come to an abrupt end and she found herself standing under a vast glass dome sheltering a large rectangular pool. One side wall was glass, affording a view out over the shimmering sea, as far as the eye could see. The end wall was grey slate but veiled by a sheet of water that cascaded from top to bottom in an almost silent waterfall; it looked like dappled glass. Roman steps gave access at one end and were tiled, like the bottom of the pool, in iridescent turquoise glass mosaic. When the light hit and the surface rippled, it was as if the pool was alive. It was magnificent.

‘What do you think?’ Gerri bent forward, keen to get a reaction.

Rosie shook her head. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like it.’ She pictured the girls sitting on the steps or jumping into the water and she smiled, but this was quickly followed by a lump in her throat as she visualised Phil and Gerri there too, realising that she was the odd piece of jigsaw that didn’t quite fit. A day spent here would be infinitely more exciting than a day in a silver-category six-berth caravan, even with chips thrown in. She wished she hadn’t come. Far from helping, the images that she would now carry of the people she loved in this incredible place would only torture her further.

‘I know it’s over the top, but hell, when you’ve got the vision and the style, and a talented builder on tap...’ She raised an amused eyebrow but kept her eyes off Rosie’s face.

Rosie inhaled sharply. She couldn’t take much more of this.

‘And my mantra throughout the design process was light and space. I couldn’t live without either – the idea of being cramped or having to look into a shadowy corner... Urgh!’ She shivered. ‘No thank you.’

Rosie noticed that her singsong tone had slipped and her voice now had a slightly hardened edge to it, making her sound quite bossy.

‘Come on!’ She trotted across the cool white floor and opened a wide door that led to more stairs. ‘This is where the design gets really clever.’

At the top of the stairs was what appeared to be a walkway, with glass on both sides. Rosie hesitated, nervous of the drop onto the hallway below.

‘Come on now, Rosie!’ Gerri admonished. You’re not scared of a little drop, are you? I’ll give you a little tip: fortune favours the brave.’

Rosie found herself in a bedroom that was more like a flat. There was so much to take in: Floor-to-ceiling drapes in crushed silver framed yet another glass wall, and the biggest bed she had ever seen sat on a wooden plinth with a similar view to the pool. She wondered what it might feel like not only to wake up looking at it, but also to have so much room in a bed that you could stretch out without banging a wall.

The room had steps down that led to a freestanding copper bath in the middle of the room! There was no way she would ever have felt comfortable bathing in front of someone else. Even Phil.

I want to go home. I want to leave now!

‘Are you okay?’ Gerri asked.

‘I think your house is lovely. I’ve probably seen enough. I should be getting back.’ Rosie’s voice was small.

‘Oh! We haven’t done the guest suites, but I guess they can wait till next time. Back to the kitchen, this way.’ Gerri pointed over her head like an enthusiastic tour guide. ‘You must stay for a drink?’ Gerri asked. ‘We still need to discuss pick-up arrangements and there is something else I’d like to talk to you about.’

‘Err... just a tea or coffee would be nice, thank you.’

‘Well of course a tea or coffee! What did you think, that I sipped champagne all day?’ Gerri laughed.

‘Coffee then, thanks.’

Gerri collected two plain white mugs from inside a glossy, handleless cupboard. ‘Trouble is, when you’ve built from scratch, you’re never quite sure if it’s finished, so I keep changing my mind, planning projects, adding things. I’m hoping I get to a point when I just know that it’s done and can finally take the tradesmen off speed dial.’

Rosie sniffed at the irony of her words but decided to bite her tongue.

Gerri carried on, seemingly oblivious. ‘I’ve always wanted somewhere I could breathe outside of London and this is it!’ She raised her palms to the side of her head and smiled smugly.

‘Whereabouts do you live in London?’

‘Oh, do you know it?’ Gerri whipped around, her eyes bright.

Rosie felt her face colour. ‘A bit, not really. I’ve been a couple of times. We went to Madame Tussauds, although we had to leave before the end because Naomi was scared of David Beckham. And we took the girls up Christmas shopping a couple of years back, mainly to see Father Christmas in Hamleys.’ She was embarrassed to be so unfamiliar with the capital city, but also to have mentioned their life before. As usual when she was nervous or anxious, her tongue just ran away with itself. There was no way she’d meant to share all this with the woman who’d split up their family. She was annoyed at how intimidated she felt.

‘I’m just off High Street Ken, which is handy for everything. Milk? Sugar?’

‘Just milk please.’ Rosie thought she might have misheard.
Did she say Kent? That’s not London, is it?
She couldn’t bring herself to ask.

Gerri picked up the mugs and swept out of the kitchen. ‘Come through!’

Rosie trotted behind her, noting the delicate tread of her small bare feet with the scarlet toenails as they padded across the acres of grey slate and pale marble. Eventually they came to a wide, open-plan lounge, where the carpet was indeed white. She made the decision to neck her coffee and go. She’d had enough of the grand tour and had done what she’d set out to do, shown willing, for the girls’ sake.

Taking a seat at the opposite end of the sofa, she tentatively took her coffee from Gerri, wary of the white carpet and too ill at ease to adjust her sitting position, which meant she was not far back enough to lean against the huge soft cushion or forward enough to be able to put her feet on the floor. She perched in this half-stance, quite uncomfortable and conscious of her slouch, wondering if Gerri could see the little roll of fat that sat above her bra strap and was visible beneath her jumper.

‘So,’ Gerri said excitedly, ‘thank you so much for coming. I wanted you to see where Naomi and Leona get to play. And Phil too, I guess.’ She sipped her drink.

Rosie nodded. She had to admit, it was quite something to think of her children being given free rein here.

‘Although it’s not all mucking around – some of us have to work. But that’s the joy of the internet: I can work absolutely anywhere.’

‘Oh, you still work?’ In Rosie’s head, Gerri spent her days in the pool and her nights rolling around in piles of money.

‘Uh-huh.’ She nodded. ‘I’m seed-funding several projects – app development, telco, fitness, varied stuff, about half of which I fully buy into, but you have to take the gamble, right? That’s how you win big. I’m even shoving a bundle into a fast-food franchise. I mean, the idea is abhorrent to me, but fatties have got to eat, right?’ She gave a short, unnatural laugh that sounded mean.

Rosie nodded again, wondering if it was because she was tense that she’d only understood about half of what Gerri had said. Gerri snuggled back into her chair, meaning Rosie had to twist her body awkwardly on the wide seat to look at her. ‘Do you like your job?’ she asked.

‘“Like” isn’t the word, but... how to phrase it? My work was my life. I’d get by on three hours’ sleep, constantly checking stock levels, looking at spreadsheets.’ She exhaled, as if even the memory was exhausting. ‘You know what it gets like.’

‘Not really! I clean caravans. I clean them, I go home and I don’t think about them until I pick up that bucket and clean them again. Although I have taken on some extra hours in reception, giving out keys and checking people in. I’ve been there a while and the people are nice.’ She turned to look at Gerri, who stared back with an amused smile playing about her mouth. Her eyes then widened, as if Rosie had said the wrong thing, embarrassing them both.

‘Yes, work was everything,’ Gerri continued, as if Rosie hadn’t spoken, or, more accurately, as if what she’d said was not relevant. ‘That was until I built this place. And then I decided I wanted more.’ She smirked. ‘It was a bit like getting a doll’s house – you know, the kind you had when you were young, where you take the front off and there are all these rooms and sweet little chairs and plates and minute beds and pillows.’

‘I didn’t have one, but I know what you mean.’

‘Oh. Well, you’ll have to take my word for it.’ Gerri rolled her hand in the air. ‘So I finished the house and I realised what was missing. I was missing all the little people to put inside it.’ She threw a meaningful glance in Rosie’s direction. ‘You know the ones, Rosie – they stand in the rooms until you move them to another spot, just waiting for you to dip in, pick them up and give them a life.’

Rosie stared at her. Her heart beat a little too fast and she felt the air leave the room. It was as if Gerri was speaking too slowly, sounding slightly slurred in her mind.

Gerri continued. ‘There’s no point having a fancy toy if half the pieces are missing, don’t you think?’

Rosie swallowed and found her voice. ‘So you took my little people.’

Gerri’s response was speedy and concise. ‘What a very strange thing to say!’ She placed her free hand on her chest. ‘I’ve only taken one.’ Her eyes were wide, animated. She bobbed her head.

Rosie couldn’t think how to reply. The words jumbled in her mind, her anger diluted by the fact that she was in this woman’s grand house, as if she ought therefore to be on her best behaviour. ‘I don’t know if you’re joking, but it’s not funny. What you’ve done, it’s not funny at all.’

‘Oh, I’m not laughing.’ Gerri’s expression changed and she stared at Rosie, whose chest heaved.

‘I want you to stay away from my kids,’ Rosie managed.

‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ Gerri practically spat the words. ‘They are Phil’s kids too, and they love coming here. Who’s going to be the one to tell them no more swimming, no more Truffle?’ She shook her head dismissively. Truffle barked, as if on cue, reminding them both of his presence. ‘Although I do get it – to be thrown over by your man is one thing, but to have your kids rather spend time with a dog...’ She took a deep breath. ‘That must be tough.’

Desperate to leave right away, Rosie shuffled forwards on the deep sofa until her feet found the white carpet beneath her trainers.

‘Oh, don’t go just yet! I have some news!’ Gerri shrieked.

Rosie stood up and looked at the petite woman with the large amount of power. She watched as Gerri placed her manicured hand against the flat waistband of her tight jeans.
Oh no! Please, no, no, no! Not that!
Rosie felt her muscles slip on her bones, felt as if she was falling, unsteady and lightheaded, as yet another wave of sadness threatened to break over her.

‘Yep.’ Gerri beamed. ‘I think Phil’s finally going to get the little boy he always wanted.’

‘You’re pregnant?’ she whispered, needing confirmation.

‘Isn’t it wonderful?’

Rosie turned, stumbling blindly across the lounge area, picturing the pregnancy test that had fallen on the floor at the hospital, how she had cuddled up to Phil that night in bed, lamenting the result and hoping they would get the chance to try again. Through the haze of her distress, she tried to remember where the kitchen was, where she had left her bag, keys and phone. The last thing she wanted was to cry here, in front of her. As she hurried towards the hall, the remains of the coffee slopped in her cup and sloshed onto the white wool carpet. She didn’t care; she just wanted to get out of the place.

‘Oh, don’t worry about the carpet,’ Gerri said matter-of-factly, ‘that’s what cleaning ladies are for!’

Rosie turned to face Gerri, who was now very deliberately tipping the remains of her own coffee cup onto the white carpet. The woman was clearly even more deranged than Rosie had thought. There was no way she was going to let her near the kids again.

‘Bear left!’ Gerri called in a singsong tone, as if they were playing a game.

Rosie raced into the kitchen and swept her bag from the countertop, placing the mug on the granite surface with such force, she half expected it might crack. Gerri had followed her down the hall.

‘Is that why you asked me here, to laugh at me? To hurt me?’

‘Oh God, no! Of course not!’ Gerri tutted. ‘But I did want you to see that you’ve lost.’

‘I don’t... I don’t understand,’ Rosie managed as her tears spilled.