Never Tell (27 page)

‘I can’t.’ Liam shook his head. ‘I’ve got to get back to London.’

‘Really?’ I stared at him. ‘Why the constant rush?’

‘No rush,’ Liam said. ‘It’s just I spent the whole day collecting your children from Derby. I’ve got so much on. The club opens in three weeks.’

‘Right.’ I was nonplussed. ‘Why did you collect them, Liam?’

Liam dropped his chin onto his jacket for a moment, his short sandy lashes masking his eyes. ‘Ask your husband.’

James was by my side now, holding a grumbling Fred.

‘James—’ I began, but he looked at me imploringly. I realised with a jolt that he might have been crying.

‘Can we talk about this later, please, Rose?’ he muttered, so only I could hear. ‘Take Fred in, can you?’

I put Effie down and took my son from his father; I clutched the twins tightly to me and hurried Alicia into the house as I heard the men’s voices start to climb behind me.

‘So,’ I said as cheerfully as I could muster, watching my eldest child pirouette down the hall as I drank in the smell of Freddie, burying my nose in his silky hair, ‘how about fishfingers and chips and Fab lollies for tea?’

* * *

Clamped to the phone, James studiously avoided me whilst I fed and bathed the children. He and Liam had argued out on the drive for a while, and then they’d disappeared briefly into the studio. By the time I’d sorted everyone out, Liam had left.

I’d just put the twins to bed and was about to curl up with Alicia and watch
The Sound of Music
yet again when the doorbell rang.

It was dark now and the porch light had blown but I recognised the figure standing in the drive, the Range Rover behind him.

‘Thank you so much for coming,’ I said shyly, relieved I was no longer in my dressing gown. The night we’d just spent together seemed so long ago already. ‘But it’s all OK. The kids are back safely, thank God.’

‘Oh?’ Danny looked at me quizzically. I was so pleased my earlier assumptions had been wrong.

‘It was all just a hideous misunderstanding.’ I smiled at him, pulling my cardigan tighter against the cold evening. ‘I really appreciate your concern, though. Thank you. God, it’s cold tonight, isn’t it?’ I peered up at the great sky. I knew I was babbling with nerves. ‘Do you think it will snow?’

The night was colourless, full and heavy with the silence that always foretold snow.

‘I think you’ve got the wrong end of the stick actually, Mrs Miller.’ Danny looked down at his feet for a second. ‘I’ve just brought a message, that’s all.’

‘Really?’ I said slowly, my heart sinking.

‘Aye, really.’ Danny’s voice was low, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. ‘I can’t spell it out any clearer than this, Rose. If you don’t stay away, OK, if you don’t leave Kattan’s family well alone, your weans will be in proper danger. Don’t ring, don’t speak to them, don’t do any research. Just leave everyone be.’

For a moment I was speechless.

‘Do you understand me?’ He looked up now and held my gaze.

‘Not really. Is Kattan threatening me?’ I held on to the wall for a second. It felt rough beneath my fingers. ‘Threatening my – my “weans”? Seriously?’

‘Maybe.’ He shrugged with what seemed like utter indifference.

‘Or sorry, perhaps you are?’ I found my voice now. ‘Is it
you
who is threatening my family?’

The blankness of his face bit into my soul as he shrugged again. ‘Not especially me.’

‘You bastard.’ I made to shut the door in his face, but he stopped it with his booted foot. He took his hands out of his pockets and I realised with horror he was holding the gun I’d seen the other day. He folded his hands behind his back. My heart was pounding; I could feel myself start to shake.

‘Listen to me, Rose.’ His tone was urgent now. ‘I don’t know where the bairns were earlier, but I do know this is deadly serious. I warned you before this is not a game. Stay away, before something really bad happens.’

We stared at one another for a moment. Then Danny stuck the gun in his waistband, zipped up his jacket so that it covered his mouth and chin, and he walked away from me, towards the great blank-eyed car he drove.

With a bang I shut the door, bending double in the hallway as if I had just been winded with a gut-punch. In the thick rug I caught the glint of green glass.

‘What did he want?’ James said, a shadow in the kitchen doorway. I didn’t know how long my husband had been there; I blinked down the tears that smarted, and reached down for the green thing that had glinted. A plastic jewel from a toy crown.

‘I wish I knew, James.’ Still clutching the jewel, I looked at my husband’s ashen face. ‘What the hell’s going on?’

Chapter Eighteen

The next morning the snow had come, sealing us off into an impenetrable white world. I sat at the kitchen table and drank tea, looking at the soft branches bowed down with their new weight, listening to my children’s incessant chatter.

‘It’s not, Mum, is it?’

‘It is.’ Freddie’s bottom lip trembled and I gathered him up onto my lap. ‘It
is
Harry-potomus, isn’t it, Mummy?’

‘Durrr,’ Alicia scoffed, waving a book in his face. ‘It’s Harry
Potter
, you idiot.’

‘Alicia,’ I reproved mildly, ‘don’t be horrid. He’s only three.’

A doleful James sloped into the room and smiled pathetically at me. Almost worse than angry or sullen James was contrite James.

‘Stop it,’ I snapped. ‘You look ridiculous. You’re far too old for puppy-dog eyes.’

‘You used to like them.’ He put his hand on my shoulder. I forced myself not to shrug it off. ‘More tea, vicar?’

Silently I pushed my cup towards him as Fred jumped off my knee. I had the sudden inclination to fall in a heap on the floor, a suppurating, slowly dissolving mass of wet tissue and no hope. A heap of despair. But I didn’t. I couldn’t allow myself to. I pulled a silly face at Effie instead.

Last night James and I had argued until I’d finally given in to exhaustion. Hair on end and Jack Daniel’s in hand, James had sworn that if he
had
asked Liam to collect the kids, he had totally forgotten. He had drunk too much on the plane coming back, he said, celebrating the deal, and he had to admit there were a few lost hours at Singapore airport. Perhaps he’d spoken to Liam then, perhaps he’d told Marsha who ran the office at Revolver, to call. He was very sorry, he said, so so sorry. He’d make sure it never happened again. He would make it up to me. How about that spa break he had promised me?

He was lying. But in the face of my cold disbelief and fury, he lost it altogether. At one point he hurled the vase of bluebells I’d picked from the front garden onto the floor, crushing the delicate flowers underfoot. Later, contrite again, he couldn’t understand why I wouldn’t just forgive him immediately. And there was something else, a tense knot of something in my stomach, something I couldn’t – or wouldn’t – unravel, that kept me from forgiving him. That kept him at arm’s length.

In bed he had wanted to have sex, but I didn’t want him anywhere near me. I was still so cross, and it was so rare to feel desired by him that it confused me. The truth was we had lost our real connection years ago.

As he began to snore I lay wide-eyed, staring into the darkness. I heard the church bell chime the hour, and chime the next. I felt crippled with longing; but overwhelmed with sadness. I couldn’t get Danny’s face out of my mind; I couldn’t get his betrayal out of my head. I had seen a glimpse of happiness and I had reached out to it. I knew I had started to fall, but I hadn’t realised how far. I didn’t understand myself.

Eventually I got out and crept into bed with Freddie, removing a small rubber lizard from beneath my left ear as I lay down, listening to his peaceful breathing.

When I woke in the morning, I was clutching my son like my life depended on it.

I looked out at the cat delicately picking his way through the pristine blanket of snow. I remembered a freezing January day in Oxford in Christ Church Meadow, where Alice had so famously fallen down the White Rabbit’s burrow. Dalziel and I had lain on our backs after tripping all night long and made angels in the new-fallen snow, laughing, giggling together like kids. We’d swept our arms out and above our heads through the thick soft drift, creating wings like the archangels might have had.

‘James,’ I said slowly, ‘why did Helen Kelsey think she saw you driving the other day?’

‘When?’

‘In Oxford. The day after you left?’

‘She can’t have.’

‘She seemed pretty sure. And she said you were with a girl.’

James looked over at the kids, who were busy drawing snowmen, and then he sat beside me, lowering his voice theatrically. ‘Look, I didn’t want to have to tell you this, but …’ He paused.

‘What?’ I felt a clench of something.

‘I’m – a little worried …’ he faltered.

‘Just say it, J, for God’s sake.’

‘She propositioned me at Karen’s Christmas party.’

‘What?’ I stared at him.

‘Helen cornered me upstairs, by the bathroom. Her shirt was all undone. I was really embarrassed. She’s got it bad, Rose. I think she’s a bit obsessed with me. I think –’ he paused again –’I think she’s started stalking me.’

I looked into his woebegone face and I began to laugh. I laughed until it actually hurt my sides.

‘Why’s that so funny?’ he said, all hurt. ‘I’m not that hideous, am I?’

‘No, of course not,’ I said, wiping the tears from my eyes. I didn’t know whether to believe him and frankly I was beyond caring. ‘I can just picture her trying it on, that’s all. I bet she wears beautifully matched underwear.’

‘I wouldn’t know.’ He looked uncomfortable. ‘She didn’t get that far. Thank God.’

‘And what did you say?’

‘I said thank you very much but, you know, I was happily married, et cetera.’

But he looked away when he said the last part. I began to gather the cereal boxes.

‘Shall we go and play snowballs?’ I said to Effie.

James stood and stretched.

‘Now I’ve got that off my chest, I’ve made a decision,’ my husband said. ‘It’s time for a party.’

‘A party?’ I repeated dully. Never had I felt less like celebrating.

‘Liam and I need to announce our latest endeavours to the world. And we deserve one. Too much doom and gloom in the world right now. But things are on the up for us now, my petals.’

‘I’m surprised you want to do anything with Liam right now,’ I muttered. I’d tried to ring him a few times this morning myself to demand an explanation, but his phone kept going to voicemail.

‘Well, he made a mistake,’ James said, ‘but he knows that now. He won’t do it again.’

‘Can we have balloons, Daddy?’ Effie asked, her tongue curled up onto her upper lip as she concentrated on adding eyes to her snowman’s face. ‘And cake and party bags?’

‘You, my darling,’ James swept her up into his arms, tickling her until she giggled helplessly, ‘can have whatever you so desire.’

‘Can I? Can I?’ Freddie hopped up and down. ‘Can I have a Batman mask and a Harry-potomus and a – and a …’ he couldn’t think of anything else he wanted, ‘ … another Batman mask?’

I looked out at the snow and I felt like my heart was cracking.

* * *

As quickly as the snow came, it disappeared again, leaving a dirty slush in its place, but slowly, spring returned. I got on with life. I went back to the
Chronicle
and wrote about Edna Brown’s vegetable patch and the like. I avoided calls from Xav though I invited him to the bash; I tried not to buy his paper but I couldn’t quite resist the temptation of keeping tabs on Ash Kattan or Lord Higham. I didn’t go anywhere near the Kattans, although once I saw the silver Porsche parked in town. I lingered for a moment looking for Maya, but she never appeared.

At home I helped James arrange his party. I finally remembered about the photos in the cupboard, the one of Lord Higham, but when he asked me to show him, I couldn’t find them, and James just laughed, and looked at me as if I was mad. And maybe I was. I remembered the images of Kattan and Higham I’d seen in Peggy’s basement and I felt like my judgement was utterly off. I’d been too busy reading things into places there was nothing to be read.

I cooked the meals (not very well, admittedly), I smiled dutifully, I played with my children, washed them, brushed their hair and cuddled them, tried not to snap at them too much when they woke me in the night or fought and argued, drove them from A to B – but inside, inside I felt cold and, if they hadn’t been there, not much better than dead.

I rang my friend Jen in London.

‘Will you come to the party?’ I said, and she whooped with pleasure.

‘Just try and stop me. Will there be any nice men there? Please say yes. My sex life’s like the Sahara.’

‘I doubt it. They’ll all be wankers from James’s club or married stodges from round here. Or beautiful – and gay.’

‘Great.’ She sounded less enthused. ‘I was hoping more Kings of Leon than George Michael. I’ll bring my Barbra Streisand outfit then. How are you, anyway? You sound a bit weird.’

‘Weird,’ I intoned, zombie-like.

‘Rose?’ she said, worried. ‘What’s up?’

‘Something. Nothing. Everything.’ I felt my eyes fill. ‘I’ve done something really really stupid.’

‘You’re not pregnant again?’ She sounded horrified. Jen had a high-flying job as an interpreter for the government; babies were low on her agenda.

‘No I’m not. That’d be better than this, I think.’

‘Really?’ She lowered her voice. ‘God. It must be bad.’

‘Jenny!’ But I knew what she meant. ‘I’ll tell you when you come up.’

‘Is it James?’ she whispered.

‘No. It’s me. It’s me and—’

‘Oh God, Rose. You’ve slept with someone else.’

Blood filled my ears. ‘I haven’t,’ I panicked.

‘Yeah you have.’ She knew me too well. ‘And you’re so bad at sex without love.’

‘I’m not,’ I squeaked. I wished I’d kept my mouth shut now. But it was killing me.

‘I’ll come up early. You can tell me all about it.’

‘OK,’ I said in a small voice.

‘Oh, Rose. You’ve fallen for him, haven’t you?’