“She’s a very clever, very determined young woman.”
Howard reached for the bottle and a glass. “Maybe I will have that drink.”
He looked at her and she wished he’d wipe the judgmental expression off his face.
“So when he found out, he felt the need to move back to his flat, and judging from your mood when I came in, he’s not best pleased with you,” Howard observed.
“He doesn’t see her for who she really is.”
“I think it’s you who’s not seeing.”
“But she’s—”
“Not her, you. Look at yourself. At what you’ve done.” He shook his head. “How on earth did you think you’d get away with this?”
“You’re forgetting. At the time, we didn’t think . . . The doctors told us he was dying. I just needed those last couple of days. As a mother, under the circumstances, I don’t think that’s too hard to justify, is it?”
“‘As a mother . . .’ He’s a grown man, Laura. You don’t have to think what’s best for him anymore. How do you think he felt when he woke up and you—Christ, me too—told him she’d left him. Me, consoling with a load of bullshit about how she wasn’t worth it if she wasn’t going to stick around.” He was angry now and slammed his glass down. “Does he think I was in on this?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, you’d better bloody tell him I wasn’t. No, don’t, I’ll tell him.” He sighed heavily. “Cherry’s okay. What exactly have you got against her?”
Laura flashed a look of exasperation. “I’ve told you. She’s after his money, his future, thinking she can just hang on to his coattails and get herself another life.”
“And you know this how?”
“Little things. She’s lied about stuff. Money. Fabricated excuses to get time off to go to France. But it’s more than that, it’s . . . I don’t know . . . a feeling.”
“What, mother’s instinct?”
“Don’t dismiss it,” she snapped, hurt.
“You’re deluded. Just let go, let go of him.” He looked at her with a new distance, as if he didn’t know her. “Stop making excuses for your obsessive behavior. You’ve driven him away—you—and you’ve only got yourself to blame.” He shook his head as he looked at her, as if hit by a great sadness, then left the room.
She heard him go upstairs, and after a while, the footsteps faded out. She sat down and, pouring some more wine, found her hand was shaking. She hadn’t said anything about Cherry’s threats, but she had a feeling Howard would’ve just thought she was being sensational, or what was it he’d called her?Deluded.
42
Friday, October 2
TWO WEEKS LATER, SHE STILL HADN’T HEARD FROM DANIEL. OUT-WARDLYshe put on a show of being levelheaded and rational, acting as if it would all blow over. Inside she was a writhing mess of anxiety. There was no one she could talk to about it. She and Howard were more estranged than ever and didn’t even seem to achieve their occasional meals together now. He’d send her a text telling her he had a late meeting at work and she’d end up having a solitary dinner in the kitchen. Eating alone soon lost any appeal and she’d gotten into the habit of not cooking, sometimes not really bothering to eat at all. She had lost a few pounds. As she inspected her face in the mirror above her dressing table, she noticed her cheeks were a little more hollow. But it wasn’t really the sunken look that was different; it was the dullness of her eyes. She quickly glanced away. Tonight might take her mind off things.
She was going to a dinner party at Isabella’s. A handful of friends had been invited, Isabella said, then had followed by asking if Howard would be working, rather than asking if he was free to come. Laura hadn’t pressed for an invitation for him. He wouldn’t go anyway—not with the way things were between them. She wasn’t really in the mood for lots of jolly conversation, but it was better than staying at home.
She hoped Isabella was going to be too busy to ask much about Daniel. She hadn’t told her friend he’d moved out, and she didn’t want to get in an awkward corner making up something to avoid explaining about the lie. No, the plan was: to get out of the house, have a change of scene, mingle with some old friends, and then come home early. She was also going to avoid drinking too much, didn’t want to start feeling desperate or maudlin and end up blurting something. She preferred not to even think about it; it was like a shameful secret, a big dirty black goblin that sat on her shoulder, poking her in the back of the neck every now and then, just to remind her it was there.
She slid the lipstick expertly over the edge of her cupid’s bow, just as she heard the elevator door open. Howard was home. It instantly made her nervous. She snapped the lipstick shut and put it down. Then she left her bedroom. It was good he was home early, she told herself, as there was something she wanted to ask him, had been wanting to ask him for a while now.
She headed into the living room, where Howard, still in his work suit, was pouring himself a whisky.
“Good day?” she asked with forced brightness.
He turned, saw with some surprise that she was dressed up, but didn’t comment. “Fine. Yourself?”
Laura wasn’t going to tell him she’d tried calling Daniel for the third time since he’d thrown her out, and had, for the third time, gotten his voice mail. She’d not left a message, didn’t see how she could really expand on the previous two. But the lack of communication was killing her, and somehow she had to get onto the subject. “Yes, great, thanks. You up to much tonight?”
“No, not really. Been a long week.”
