Maybe Alistair isn’t conventionally handsome. His chin is a little weak, his stomach a little soft, but he has the kindest hazel eyes. He might be a bit forgetful sometimes, but he’s warm and solid, rushing home every night from his work at the university to be with us. And best of all, he treats Henry and me like we’re his entire world. I wouldn’t trade that for anything.
Emotion sweeps through me, tears brimming in my eyes. ‘I love you,’ I say, swallowing down the rising guilt. I did this for him, I remind myself.
His smile widens into a boyish grin that reminds me so much of our beautiful boy. ‘I love you too. Sorry. I didn’t want to wake you, but dinner is ready.’
‘I’m glad you did or I won’t sleep tonight.’ I yawn, drawing in the scent of the pastry and herbs. ‘How was work today?’
He lights up in the way he always does when he talks about his students. ‘Actually, quite good. One of my second-years, Freddie – the one who always wears those really baggy jeans – he finally cracked the problem set on marginal cost theory. He even challenged me on one of the models, and he was right.’ Alistair brushes a bit of flour from his sleeve then pauses, almost sheepish. ‘By the way, I saw Jonny on Monday. He asked if I could be a witness to a form he needs to sign. I suggested he come for dinner on Saturday. Is that OK? I think he was after a home-cooked meal. I could do my famous aubergine parmigiana.’
My stomach clenches, and heat flashes through me like a slap. Jonny. Signing a form will take less than a minute, but he wants to spend the evening with us. I can’t help but think this is just another way he wants to leer over me. Rile me. But I nod, masking my anger with a smile because even if my hate for Jonny burns like fire, Alistair sees only the good in everyone. ‘Sounds good.’
It’s just as I’m pulling myself to my feet that the first flash of blue light fills the close, followed by the slam of car doors. One then another. Later, I’ll remember this moment – the scent of lavender and pastry, the weight of Alistair’s arms around me – as the last time everything was normal.
Magnolia Close WhatsApp Group
Wednesday, 8 October, 7.44p.m.
Andrea (No. 7)
Does anyone know what’s happening?
Bill (No. 5)
I expect it’s a break-in. I’ve still got mates on the force, and one of them said there have been a few in the area.
Ryan (No. 9)
3 police cars for a burglary?
Jean (No. 5)
I hope everyone is OK! Keep us posted x
Susie (No. 11)
Hug your loved ones extra tight tonight!
TWELVE
GEORGIE
I’m on the sofa with Nate, scrolling through a positive mindset account, looking for content ideas, when the Magnolia Close WhatsApp messages start landing. My eyes snap to Nate. He’s lost in his phone too, neither of us paying attention to the documentary about a ’90s pop band streaming on the TV. I imagine seeing us from the outside – a stranger peering through the window. Two people together but so far apart we’re almost lost. Nothing like the Instagram story I posted of us cosying up together an hour ago.
Last week’s attempt at romance ended with Nate returning late from his company social, tired and grumpy, asking me why I was still awake before disappearing into the bathroom. He didn’t even notice the candles or the new lilac underwear set I was wearing.
Have we even spoken today? Other than perfunctory comments about dinner and our evening plans? At least he’s not out tonight.Be the one to make a change.I say the words in my head and promise myself I’ll find a way to connect with Nate. There’s nothing fundamentally wrong. We’re just…no longer close.
In the back of my mind, fear pricks like a dark thorn, and I wonder just for a moment if he’s somehow found out about my past. I shove the thought deep, deep down. Even thinking about it feels like it could spark something, and I want that part of my life to stay buried.
Nate has swapped his day clothes for a dark-green hoodie and grey joggers. His hair is ruffled, stubble shadowing his jaw. As the second message lands, he looks up, checking if I’ve seen.
Then, without a word, we’re on our feet, moving to the window, my phone still gripped in my hands as I wait for more messages to arrive.
‘Turn off the light,’ Nate says, and before I can question why, he adds, ‘So we can see better.’ We may not be in a good place in our marriage right now, but if there’s one thing I can rely on, it’s Nate’s curiosity. He always has to know what’s going on.
I flick off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness. The only light is the dim glow from the ornate black streetlights and the strobing flash of blue from the silent police cars. My thoughts turn instantly to Oscar. He’d love to see the police cars, but he’s already asleep, and it feels wrong to wake him.
Nate and I stand at the window, shoulder to shoulder, watching the officers move up the pathway to number two – Jonny’s house. Ryan’s message echoes in my head like a siren. Three police cars. Six officers. All heading for Jonny’s door.
