She shakes her head. ‘I had no idea what you’ve been goingthrough.’ She pauses. ‘You should come and stay with me for a few days. It would be good for you to get away from here.’
For a moment, I’m tempted. But while so much remains unresolved, it isn’t the time. ‘I can’t – not right now.’
I wait for her to try to persuade me otherwise, but she seems to understand. ‘Amy? You need to keep reminding yourself, that even if the worst thing has happened and he is dead, he’s still treated you abysmally. It’s incredible that you had no idea what he was getting up to. He must be bloody good at covering his tracks. You’d think there’d have been clues.’
‘I know.’ My voice is tight. ‘But I’d always thought I could trust him. That he loved me. I was stupid.’ But as I say that, her eyes shift slightly. Frowning, I stare at her. ‘What have I said?’
But when her eyes don’t meet mine, I know there’s something she isn’t saying. ‘Nothing. Nothing at all.’
In the past, I wouldn’t have questioned her, but with everything that’s happened, my instincts are heightened. ‘Cath?’ There’s a hollow feeling inside me as I ask her. ‘Did something happen between you?’
Cath sips her tea. ‘No. Of course it didn’t. I’m your friend. I was in love with Oliver the scumbag, remember?’
‘You have to tell me.’ My voice cuts through the silence. ‘My entire life has fallen apart. If there’s something you know that I don’t, you owe it to me to tell me what it is.’
‘Jesus.’ Her face is ashen. ‘Alright. I will, because it will help you realise what a complete jerk he is – but it really was nothing. I came round here one afternoon to see you – it was after the first time Oliver hit me. You were out, but Matt was here.’ She pauses. ‘He asked me in – he could see from my face what Oliver had done. He was sympathetic, overly so, but I didn’t realise at the time. Inevitably, I got upset. He seemed soconcerned. Then he put his arms around me.’ From the way she hesitates, I know there’s more.
‘He kissed you.’ I’m filled with disbelief.
‘He tried to, but I moved away in time. I was shocked that he’d even tried – it was the last thing I needed – or was expecting. I told him I wasn’t interested and to fuck off. Then I left. Talk about taking advantage of me at my lowest.’ She pauses. ‘Amy, I promise you nothing happened. You must know I’d never do that to you.’
I believe her, but I’m staring at her green eyes and pale skin, the soft haircut, imagining Matt touching her. ‘But you never told me.’
She looks stricken. ‘I thought it was a stupid mistake on his part. A misjudgement or a one-off. You seemed so happy. I wasn’t going to ruin the rest of your life for a fumbled kiss that didn’t happen.’
But it’s not the point. If she hadn’t stopped him, it would have. How many other times, with other women, didn’t he stop? Getting up, I fold my arms tightly around myself as I walk over to the window, staring out across the garden before turning to face her. ‘You still should have told me.’
‘You’re right. Of course I should. And it’s not an excuse, but at the time, I was a mess, as you know. Love makes people act irrationally.’ She looks at me pointedly.
*
An uneasy truce falls between us. But after she leaves, more doubts kick in. She only told me what Matt did because I pushed her to. If I hadn’t, if Matt had been here, if our wedding had gone ahead, I would be beginning married life naïvely believing that I was the only woman in the world for him.
The foolish woman, who still hasn’t learned from her mistakes.Already I’m regretting that I didn’t ask Cath more. Maybe something else happened between them. How would I know? When I used to trust instinctively, after Matt’s lies and Cath’s silence, I can no longer trust anyone.
1996
The scorching heat, those blameless blue skies, the banks of wildflowers, none of them assuaged your jealousy. Instead it grew like the bindweed in the hedgerows, spreading its stranglehold. Unmoderated. Unchecked.
For a while, you held it to yourself. Welcoming the stabbing pain you felt. It came from loving. Such agonising pain that could only come from such great love. But he didn’t see you, did he? Instead he only had eyes for Kimberley. You couldn’t bear it, could you? The new pain that racked you, of rejection, twisting your guts until you couldn’t breathe.
You’d waited so long. Been so patient. Waited for him to see you. But when he didn’t, you had to do something. In your world, people fought for what they wanted. Everything about your childhood had been a battle. It was how exam results were achieved, careers forged, relationships built. If you wanted them enough, you fought for them. But you forgot one thing. You can’t take love. Like the soft summer breeze, it has to be given.
Jess
It was easy to see why my mother was drawn to Matt. Good looking, he had charm; took her out for pub meals and to the cinema. Poured flattery onto her after she’d been alone, for so long. But as he inched his way into our lives, I was an annoyance, visible only when it suited him, incidental to his cause.
When he came round to take my mother out, while she was upstairs getting ready, I’d catch him wandering around the house. If my mother was within earshot, he’d make an effort to engage me in conversation – about college, my friends, watching my mother brighten, flattered by his interest, taken in by the façade of his seemingly considerate ways.
It was after he moved in that the changes started. The brands of cereal in the larder, dairy milk and cheese in the fridge suddenly appearing when my mother and I were vegan. Our comfy old sofas replaced by new expensive ones, the ugly painting he loved hung over the fireplace, the walls now country house shades of paint. The meat I was prepared to tolerate. Neither of us expected everyone to be vegan. So I kept quiet, until the day Matt cooked steak.
Excusing myself, I went outside. I could cope with him eating it, but the smell of seared animal flesh revolted me. Even ten minutes later, when I went back in, the kitchen stank. Opening the window, I heard my mother say behind me, ‘She doesn’t like the smell.’
‘That’s a shame,’ Matt’s voice was smooth. ‘You should have some, Jess. It’s ethically produced. You never know, you might like it.’
‘No way.’ I flinched at his suggestion that any slaughtering of animals could be described as ethical. After serving myself some veggie casserole, I went and sat down, but something made me glance in my mother’s direction. My mother, who had sworn off meat since as long as I could remember, was cutting into a steak. ‘Mum?’ Incredulous, I watched her eat a piece, before cutting off another.
For a moment, she looked mildly discomfited. But only for a moment. ‘Matt feels very self-conscious about the fact that he’s the only one of us who eats meat. I thought …’ Breaking off, she glanced at him. ‘I thought I’d try eating it again – only now and then. And Matt’s going to try more vegan meals. Aren’t you, honey?’
