And then she turned away.
81
Savannah
Last week
The ringing in Savannah’s ears continued long after the door shut. Long after the man looked back in the window. Long after the couple had driven away.What the hell was that all about?She slid down the wall to sit on the hall floor, head in hands. Where was her phone? She had to call the guards. Whatever that woman had said, Savannah couldn’t let this go. What if they came back? But that was precisely the problem…what if they came back?The woman had put it so succinctly. She knew where Savannah lived. And Savannah had no idea who she was at all. On shaky legs, she stood and double-locked the front door, then pulled down the blinds with a chain that was dusty from lack of use. This was a nice neighborhood. Smart, clean, landscaped space. Newly built luxury homes. Privacy and driveways and hedges. No need for blinds. No need until now. And this woman, this crazed woman, knew where she lived.
But—she realized—she didn’t actually know who Savannah was.
She had called her “Susan.”
Why had she called her Susan? Savannah’s eyes went to the package by the door. A parcel for Susan O’Donnell. Had the woman seen the labeland assumed that was Savannah’s name? But why? A thought struck then. They were living at the same address, she and Susan. Was it possible the woman thought Savannah was Susan? Was she at the right address but the wrong house?
Savannah needed a drink. Her rum had spilled on the hall floor when the woman barged in, but the glass—a heavy Norlan Rauk tumbler—was intact. She picked it up now, poured a double, sat back on the bottom step of the stairs and typed “Susan O’Donnell” into Google. She’d never thought to do it before. To her, Susan was just someone who ordered (quite boring) baby clothes and (even more boring) women’s clothes. Brands Savannah wouldn’t be caught dead in. Not that she’d been opening the packages, apart from a few hasty mistakes over the years and—she glanced at the taped-up package by the door—this morning’s retinol.
But the branding on the outside of the parcels told of a woman stuck in a Zara and H&M rut while her baby lived in Next and Gap. Savannah didn’t want kids—that was one thing she loved about being with Jon; he didn’t want kids either—but if she ever did change her mind, she’d dress them a lot better than Susan O’Donnell did.
Google returned the usual results—multiple Facebook and Instagram profiles of various Susan O’Donnells with no way to know which was the right one. She scrolled down past LinkedIn, a set of images of many more women all called Susan O’Donnell, a few MessageBoards.ie links, and on to a variety of workplaces and universities. Since she had no idea what Susan looked like or where she worked, none of this was of any use. Next up, a corporate awards ceremony and a charity auction. Then she spotted something familiar onscreen. Or rather, someone. And it stopped her cold.
82
Savannah
Last week
Jon.HerJon. In a social diary photograph fromImagemagazine. A gala dinner for a children’s charity. Her Jon, in a tux, presenting a check to another man in a tux. The caption identified him incorrectly as Jon “Mullane” instead of Jon McIlroy, but it was definitely him. Why had Jon’s photo come up in a search for Susan O’Donnell? A creeping unease set in while her eyes skimmed the text of the article. Jon Mullane, head of Corporate Trust at GS Bank…at the dinner accompanied by his wife, Susan O’Donnell.
Hiswife.
Frantically, words swimming on the screen now, she scanned further, searching for an image of Susan. There was none. But the words were there in black and white. And the words said enough. Hiswife.
That prick. She dialed his number and let it ring until it rang out, then tried again. She tried a third time, checking her watch. After midnight already. He was possibly asleep, though he didn’t usually sleep this early. They often texted until much later than this. Was he avoiding her calls? No, because he couldn’t know she’d just found out he was married. Maybehe was with his wife. She should have guessed he was married. When they always went to hotels or her house, she should have guessed. He said he lived in Maynooth in Co Kildare and commuted to Dublin. Only, she realized now, he didn’t live in Maynooth at all. She picked up the package. He lived in 26 Oakpark, with Susan O’Donnell. The other Oakpark. Which was no more than a ten-minute drive away. She picked up her car keys, pulled on her Uggs and slammed the door behind her.
• • •
Eight minutes later, she pulled up outside the other 26 Oakpark. His so-called brother’s house, she realized now. She didn’t remember much about the outside of the house that night, but of course this was it. Her stomach hurt as she took it in. So suburban. So neat. A couple home. And, oh god, the realization hit her—those packages of baby clothes—a family home. Jon and Susan had a baby. All those lies.God. She texted him now.
I know about your wife. I’m outside your house. Unless you want me to come in and announce myself, I suggest you come out to see me.
Two blue ticks. He’d read it. She waited, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel, staring out her car window at Jon’s well-kept lawn.
A reply pinged through:
I can’t come out. I’ll explain tomorrow. Go home and get some sleep.
Furious now, she hammered out another text.
I swear to god, come out now or I’m coming in, you PRICK.
A new reply:
Calm down. I said I’d talk to you tomorrow.
Calm down? Did he actually just say that?Savannah yanked open the car door and ran into the driveway, fury roiling at the sight of the house in front of her. All the lights were off: he must be in bed.Theymust be in bed. She couldn’t remember which was the main bedroom but guessed it might be the big picture window on the left, upstairs. She glanced around and spotted loose bricks on a section of the garden wall. She picked one up, flung it hard and high. The sound of cracking glass surprised her. She hadn’t really expected to hit the window, let alone break it. But that’s exactly what she’d done.That’ll show him. On reflection though, as lights went on in Jon’s house and in a house two doors up, she decided against staying around to see the aftermath. She jumped back in the car and sped out to the main road. She’d deal with Jon tomorrow.
• • •
