It’s no wonder he eventually snapped.
I catch Selena coming down the stairs. She looks fresher this morning and she’s dressed in a black jumpsuit and heels, a slash of bright red lipstick. I wonder if it’s for Dean’s benefit. She’s obviously just been to see him: why else would she be upstairs? Unless she’s been chatting to my husband again.
‘Hi,’ she says. ‘I was wondering if I could ask you a favour. I need to pop out – I’m meeting someone at ten. Would you or Carol mind keeping an eye on Ruby while I’m gone? She’s still in bed. She seems exhausted today. I shouldn’t be too long.’
‘Sure,’ I say. ‘Um … can I ask you something?’
She pauses at the bottom of the stairs, her hand on the newel post. ‘Yes?’
‘Why did you tell Adrian about the dead flowers?’
She raises a perfectly drawn eyebrow. ‘But he already knew.’
‘Only the first bouquet. I didn’t want him to know about the others. I did ask you last night not to say anything.’
Her eyes widen. Her eyelashes are really long and I wonder if she has extensions. ‘I don’t remember you saying that. But I’m sorry if I spoke out of turn.’
She doesn’t sound very sorry but what more can I say? I want to ask what else they talked about, alone in the kitchen, while everybody was in bed. I wonder if she was wearing that nightdress. And then I remember Adrian’s words of apology, his acknowledgement that he takes me for granted. He even emptied the dishwasher! Whatever she’d said to him had had the right effect.
‘No. That’s okay. It’s all good.’
She smiles uncertainly and glances at her watch. ‘Do I look all right?’ she asks, patting down her hair. She seems a bit twitchy, on edge.
‘You look lovely,’ I say truthfully, although I am not sure about the too-bright lipstick.
She slips on a biker jacket. It’s beautiful, dove-grey suede. It must have cost a fair whack. I look down at my own shapeless jumper and skinny jeans. I can’t remember the last time I dressed up. That’s one of the downsides of working at home, not having an excuse to dress for an office.
‘Thank you. I’ll see you later,’ she calls, as her heels clatter over the tiles and she disappears out of the door.
Mum asks me to pop to the shops to get some more toilet cleaner and bleach. Nancy’s upstairs sorting out the rooms and Mum says she’ll keep an eye on Ruby and the girls as Selena hasn’t returned yet. It’s only ten forty-five and I feel like I’ve done a day’s work already. I think wistfully of the laughs we used to have in the office, gossiping over the photocopier or around the water cooler, of Gemma and Katie – I barely keep in contact with them, these days. My work friends were replaced by the mums I met at my local antenatal group when I was pregnant with Amelia, and even they splintered away when Amelia started school and I joined the PTA.
My closest friend in Twickenham is Bex, the mum of one of Amelia’s school friends, but we haven’t spoken since I moved down here. I keep meaning to call her but it’s been so busy. Everyone is so caught up in their own lives. I long to tell Bex about Selena, working with Mum, the bad review and being constantly ‘on duty’. But I know I won’t. Because I don’t want to admit to anyone – even myself – that I might be having second thoughts about it. It sounds so ungrateful. I’m living the dream. My friends were envious when I told them my plans. They promised they’d come and stay. I couldn’t wait to show off. I had visions of us all here, drinking and laughing, as if we were at a hen weekend. But it wouldn’t be like that. They would be the guests and I would be working.
I shake off my negative thoughts. I’m just tired. It’s been a long week and it’s only Tuesday.
Just as I’m gathering up my coat and bag I feel a prod to my shoulder blade.
I jump, my hand going to my chest as I spin round. Dean is standing there, the usual grin on his face. ‘All right, Kirsty? Can I pay to stay for one more night?’
I consider lying, telling him we have a booking, but then I think of the money. Selena can handle herself, I think, as I take payment, feeling I’ve sold my soul to the devil. She must have invited him here, after all. ‘Just the one night?’
‘I think so. I’m hoping that by tomorrow I’ll have got what I came for.’
Is he going to stay here until Selena agrees to be with him?
I hand him a receipt and he slinks back upstairs, looking pleased with himself.
Pulling on my coat, I head outside into the rain. It’s not as cold today, just damp, the pavements slick, dirty puddles gathering in the concrete ruts, piles of soggy leaves lining the kerb like a rug. I take my time, glad to be out of the house for a bit, breathing in the damp air, my fingers curled around my inhaler in my pocket. Sometimes I wake in the night, gasping for breath, my heart racing.
The mountains seem more oppressive today and I feel hemmed in by them. They nudge the grey skies, the charcoal clouds circling them like halos.
I’m only halfway to the high street when I see Nathan walking towards me, hands in his pockets, the collar of his coat up against the rain. He has no hood or umbrella and his hair is damp and dishevelled. He looks as though he has the weight of the world on his shoulders. I’m surprised to see him. I’d assumed he and Julia were still in their room. I’ve been watching them since they arrived to see if I can detect the marriage problems Mum alluded to. And, it’s true, they don’t seem as close. There have been times that I’ve seen Julia’s smile slip when she thinks nobody’s watching. A few times their interactions have seemed forced, like when she pushed him away after he rested his head on her shoulder the other night. She’d looked irritated, although she was trying to cover it with humour.
At first I think he’s going to carry on walking right past me but when he spots me he slows to a halt.
‘Where’s Julia?’ I ask.
He digs his hands further into his pockets. ‘We’re not joined at the hip, you know.’ He hasn’t shaved, which is unusual for Nathan. He’s always been fastidious about facial hair. He openly teases Adrian about his beard and calls him Gandalf.
