‘Thanks so much,’ Henry replies, as he folds his fingers around them.
I walk towards my gate, Phoenix straining on his lead. If I turn right I won’t have to pass their house. Yes, that’s what I’ll do. I’ll pretend I can’t see them and hopefully they won’t notice me.
The stupid gate creaks as I open it and my heart falls when I hear Marielle saying my name. Fuck it.
She trots over. She doesn’t look angry, or as if she knows I’ve been in her house. I’m thankful that Henry has gone inside.
‘Marielle,’ I say false-brightly, my heart hammering. ‘How are you?’
‘All good. I hope you are too?’ She’s still smiling and I begin to relax. ‘Not working today?’
‘No, not on a Tuesday. I work three days a week. What about you? You don’t have your grandson today?’ The image of the fake baby flashes through my mind, turning me cold. Does she even have a grandson? Now that I’ve been in her house and seen the fake baby and the wall of newspaper articles, I view her in a new light. I try to pick up every nuance in her words and her body language, but she’s acting very naturally. There isn’t even a flicker in her face as she goes on to tell me about Arthur and how much she loves looking after him.
‘Oh, yes. You said your daughter-in-law works at the library? Is that the one in the centre?’
‘Oh, no, in Yate,’ she says, without a beat, the same placid smile on her face.
‘And your son?’
‘A lawyer.’ Her smile widens. ‘I’m so proud of him. Such a clever boy. Takes after Henry.’ She lowers her voiceconspiratorially. ‘Henry would have liked Peter to follow in his footsteps and do a medical degree, but you know what kids are like. Is it the same with your son?’
‘Well, he wants to work in film. He’s very creative, like my husband.’
‘And you, dear? Are you following your dreams? I gave up mine for my husband. I was a lecturer, only part-time, but before I had Peter I wanted to be an archaeologist somewhere like Delphi or Athens.’
I glance down at my feet, a strange heat flooding my body. ‘Well, I sort of did the same. It was the right thing to do, for my family. But now, it’s kind of left me …’
‘In limbo?’
I look into her face and understanding passes between us. ‘Yes, that’s it. Exactly that.’
‘We never imagine what our lives will be like when they grow up and leave us,’ she says wistfully, her gaze still holding mine.
‘I suppose I never had a dream, per se. Not like Charlie. Or Rufus. So I didn’t mind. But …’
She looks at me intently. ‘You never had a dream? A career you were desperate to pursue?’
I think of my midwifery training. That was the closest I’d ever got to fulfilling a dream career, but it didn’t work out as I’d planned. I can’t admit to Marielle why I left so I just shake my head.
She reaches out and pats my shoulder gently. ‘It’s not too late,’ she says. She looks as if she’s about to say something else when Henry calls her name. We turn in the direction of his voice. He’s standing on their front step,his body rigid, his arms folded across his chest. He’s so tall his head is almost touching the top of the doorway.
‘Better go,’ she says, taking her hand from my shoulder. ‘Lovely to talk to you, Lena.’
I watch as she scuttles back into the house and Henry closes the door firmly behind them without acknowledging me.
As I walk around the park I can’t stop thinking about Marielle. I’m so conflicted: I like her. I find her caring and understanding. Yet it doesn’t tally with the other things I’ve discovered about her. The fake baby. That weird wall of newspaper clippings. The conversation I overheard between her and Henry. Henry’s brooding presence. I thought she was lying about a grandson but after hearing her talking about her son, Peter, I now believe her. I’d assumed Lindy was Heidi, but now I know Heidi works at a different library it makes sense. Maybe Marielle has the fake baby for some innocent reason, like using it as a tool to practise with before taking on the responsibility of looking after a newborn baby again, thirty-odd years after having her son. It could be something as simple as that.
But what about the other stuff?a little voice in my head pipes up.How do you explain that?
As I’m making my way back down the street towards home half an hour later, I see Henry leaning against his car. When he sees me he moves so that he’s obstructing my path. Has he been waiting for me?
‘Henry,’ I say, slowing down. ‘Is everything okay?’ Phoenix plonks himself at my feet.
‘You tell me, Lena.’ His blue eyes are penetrating, as though he can read my mind. He comes closer and lowers his voice. There is a chill in his tone. ‘I know you let yourself into our house.’
I stiffen. ‘I can explain.’
‘Please don’t insult my intelligence by coming up with an excuse. I don’t know what you’re playing at, and I haven’t told Marielle because she likes you. She likes you a lot. So, I’m keeping this between us.’ He leans closer, engulfing me in the scent of his washing powder and aftershave, and says, so quietly I have to strain to hear him, ‘Amateur hour is over, Lena. You have no idea who you’re dealing with. Keep away from us.’
