from a shiny wedding car and holding champagne flutes.
‘Everything okay?’ he asked.
‘Fine,’ she said. She felt slightly appalled at how easily the untruth tripped off her tongue, and Mark, lightning- quick predator of lies in the courtroom, merely nodded as his eyes lingered on the picture for a second, before he grabbed a bottle out of the bag he was holding and unscrewed the cap. There was a determined, slightly manic glint to his eye that made Chloe feel uncomfortable.
‘How’s your dad?’
‘Awful. Let’s not talk about it,’ he said, brandishing the open bottle as he turned towards the kitchen cabinets. ‘Now, where do you keep your glasses?’ He began searching through cupboards, energetically pulling doors open and letting them swing shut with a bang.
‘Are you okay, Mark?’ she asked nervously.
‘Of course,’ he said dismissively, then exclaimed, ‘A-ha!’ as he found what he was looking for and pulled two glasses from the shelf. He brought them over to the table, and Chloe sat down hesitantly, unsure of what to say.
He poured their wine, pausing to lift his glass to hers, looking directly into her eyes and saying, ‘Cheers.’
His piercing gaze was disconcerting. ‘Cheers,’ she replied uncomfortably, clinking glasses and watching as Mark raised his to his lips.
69
Amy had begun to doze while Alex was in the toilet, but when he came back he woke her up, flinging himself into his seat.
‘What?’ she said, surprised.
His eyes were two bullets of frustration as he looked at her.
‘Nothing,’ he answered crossly.
‘Al.’ She put a hand on his leg and he brought his own hand across as though to move hers off, but then paused and patted it instead. He leaned back in his chair and exhaled a long sigh.
‘I have no fucking idea what I’m doing,’ he said loudly.
The woman across the aisle from him, a toddler on her lap, turned to glare at them for a moment.
Under her breath, Amy said, ‘Great, thanks,’ feeling tearful.
Alex was still staring at the ceiling of the plane. ‘Oh, for god’s sake, don’t jump to conclusions about what I mean.’
Her tearfulness turned to anger. ‘Well, if you don’t want to be here…’ she hissed.
Alex turned to her, looking irritated. ‘What? What, Amy? What should I do? Just parachute out of the plane, and set my course back to England? I think I’m pretty well committed to being here, don’t you?’
Now the woman in the aisle was openly staring at them, alarmed. Amy turned away and leaned against the window. ‘Just get some sleep, Alex,’ she said over her shoulder.
He looked at her sadly but didn’t reply.
70
‘Mark, are you sure you don’t want to talk about your dad?’
Mark’s lips formed a sudden dam against the wine that sloshed back into his glass. ‘No, he’s fine,’ he said irritably, putting his glass down, rocking back on the chair and looking at Chloe, sensing there was more to come.
‘He didn’t look very good earlier on,’ she said tentatively. ‘Do you think you should have left him?’
‘Chloe, this afternoon it’s been one long marriage-guidance session at my place. My parents are just pathetic. Their relationship is more like that of business partners than a married couple – I realised on the way here that they don’t communicate, they transact. Neither of them will talk properly to the other, they’re just locking horns like a pair of fighting stags. Mum left in a huff an hour or so before I did, then I watched Dad count out four sleeping tablets and wash them down with whisky, which he had to go and buy himself since I’ve hidden the small stash of my booze he hasn’t got through already. I don’t think he’ll be going anywhere for a while, and I fancied chatting with someone who’s a bit more than semi-conscious tonight.’
Chloe looked riled at his supercilious tone. ‘Charming – I’m so glad you picked me,’ she said as sarcastically as she could muster.
‘You’re welcome,’ he replied, lifting his glass to his mouth and tipping his head back while he took an enormous slug of wine.
‘So, what’s going on with Alex?’ he asked, eyeing her carefully. ‘When’s he coming back?’
‘Soon,’ she said. But she had paused a fraction too long before answering.
‘Soon?’ He raised a prosecutorial eyebrow. Like a fox at a rabbit hole, he was scenting just how close he was to trapping her.
‘Mark, don’t,’ she began, her voice cracking slightly as she said it.
Various sarcastic comments ran through Mark’s mind, but then he leaned forward, took her hand, and said, ‘What’s going on, Chlo?’
She looked startled by the sudden intimacy of his gesture. His hand held hers, steadily, and he waited. Her mouth twitched a few times before she eventually answered with a bleak, ‘I don’t know.’
‘I presume it’s all to do with Julia?’ he asked, leaning in to her.
‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘Have you seen her?’ Mark could hear the begging note in her voice, the desperation for any information he might impart.
‘Not since I saw her here last week,’ he said grimly.
Chloe cracked. ‘Well, it appears her real name might be Amy. Jamie just told me. What the hell is all that about? Apparently, she was attacked while they were together.’ Chloe had been toying with the stem of her wineglass, but now picked it up quickly and took a large gulp. ‘I just don’t know what to think,’ she said. ‘It was only a week ago, that awful night at the restaurant.
‘I don’t think you’ve got that quite right, Chloe,’ Mark said, wondering why the hell he was allowing Alex any leeway.
‘Go on then,’ she demanded. ‘How does it appear to you?’
‘Like there’s a lot we don’t know,’ he suggested. ‘But any fool can see Alex loves you.’
‘Really?’ Chloe asked pathetically.
Mark tried to hide his grimace. ‘Really.’
‘God, but why couldn’t she be twenty-five stone and covered in boils? Why did she have to be so stunning?’
‘You’re stunning.’ The words were out before Mark thought about them. He tensed. But Chloe didn’t take it quite the way he thought she might. She laughed.
‘Yeah, right.’
Mark didn’t want to repeat himself but nor did he want to let it drop. So he said, ‘Of course you are. In fact, I was just looking at that photo,’ he gestured to their wedding picture, ‘and thinking that you look quite a lot like Julia there… when your hair was longer…’ He trailed off.
Chloe’s face had blanched.
‘What?’ Mark asked warily. ‘What did I say?’
71
