‘You’re right,’ she’d said. ‘We’ll give it back – tell him we don’t need it.’
She’d hated herself for sounding so conciliatory, but she learnt that night that if that’s what she needed to do to keep the peace and create a happy home for her children, then so be it. It was a relatively small price to pay.
‘I won’t be too late,’ Simon says now, leaning in for a kiss. She can’t help but recoil at his ability to switch between Jekyll and Hyde in an instant.
‘Okay,’ she says quietly, suddenly desperate to get him out of the house.
As soon as she hears the front door close, her shoulders slump forwards, the pent-up nerves and tension flooding out. How had this happened? When had their marriage become so fraught with anxiety?
Lauren thinks back to when they first met eight years ago, at a bar close to King’s College Hospital, where Lauren worked on the labour ward. Simon was on a job in nearby Lordship Lane and was obviously the joker in his crowd. He was charming and made her laugh which, after years of dating self-obsessed numbnuts, was a breath of fresh air. He also happened to be in the right place at the right time, as with her thirtieth birthday behind her, the old biological clock was ticking loudly in her ears.
She’d thought she loved him, or had at least convinced herself that she could. Yet gradually, as each year had passed, his ambivalence towards her had driven her insane. One day she was his be-all and end-all, the next he would casually cast her aside, as if she meant nothing to him. It was the not knowing which Simon would walk through the door each night that gave her the most anxiety. And despite being together for all this time, she is no nearer knowing what triggers him one way or another. The realization that she doesn’t know what makes her husband tick, and even more importantly, what makes him stop, shames her.
5
Lauren
Lauren’s hand hovers over her phone. She should call her mother, just to make sure she’s okay, but as she’s about to press a thumb on Mum in her contact list, the front doorbell rings. Lauren instinctively looks at the time on the screen and relaxes when she realizes it’s not as late as she thought it was.
She imagines the momentary awkwardness that will hang between her and Kate, who she’s sure will be standing on the other side of the door. They’ll eye one another warily, sussing out each other’s moods, trying to pre-empt their reaction to the bombshell that’s just befallen their family. Lauren will invite her in, and Kate will make a show of checking her watch and saying, ‘Okay, but just for a minute.’ As if she’s the only one of them who is constantly chasing time.
‘Jess!’ Lauren blurts out as she swings the door open.
‘Lauren,’ says Jess softly. ‘Or is it Kate?’
‘What . . .? I mean . . . how did you know where I lived?’
‘I followed you from Rose’s house,’ says Jess matter-of-factly, as if it’s completely normal. ‘Can I come in?’
‘Well, I don’t know if that’s a good idea . . .’ starts Lauren. ‘What . . . what if someone sees you?’
‘Your mother or your sister, you mean?’
Lauren nods, as her mouth dries out. She swallows in an attempt to summon the ability to talk.
‘So, can I come in?’
Lauren nods numbly again and steps aside, peering up and down the road before she closes the door.
‘S-so what do you want?’ asks Lauren.
‘Answers,’ says Jess, looking around the small living room.
A heat rises up from Lauren’s toes, making every blood cell that is circulating around her body feel like it’s on fire. She falls down onto the sofa, more out of necessity than choice, and silently signals to Jess to take a seat on the armchair opposite. I wish Kate was here, she thinks, before pulling herself up, surprised by her own admission.
‘So, what do you want to know?’ she asks, as she runs through the million and one questions of her own that are flying around her head.
‘Everything,’ says Jess, taking a seat.
Lauren feels winded as she sits there, opposite Jess, without any other distractions. The similarity between them is uncanny and the juxtaposition of how close they are, but yet so far apart, makes Lauren shudder involuntarily.
‘You didn’t seem that surprised to see me,’ says Jess. ‘At least, not as surprised as your sister or your mother.’
Lauren can’t pull her eyes away from Jess, transfixed by her every move and idiosyncrasy. ‘I don’t know what you want me to say,’ she says, when she eventually finds her voice.
‘I want to know where my father is,’ says Jess. ‘Because it felt like you were all hiding something.’
Lauren coughs, clearing her throat. ‘I . . . I’m afraid that my father . . .’
Jess looks at her expectantly, her blue eyes, so like Lauren’s, wide and hopeful.
‘My father . . .’ she starts, ‘. . . passed away.’
Jess’s mouth falls open. ‘But . . . but . . .’ she stutters as tears pool in her eyes. She bows her head as they fall silently onto her cheeks.
Lauren’s chest caves in as she fights the instinct to get up and go to her. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘Wh-when?’ croaks Jess.
Lauren looks down at her hands, visibly shaking in her lap. ‘Ten months ago,’ she says quietly. ‘He had a heart attack. It was very sudden.’
‘Was he at home? Who was with him? Did he say anything? Anything at all to the people who were with him?’
Lauren looks at her, taken aback. ‘No . . . no . . . I don’t think so. He was at a client’s house when it happened.’
‘Who was it? Do you know who it was?’
‘It was a woman who he’d been helping with a divorce,’ says Lauren, confused by the line of questioning. ‘I don’t remember her
