She quickly hurried back to the car, feeling conspicuous in this quiet neighbourhood and wondered if there were any curtain-twitching neighbours watching her. She didn’t feel safe again until she was back in the car. She waited and watched and soon enough, the mums and prams started to return, this time accompanied by children, talking, skipping and laughing together. A few minutes later she saw Kate, holding two young girls by the hand.
My God, they look like Pete. The shock hit her hard. Both girls were chatting animatedly with their mum and laughing at something that she had said to them. They looked so happy, she thought, so innocent and sweet. She had an image of them greeting Pete with cuddles when he came home from work each night, embracing him with their innocent, unconditional love. His own flesh and blood. Of course he couldn’t have left them and moved to France. She had been stupid for thinking otherwise. Now she just needed to speak to him, to tell him that she understood, that she wasn’t angry with him but with herself.
Kate and the girls walked up the path and into the house, closing the door to the outside world – and to Claire. If he wasn’t at home, he must be at work. Which meant that he probably wouldn’t be home until at least six o’clock, if not much later knowing him. She considered her options and decided to leave and return again in a few hours. The less time she spent parked outside his house the less suspicious it would be. She turned the car engine on and pulled away from the kerb, following the directions on her phone towards the hotel she had booked. After she’d checked in and dumped her bag in her room, she drove back to Muswell Hill, parked up in the Broadway, and had a mooch around the shops, stopping at a café to get something to eat and looking around at all the yummy mummies and their children, having tea together. She wondered if Pete had been to this café with his kids and guessed that he probably had. The thought made her feel depressed and she quickly paid the bill and left. She decided to head towards Alexandra Palace – she had been to a concert there years before and remembered that it had a big park and views over London. A bracing walk was just what she needed to clear her head. When she reached the top, she stood and looked out over the impressive London skyline. All those millions of people out there, going to work, living their lives and here she was on the edge of the city, neither in it nor out of it, with no idea of what the future held for her.
She looked at her watch and was relieved to see that it had gone five thirty. She’d had enough of killing time in this alien neighbourhood where she didn’t belong. She walked back to the car, started the engine and headed back towards Pete’s house. This time she had to park a little further down the road, but she still had a good view of the house. She put her earphones in, turned on a podcast about how to start a B&B business, and waited.
Four hours later, she was still waiting, and she was tired, fed up and desperate for a wee. She didn’t think that she had missed him returning home, so she considered the alternatives. Perhaps he’d gone out for dinner? Could he be on a business trip? And then she thought, what if he’d left Kate after all? What if he didn’t even live here anymore? Could she literally be sitting here for days on end only for him never to show up at all? She had been so desperate to see him that she hadn’t even considered the possibility that he wouldn’t be there. She felt like a bloody idiot. What was she doing, sitting outside this man’s house waiting for him to come home? There must be a better way.
And suddenly she realised – Dan, his former colleague. They were thick as thieves and she was sure he’d known about their affair even though they’d agreed not to tell anyone. She could tell by the way he acted around her, he always seemed a bit nervy and reluctant to engage in conversation. And she could easily contact him using his work email: the generic format was ingrained in her mind after months of temping at the company. It was a risk contacting him but he’d always seemed like a nice enough bloke and she was only asking him to pass a message on to Pete, not to do anything else. The worst thing that could happen was that he’d tell her to sod off and so what, she’d been through worse than that over the last few months. Why hadn’t she thought of this before? She immediately pulled out her phone and composed a message:
Dan, hi it’s Claire, I used to work on reception? I’m so sorry to contact you out of the blue, and on your work email too, but I need your help. I’m back in London for a few days and I really need to get hold of Pete but I don’t have up-to-date contact details for him. I know you may not want to pass on his details to me and I completely understand that but is there any way you can just tell him that I’m in town and that I really need to see him? My phone number and the details of where I’m staying are below. Thanks so much for your help, Dan. Claire x
She hit send before she could change her mind. It was nearly 10pm