The Replacement, page 4
I can’t go back there. I can’t relive that awful feeling of not being good enough. I cannot sink to those depths. It became a habit, the checking and sadness and desperation, a hole that I could hardly climb out of. But I did. And here I am. I know Daniel and Jem are in my life forever unless I cut ties and keep away from anything to do with them.
I brighten. Perhaps Jem’s message is an attempt to get pally after all. But Lisa is right, I have no responsibility to them. To her and especially to Daniel. I need a boundary. Yes. A boundary. That’s what I need. I open my notebook and draw a stick woman. Me. Then a line. Then a stick man and another stick woman. I write Dan and Jem above them. Then I simply cross through each one with a line. Out of my life. For good.
It feels great. I sip my almost cold coffee and look through the coffee shop window out into the world. I’ll move forward with Tim. A bolt of excitement surprises me and I smile to myself. Yes. I’ll introduce him to the kids, and he can come over when he likes. I’ll tell him what has happened with Daniel, and he’ll understand me better.
But I need to be responsible. I need to make sure that before I draw this line in the sand, I do the right thing.
I’m only triggered by the message because of my guilt. I know that. It’s a straight choice – I either go backwards or forwards. I have no other evidence at all that anything is wrong. This is another lesson learnt. I need to forgive myself for something I did at a different time. I had been in a different place, teetering between pain and guilt and wondering if I was enough of a woman, and had resorted to anger and bargaining with them. Yes, it got out of control, but now I can move on.
I focus on updating my client records and, just before twelve, my phone pings. My heart leaps as I automatically assume it’s a text from Jem and check myself with my new plan. But it isn’t. It’s an alert. It’s telling me that one of the cameras at Daniel’s has picked up movement. I must have activated that notification last night.
I open the app with a view to turning it off and catch a glimpse of Daniel walking across the landing. My eyes linger on him longer than they should. He stops and is talking to someone. Laughing. I can’t see who it is because of the weird camera angle. Maybe she is back. He leans forward, then throws his head back in laughter.
I switch quickly to the lounge, then the kitchen. There is a tan Mulberry Bayswater bag on the white worktop. Jem doesn’t use Mulberry. I move to the bedroom, but it is empty. Back to the landing and they are gone. I do another quick circuit around the cameras, then check myself. What the hell am I doing?
I’ve got the opportunity to be with Tim and develop my practice. Work to keep the house and have nice holidays with the kids. Which is more important, the opportunity to be happy and earn money, or my obsessions with her?
This needs to stop now. I can’t do anything about the cameras, and I am going to have to live with that. But I promise myself I will remove the app from my phone and laptop as soon as possible, and never look again. I feel a sense of mourning but stop myself.
Mulling over my broken marriage forever isn’t going to do any good at all. It’s clear they are in this for the long haul – Daniel even told me so himself. Yes, it hurts, but I need to get over it. I’ve resisted a relationship with Tim even though I like him. I told myself I just wanted fun, but I know deep down I wanted someone I can just throw away if Daniel decides he wants me back.
The moment of clarity jolts me. It isn’t going to happen. I need to move on.
I tap out a message to Tim.
Hey. Are you free tonight for a chat? About what you asked me at weekend?
He could come to mine. Once the kids are in bed. It’s give and take, isn’t it? He’s let his guard down and he’s going to cook me dinner at his. So, I can see him on the nights I have the kids.
I don’t want to be alone to pore over every detail of my broken relationship. To think of new ways to punish myself and them. To “win” at entertaining the children. It had turned into a competition and that too had to stop. I am horrified as I suddenly wonder if Tim was a distraction for the times it all got too painful. No. I like him. A lot. And we’re good together.
I press send and I am proud of myself. I scroll through my contact list and settle on Dave Pilcher. He’s Desk Dave, my contact at Central Park Police HQ. Dave does the press chats and fends reporters off. He answers in two rings.
‘Lauren. How’s the new job? What can I do you for?’
He’s a good guy. He’s also a solid wall of silence at the right times. His face gives away nothing and we all knew that if we didn’t do what he said, we were off his contact list.
‘It’s more of a personal matter really, Dave. Have you got time for this?’
He laughs. ‘Not really, but go on.’
I laugh too. And wonder if I am doing the right thing. ‘Okay. You know my ex?’
He cuts in. ‘Dodgy Daniel. “Don’t buy a car from me” Wade? That ex?’
I faux tut. ‘Don’t be like that. You know he’s completely legit. Anyway, you know his new partner?’ I choose my words carefully and keep my voice even. ‘Jem Carter.’
He laughs loudly now. ‘Jem as in “truly outrageous”?’
He’s not far out. She is skinny and her boobs are disproportionate to her waist. I laugh too.
‘More Barbie crossed with Taylor Swift. Anyway, to cut a very long story short, she doesn’t much care for me. And I am not her biggest fan.’
‘So, she wouldn’t piss on you if you were on fire?’
He’s enjoying this a bit too much, but I press on. ‘Something like that. Well, the other night, I received a text. Saying Lauren. You’ve got to help me. Please. Then the kids came back, and Daniel told me she had gone to visit friends. I texted her back but got no reply. Daniel showed me a note, saying she had left it. But I’m worried, Dave. She never goes anywhere without Pepe.’
There is a lull in the conversation, and I realise how trivial this is next to what he could potentially have to deal with right at this moment. Yet I am continuing my whining narrative about bloody Jem. To the police. Dave regains his composure.
‘Okay. Look, there’s probably nothing to worry about. But I’ll make a note you rang this in and if anything does crop up…’
I laugh. ‘Thanks. I know it sounds weak, but I’d rather have said something.’ It doesn’t sound weak; it sounds like I am trying to frame Daniel for her disappearance. ‘By the way, I’m not trying to blame Daniel. He wouldn’t do anything… like that.’
He’s more serious now. ‘Like what?’
I pause. What do I think has happened? What do I really think?
‘I don’t know. All I know is she’s not around and it’s the first time since–’
He interrupts. ‘Look, love, I know you’re worried but I’m a detective, not social services. I’ll make a note, but seriously, unless you think there’s a crime committed and you have some evidence, I’d hold off.’
I want to ask him why she would ask for help, from me. But he is right. Who knows? She could be at a mate’s, drunk and…
Dave is saying goodbye and laughing again. I laugh too.
‘Yeah, you’re right. But better safe than sorry, eh? Anyway, if you’re ever in town at the weekend let’s have a chat. I’ll buy you a drink. I know Lisa would love to see you!’
Lisa chased Dave for about a year after he got divorced, and he put equal effort into avoiding her.
We end the call. I order another coffee and deactivate the camera app on my phone. This is it. A new me.
CHAPTER SIX
I spend the rest of the day engrossed in my work. No distractions because from now on I am not dwelling on the past. I set myself some alarms on my phone. I want to organise my life better. I feel tearful that I have finally reached a decision to leave all this behind.
None of it will be easy, but if I can make a difference and earn good money while I am doing it, I should be able to manage. Get things on a more even keel with Tim. I know I can do it.
I collect Ben and Angel and drive home. They have homework, and we sit on the high kitchen stools and do it together. I cook lasagne and home-made chips and we tuck in. Ben tells me about his jungle project at school and how Daniel said he would help him.
‘And did he?’ I temper it with kindness. ‘If not, I can.’ He nods.
‘Yeah. He did. He got the tape stuck to him and Jemi…’
He stops and looks at Angel. She is frowning. I intervene. My God, they are stopping themselves talking about her. I fight back tears and speak gently.
‘It’s okay. I don’t mind you talking about Jem. She is Daddy’s partner and part of your life.’ It’s the first time I have spoken to them about her, beyond asking probing questions. ‘If you like her, I like her.’
Angel relaxes. Ben continues warily. I fix a smile.
‘Okay. So, Jem had to get the scissors. Then she helped too. But she wasn’t any good either and she got the glue in her hair.’
Angel was laughing as she dipped her chips in ketchup. ‘Daddy said it was okay because she could get new hair.’
I stifle a laugh. Hair extensions. I knew it. Stop, Lauren. Stop. Ben picked up the story.
‘Daddy says we can go on a safari. To the real jungle. We can go on holiday.’
Angel pulls a face. ‘But Pepe would have to go to a kennel. Unless…’ She looks at Ben and he nods. ‘Unless you would look after him for Jem while we go?’
I take a very deep breath. It all seems ridiculous. Ludicrous. I need some boundaries. They stare at me, blinking into the artificial brightness of the kitchen. Do other exes do this for each other? I’ve heard of amicable arrangements but just how amicable?
On the other hand, what’s the harm?
‘Yes. Yes, Pepe could come here. It’s not like we haven’t got the space, is it?’
I think about getting a dog but dismiss it immediately. I can barely manage financially as it is. But two weeks with a chihuahua wouldn’t be so bad. I need to make this more about what the kids want.
Angel claps her hands and grins. Ben smiles into his bowl of frozen yogurt I serve as a healthy alternative to ice cream. I nod as he scrapes the bowl. I am super-mum. But I must stay super-mum. I must keep believing that nothing has changed and my children love me just the same. That Jem isn’t the competition. That’s the problem. It’s hard not to look backwards at the carnage of the past. So, I will look forwards.
I tuck my children into bed in their lovely bedrooms and hope again I can keep the house. Maybe if Daniel sees I am serious about that, he will raise my maintenance. In the meantime, I can enjoy this place as much as possible.
I go through the kitchen to the garage and move some paint around until I find what I am looking for. I grab a plastic container of paint thinners and take it into the kitchen. I fill the spray bottle I use to water my plants with soapy water and grab my hairdryer from the drawer. It’s time to put this right.
I march along the landing to what was our room. I hesitate at the door and wonder if I should leave this for another day. But leaving things for another day is what got me into this mess. I lean on the door, and it opens. Incredibly, the room still smells of her, but I guess that’s why her particular brand of perfume costs so much. I look at the bed, still crumpled in exactly the formation it was when I discovered them. The speakers still show a blue light, and the curtains remain open still.
Daniel has been in here. The day after he left, he came back. I heard him pull up on the drive. I remember thinking how odd it was that I hadn’t cried. Or lost my temper. I just felt numb. Shouting wasn’t in me. Instead, there was a deep hole that all my emotions were falling through and resurfacing over and over. He’d walked into the kitchen and looked around.
‘I’m taking some of my things.’
I nodded. ‘Fine.’
He looked at the lounge door. ‘Are they in there?’
My heart had skipped a beat as I realised what he was about to do. Telling our children was the final confirmation. There was no going back.
‘Yes. Are you sure about this, Dan?’
He moved closer to me. He took off his wedding ring and placed it gently on the stone worktop.
‘I am. I really am. It’s no reflection on you. I just fell in love with someone else. With Jem.’
I could hardly breathe. I heard the words come out, echoing inside me. ‘But you barely know her.’
He sighed. ‘I’ve known her a while. We didn’t sleep together at first. She was a friend. But I fell in love with her. I want to be with her. Don’t make this more difficult than it already is.’
I laughed. ‘So, you admit it’s difficult? You haven’t even said you’re sorry.’
I sounded like a whiny child. I hated myself in that moment. And I hated her. She knew about me and our children, yet she went ahead and took him. He waited for a long moment.
‘I’m not sorry. Well, I’m sorry for Ben and Angel. But they will get used to it. Like thousands of kids do. We’ll be sharing parental responsibility. I’ve already looked into it.’
My blood ran cold. The thought of my children not being here. Just me, in this big house. Alone. It chilled me. This was supposed to be a family home. I waited for my temper to rise. For the inevitable row. But it didn’t come. He looked at me for a long moment. I could see his brain ticking over with impatience as he awaited the inevitable scene that never came. Then he went into the lounge.
Twenty minutes later, he came out and went upstairs. I sat with Ben and Angel until he brought down some cases and suit bags.
‘I’ll get the rest another time. I said I’d take them out for tea, you know, to…’ His eyes strayed to his car on the drive. I hadn’t even thought to look. But there she was. Waiting. ‘It’ll give you some time to…’
I just nodded. Ben and Angel ran outside towards the car. I watched her get out and give them an exaggerated handshake. Daniel looked too.
‘You’ll get used to it. We all will. We’ll talk about this place through our solicitors.’ He moved very close to me. ‘But I just want to say that I know what you are like. That little jealous streak.’ His lips were close to my ear. ‘You harm one hair on her head. Say one wrong word to her and I’ll drag you through court for the kids.’
He sauntered away and got in the car. She looked at me standing in the doorway and smiled. Me? I was broken. Completely broken. I was struggling to understand what had happened in those twenty-four hours. Only two weeks ago we had sat together in our family home and planned a family Christmas. Daniel’s parents. His sister and her husband and children. My dad was invited. Friends, Angel and Ben’s school friends. Now, I was here alone.
I watched him drive away and when he turned left at the end of the drive towards the city, I went to the garage. I pulled out a selection of cleaning implements and threw them into an old cloth bag from the boot of my car. I’d slept on the sofa the previous night. If I was going to sleep in our room, I needed to clean it. Clean him from it. And her.
I hurried upstairs and, just like today, paused at the door. It was still raw. I often wonder if I had done what I had intended to do that day if everything would have turned out differently.
I stand now in front of my handiwork. RIP. In huge sprayed black letters on the pristine white wall. RIP. Underneath it I sprayed BITCH. It’s shocking now. The beautiful room defiled. I can’t believe I did it. Only a sliver of the depth of the hurt I felt in the moment I sprayed those walls remain now, but it still hurts more than anything, except mum dying.
I set to work with the turps and soapy water. I scrub at the paint, but it won’t budge. The paint thinner soaks in and just makes it sticky. After an hour I stand back. It’s worse than ever. Smudged at the edges and tacky. I look around the rest of the room. I’m going to have to paint it again. I can’t afford to get anyone in, but I will do it. This is my room.
I am exhausted. I would usually spend at least an hour before I go to bed scrolling social media. That, I admit to myself, has become a bit of an obsession too. Scouring social media for any sign of Jem. She appears from time to time on other people’s Facebook feeds. Out to lunch. Smiling in a group. Posing in front of a landmark. Never with Daniel. She has her own profile but never, ever posts.
On Twitter and Instagram too. She has a curated feed for her coaching business. Very classy and clearly done by a professional. She claims to have high-profile clients, and it all has the hallmark of being “apart” from the de rigueur of run-of-the-mill. She follows the general rule of social networking by sprinkling a touch of her personal life between her business posts. And that personal life consists of cosy scenes in The Rosarium with my children. Perfectly curated round-the-table scenes. I had called her a pound-shop Brené Brown to Lisa, but deep down I am not so sure. I have to concede that she is making money somehow.
But tonight, that is of no consequence. Tonight, I am going to read a book. I have a pile to be read beside my bed in my makeshift bedroom. Lisa is an avid reader and recommended them. I’d bought them and then piled them up because my mind was full of Jem. Jem, Jem, Jem, Jem bloody Jem.
I pick up the top book and begin to read. It’s a thriller about a psychologist who wants revenge. Probably not the right one for me just now. I take the second book. I am gripped from the first page. For the first time in a year, I read and listen to the silence. Our previous home was on a busy road, and part of the attraction of Sturgeon Hall was the long driveway.
It’s suddenly perfect. What had been my prison had a glint of light shining through. My prison is in my own mind. With a bit of time, I can do this. I can get over it. I am sure of it. A bit of peace and quiet. I hear an owl call and, for the first time in ages, look forward to tomorrow.
CHAPTER SEVEN
I blink into the morning sunlight as it streams through the window. The book is on my pillow, and I feel warm and calm as I remember my resolve. I pull the quilt around me and promise myself just five more minutes.
