The Lies We Tell, page 20
I was thinking about all this the following week when my mobile rang, after leaving Old Street station on my way to work. I knew as soon as I heard Hugo’s voice that something had happened. It carried the same cold fear from our schooldays.
‘What is it?’ I asked. One of those motorbike couriers shot past me as I spoke. The noise was so loud that I had to ask him to repeat his reply.
‘Olivia’s left me. She’s taken the girls.’
Hugo was actually crying. It took me back to those awful nights in our dorm. ‘She says she needs time to find herself. I’ve asked her if there’s someone else but she won’t tell me. She said she was staying with a “friend” until she sorts herself out. I don’t know what to do without her, Tom. I really don’t.’
I tried to comfort him as best as I could. But how could I give advice? Hadn’t I committed adultery with Hilary? I was no better than him.
That night, I made a concerted effort to leave work early, even though others were still in the office.
When I told Sarah about Olivia leaving, she was clearly shocked.
‘Where is she staying, then?’ she asked.
‘I thought you might have an idea.’
‘No,’ she said. ‘I don’t.’
‘We ought to have him over for dinner,’ I said. ‘He’s completely lost.’
‘Of course. But I’m Olivia’s friend too, so I’ll stay out of your way.’
Hugo was very quiet when he arrived the following evening, but livened up a bit after a few drinks. He spent most of the time talking to Freddie about rock bands. They kept discussing someone called Blink.
‘It’s Blink-182, Dad,’ laughed Freddie.
‘Yes,’ said Hugo, rolling his eyes and helping himself to the bottle of whisky he’d brought with him. ‘Keep up, Tom.’
This was not my area. I hadn’t realized it was Hugo’s either. I wondered whether you ever really knew someone.
Sarah left us alone, as she’d promised, but somehow we didn’t get round to talking about Olivia. I thought he was avoiding it and I didn’t exactly want to discuss it either. But as I saw him to the door, he turned to me. ‘You’re a lucky bastard, Tom,’ he said, giving me a slap on the back. He stank of drink. ‘I’d give anything to go back to having a family again. You and Sarah seem to have patched things up. By the way, what happened to that woman in the office you were always talking about?’
‘Nothing,’ I said shortly. ‘She was just a colleague.’ Luckily we were on the doorstep, well out of earshot. The whisky had clearly loosened his tongue.
‘You’re a dark horse, Tom. Always have been.’
‘That’s not true,’ I began.
But he was already stumbling down the path towards the taxi that I’d had the presence of mind to order.
In the night, I woke and made love to Hilary. It was only when I finished that I realized I was dreaming. I looked across at my wife sleeping soundly, a strand of her dark hair across her mouth.
I got out of bed and went downstairs and into the garden with my mobile. It was not like me to be this impetuous but I could not help myself. I needed to talk to her.
‘Hello. You have reached Hilary. Please leave a short message after the tone.’
It was so good to hear her calm voice even if it was her answerphone message.
‘About that night,’ I said. ‘I wish I could have stayed for ever. I really do. But I have to remain with my wife for our son’s sake. I simply want you to know that I miss you.’
I kept hoping she might cut in and say something. But she didn’t. So I went back to bed and tried to sleep.
After that, I worked even harder at being a good father. I helped Freddie with his homework. Even though he simply could not comprehend equations, I made a big effort not to sound frustrated when I had to explain basic algebra to him again and again.
We also went on family walks with the dog. ‘You don’t need to wipe your hands on a tissue every time you pick up his ball, Dad,’ said Freddie one afternoon.
‘What if it’s got muck on it?’
‘Your father has always been fussy,’ said Sarah, coming towards us.
They laughed. This time I didn’t feel as though they were laughing at me. It was a kinder ‘daft dad’ type of laugh. Rather nice, really.
Freddie’s work at school improved. He got better grades. I began to hope that we were through the worst of it.
When Freddie turned fifteen, we took him to the local Italian restaurant to celebrate. ‘Do you want to bring a friend?’ I asked.
‘No thanks. You might embarrass me by cleaning the cutlery with a napkin when you think the waiter isn’t looking.’
That wasn’t fair. I didn’t always do that.
But in fact, the meal with just the three of us went better than I’d expected. Freddie was very pleased with his birthday present, a mobile phone. That was Sarah’s idea. I still wasn’t convinced. In my day, if we needed to communicate, we used the landline or made an arrangement and stuck to it instead of changing plans at the last minute, as so many people appeared to do nowadays.
As the weeks went by, there weren’t any dramas at school. When I felt the urge to ring Hilary, I reminded myself of my obligations. I had a wife and son. Right now, they needed me around.
That was when the idea occurred to me.
Hugo had moved on. Or so he said. He’d already found someone else – another woman he’d ‘come across at a bar’.
We rarely met up now. Only the odd brief chat on the phone. We had very little left in common. He was seeing the girls every other weekend, but apart from that he was living the single life. Drinks with the ‘boys’ from work who were also divorced. And ‘clubbing’, although he was reluctant to go into more details.
‘I’ve been trying to ring Olivia,’ Sarah told me as we sat down for dinner one night, still waiting, as usual, for Freddie, who was playing loud music in his room. ‘I left several messages but now it’s saying number not recognized. She must have changed her number.’
Sarah sounded hurt.
‘She has. Hugo told me.’
‘Can you ask him to give it to me?’
‘Hugo says she doesn’t want to talk to anyone. She’s only given him the number for emergencies. Apparently she wants to “move on”.’ I took a deep breath. ‘Perhaps we ought to do so as well.’
‘What do you mean?’ said my wife.
‘We could move house.’ I’d been thinking about this ever since I’d seen how much a similar property over the road had sold for. But the last few months had reinforced my decision.
‘It’s what we need,’ I continued, feeling even firmer about it. ‘We’ve never bought a house together. You are always saying that you would like to put your own stamp on a place. This can be our new start.’
‘Where?’ She sounded almost excited.
‘The country. There are some lovely spots at the end of the Metropolitan Line.’
‘The country?’ said Freddie in an appalled voice. I hadn’t even heard him come in. ‘But I’ve got my friends here. How can you ask me to start somewhere new where I don’t know anyone?’
‘Think about it, Freddie,’ said Sarah, placing a hand on his arm. ‘Maybe we could go to the sea instead. You loved our holidays in Cornwall.’
‘It’s a long way for me to commute,’ I said.
‘How about Dorset?’ I suggested. ‘That’s nearer.’
Freddie scowled. ‘I’m not leaving London and that’s that.’
He walked out and slammed the door.
So much for thinking we’d turned a corner.
‘We can’t let him tell us what to do,’ I pointed out – not unreasonably, I thought.
‘Maybe he’ll come round,’ said Sarah. ‘Give him time.’
‘Why don’t we make a start at house hunting?’ I said. ‘I like your idea about Dorset. But let’s have a bit of a holiday first. Somewhere like St Mawes. Remember driving through it? I’m due some holiday. I’ll take three or four days off.’
Sarah sounded dubious. ‘We can’t leave Freddie that long.’
‘Do you know any of the parents of these friends of his?’
‘No.’
‘How about Hugo?’
Sarah made a face. ‘Are you joking?’
‘He is his godfather.’
I was quite pleased with my idea. Hugo was always saying he missed his own children, even though they were virtually grown up. In fact, when I put the proposition to him the following day, Hugo seemed quite keen. And, surprisingly so did Freddie. ‘We’ll have some boy time together,’ said my friend.
‘That woman from the bar won’t be around, will she?’ I asked.
‘Don’t be daft.’
To be sure, I asked Hugo to stay at our place. It also meant he could look after the dog.
St Mawes, on Cornwall’s Roseland Peninsula, was beautiful. Those white houses in layers on the hills were even more stunning than the pictures online. Sarah took her sketchpad. The weather was perfect. Every time I thought of Hilary, I tried to blank her out.
On the second day, I got a headache. It wouldn’t go away. I was physically sick. ‘Perhaps I have a bug,’ I said weakly.
‘You don’t feel as though you have a temperature,’ said Sarah, putting her cool hand on my forehead.
‘Then maybe I’m reacting to the shellfish from last night.’
‘I had them and I was all right. They were delicious.’
But it got so bad that by the evening, all I wanted to do was go home.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘I’ve never had anything like this before.’
Privately I wondered if it was stress from work combined with that longing for Hilary which wouldn’t go away.
‘It’s all right,’ said Sarah. ‘We’ll cancel those viewings in Dorset tomorrow. Better ring Hugo and tell him we’re returning early.’
There was no answer from Hugo’s mobile. Freddie wasn’t picking up either. ‘It’s late,’ said Sarah. ‘They’ve probably gone to bed.’
But as we drove into the street, I could see that every single window in our house had the light on. As we got out, we heard music blasting. It was the kind that made your teeth grate and your ears feel they were going to explode.
What was going on? The front door was open. Kids were squatting on the doorstep, looking at me as though I was the intruder instead of the homeowner. Inside, the dining table was upside down and two boys were jumping over it from one side to the other as though they were infants. There was a sweet smell that immediately brought me back to that first time I’d visited Sarah. Glasses everywhere. Spotty-faced couples entwined on the sofas.
‘Freddie?’ I shouted. He was nowhere to be seen. I marched upstairs. There was a condom (used) on the bathroom floor. I shuddered with revulsion.
His bedroom door was locked. ‘Open up,’ I yelled, rattling the handle. A face appeared. It wasn’t my son’s. I’d never seen this kid before. Freddie was sitting on the floor with a glass in his hand.
‘What the hell is going on?’
‘It wasn’t my fault,’ he said, in that challenging tone that he always used on me. ‘I told one of the boys at school that you were away and he said we should have a few friends round.’
His speech was slurred. His eyes looked bloodshot.
‘What about Uncle Hugo?’ I demanded.
Freddie shrugged, an action that caused the drink in his glass to slop out onto the carpet. ‘He didn’t know I was coming home. He went out for the evening but he hasn’t come back.’
I must have been mad for trusting Hugo. He’d have gone to see that woman.
‘You’re drunk,’ I said, shaking my head.
‘You’re also stoned,’ said Sarah behind me.
Freddie burst out laughing. ‘How do you know, Mum? Were you a dope head too, in the old days?’
I couldn’t help it. I grabbed Freddie by the scruff of his neck. ‘This is it. I mean it!’
‘Stop!’ Sarah flew at me. ‘Don’t hurt him.’
I pushed her away. ‘This is your fault. I told you we should have been stricter.’ I whipped round to the crowd of kids in the doorway. ‘Now get out of here. All of you.’
I was glaring at Freddie now. ‘You’ve gone too far this time.’
‘Where’s Jasper?’ said Sarah suddenly.
The front door had been open when we came in, I remembered. He could have run out. The back door was open too.
‘Jasper!’ called out Sarah running downstairs.
Freddie joined in. ‘JASPER!’
‘He’s only a bloody dog,’ I said, catching up with them. Of course, I didn’t mean it but I was upset.
Freddie rounded on me. ‘That bloody dog, as you put it, means more to me than you do.’
‘You know that’s not true, Freddie,’ Sarah said quickly.
‘Yes it is.’
‘Freddie. That’s really unkind.’
Then a shape loomed up at us, bounding across the garden.
‘Jasper,’ said Freddie, burying his face in the dog’s fur. ‘You’re all right! I’m sorry, boy. Really sorry.’
I stormed back into the house and up to our bedroom. ‘You see,’ said Sarah running after me. ‘Freddie can show remorse.’
‘Oh, Sarah,’ I said. ‘You really don’t get it, do you? That child is killing me. And you. We’ve got to act. Before something really terrible happens.’
‘Then make sure it’s not you who does that terrible thing, Tom,’ she said quietly.
‘What do you mean?’
‘You can’t hit him again.’
‘I wasn’t going to. But something has to make him behave.’
‘It’s a stage, Tom. He’ll be all right.’
‘It’s always a stage with Freddie.’
‘I’m going to make sure that all the kids are going,’ she continued. ‘Can you check our bedroom please?’
The books on the side of my bed were as I had left them, neatly arranged. That was something. There were no visible signs of the bed having being used, thank goodness.
But then my eyes fell on Sarah’s dressing table. Her jewellery box was open. It was empty.
‘My mother’s diamond necklace,’ I shouted, running back out to the landing. ‘Where is it?’
Sarah came rushing in. ‘It was here when we left.’
Suddenly I was eight years old again, looking down at my mother’s slackened jaw in the undertakers.
‘No,’ I whimpered. ‘No.’
Don’t look, he tells me.
It’s part of the game, he says.
So I cover my eyes with my hands.
I can hear a noise.
He’s talking to someone.
I want to look through my fingers.
But I don’t dare.
A car door slams.
We drive on.
32
Sarah
‘I’m sorry, Dad. I really am. I didn’t know the party was going to get out of control like that.’
Tom’s eyes were red. He was staring at our son as if he was an intruder.
‘That necklace,’ he said very slowly, ‘was one of the few possessions I have from my mother.’
‘I know but –’
‘Listen to me. She died when I was eight years old. Eight years old. Do you know what that means to a child?’
Freddie was looking at the ground. ‘I get it.’
‘No.’ Each of my husband’s words so far had been laden with slow fury and contempt. Especially this one.
‘You can’t “get it”, as you put it, Freddie. No one can unless they’ve been through it themselves. No one can replace that necklace. No one.’
‘I know it’s awful, Tom,’ I said gently, ‘but Freddie didn’t do this on purpose.’
‘He invited people to our house.’ He sounded as though he was being choked now. ‘That’s hardly accidental.’
‘Your dad’s right,’ I said to Freddie. ‘But maybe we can get it back. It can’t have disappeared. Have you any idea who might have taken it?’
‘No. None of my mates would do anything like that.’
‘Are you sure?’ I asked.
‘I want the phone numbers of each “guest” who was here tonight,’ said Tom.
‘I didn’t know everyone there! Honestly, Dad. Are you really going to ring them and ask if they nicked a diamond necklace?’
‘I bloody am.’
I’d hardly ever heard my husband swear.
‘You can’t embarrass me like that, Dad. They’ll never talk to me again.’
‘I don’t care! Don’t you get it, as you said yourself just now? I want my mother’s necklace.’
‘Tom,’ I pleaded, putting my hand gently on his arm. ‘Maybe I could ring them …’
‘No!’ shouted Freddie. ‘Neither of you are. I won’t let you.’
‘Where’s your phone?’ roared Tom.
‘I’m not giving it to you.’
‘It’s in your pocket isn’t it?’
Tom made a dive for it.
‘Get off!’ screamed Freddie.
But Tom had it. ‘What’s your password?’
‘I’m not saying.’
My husband looked as though he was going to lunge at Freddie’s neck.
‘Stop it, both of you,’ I begged. ‘Let’s think this through carefully. We’ll tell the police. They’ll look out for it if we give them a picture.’
Tom gave a sarcastic laugh. ‘Do you honestly think that’s going to be top of their crime list?’
‘It might do something,’ I said. ‘Freddie, you can put something out on Facebook. That way, it’s not aimed at any particular person. We could even offer a reward.’
Tom snorted. ‘Reward someone for stealing?’
‘It’s not going to work, anyway,’ said Freddie. ‘No one’s going to want to get into trouble or point the finger at someone else, are they?’
‘So what do you suggest?’ spat Tom. His fists were raised. I grabbed them but he pushed me away.
Freddie’s face was red. ‘Don’t you dare hurt my mother.’
‘I wasn’t going to.’
