Every Breath You Take, page 9
I’m embarrassed to ask Mandy to babysit again so I contact Stephen. My older brother was married to a woman called Kylie. One day Kylie was there, the next she was gone. I see her around town occasionally; she’s got a new husband and twin toddlers. I’m sure that must hurt Stephen but every time I bring up Kylie’s name, he shuts me down. I worry about my brother, although he tells me I shouldn’t, that he’s perfectly happy with his life.
He has plenty of friends and seems to have a better social life than me. Every evening there’s some activity, ranging from martial arts to a theatre class, cinema outings and rambling. Quite how he manages to fit it all in with his early start at work, I really don’t know. I suspect that Stephen might have a new woman, but if so, he hasn’t shared that with me.
Stephen’s semi-detached Victorian house is in a street behind the station about ten minutes’ drive from us. I was surprised he chose it, imagining he’d prefer the sterility of a new build, like the house he had with Kylie. He moved there after their divorce, and I was happy that he chose to be so near us. He’s always been good with Riley and Alfie, despite having no children of his own, but I try not to make him my first choice of babysitter because I don’t like to impose on his busy life.
I change my clothes several times, deciding on a silk blouse and a pair of black trousers, an outfit that looks more work-like than suitable for a date. But I don’t want Anthony to like me; all I need is a photo of the two of us and then we can never see each other again. When I leave, the kids are both in their rooms, Alfie on his play station and Riley scribbling something in a notebook which she proceeds to hide from me. The questions about Samuel come every morning and evening. Why hasn’t Dad called us? When’s he coming home? And I know that I’m going to have to come up with another excuse, or worse, lie to them and tell them that their dad has left me. I kiss them both goodnight and when the doorbell rings, I hurry downstairs.
Stephen gives me a peck on the cheek and follows me into the kitchen.
‘Are you alright?’ He peers at me.
‘Not really,’ I admit, shutting the kitchen door. ‘Do you want a drink?’
‘I’ll help myself to a cuppa later,’ he says, placing his brown leather messenger bag on the kitchen table and sitting down. ‘What’s up?’
For a moment I’m tempted to tell him the truth. Stephen is my brother and is probably the only person in the world whom I can truly trust. We’ve had our ups and downs, but we’re family. But why should I put him at risk too? I simply can’t do that.
‘I haven’t told the kids yet, but Samuel has left me for another woman.’
Stephen stares at me and for a moment I wonder if he’s understood what I just said.
‘Samuel?’ he exclaims at last. ‘But he loves you.’
‘Apparently he doesn’t,’ I say. ‘He’s taking some time out to evaluate things. It’s blindsided me.’
He opens his mouth as if he’s going to say something and then changes his mind. ‘I’m stunned. And so sorry. I know what it’s like.’
That’s another reason I feel bad for lying to him, because Kylie left him and I know that it broke his heart, despite him trying to make light of it, despite him saying they were thoroughly unsuited to each other.
‘So where are you going tonight?’ he asks.
‘Just a work do. I won’t be back late.’
‘I think you’re very brave for carrying on as normal.’
I smile tightly before blowing him a kiss and leaving the room.
‘Be good for Uncle Stephen,’ I shout up the stairs to the kids and get no response.
The restaurant is on a shopping street one row back from the seafront, serving Italian food. The signs on the outside proclaim that the business has been in the same family for eighty years. Unfortunately the interior looks as if the decor hasn’t been touched in decades and to my dismay, only three tables are occupied. I was hoping the place would be thrumming with people as if that might somehow minimise the awkwardness of the date. I’m early, so the server leads me to a table for two near the back of the restaurant. I choose the seat against the wall so that I can spot Anthony as he walks in. In the meantime I study the menu but my stomach is roiling and I’m not sure I’m going to be able to eat anything. A shadow passes over the table and I glance up.
‘Eva?’ he asks, peering through thick glasses.
‘Yes.’ I stand up. He looks absolutely nothing like his photos, which must have been taken twenty years earlier. Balding, he is overweight, his pregnant-like stomach and man boobs accentuated by a too-tight olive green polo shirt, a colour which does nothing for his complexion. I put out my hand to shake his, but he moves straight in for a kiss on the cheek, leaving a stomach-curdling wetness which I try to subtly wipe off.
‘Such a pleasure to meet you,’ he says effusively, sitting down with a thud. ‘You’re even more beautiful than your photos suggest.’
I smile awkwardly. We sit in silence for a moment, both of us staring at the menus, until a server arrives and asks us what we’d like to drink.
‘A beer for me,’ Anthony says without asking what I’d like. There’s a faint shine of sweat on his upper lip.
‘A small glass of white wine,’ I say. ‘Thank you.’
‘What do you do for a living?’ he asks, with no preamble.
‘I work in admin,’ I reply, and then realise that if he Googles me he’ll see that I’m in fact the trustee and managing director of Leap Ahead. I wish I’d been able to use a false name when setting up my Hinge account, but I’m sure the kidnapper wouldn’t have agreed to that. ‘I work for a charity,’ I add.
‘Right.’
‘And you? You’re into computers?’
‘Yes. Love the things.’
‘I think my Facebook and Instagram accounts were hacked. I’ve changed the passwords now but how does someone even do that?’
And then he’s off. It’s like he doesn’t take a breath for the next ten minutes, talking about firewalls and VPNs and regaling me with sentences that I don’t understand. The server takes our food orders and then Anthony carries on talking about hacking and the dark web and coding. I feel like closing my eyes and going to sleep. He only stops when our starters arrive: soup of the day for me and bruschetta for Anthony, at which point he takes a breath and starts eating.
I’m going to have to get a photo of us, but how? He’s going to think I’m really keen on him if I ask the server to take a picture of us together. I’m racking my brain for a plausible excuse when I realise he’s asked me a question and I’ve no idea what he said.
‘Sorry,’ I say. ‘One of my girlfriends doesn’t believe I’m doing online dating. Do you mind if I get a photo of the two of us so I can prove to her I’ve taken the plunge?’
‘Is this your first date?’ He edges closer to the table so his chest is almost in his plate of food.
‘Yes.’ I feel my face redden, goodness knows why.
‘You’re just the cutest,’ Anthony says, leaning even further across the table and placing his clammy hand over mine. I’m sure my smile is a grimace but he doesn’t seem to notice. He waves at the server, who hurries to our table.
‘Can you take a photo of us?’ he asks, removing his phone from his back trouser pocket.
‘On my phone, please,’ I say, handing my phone to the server first.
‘Pinky promise you’ll send me the photo?’ he asks. What grown man uses language like that?
The server stands back and I hold my wine glass in the air and pretend to smile. She then hands the phone back to me and I put it straight into my handbag without looking at the photo.
‘You’re really lush,’ Anthony says, licking his lips. I don’t know where to look because this man sickens me. It’s not his fault; I’m sure he’ll make a nice enough partner to someone, just not for me.
‘My apartment is on Western Road. I’ve got some prosecco in the fridge. Do you like prosecco?’
‘Actually I’m not drinking more than this glass. I’m driving home.’
‘Well that’s a shame, but it won’t stop us, will it?’ He leans even further forwards causing the table to teeter, before glancing around rapidly so his double chin wobbles and then he lowers his voice. ‘I’m going to make you squeal and beg for more.’ He winks at me. This disgusting man actually winks at me.
‘I’m sorry, but–’
He interrupts, putting his hand up. ‘No buts, Eva. We’re two consenting adults and I think there’s going to be fireworks. You feel it too, don’t you?’
I’m not sure where he’s got all of these lines from; watching porn, perhaps. But all I know is that I have to get out of here. When the plates for our starters have been removed, I pick up my bag. ‘Could you excuse me, please, whilst I freshen up?’
‘You’re already fresh, darling. But yes, if you need to take a piss, go for it. Think of me whilst you’re doing it.’
My goodness, he really is gross. I edge between the tables and wonder if I can bolt straight out of the front door, but Anthony has turned around in his seat and is watching me, his tongue lolling out of his mouth. I shudder and head towards the ladies’ toilets. I need to get out of here, and quickly. Rather than going into the ladies, I follow the corridor towards the bustle of the commercial kitchen. And then I see our server.
‘Excuse me,’ I say. ‘My date is going terribly and I need to leave. Is it possible for you to find my coat and let me out via a back entrance?’
The young woman, who probably isn’t much older than twenty, stares at me. ‘Are you doing a runner and actually telling me about it?’
‘No, I’m only running out on my date. I’ll give you cash for my food. Please help me on this,’ I implore, taking my wallet out of my handbag and counting out some notes. ‘Would you mind fetching my coat?’
‘Alright then,’ she says, a cheeky grin crossing her pretty face. ‘What does your coat look like?’
I give her a description and wait in the corridor. She returns with it a couple of minutes later.
‘How much is our bill?’
‘You know you could just tell him that it’s not working out rather than ghosting him.’
‘You’re right, I could. But honestly I just want to go home. I know it makes me a bitch, but so be it.’
She rolls her eyes at me. I hand her fifty pounds, which more than covers my half of the meal I won’t be eating, and then I hand the girl a ten-pound note. ‘For you,’ I say.
‘This way then,’ she says. I follow her to the fire exit. ‘Shall I tell him that you’re ill and have gone home?’
‘Thank you,’ I say, briefly touching her arm. ‘That’s very kind of you.’
Out on the street, I tug my coat on and walk briskly towards the multi-storey car park. It’s only when I’m in my car, with the doors locked, that I relax back into the seat. I open my phone and send Anthony a message on Hinge.
Very sorry I had to leave. Not feeling well. Best, Eva.
And then I post the photo onto my Instagram Stories and add the caption, Great first date. What a lie that was. I just hope Anthony doesn’t see it.
CHAPTER TWELVE
THE LOVER
I’m in a Tesco supermarket, two streets away from my morning job where I was cleaning the offices of an insurance brokerage. I won’t be cleaning for them again. If I’m going to do offices, they need to be an interesting business, not dull insurance. I’m a quick worker, vacuuming, tidying, emptying bins so it leaves me time for snooping. I’ve got a curious mind and I like to learn something new, whether that be reading a non-disclosure agreement left carelessly on a desk or rifling through boxes of samples, ready for the taking, skin care or trinkets.
Anyway, I need to do a shop both for food and bits and pieces for Samuel. I wander down the toiletries aisle and pick up some shaving foam. It’s time for Samuel to shave his beard off. I’ve never liked it, the way it prickles my face and makes him look older than he really is. I’m sure I can persuade him to get rid of it. A new start, a new look and all that. I pick up a man’s razor and some shower gel. I hope he likes the scent.
I find some lobster tails in the Finest section and despite the price, add them to my basket. I hope I don’t run into someone I know. How would I explain the extravagance? But Samuel deserves it. The poor man has cabin fever. He’s desperate to go out; to take me for a lovely meal at a cosy country pub, or to a fine dining restaurant prior to a theatre visit in London’s West End, but of course he can’t. It’s hard for him, being confined to the cottage for so long, and I understand that, I really do. But it’s for the best. It’s much too soon for the two of us to be seen together, even though that’s what I want more than anything in the world. We need to be patient. At least I’m able to get out of the cottage, live an almost normal life. It’s much harder for Samuel, and that’s why I need to ease his stay, making everything as comfortable as possible, preparing his favourite foods, spoiling him in any way I can.
I choose a bottle of expensive red wine and add some other grocery items to my basket. Later, when we’ve eaten well and perhaps made love again, I’ll show him the photo of Eva on her date. If truth be told, I am disappointed. Firstly, there was only the one photo, and her date was so very unattractive and ordinary. He’s not at all the type I assumed Eva would go for. Not a patch on handsome, debonair Samuel, so I wonder if she just went with the first man who approached her. It will be interesting to see what Samuel thinks.
It’s 8 p.m., we’ve eaten and I showed Samuel the photograph of Eva on her date. I thought he’d laugh, say what dreadful taste she’s got, but no. He went very quiet, said she looked lovely, particularly her gorgeous hair. I’ve always been envious of her hair. These days there’s a reddish tint to it and she has luscious thick curls that sit on her shoulders. It’s definitely her best feature, hair that could feature in a shampoo advert and glistens even in low light. But Samuel saying that Eva looks lovely is like he’s taken a dagger to my stomach. Doesn’t he realise how much he’s hurting me by saying nice things about his ex? It’s as if even though he doesn’t want Eva for himself, he doesn’t want anyone else to have her. And he’s going on and on about Riley and Alfie; how they must be missing him, worried as to why he hasn’t called them in days; concerned that Eva is being negligent towards them, going out and partying; worrying about how they might react if they see her social media posts. We had an argument and I could feel the anger boiling up and up and I knew that if I wasn’t going to say or do something I regret, I had to get out of the cottage. In silence, I fixed the chains, refusing to meet Samuel’s eyes, ignoring his complaints. I have a plan and I need to stick to it. And now I’m outside in the woodland, the sun has disappeared and the air is heavy with damp. I walk and walk, letting the anger ease out of my body, focusing upon the plan and the future. The wonderful future that is so nearly within my reach.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
THE WIFE
Even though he was a sleazy bore, I feel bad about running out on Anthony. I got him there on false pretences and rather wish I’d paid for both of our meals to ease my guilt. And I’m furious with the kidnapper. It’s complete nonsense that I need to go through that charade with two more people. I’ll post the picture on Instagram Stories as the kidnapper requested, but that’s that. I’m not going out on a date with any more people.
When I got home, Stephen was with the kids in the living room watching some game show on the television. I’m pleased, even if it’s past Alfie’s bedtime. I love that they have such a good relationship with their uncle.
‘You’re home early,’ Stephen says, looking at me with an expression of surprise.
‘I thought we were meeting for dinner but it was only drinks.’ The lies are tumbling out of my mouth much too easily at the moment.
‘Did you clinch the deal?’ Stephen asks.
For a moment I wonder what he means but then realise he’s referring to the business event he thought I was attending. ‘It wasn’t that kind of meeting. Would you like a beer or glass of wine before you go?’ I ask.
He stands up. ‘No, thanks. I’ve got lots to do this evening. Don’t hesitate to call me if you need any help or just a shoulder to cry on,’ he says, placing a kiss on my cheek, before picking up his bag and doing high fives with the children.
‘Why do you need a shoulder to cry on?’ Alfie asks.
Stephen throws me an anguished look and mouths sorry.
‘It’s just a figure of speech,’ I explain. ‘I’ve been having some problems at work and Uncle Stephen is offering to help.’
Riley scrunches her forehead as if she doesn’t believe me.
‘Upstairs, both of you, please.’
Later, when the kids are in bed, I post the photograph of Anthony and me on Instagram Stories. I don’t add any text or hashtags because I don’t want it to be found. I lie on my bed trying to work out what I can do, racking my brain if there’s any way I can discover if Samuel really was having an affair. My assumption is that he wasn’t; that the initial text from him was sent under duress or someone else got hold of his phone. I have to hang on to that because the thought of Samuel lying to me for weeks or months is too much to bear. So that means someone is holding him captive and that person is toying with me, sending me off on some weird wild goose chase, demanding I complete crazy bucket-list items that seem to prove I’ve somehow moved on from my marital relationship. Do they want the world to think I’ve abandoned my marriage? But why? Why go to all of these lengths? As much as it pains me, my number one suspect is still Nicolette, but would my friend really do something like this? It doesn’t make any sense. I clench my fists and rub them into my eyes. A sudden exhaustion settles on me and I can barely force myself to stumble to the bathroom to get ready for bed.
