The Stepmother(30)

 

‘No, I meant – about my email?’ I sat up, feeling a shiver of anxiety. ‘You – you did read it, didn’t you?’

 

‘Wellll…’ He looked abashed. ‘I was so busy, hon.’ He pulled me down, kissing my neck, sliding his hand into my dress. ‘I didn’t have time for personal stuff.’

 

I froze.

 

‘Do you want me to read it now?’ He undid my top button. ‘I can if you like…’

 

‘No,’ I said, panicking. ‘Don’t bother. Just delete it. Please.’

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Checking the New York stock exchange, Mathew doesn’t seem enthused by the prospect of a walk, but he agrees. ‘It’ll give me a chance to try out that new pedometer Fitbit thing I got for Christmas.’

 

I am the world’s biggest Luddite: I barely know what an app is. I hate mobile phones; I hate everything about them, especially since the complaint and the spread of malice on the Internet. The great world wide web caught me in its sticky hold, and I hate it and what it means for us as a society. It’s pernicious.

 

But I keep my opinions to myself.

 

‘I wanted to talk to you about something.’ I am full of apprehension. ‘If that’s okay with you.’ I know I am ever more tense with him recently, less brave.

 

‘Fuck!’ He bangs the keyboard with ill feeling. ‘This is shit.’

 

‘Work?’ I wish he’d concentrate for a moment.

 

‘The Euro’s shite because of all the Greek crap. It’s knocking on to all the markets.’ He shuts the screen down. ‘Fuck, I wish Cameron and Osborne would get their heads out of their arses.’

 

‘I’m sorry.’ My stomach rolls with nerves as I sit beside him. ‘The thing is, Matt…’

 

‘Shall we wait till the kids get here?’ He stretches and checks the time. ‘To walk, I mean. Get them away from their screens.’

 

‘The kids?’ My heart sinks.

 

‘Yeah. They love the woods. Well, they did when they were little anyway.’ Now he looks enthused. ‘I worry about all that computer shit sometimes. What effect it’s having. Get ’em outside.’

 

Apparently I have forgotten it’s our weekend. But it was our weekend last weekend too. This doesn’t seem quite right.

 

But this is their home, of course; it was their home long before it was mine. And I imagine how I’d feel if Frankie’s dad didn’t make him welcome – except, of course, Frankie’s dad has never been on the scene.

 

‘No problem.’ I smile. ‘Let’s take them too. Only I just wanted to tell you something. I’ve been meaning to tell you for a while now, but…’

 

As if they’ve been summoned by my surprise and fear, we hear the crunch of tyres on gravel. That shiny white Range Rover is outside, the children’s mother obscured by Scarlett in the passenger seat.

 

There’s not enough time to do it now. We need to be alone.

 

I need to steady myself.

 

‘I’ll just be a minute.’ I slip out of the room; I don’t need to witness the hearty hellos. They need time alone with their dad anyway.

 

Catching my reflection in the curly gilt mirror, I pull a face at myself. I’m going to ask Matthew to move the bloody thing. I hate it. Better still, Kaye could take it with her now.

 

Mirror, mirror… Kaye is the fairest of them all, no doubt. Even if she does pay a fortune for her blonde.

 

I am going to be bolder. I must speak my mind more.

 

In our bedroom I sit at the dressing table, staring at myself. I look washed-out and pale – well it’s that time of year I suppose, where we all fade a bit.

 

If I look better, I’ll feel better perhaps. Fumbling for my blusher, I feel panic rise, dropping make-up brushes, knocking the key to the drawer onto the floor clumsily.

 

Without thinking, I pick it up and slip it into the lock.

 

The drawer is empty.

 

I scrabble my hand around it frantically – but there’s nothing in it. Nothing – apart from an old receipt for Opium perfume, bought at Heathrow airport, around two years ago. And a hairgrip with a little flower on it.

 

Someone – not me – someone has removed everything I put in here. All the evidence is gone.

 

Where the hell has it gone?

 

Mind racing, trying to think what to do for the best, I feel like I’m struggling to breathe – and then I think I might be about to have a panic attack. After Seaborne I had a couple of them. I had to learn to control my breathing and to… breathe deep, and to remember I’m still breathing, and…