The Stepmother(39)

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Matthew had stayed at the hospital until Luke was discharged.

 

We’d had a muted week, and yesterday he told me he was going to take Scarlett off to see her cousins in King’s Lynn, did I mind? Luke was at home with his mum, and I was waiting for Marlena to arrive, so I said no – please go.

 

And then of course, just after Matthew pulled out the drive, my unreliable sister texted from Germany saying she couldn’t come at all – she’d had a new lead; she had to file her copy, blah blah – the usual excuses. She’d ring when she got back.

 

Trying not to feel generally abandoned, I spent the weekend mooching, doing some half-hearted prep for my new job, but mainly watching rom-coms and eating chocolate, waiting to hear from Matthew. On Sunday morning, I forced myself out for brunch in town, but I felt so pathetically alone surrounded by couples and happy couples that I soon slouched off home.

 

Just before I went totally mad, my phone rang. Marlena – back from her trip abroad.

 

‘What’s up?’ Marlena was typically frank. ‘You sound like shit.’

 

‘Thanks a lot! I’m just a bit – tired.’ I explained the events of the past week briefly. ‘He’s okay now, Luke, so that’s the main thing.’

 

‘That’s kids for you. And so?’

 

‘So what?’

 

‘You said things were “odd”. Is that cos you’ve actually told your old man the whole shebang now?’

 

I nudged the coffee table gently with the tip of my toe.

 

‘Jeanie?’

 

‘No,’ I admitted. ‘I’ve told him some of it. Just not – quite all of it.’

 

She let out a long breath. ‘Really?’

 

‘Don’t. I have tried, Marlena, honestly. Quite a few times, but it’s just not very easy with all this going on—’

 

‘For God’s sake, Jean!’ She’d been tapping on her computer whilst we’d been talking, I had heard her busy hands on the keyboard, but she actually stopped now. Ever the hack, my sister – never fully concentrating on her own life.

 

‘Look, really, I didn’t put myself on the line for you to f*ck yourself up even further.’

 

‘Yeah, all right.’ I felt a surge of irritation at her selfishness.

 

She ignored my tone; she was in her stride now. ‘I mean doesn’t the man ever use Google? You know he’s going to find out anyway some time, and it’ll look f*cking awful if it doesn’t come from you…’

 

‘Okay, okay,’ I said meekly. ‘I will. I’m just…’

 

‘What?’

 

I sighed heavily. ‘Scared he’ll chuck me out I suppose.’

 

‘Well if he does, he’s an even bigger arsehole than I took him for.’

 

‘Marlena! I thought you quite liked him?’

 

‘Now, when, dear Jeanie’—I heard her lighting a cigarette—‘did I ever say that?’

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

It started to snow very lightly as I put the phone down, the flakes falling in sudden soft flurries past the window. I was depressed about being alone all the time, about my attempt to tell Matt failing yet again. Admitting my apathy to myself was hard.

 

Still, at least Frankie was on his way back; he’d been in Scotland all week. Now he was on some kind of Megabus, unlikely to be here before dawn, knowing him. I had no idea what time Matthew would be home; they’d stopped off to see friends in Cambridge apparently. I’d give this entire week up as a bad lot, I decided, and go to bed.

 

My legs had gone to sleep curled beneath me, and as I stretched them out painfully, I heard an odd rattle.

 

The hairs on my arms all stood up on end. Not that bloody ghost again…

 

I held my breath, listening.

 

God I wished this house wasn’t so isolated. Tower blocks had never felt as unsafe as all this space.

 

Everything was quiet now. I should get up and check out the noise, I thought – and then the garden light sprang on.

 

I heard my own surprised gasp.

 

Don’t be so stupid, Jeanie! I tried to laugh at myself – and then the noise came again.

 

I got up. Limping to the switch, I turned all the inside lights on as bright as they’d go. Taking a deep breath, I opened the kitchen door to investigate, thinking of Peckham or Hove’s electric street lights with considerable nostalgia.

 

Crossing the kitchen, I could feel a blast of cold air. The sliding doors were very slightly ajar, the February wind blowing through the crack. Then I heard a woman’s voice, murmuring from somewhere.