The Stepmother(57)
‘Can you stir the sauce?’ I ask Scarlett, and I take Luke to the downstairs loo, wash his hand and find a plaster.
* * *
By the time Matthew comes home, I’ve cleaned up, the twins are watching The Hunger Games and the table is groaning with food.
You’d never know there’d been any drama.
I am also a little tipsy. Sploshing red wine into the pizza topping, I couldn’t help but be tempted. It’s been tough recently.
‘Hello.’ My husband smiles at me, kissing me with more enthusiasm than he has for ages. ‘Something smells amazing, you clever girl.’
I lean into him, feeling his hand on my hair, and I feel a vast whoosh of relief. ‘Dinner’s nearly ready,’ I say. ‘Just going to get my cardigan. It’s cold, isn’t it?’
At the top of the stairs, I feel even more chilled as I walk past the mirror – and something catches the corner of my eye. A shadow that passes over the light—
Looking up, with a start I see the ghost reflected there – the Grey Lady. She’s slightly different to before, wispier perhaps… but there’s no doubt she’s there. She’s walking towards me, arms outstretched, eyes like black holes behind the veil, her mouth a vivid red slash in her deathly face—
‘She’s here!’ I shriek, stepping back, so near the top of the stairs that I nearly overbalance. I grab the bannister. ‘Matthew, quick!’
A sigh of air. A slamming door somewhere inside the house.
Giggling, giggling nearby.
‘It’s only me, Jeanie,’ a grinning Scarlett pops her head round Luke’s bedroom door. ‘I’m sorry if I scared you. It worked though!’
‘What was you?’ My heart is hammering so fast I can barely breathe. The ghost has gone, but I feel very lightheaded.
‘Look…’ She shows me the projector she’s set up on the landing. ‘It was for a school thing, in media studies. We had to create our own visual motif for our homes.’
‘I see,’ I say, still trying to calm down.
‘I got the idea from Sherlock.’ Proudly Scarlett shows me how she’s projected the image from behind the door, into one mirror, where the reflection bounced into the other.
‘Was that you then? Before? A few weeks ago?’
‘Oh, when Dad said you thought you saw something? That’s what gave me the idea actually,’ she says. ‘Honest, it wasn’t me that time though.’
I don’t believe her. But I don’t have the energy to argue now.
* * *
Sitting down to eat, Scarlett is distracted, looking at her phone.
‘Put it down please,’ Matthew says. ‘The phone.’
She does, reluctantly. ‘Where’s Frankie?’ she asks with nonchalance. ‘Isn’t he coming down for tea?’
‘Scarlett fancies Frankie,’ Luke crows. ‘Scarlett and Frankie, sitting in a tree…’
‘Luke!’ Matthew’s tone is a low warning as the girl blushes the same colour as her name.
‘I do not,’ she mutters.
‘K-I-S-S-I-N-G…’
‘Leave it there right now, Lucas!’ Matthew thumps his glass down.
Scarlett looks mortified – her ill-hidden secret’s out. Matthew’s face has darkened. I don’t want to make things worse for Frank now.
‘Luke, tell us about your football game,’ I change the subject quickly. ‘Did you score?’
‘Durr!’ he says. ‘I’m a defender, not a striker!’
‘Oh.’ I grin. ‘Sorry! I don’t know the first thing about football really.’ I’m about to say that this is because Frankie hates sport, but bringing his name up again won’t help the mood. And then I feel like a traitor. ‘So was the lovely Beckham a striker or defender?’
* * *
That night Matthew and I have sex for the first time in a week, and afterwards I almost cry myself to sleep with relief.
The rest of the twins’ stay goes without incident, and I feel a little better – although I feel inordinately annoyed about the ghost thing, and, far worse, I miss Frankie badly. But he’s answered my text, at least, and he’s coming home tomorrow, thank God.
I need to broach the subject with Matthew, but I feel I’m walking on eggshells all the time at the moment. I’m biding my time, waiting for the right opportunity to clear the air. Perhaps we’re getting a little nearer now. Perhaps I can bring everyone together safely, bring the boat safely in to moor.