The Stepmother(70)

 

‘Oh.’ He looks confused. ‘Must have been next door then.’

 

‘Must have been.’

 

‘Marlena texted.’ He’s trying to read my face. ‘Said to keep an eye on you for some reason.’

 

‘Oh she did, did she?’ I try to smile. I wish she’d get back to me about the bloody emails. I wish I didn’t feel so – discombobulated. So seasick, with all this debris floating around.

 

Frank skulks off when Matthew comes in. They’re still barely talking.

 

‘Something smells good.’ Matthew opens some red wine to breathe, gets a beer, checks the temperature of the champagne in the fridge. ‘I thought we should use the dining room, as it’s a special occasion.’

 

We never use it – not since I’ve lived here anyway.

 

‘Whatever you think.’

 

‘I’ll get Luke to lay the table,’ Matthew says.

 

I’m going to ask him about the girl, about Sylvia’s assertion – but Luke comes in, moaning, corralled into making place names. He helps his dad get out the best silver and places the jugs of lemon water, candles, napkins and side plates on the table.

 

Then he returns to FIFA with Frank, pizza and ice cream.

 

I look at Matthew, and I think about this afternoon.

 

After I’d confronted Sylvia, gone shopping and returned to start the casserole, I’d gone upstairs to our room and had passed the locked door to the spare room.

 

So many secrets in this house. Instinctively I’d tried the handle; it had become a reflex, a habit.

 

Still locked. I’d bent to peer through the keyhole, but still I hadn’t really been able to see anything: the edge of a bed maybe. The door was solid and wooden – but the lock was old.

 

Frankie had been ensconced in his room, probably asleep, despite the hour, so I’d gone out to the garage and rooted around the toolboxes until I found some galvanised wire, which I’d twisted into the shape I’d needed.

 

Standing in front of the impenetrable door, hands on hips, I’d seen myself aged ten. I’d done this throughout our childhood, when we were locked in. It’s not hard if you know how, slotting the pick into the lock. Although, this particular one had been very stiff.

 

At some point, as I’d rocked back on my heels, Frankie had stumbled down the landing to use the bathroom, hair on end.

 

‘I’m going to miss you when you’re gone,’ I’d told his departing back. ‘Specially looking like that.’

 

But it’s good, I’d told myself again. I’m glad he’s off on Sunday. Off to safety.

 

He’d gone back to bed.

 

The door had opened, and I’d been in.

 

It hadn’t been what I’d expected: oh no, not at all.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

7.40 p.m.

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The vegetables are all ready to go in their pans, the French onion soup’s bubbling, cheese grated, croutons cut – and the casserole’s in.

 

‘Is it a special occasion?’ I ask, as I take my apron off to rush up and change.

 

‘New deal with Transregions.’ Matt checks the champagne again; he’s already on his second beer, keyed up and excited. ‘Sean’s given me free advice. There’s some papers to sign actually.’

 

‘Oh?’ I check the temperature of the sauce. ‘That’s good then?’

 

‘Should be.’ He kisses me again and pats my bottom. ‘Should be a whole turn of fortunes. Put that nice red dress on, hon. It’s really sexy.’

 

I feel galvanised for the first time in weeks.

 

When I come down, there’s a glass of fizz on the side for me and The Killers on the stereo. Matthew’s outside, checking the garden lights. I should be excited, but the memory of Alison’s hostility at the party makes me nervous. I’ve never even met Sean. They are Kaye’s friends.

 

I cast away the image of what’s behind the spare-room door.

 

Quickly I drink my champagne and check the dining table. It looks nice, classy – the room dimly lit, snow-white roses as a centrepiece, our home-made place names. It’s almost like a restaurant.

 

The doorbell rings; Matthew answers it. I hear laughter, the rise and fall of voices.

 

The drink seems to have gone straight to my head. I straighten the napkins, feeling a little woozy. I drink some water.

 

‘Hello.’ I smile, coming into the hall. Sean is a small, wiry man with slicked-back grey hair. Alison looks completely different out of her pirate costume. Her curly red hair is tied back, and she wears a severe black dress.