Greenwich Park(30)

‘Well, you haven’t, have you?’

‘No, of course not.’

‘So just put the phone down, Helen. That’s the whole thing – they want to keep you on the line, get you talking about your finances. You just have to hang up.’

I bite my lip. I’m sure Daniel is right. But the woman was really persistent earlier. She knew my full name, our address, our current mortgage provider. She had insisted I was the one who had requested the application. I’d hung up, but it had nagged at me. It hadn’t felt like the people calling about PPI claims, or asking whether I’d been in an accident.

‘I honestly wouldn’t worry,’ Daniel says. ‘They’re clever, some of them. They can buy data on you, find out stuff that makes them sound genuine.’

‘I guess.’

I stir the risotto, adding the stock slowly, ladle by ladle, moving it around the pan before it bubbles.

‘Oh, also, I bumped into Rachel in the deer park earlier,’ I say, changing the subject.

‘Again?’



‘Yeah. It started raining so we went to the Maritime Museum. Had a coffee.’

‘That sounds nice.’

I frown. ‘Yes,’ I say distractedly.

Daniel closes the fridge door and leans back against it, fiddling with the bottle opener on his key ring. He is smiling at me.

‘Why are you making that face, if it was nice?’

I glance up at him as I stir, wondering if I should share my thoughts with him.

‘I don’t know,’ I say eventually. ‘I mean, do you think it’s weird, how I keep bumping in to her all the time?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Like when I was having lunch with Katie. That she just happened to be there, sitting at the best table, reading Katie’s newspaper article.’

He considers this.

‘And how she turned up here unannounced that time, when you were away?’

Daniel looks at me blankly. It’s obvious he’s forgotten what I am talking about.

‘I told you about this,’ I say, rolling my eyes. ‘She knew I was alone, that you were away. And she just turned up uninvited. With a picnic. She pretty much let herself in.’

Daniel pauses. Then he bursts out laughing.

‘What?’

‘Sorry,’ he says. ‘Just doesn’t exactly sound like the crime of the century to me. Your pregnant friend, turning up with a picnic, hoping for a cuppa and a chat.’

I force myself to laugh along. ‘OK, fine,’ I say. ‘It just felt a bit much, that’s all.’ I pour some more stock into the rice.



Daniel takes a swig of his beer, rotates his shoulders back and forward. ‘If you didn’t want to see her, why didn’t you just say you were busy? Why did you agree to hang out with her again today?’

‘I don’t know – she is fine really. It’s not a big deal. She’s just a bit unpredictable, that’s all. She does random things like that. Grabbing my bump. Turning up unannounced.’ Going into our bedroom and moving photographs around, I add, in my mind. Looking for treasure under our floorboards.

Daniel laughs again. He puts his beer down on the sideboard, comes up behind me, places both his hands on the bump.

‘I don’t know – I haven’t met her. But I just think maybe you’re overthinking it. She sounds all right to me.’ His hands are warm on my belly. ‘Am I allowed to grab the bump still?’ he asks, murmuring into my neck. ‘Or will you think I’m a weirdo, too?’

I smile, feel my shoulders loosen. His touch is so comforting; I sink into it. ‘Don’t be silly,’ I say. ‘That’s different.’ I stroke his knuckles. ‘The baby’s kicking loads today, feel. Just – here.’ I move Daniel’s hand to the top of my bump, just under my ribs, where I’d felt the pressure a moment earlier, like a fingertip poking me from the inside. But as soon as I do it, the baby stops.

‘Oh. Sorry, he’s gone. I’ll tell you next time.’

‘Mm.’ Daniel’s hands drift downwards. I try to relax, try not to think about how long it has been since he touched me like this without my clothes on. How enormous I feel. His hands move up to my breasts, and he starts to kiss the back of my neck. I am surprised to feel a shiver of anticipation. Maybe that’s the answer.



Daniel stops, his hand on my necklace.

‘What’s this?’

I feel the sinews in my shoulders clench. I try to keep my voice even, casual, but I am sure he can hear the wobble in it.

‘Just a necklace.’ I wriggle free of Daniel’s grip, my cheeks still hot. ‘I saw it in town. Don’t you like it?’ I return to the stove, start ladling more stock into the rice.

‘It’s the one Serena was wearing, isn’t it? Helen …’

‘What?’

‘I thought we’d talked about this.’

I’d seen it in the jewellery shop on Turnpin Lane, when Daniel and I were walking back from the market last weekend. It was hanging in a glass cabinet, the little charm moving from side to side ever so slowly, beckoning me. I recognised it straight away, remembered it glinting against the silk of Serena’s top.

I’d gone back the next day. With no Daniel to stop me, I’d asked the curly-haired sales assistant if I could have a look. It had been more expensive than I’d expected. But it was so beautifully made, the markings on the dog so intricate, even though it was no bigger than my thumbnail. Before I knew it I was nodding yes, I’ll take it, watching as she slipped it into a blue leather box, wrapped it in tissue.