Greenwich Park(38)

I decide to check her suitcase again, as soon as she goes out. The film drags on; the baby shifts in my belly. I change position, then again. I wait for her to fall asleep on the sofa, or go out to the 24-hour shop for cigarettes, like she would usually do. But she doesn’t do either. When the credits start rolling, she stretches extravagantly, arching her back, her arms in the air. Monty leaps off her lap.

‘I think I’ll call it a night.’

She trails up to her room, leaving her dirty bowl abandoned. She closes the door. As I wash up, little blasts of pop music start to blare intermittently through the ceiling.





HELEN





After I found the laptop, and the envelope, I wasn’t able to sleep. I lay on my side, the baby kicking softly, until Daniel finally got home. When he came into the bedroom, I told him I’d been thinking about what he said, and that he was right. We needed to talk to Rachel. Ask her what her plans are.

I decided not to tell him about the things I’d found. He’d have gone mad about the laptop, blamed me for letting a thief into our house. This way was just easier. As I predicted, he didn’t ask why I’d changed my mind. He just seemed pleased and kissed me goodnight. He fell asleep far more quickly than I did.

When I wake the next morning, I can hear that Rachel is in the bath downstairs. I pull on my dressing gown, head to the kitchen, make myself a cup of herbal tea. When she eventually emerges, Rachel is wearing a towel of mine around her body and another on her head.

I tell her I will make us all some breakfast.

‘Lovely,’ she says. ‘Anything I can do?’

I glance down at her. ‘Don’t you want to get dressed?’

She shakes her head, grinning. A flash of pointed teeth. ‘I’m fine like this,’ she says. ‘I’ll make the eggs.’

When Daniel arrives in the kitchen, I have finished the bacon and toast, set plates on the table for all three of us, with glasses of orange juice. Rachel is still leaning absent-mindedly against the sideboard, cracking eggs into a bowl without looking properly, so that the whites are dripping down the sides, tiny pieces of shell flecked in the mixture. She has started reading a magazine, which she has placed next to the bowl.

Daniel walks straight past her, without saying good morning. ‘I’ll just have bacon,’ he mutters.

‘Me too,’ I sigh.

We both sit down at the table. Daniel starts to butter pieces of toast rhythmically, in horizontal lines. He looks at me, then at Rachel, and then back again.

‘Rachel, why don’t you come and sit down?’ I suggest, when she doesn’t join us.

Rachel looks up, closes her magazine. ‘Oh, sorry. I was miles away.’ She sits down and takes the piece of toast that Daniel has just buttered, spears a piece of bacon onto her fork. ‘Thanks,’ she says. She takes the ketchup and empties it onto her plate, a huge red pool. The smell makes my stomach churn.

‘Rachel, we were wondering.’ My voice is reedy, my mouth slightly dry. ‘How are you getting on with finding somewhere else to live?’

‘Oh, really good actually!’ Rachel looks up, smiles at us. Daniel and I are silenced.

‘Really?’

‘Yeah! I found a flat. It’s great. And they said I can move in really soon.’

I glance at Daniel. I don’t remember her going to any flat viewings.

‘That’s great, Rachel.’ I pause. ‘When … When exactly did they say you could move in?’

Rachel opens her mouth wide, presses her bacon sandwich inside, tomato ketchup seeping from the bread. ‘Oh,’ she says through a mouthful of bacon, ‘um, like mid-November?’

I try to gauge Daniel’s reaction. He is frowning slightly. I suspect that, like me, he is unsure quite how to react. On the one hand, the fact that she is moving out – that we don’t have the anticipated battle on our hands – is unexpectedly good news. On the other, that means two and a half more weeks with her in our house. It feels like a lifetime.

‘Listen,’ Rachel says, wiping her face, looking from me to Daniel, then back to me again, ‘you’ve both been so nice to let me stay. Thanks so much.’ She glances at Daniel, her eyes narrowing slightly. ‘I’ll keep out of your hair for the next couple of weeks.’ She waves her hand in the air. ‘You won’t even notice me. I swear.’

Daniel looks away. Nods. ‘All right,’ he says eventually.

Rachel beams. Then, before I can say anything, there is a knock on the door.





SERENA





Helen is leaning on the kitchen counter, fiddling with the pile of napkins, avoiding my gaze. ‘I suppose I just wish you hadn’t invited her tonight, that’s all,’ she mutters.

‘I’m sorry, Helen. I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to. Could you pass that bowl, please?’

I am not really listening to Helen. I am thinking about the canapés, and whether we’ve ordered enough lamb racks, and whether I should have bought that second case of champagne, and how many people might want elderflower instead. I am keeping an eye on the pale sky, checking whether it looks like rain. Counting napkins, squeezing ice cubes into the water jugs.

I hadn’t intended to go round this morning. God knows I had enough to do. But Helen had been asking for ages to borrow a book I’d been reading about hypnobirthing, and as I was passing her house I realised I had it in my bag.