My Husband's Wife(106)

And then the note which had arrived out of the blue, threatening her for hurting Lily.

Rupert was clearly shocked. ‘What did the police say?’

‘I haven’t told them.’

‘Why not?’

Her eyes welled up again. ‘Because then Ed would make a fuss and not allow me back to the office. He would keep me at home, shut up like a bird, in case someone hurt me.’

Rupert took her hand. ‘This is terrible, Carla. You can’t live like this.’

‘I know.’ She stared down at the now visible bump in her stomach. ‘But what can I do?’

‘All kinds of things. You could go –’

‘No.’ She had interrupted him fiercely. ‘I cannot leave. I cannot be like my mamma. I will not allow this child to grow up without a father as I did.’

Rupert dropped her hand. Don’t, she wanted to cry. Don’t.

Then he reached into his inside jacket pocket and handed over a card. ‘This is my private mobile number. I’ve changed it since we last knew each other. Ring me. Any time. I will always be there for you. My fiancée would like to meet you too.’

‘Your fiancée?’

Rupert blushed. ‘Katie and I got engaged last month. It was a bit sudden, but we’re very happy.’

So that holding of hands and the flush on his face … Carla had got it all wrong. Rupert really was just being a friend. Nothing more.

That had been several weeks ago now. Carla kept the card close to her. Often she thought about ringing the number. But every time she did, a sentence came into her head. My fiancée would like to meet you.

Carla shivered. She had had enough of stealing other people’s things. This intolerable situation was her cross to bear for snatching Lily’s husband.

‘Carla?’ There was a persistent knocking on the bathroom door. ‘Darling? Are you all right in there?’

‘I am fine,’ she said. Then she turned on the taps so she couldn’t hear his reply, and lowered herself down so that her head was under water, allowing herself to think clearly without Ed’s voice hammering through the door.





49


Lily


I pause. Grip the railings on the front. Try to steady myself by looking out over the sea and watching the light of a boat moored there. Bobbing on the surface of the water against the apricot sunrise.

Then I turn round.

Joe Thomas doesn’t look like a former prisoner. He seems much older than he did at our last meeting, but it suits him. Gives him a certain gravity. He’s grown a moustache, although his hair is still short.

But one thing hasn’t changed. Those eyes. Those black-brown eyes which are focused right on me.

‘We need to talk.’

A chill passes through my bones.

‘I’ve got nothing to say to you.’

He reaches towards me. For a minute, I think he’s going to grab my arms. I step back. One of my nodding-acquaintance jogger friends goes past.

Joe waits a few seconds. ‘I need to tell you something. Please.’

He is actually begging. Momentarily, I am swayed. ‘Not here.’

Uncertainly, I lead him across the road to a group of tables and chairs outside a cafe with an OPEN AT 9AM! sign. We sit opposite each other, away from the promenade and the occasional runner. ‘What is it?’ I say curtly.

His eyes are boring into mine. As though they are trying to suck me into him.

‘You don’t have to worry about Carla.’

At first, his words are so unexpected that it takes me a second to absorb them. When I do, I am both scared and – I have to admit this – excited.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Your ex and Carla won’t last.’

My mouth is dry. ‘How do you know?’

‘Just do.’

He moves his chair closer to the table. Without looking down, I can feel our legs are almost but not quite touching. A man goes past, his dog sniffing a stray chip left in the road then running on. To its owner, we might be any pair of runners sitting down, catching our breath, admiring the view. Or maybe we could be a pair of tourists staying at one of the hotels on the front, taking a stroll before breakfast.

‘I know it can’t be easy,’ says Joe. ‘Your husband has married someone else. And now they’re having a baby.’

‘So what? I’ve moved on now.’

Those eyes are peeling away my pretence. ‘Are you sure?’

No. Of course I’m not sure. I want Carla to have never existed. I want the old me to have told her mother that I’m very sorry but we couldn’t possibly look after her child at weekends.

But that’s not me. At the heart of things, I need to help people. To make up for not being able to help my own brother. For having failed him. For having failed myself.

‘Is that why you’re here?’ I ask. ‘To see how I am?’

‘Partly.’ Little beads of perspiration are breaking out on his forehead. I can feel the same thing happening on my back.

I wait like a mouse waiting to be pounced on. Knowing what is to come.

‘I want a paternity test, Lily. I didn’t believe you last time when you said he wasn’t mine, and I don’t believe you now. I’ve been watching you, Lily, like I’ve always been watching you and everyone you mix with, since I got out of prison.’