My Husband's Wife(57)

‘Do you know where you’ll go next?’ As I speak, Tony sends me a warning look. Don’t get too personal. We’ve done our job.

‘To a hotel, I suppose. Or a bed and breakfast. It’s not as though I’ve got a home to go to tonight.’

Once more, I am struck by the literal way in which he perceives my question.

‘What about the future, in general?’ I ask gently.

‘I’m still thinking about it.’ Joe’s eyes are steady, looking into mine. ‘Any suggestions?’

My throat is tight. ‘If it was me, I would probably go and live abroad. Italy maybe.’ Goodness knows why my honeymoon location comes into my head.

Joe wipes his mouth clear of the froth with his sleeve. ‘Wouldn’t that look as if I was running away?’

Tony rises to his feet. ‘I don’t want you to think I’m doing the same, but I’ve got to be somewhere.’ He shakes my hand. ‘It’s been good working with you, Lily. You’ll go far.’ Then he looks at Joe and seems to hesitate. I hold my breath.

At times, I wonder if Tony actually believes Joe is innocent. Or whether it matters to him.

It’s the kudos he wants. The winning of an important case which hits the headlines. I saw the pleasure on his face in front of those cameras when we left the court. And I am sharing it. We’ve made history. It feels wonderful.

‘Good luck for the future.’

Inwardly, I breathe out a sigh of relief as Tony finally shakes Joe’s hand then walks away. But our client has noticed the delay.

‘He doesn’t like me.’ Joe states it as a fact rather than in expectation of denial.

I stay silent.

‘But you understand me.’ Joe looks at me again before glancing down at the bag of possessions he’s been given – his belongings from prison. I wonder if they contain Daniel’s sticker albums. I don’t want them back. Too many memories.

Maybe it’s the double gin and tonic Tony bought me, despite my asking for a single. Maybe it’s the relief that we’ve won. Maybe it’s because Joe reminds me so much of Daniel. Whatever it is, I find myself talking. ‘I had a brother once.’ My eyes wander out over the street – did I mention we are sitting outside? Even though it’s late afternoon, the weather is remarkably mild. Besides, by unspoken agreement we all needed some air after the courtroom. A couple walk past, arm in arm, and I can smell the woman’s expensive perfume. But then it turns to a different smell in my head. The smell of straw. And death.

I discovered Daniel was doing drugs when my mother sent me into his room to get him down for dinner, the week before his seventeenth birthday. He was chopping up white stuff with a kitchen knife.

‘That’s dangerous!’ I’d seen some of the sixth-form girls do something similar in the loos at school, though I’d never done drugs myself.

‘So what?’

‘What’s dangerous?’ Dad was behind us.

Swiftly Daniel shoved the evidence into his jeans pocket. Don’t say, his eyes pleaded. Don’t say.

‘Doing fifty miles per hour when you should be doing forty.’ I picked up the Learner Driver Handbook from the desk.

‘Of course you can’t, son. If you don’t understand that, you’ll never pass your driving test. Although frankly, I don’t think you should be taking it at all.’

‘Why not?’ Daniel’s dark eyes were glaring.

‘Because, as your instructor says, you drive too fast.’

‘At least I’m not doing what you are.’

A beat of silence. ‘What do you mean?’

Daniel’s eyes narrowed. ‘You know what I mean. I’ve heard you on the extension. More than once, in fact. And I’m going to tell Mum.’

Dad went very still. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

Nor did I.

‘It’s nothing,’ said my brother when I questioned him.

One of Daniel’s lies, I told myself, to cover his own behaviour and move the spotlight on to someone else. It had happened enough before.

That night, Daniel refused to come down to dinner. Instead, he stayed in his room, playing loud music that reverberated through the ceiling and made our heads ring.

‘Turn that down!’ yelled Dad, hammering at the door.

Daniel didn’t bother to reply. As usual, he’d put the bed against the door so no one could get in.

Later, as I passed my parents’ closed bedroom door, I heard them having an almighty row. There’d been others of course. All about Daniel. What is wrong with that boy? How can we cope any more? That sort of thing.

But this one was different. This one sent a chill down my bones.

‘I heard Daniel. Who were you on the phone to? Who is she?’

This was my mother.

‘No one.’

‘You swear? On the children’s lives?’

There was a silence. Then a low voice, which meant I had to press my head against the door to hear the rest. ‘… your fault. Don’t you realize? … lavished all your attention on Daniel … looked elsewhere.’

Mum’s distressed voice was all too clear. ‘So it’s the truth? How could you? Do you love her? Are you going to leave us?’

I couldn’t hear the reply. Only the desperate sound of weeping. On the other side of the door, I was bent double. Almost sick. Dad had been having an affair?