My Husband's Wife(76)

So I put it away, pretending to myself that I would deal with it at ‘some point’. And then I conveniently forgot about it. It wasn’t the right thing to do. I can see that now. But if I had written back to Carla explaining our financial situation, she might not have believed it.

‘We were worried when you left so suddenly all those years ago,’ Ed is saying now. ‘Why didn’t you tell us you were going?’

His question takes me back to the last time I saw Carla. That awful row between Tony, Francesca and me. On top of that, I was trying to work out if Ed and I should stay together.

‘Yes,’ I say, gritting my teeth, ‘we were very worried about you.’ Then my eye falls on the painting behind her. It’s hard not to. There are paintings of Carla as a child all over the room.

‘What do you think of your pictures?’ I ask. Might as well play devil’s advocate, I tell myself. Try to draw Carla out. It would also make me look more innocent in the matter of those unanswered letters.

The young woman in front of me flushes. ‘They are lovely.’ Then she flushes again. ‘I do not mean that I am lovely, you understand –’

‘Oh, but you are,’ breaks in Ed. ‘Such a beautiful child. We both thought so, didn’t we, Lily?’

I nod. ‘Remember that portrait of you which he entered for an award all those years ago? It got third prize. And although it didn’t sell then, it was recently bought by a collector.’

I watch her intently. She had mentioned both the competition and the sale in her letters. So I knew that she knew about them. But now she gasps as if in surprise, placing fingers to her mouth. Both are exquisitely painted in matching rose. The nails are a perfect oval. Not one chip on the polish. ‘Fantastic,’ she coos.

Perhaps she’s embarrassed now about the demanding tone of that second letter that she thinks we haven’t received. I can understand that.

‘That’s why I was trying to find you,’ adds Ed eagerly.

Really? If so, that’s news to me. Sometimes Ed says things just to please people.

‘I got quite a lot of money,’ my husband babbles on. He’s getting excited, almost high. I know the signs. It means he is capable of behaving recklessly. I touch his arm, hoping to slow him down, but he continues. ‘It helped me get a gallery of my own!’

There’s a slight pause as my husband and I both think the same thing. That happens quite a lot nowadays. Maybe it’s the same for all couples who have been married for a long time. ‘We ought to thank you,’ I say, reluctantly accepting that this would indeed be the honourable thing to do, even though we can’t afford it.

‘We should, indeed,’ agrees Ed. He’s looking away from me, but I know his mind is going round. How much should he pay? What could we afford?

‘Where are you living?’ I ask, to buy time.

‘In a place called King’s Cross. In a hostel.’ She sighs. ‘There are cockroaches everywhere.’

Suddenly that confident woman is no longer there. I see a young girl who has just left her native country and is now finding her feet in a city that has probably changed a great deal. I stop wondering about how much we owe her and how her presence makes me feel nervous because it reminds me of the past. Once more, I want to help. Partly out of guilt.

‘You must come over for dinner.’

‘Yes.’ Ed is glowing with excitement. I know why. Already he is painting her in his head. It’s a great angle. I can see that. Italian Girl Grown Up. No more curls. A bob instead. A new look. Maybe pastels instead of acrylics. He’s been talking about changing style. It suddenly occurs to me that Carla’s reappearance in our lives could be exactly what my husband needs.

‘Come over tonight,’ Ed says.

No. Not so soon. We need time to talk. ‘Tonight isn’t so good,’ I say, reaching into my bag for a pen. ‘Give me your number and I’ll call you.’

Carla scribbles it down eagerly. ‘I start college soon, but I am sure I will have some free time.’ Then she stands up straight. ‘I have done a law degree in Italy and now I am going to take a transfer course and then qualify as a lawyer in England. Like you, Lily!’

Why is my chest tightening? Why do I feel as though this beautiful girl is creeping on to my territory? It’s my patch. Not hers.

‘It’s a very competitive world,’ I find myself saying. ‘Tough. Unforgiving. Are you sure about this?’

‘You were my inspiration!’ Her eyes are bright. ‘I always remember that famous boiler murder case you were working on when Ed was painting me. I studied it at university. What was the man’s name – Joe Thomas? “This man is innocent,” you kept saying. “I am going to make the rest of the world see that.” ’

Why do I feel this is a prepared speech? That there’s another reason for her coming here? Or is it me, being neurotic because the girl has mentioned the man I have tried so hard to forget?

I do my best not to think about my phone call earlier today.

‘Lily will be able to help you with your assignments,’ Ed bursts in. He’s like an excited child, keen to please. I understand why. He feels guilty. After all, he’s built a career on this girl.

‘We will be in touch to arrange dinner at our place.’ I press a card into her hand. ‘Meanwhile, here are our details.’