My Husband's Wife(88)

A man who was considered innocent by the rest of the world. Because of me.

Yet what’s really had me jumping at shadows this holiday are Joe’s continued allegations about Tom. I kept expecting my old client to ring or, even worse, just walk in through the door and insist (rightly or wrongly) that Tom is his child. After all, he knows where my parents live.

No wonder I was edgy. On the verge of hysteria, more like. Time and time again, I almost told my husband but managed to stop myself. He wouldn’t understand. No one could. If my poor mother didn’t have enough on her plate, I might even have confided in her.

But one look at her worn face – exhausted with looking after my son who should be our responsibility – stopped me. This was one I had to sort out for myself.

In a way, it was a relief having Carla there. A stranger in the midst of a tense, wobbly family makes everyone behave themselves at a time of year when the whole world is meant to be happy. In fact, that’s why I’d invited her.

Ed had jumped at the idea and I knew why.

Hadn’t I realized at our reunion in the gallery that she could save us? Ed needed to paint her. It would revive his career. Then, at Christmas, I watched him from across the table as he thanked her. ‘I didn’t even have to suggest it,’ he’d said excitedly later on. ‘She brought up the idea herself. We’re going to arrange a sitting in January. Don’t you see, Lily? This could be the start of a new phase in my life!’

He was so buoyed up that we almost forgot to argue about Tom. And work. Of course I’d had to check my emails (‘Yes, Mum. Even during the break’), but that was par for the course. And there were a few sticky moments when Carla kept asking about Daniel.

‘Why don’t you just tell her he’s dead?’ Ed finally demanded.

I wanted to scream at him then. Couldn’t he understand? Daniel was mine. He was none of Carla’s business.

And then there’d been that hideous row about Carla’s begging letters, where Ed accused me of killing his inspiration.

‘Did you have a good Christmas?’ asks my secretary as I settle into my desk.

‘Yes, thanks,’ I answer automatically.

Then I glance at the sparkling diamond on her left hand. ‘Do I gather that congratulations are in order?’

She nods excitedly. ‘I couldn’t believe it. He put the ring in the Christmas pudding! I almost swallowed it when –’

And that’s when the phone goes. It’s a woman. A frantic mother. Her son has been arrested for drink-driving. He’s in the cells right now. Can we help?

Thank goodness for work. It shuts everything out. It seals the gaps where the gas is seeping through. It helps me to forget that Mum is, right now, helping Tom to prepare for his first week back at school, where he will go to bed every night without my bedtime kiss or Mum’s.

‘Oh, and one more thing,’ says my secretary. ‘It was in the in-tray when I arrived.’

A photograph. It’s in an envelope bearing just my name and the word PRIVATE in handwritten capitals.

The picture clearly shows a junction without any road marks.

The night porter, who is just finishing his shift, confirms my worst fears. A man with a short haircut gave him the envelope last night.

Slowly, I rip the photograph into little bits and then hand them to my secretary. ‘For the confidential waste bin,’ I say.

‘You don’t need the information then?’

‘No.’

From now on, I win cases on my own.





38


Carla


Not long after Boxing Day, Carla got up to find that Lily had already gone back to work on the 6.05 a.m. train. ‘A client needs her attention,’ Ed had muttered.

After Lily’s departure, everyone seemed so much more relaxed. No more snide comments. No more, ‘Please, Tom. Just sit still for a moment, can’t you?’

Yet even without Lily’s prickly presence, Carla still felt there was something wrong in the Devon house. Lily’s mother had been particularly nice to her, but in a way that suggested there was something to hide. She felt sure it was to do with Daniel, the son no one wanted to talk about.

Perhaps they were estranged? Carla considered her own home in Italy, where many of the neighbours continued to snub her for her illegitimate status, even though her mother’s ‘disgrace’ had happened so long ago.

Carla spent her last day in Devon walking with Ed and Tom along the beach – all part of vital preparation for the next move. Actually, it was good fun! She paid particular attention to Tom, teaching him some Italian phrases, and noted with pleasure that he seemed to like her already. He was a quick learner too, even though he had to hit his knee with his left hand every time he got a phrase right. ‘One of his rituals,’ Ed whispered, as if he knew she’d understand.

Carla had also been careful to endear herself to Lily’s parents. ‘Tom’s at a special school during the week, you know,’ his grandfather said to her just before she left for the station. ‘We all find it very difficult. You, though, seem to have the knack.’

‘Come back again,’ Lily’s mother said, pressing her cheek against hers on one side. Such an odd English tradition not to do the second cheek! ‘You are good for us.’

When the time came to leave for the station, Carla didn’t want to go. On the train she was buzzing. She and Ed had arranged to meet to discuss the sitting. ‘I can’t wait,’ he’d said, squeezing her hand as she’d left.