One Small Mistake(85)
‘I think we could all do with something to look forward to,’ I said, sounding like an enthusiastic children’s TV host. ‘We should have a little get-together.’
‘That would be lovely, Ada, but the downstairs is being repainted next week and it might be difficult to find a venue at such short notice.’
‘Hmm,’ I said, frowning as though in concentration. I counted to five before widening my eyes as if I’d just had a bright idea. ‘Well, it doesn’t need to be a huge celebration. Perhaps we could have a small gathering of twenty or so for drinks, and then the six of us plus Charlie and Tobin could go to Castello’s for a meal afterwards.’
‘Oh, Ada, that’s a wonderful idea,’ said Mum with more cheer in her voice than I’d heard in a long while. ‘We could host the drinks if you like,’ she offered.
‘Or we could have drinks at Jack’s,’ I said nonchalantly. ‘It’s far more spacious and much closer to town.’ I stared at Jack over the rim of my mug, and he returned my gaze with a steely one of his own.
‘Don’t worry, sweetheart,’ Kathryn said to Jack. ‘I know you haven’t been feeling your best of late.’
‘Oh?’ I said and refrained from facetiously asking, ‘Cramps?’ at the memory of the tampons in his basket.
‘Is your foot still bothering you, love?’ asked Mum. Then she turned to me. ‘Jack trod on a nail at a worksite a few weeks ago.’
‘Headaches,’ he said shortly.
‘He’s not sleeping well,’ Kathryn elaborated, and Jack’s expression soured.
‘Why aren’t you sleeping well, Jack?’ I asked.
‘I’m fine.’
‘Oh well, that’s great,’ I said brightly. ‘Drinks at yours around six on Friday night then?’ I held his stare, daring him to refuse and before he could, I added a sprinkle of challenge. ‘Unless you don’t think you can manage …’
His smile was easy and relaxed, but he was gripping the handle of his mug so tightly I thought it might snap off in his hand. ‘Great idea, Ada. Drinks at mine.’
Triumph. Instead of squealing with delight, I smiled demurely and said, ‘Perfect!’
The following Friday, in the taxi ride over to Jack’s, I studied my husband. He looked good in his best jeans and white shirt. His eyes have the beginnings of fine lines now. I don’t know how. It’s not as though we laugh together all that much anymore. Then, appraising me too, he said, ‘Isn’t that a little bit too … sexy for a middle-aged woman’s birthday celebration?’
I was wearing a pencil dress in livid scarlet with a Charlotte Tilbury lipstick to match. I always feel powerful in red and if there was ever a night to feel powerful, this was it. ‘At your request, I’ve worn this to many of your tiresome business dinners.’
He didn’t reply because we both knew he liked to show off to his colleagues what he had and they didn’t, and when it came to clients, whether it’s cars or accounts, sex sells.
Jack’s house isn’t the typical Ikea-bought black-furniture bachelor pad. If he has one positive attribute, it’s his good taste. Although the exposed brick work, sleek lines and distressed oak furniture of his home isn’t found in mine, I can appreciate its allure.
It’s not very often I attend an event as a guest instead of a host, but I was glad to leave the stress of cooking and cleaning and topping up glasses to someone else for a change. Jack was all smiles and charm as he seamlessly moved from one group of people to the next, handing out canapés and refreshing drinks, but the mask of calm slipped when he approached me, blue eyes flashing angrily. ‘There are far more than twenty people here, Ada.’
The perfect picture of innocence, I blinked and made a show of looking around the room. ‘There are?’
The only part I had in planning Kathryn’s birthday, besides manoeuvring it to Jack’s, was the guest list. I’d agreed to keep it small with only twenty attendees but squeezed in an extra ten on top of that at the last moment. The fact is, Elodie, the more people at his house, the busier he’d be and the more freedom I’d have to snoop.
‘Yes,’ he said through gritted teeth. ‘Can’t you count?’
‘Clearly not.’ I couldn’t help the slow curve of my lips as I recalled his remark at my garden party. ‘Remember, Jack, I didn’t even finish my A-levels.’
He looked like he wanted to crack me over the head with the bottle in his hand, right there and then. But he isn’t stupid. I took a sip of my champagne and watched him stalk away. When he was gone, I snuck into the kitchen and poured three bottles of tonic down the sink. As I’d hoped, a short while later, Jack told Charlie he was popping out to grab more mixer from the shop.
Heart thumping fast in my chest, I seized the opportunity and nipped upstairs. First, I used the bathroom in case anyone had followed me up, taking off my rings and placing them on the sink as I washed my hands. I left the tap on and closed the bathroom door behind me as I exited; if someone came looking for me, they’d hear the water running and assume I was in there.
Besides the bathroom door, there were four others. Where you could probably draw the first floor of Jack’s house from memory, I was struggling to recall ever having been up there. I pulled open the first door to my left, but it was just a cupboard full of spare towels and toiletries, so I swung right, passed the bathroom door and opened another: Jack’s study. It was much the same as the other rooms in his house, sleek, minimal and neat. I ran a finger over his desk and saw there wasn’t a speck of dust. Really, Elodie, his living space was serial-killer clean. I expected both of his desk drawers to be locked. They weren’t, but there was nothing incriminating inside either of them, just organised stationery and sketch books. Frustrated, I stood back, looking for more drawers to open, more paperwork to riffle through, but besides the exceptionally tidy desk, his framed qualifications above and the built-in bookshelves adjacent, there was nothing else.