The Forgetting(74)
Stephen has been having an affair while we have been grieving the loss of our son.
The thought wraps itself around my neck, presses down on my windpipe. I double over, mouth open wide, encourage short breaths in and out of my lungs.
I think about the woman’s name written in the front of the book, wonder who she is, where he met her, what she looks like. Whether she knows about my existence or whether Stephen has weaved an elaborate web of lies for her too.
And then a new speculation inveigles its way into my thoughts, and I try to ignore it, but it is persistent, determined, demands to be noticed.
What if Stephen had planned to leave me and it is only the aftermath of my accident that is forcing him to stay? What if the only reason he is still here is because his conscience won’t allow him to go?
My head throbs, and I know I cannot stay here any longer, breathing this stale air.
Armed with two thick bundles of letters, I make my way down the ladder, realise how sturdy it is, wonder if there are more secrets up there that Stephen doesn’t want me to find.
Wrenching open the chest of drawers in our bedroom, I thrust my hand into the far right corner, fingers scrabbling until I have found what I am looking for. Pulling out the mobile phone Zahira gave me, I press a finger on the power button, wait to see if the battery is still charged. The screen lights into life, and I flick through the menu, find the address book and click on the only name in there, hoping and praying that she will answer.
LIVVY
BRISTOL
Livvy stood for a moment in the centre of the sitting room, savouring the silence. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been home alone: probably almost nine months ago, in the week before Leo was born.
Rousing herself into action, she ran through a mental list of the things she needed to do: pack up the bathroom, organise their moving-day necessities, double-check the cleaners were coming before the tenants moved in on Sunday. Her parents had said she could leave Leo with them for as long as she needed today, but given he’d be staying with them for the weekend while she and Dominic oversaw the move, she didn’t want to be separated from him for too long.
Packing her toiletries into a cardboard box, she wondered when she might confess to Dominic about yesterday’s meeting with Imogen. There had been a moment during their video call last night when she had almost told him, before realising it was a conversation that needed to happen in person. Once they were settled in London, she reasoned to herself, she would tell him then.
Heading down to the kitchen for a glass of water, she saw it straight away: the bag containing Leo’s lunch of pureed sweet potato, pureed mango, his bottle of expressed breast milk. Cursing under her breath, she looked at her watch, knew that Leo would need his lunch soon. Mentally calculating the time, she figured it would only be a twenty-minute round trip to her parents’ as long as she didn’t stay too long.
When her dad opened the front door, his face seemed to race through a flurry of emotions. ‘Livvy, what are you doing back here?’
Livvy held up the offending bag. ‘I forgot to bring Leo’s lunch and snacks earlier.’ She stepped into the hallway, past her dad and into the sitting room. And when she saw who was there, relaxing on her parents’ sofa, it was as though her heart had lurched into her throat.
Next to her mum, bouncing Leo on her lap, was Imogen.
Livvy swooped Leo out of Imogen’s arms, held him tight against her chest. ‘What are you doing here?’
Her mum and Imogen jumped to their feet, Hazel’s face infused with panic. ‘Imogen just popped round, she just wanted to see Leo before you left for London.’
‘And you let her in? After everything I’ve told you?’
‘I’m sorry.’ Imogen glanced between Hazel and Robert as though waiting for someone to come to her rescue. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you. But when you wouldn’t let me see Leo—’
‘Oh, so it’s my fault that you’ve wheedled your way into my parents’ house?’
‘No, of course not, it’s just—’
‘Let’s all try to calm down, shall we?’
Livvy whipped her head around to her dad. ‘Don’t tell me to calm down. You let a total stranger into your house to play with my son and you don’t think I should be angry?’ She turned back to Imogen. ‘How did you even know where my parents live?’
Imogen’s eyes darted between the trio of faces, her cheeks the colour of beetroot.
‘Of course. You followed me, didn’t you?’
‘I just wanted to hold Leo. He’s my grandson.’
‘And he’s my son. And you don’t get to decide if you have access to him.’ Livvy’s heart thudded in her chest, her hands shaking. ‘After everything you put Dominic through, you really think I’m going to let you anywhere near my son?’
Imogen’s body became rigid, her voice implacable. ‘You shouldn’t believe everything Dominic tells you.’
Disbelief surged through Livvy’s veins. ‘I’ve had enough of this. It’s got to stop. You can’t come round here, harassing my parents like this.’
‘She wasn’t really harassing us, love—’
Livvy shot a furious glance at her mum. ‘She turns up here, uninvited, having followed me to your address, to get access to my son when I’ve explicitly told her she can’t see him, and you don’t think that’s harassment?’ Livvy felt as though she had stepped into an alternative reality where nobody but her could see common sense. She turned back to Imogen. ‘You need to leave.’