The Other Woman(56)

‘Adam, what part of this are you not getting?’ I cried, tears springing to my eyes. ‘She did it on purpose. She knew why we’d fallen out and got her there to upset me.’

‘But she wouldn’t dream of doing that,’ he said. ‘I think you’re just being paranoid.’

‘You need to speak to her, to find out what the hell her problem is because, if you don’t, she’ll destroy us.’

He let out a short laugh. ‘A little melodramatic, wouldn’t you say?’

‘I mean it, Adam. You need to have it out with her. This personal vendetta against me has got to stop.’

‘She’s never said anything about you, against you, or to belittle you.’ He was standing now.

‘You can believe what you want to believe, but I’m telling you, you’re living in cloud cuckoo land. You’re completely in denial.’

‘She’s my mother, for Christ’s sake. I think I know her better than you do.’

I looked at him and kept my voice calm and steady. ‘Whatever her problem is, you need to sort it out. I will not put up with it any longer.’

He smiled and shook his head condescendingly.

‘Do you hear me?’ I shouted, as if to labour the point.

I walked into the bedroom and slammed the door shut. If he wasn’t prepared to do something about Pammie, then I would.





26

I slid under the water as the doorbell rang, the sound suddenly deafened by the crackle of bubble bath quietly popping above me.

Go away, I silently pleaded.

And I thought my prayers had been answered, but just as I pushed myself up, the rudimentary chime echoed around the flat again.

‘Oh, leave me alone!’ I said out loud.

It buzzed and buzzed again.

‘Okay, I’m coming,’ I muttered, annoyed that my pampering session had come to a premature end. I scooped my hair up into a towel and grabbed my dressing gown from the hook on the wall.

‘This had better be important,’ I said, as I opened the door, expecting to see Pippa or Seb standing there.

‘James!’ I instinctively pulled my gown tighter around me, in the vain hope that it might somehow make me feel less vulnerable. ‘Adam’s not in,’ I said, without opening the door another inch. ‘He’s having a drink with the boys from work.’

‘I haven’t come to see Adam,’ he said, his speech a little slurred. He gently pushed on the door.

‘Now’s not a good time,’ I said, my heart beating fast, my bare foot trying to hold the door firm.

‘I need to talk to you,’ he said. ‘I’ve not come here to cause trouble.’

I looked at him, his kind eyes and soft features, his full lips upturned ever so slightly at the corners. He’d been drinking, but he seemed friendly, approachable. I eased the pressure off the door and moved out of the way, letting him come in. He smiled and pushed his hair back, away from his eyes. It felt like I was watching Adam from ten years ago, back when he was with Rebecca. I wondered if the peppered spots of grey at Adam’s temples and the vexed frown he now wore daily were a result of Rebecca’s untimely death. It couldn’t have been easy, being such a young man, with his life planned out ahead of him, intending to share it with the one he loved, only to lose her so suddenly and so unnecessarily. I didn’t give Adam enough credit for having pulled himself out of the hole he must have been in, and fighting back.

‘Help yourself to a drink,’ I said, signalling towards the kitchen.

He smiled and raised his eyebrows suggestively.

‘A tea or coffee, I mean. I’ll just go and get changed.’

I heard a cork being sucked out of a bottle, as I combed my wet hair in the bathroom mirror, the glass still steamed up from my hot bath. The water lay stagnant, the foam bubbles dissipated, and I reached in to remove the plug, then folded my discarded towel and hung it on the heated rail.

It didn’t matter what I looked like – why would it? – but I wanted to check my reflection anyway. I rubbed a circle in the misted mirror, and pulled back as I saw James standing behind me, a glass of red wine in his hand.

Time seemed to stand still, the only sound the bath water gently gurgling as it ran away.

‘James, I . . .’ I spun round to face him, my wraparound gown falling open at the chest.

‘I’m sorry . . . I . . .’ he stuttered. ‘I’ll leave you to it.’

I quickly dressed in black leggings and one of Adam’s shirts, rolling up the sleeves as I walked into the living room. It occurred to me then that perhaps I’d subconsciously made a symbolic choice to show I was Adam’s girl.

‘So, what brings you here?’ I asked, as casually as I could.

‘I just thought I’d pop by,’ he said.

I walked over to the window. ‘You’ve not driven, have you?’ I couldn’t see his car in the street below.

‘No, I got a cab,’ he said.

‘All the way from Sevenoaks?’ I exclaimed.

He nodded.

‘Well, as I said, Adam’s not here, so I’m afraid it’s been a wasted journey.’

‘I’ve not come to see Adam.’

I poured myself a glass of red from the bottle on the kitchen countertop to calm myself.