Beneath the Skin(43)

And of course Misty at the bar. Her voice low, her eyes hidden from his. He repulsed even her.

He pulls up his collar, wraps his arms around himself and walks on. His mind is blank, there’s no point straining it any more. It’s started to shower. A car passes occasionally. Then a tractor.

‘Look after her properly, son,’ his father said.

Sophie carries the mug of tea in one hand and a slice of toast in the other. The mug is overfull and milky drink spills on to the carpet. Colour has returned to her cheeks and she’s grinning. Only Sophie can transform so easily, Antonia thinks.

‘A plate would be nice,’ she says, looking at the sad slice of toasted white bread. ‘Have you paté or something to go with that?’

Sophie narrows her eyes. ‘Paté? Listen to you!’ she declares. ‘No one would know you came from a grotty council estate in Northern Moor with benefit cheats and drug dealers as neighbours.’

‘Not everyone was like that, Soph. You read rubbish too often. Mr Bennett next door was nice, remember? Just an old man.’

‘He had a rusty oven in his front garden, Toni.’

‘Probably because no one offered him a lift to the tip. Anyway, it wasn’t so far from your house in Northenden.’

‘Ahem, a private house in the posh part of Northenden. Good job I was there to drag you out.’

‘For which I’m eternally grateful,’ she replies laughing.

‘Then promise me you’ll stay and keep me company until Sami comes home.’

Antonia looks at Sophie, but doesn’t reply. Even when they joke about old times, there’s always that tiny underlying message of ‘Never forget you owe me,’ or sometimes even, ‘I can expose you if I want to.’ But as she sits there on Sophie’s garish sofa, she realises that she doesn’t care any more. There isn’t much to expose. Does it really matter if she was christened with another name and told a few white lies along the way? Doesn’t everyone do that somehow in their lives, either to themselves or to others?

‘I’ll go when I’m ready to, Sophie,’ she replies evenly, gazing at the look of surprise on Sophie’s face. I want to get home to David, she thinks. She feels empowered by the events of the day. She didn’t jump the moment Sophie asked her to this morning. She decided it was best for Rupert to be with Charlie at the hospital and did something about it. She even argued with Helen. For once she’s stood up and been counted, and now she wants to go home to her husband, to explain about her dream last night, to apologise for her harsh words and to say, ‘Talk to me, tell me who you are, what you feel, how you are. Let’s be a couple, let’s communicate.’ She takes a deep breath and smiles; it feels like a challenge and she can’t wait.

David continues to walk towards home, one foot in front of the other, not noticing the rain or the countryside, his mind fitful.

Antonia must already know what he’s done. That explains it, he thinks. She knows about the money. Not just borrowing, but theft.

It makes sense of her words last night. Her anger, her hatred. ‘You disgust me,’ she said. She never really loved him and now he’s let her down. He’s made her unhappy, disappointed. In the worst possible way. And there is Sami Richards in the wings, with his arms open wide.

Life without Antonia. The thought is unbearable.

‘Look after her properly, son.’

He’s tried. He’s tried so hard to give her everything.

But as ever, he’s a failure.

The rain has become heavy. David tries to quicken his pace but the drum of his heart is loud in his ears, beating faster and faster, slowing him down. He suddenly understands that if he doesn’t rest, he’ll faint, so he sits where he stops, on a muddy verge with the rain teeming down.

He should call, ask for help, he thinks vaguely. But who would he call? Antonia or Charlie? Even Misty. He’s lost them all. So instead he closes his eyes and he drifts into an oblivion of sorts.

A vibration at his chest eventually rouses him: the mobile in his inside pocket. He’d forgotten it was there. His fingertips white with cold, he squints at the bright screen full of received messages.

But only one counts, Antonia (3)

He takes a deep breath, blows life into his hands and reads.

Everything OK? Dropping Rupert at the hospital. Sounds like Charlie’s stable, so that’s good.

Assume you’re busy at work. Going to Sophie’s now. I’m very late. Wish me luck!

Love you xxx PS Can we have a long talk later?

David puts his hands to his face, then shakes his head, looks to the murky sky and smiles. Love you xxx, the message says.

The grin pulls at the bruises on his face, but he doesn’t mind, not a bit. He needs to get home. There’s a garden nursery not far ahead. If he increases his pace, he can get there before it closes and buy a plant or a shrub or, if he’s blessed, the biggest bouquet of cut flowers they sell.

He stands up, breathes deeply and walks on.

Lucky, he remembers. They had named his collie dog Lucky.





CHAPTER NINETEEN


The afternoon is fun and Sophie is on form, pulling out snaps from high school, pointing to various faces and reminding Antonia of memories and moments she’s all but forgotten.

‘Look at this one, Toni. Year Eleven prom. My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding or what! Oh, God, look at Shannon Rocketry’s hair. Can you believe those shoes? The chavs always made more of an effort than us.’