Beneath the Skin(52)
His private line rings. He snatches it quickly, stupid hope still tingling the end of his fingertips, but it’s only Mike.
‘Sorry to bother you at work, mate. I’m not sure how to put this,’ Mike starts.
Sami listens, stunned. ‘Bloody hell, Mike, that’s terrible. My God … I don’t know what to say …’ But his mind is already sharp, analytical, working out how this new development will affect their lives.
Hannah skips home ahead of Olivia along the tree-lined street. A hug at the school gate and then off, happy and carefree. No clinging today. ‘Stop when you get to the busy road and wait for me!’ Olivia calls.
Another mum walks with Olivia and chats. ‘So it’s back to bags full of nappies, stains on my shoulders from puke. No sleep, no hair washing. No independence. Struggling with the split demands when you’re finally back at work. Oh, and the joy of feeding bras. Not that I ever managed to wear anything remotely sexy in between.’
Olivia stops and looks at the other mum’s face. Her voice is smiling and so is she. ‘But it’s so exciting, isn’t it? To create a new person. To guess whether it’s a boy or a girl. To see what they look like, to get to know them as they grow.’
‘Congratulations, Hazel, that’s lovely news,’ Olivia says, squeezing her arm.
I don’t want another baby, Olivia thinks with sudden certainty as she catches Hannah’s hand to cross the busy road. I don’t want to be a mum for an additional five years. I need to get a doctor’s appointment. Soon, get referred. I need to do whatever needs to be done. Before it’s obvious. Before Mike notices.
Antonia sits at the kitchen table and accepts another cup of tea from Ruth, the police liaison officer. She’d replaced Mike in the armchair when Antonia woke up on the sofa, her eyes kind and watchful as she waited for the realisation of what had happened to dawn. The realisation that David was gone. Gone forever.
It had taken a few moments for Antonia to work out that she’d fallen asleep on the sofa. Reading poems as usual, she’d assumed, waiting for David to come home. She’d removed the blanket and sat up, searching for the slim volume, before noticing Ruth, and when the horrific recall of the evening before kicked in, she’d been grateful Ruth was there, calm and steady and kind. It had stopped the merging picture in her mind, the one she knows she’ll see far too often. Of David, a white body, the red water, wet clothes, her desperate hands. But now she wants her gone. She doesn’t want a stranger in her kitchen, in her cupboards, in her home.
She lifts her head and looks at Ruth. ‘I have to go out in a while,’ she says. ‘Thank you for staying. It’s been very good of you, but you can go now.’
‘Are you sure? I can stay. Or I can come back later. You’ll still be in shock. It takes time and support—’
‘Thank you, but no. I have friends, friends who’ll be around. In fact that’s where I’m going now. A promise I made …’
Ruth eventually leaves with a nod, dropping her business card on the hall table and insisting that Antonia calls any time. Antonia picks up her mobile then, clutching it tightly, framing her words to Sophie. But nothing sounds right. She’s certain that Sophie will be angry for not being told as soon as she found David’s body. Before the ambulance, before the police. She’s still not sure why she didn’t. So she puts down the phone, deciding it’s better in person; she’ll wait until she collects her for the fertility clinic this afternoon as planned.
Giving the bathroom a wide berth, she walks through every room, checking for dirty footprints and disarray to fill the time. She’d never noticed it before, but her footsteps echo as she walks down the stairs. A dog would be nice, just for company, she thinks. But of course that would be wrong. David, who is dead, had offered her one, an orphan she could have given a home. But unprepared for his suggestion, she’d responded with a knee-jerk lie, telling him she was allergic. The thought almost makes her cry, but she doesn’t, focusing instead on the visit ahead.
Driving the ten miles to Didsbury on autopilot, she’s almost glad her anxiety about Sophie, and what to say, blocks out thoughts of David and why he felt the need to do something so extreme. But even before she opens her mouth at Sophie’s front door, the reception she’s given is shocking.
Sophie can barely stand. ‘You can turn your fucking fake arse around and go back to the gutter where you came from.’ Then, finger pointing, face sneering. ‘Don’t bother with that innocent gaze, it doesn’t work with me, I know you too well. “Oh Sami, why don’t you just pop over to my house without your wife knowing and I’ll just flutter my eyelids and remind you of old times? Oh, and perhaps I’ll just fuck you while you’re here?”’
Sophie teeters, still clasping the door. ‘You married that prat David, so we both know you’ll fuck anything.’
‘You’ve been drinking,’ Antonia replies, stating the obvious. But she feels cold and detached, the harshness of her own voice surprising her. ‘You have an appointment at the clinic and you’re drunk. You’re a disgrace. You don’t deserve to be a mother.’
Sophie laughs, spittle flying from her mouth. ‘Well, as it happens, I agree. I’m not going to the fucking hospital and I don’t want to see your holy fucking face ever again.’