Beneath the Skin(73)

Rachel looks hurt and turns away, the hat sullen on her lap. The car jolts as it stalls. Olivia sighs. ‘I’m sorry, Rach. I didn’t mean to shout. It’s dark and I’m just trying to concentrate on my driving. OK?’

‘Have you broken any yet?’ Antonia says to Mike’s white-shirted back.

He’s at the large sink with his sleeves rolled up. Suds are bubbling on to the drainer.

‘Absolutely not, not a chip in sight. Though I might’ve used too much washing-up liquid.’

Antonia smiles. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll give them a rinse in the other sink. That’s the beauty of having two!’

Mike turns his head and grins. She notices his teeth. They look very white against his stubble. He’s so darkly attractive and yet kind. His looks and personality don’t match, she thinks.

‘This feels like washing up at a friend’s house when you’re ten. Wanting to please and your mate looking daggers at you when his mum says how helpful you are.’

‘Were you always a good little boy? Wanting to please?’ she asks, her back to his at the sink.

‘Well, the mums liked me! But in my own home, if I’m honest, Mum did all the household stuff. Dad and I weren’t expected to.’

‘That’s terrible.’ Though as Antonia says it, she wonders why. David never lifted a finger in the house. She didn’t want him to. The house was her job and she liked it. Being David’s wife too. It made them both happy. But she hears Sami’s words from a few weeks ago when she tried to talk to him about Sophie. ‘Look at your own marriage,’ he said. What did he mean?

‘Oh, don’t worry, Olivia soon had me trained,’ Mike replies, turning back to his sink. ‘I should have taken my tie off, shouldn’t I?’

He flicks his black tie over his shoulder and continues with his chore as Antonia watches the soapy fingerprints on the tie disappear.

The washing up of the glassware has been a distraction. As has the sweeping of the kitchen floor and the emptying of the bins. Mike knows that the question will come at some point, but has no idea how he should or will reply.

He hovers near his jacket on the coat stand in the hall, debating on whether or not to call a taxi and escape, but Antonia appears from the kitchen. Her lips are slightly parted as she concentrates on carrying a full large glass of red wine. ‘Your reward for being such a “good boy” seeing as you’re not driving. Come on through and sit down.’

She’s tied her hair in a large knot at the top of her head. Mike thinks how young she looks. Exotic too. Her neck is long and slim, but her eyes seem hidden somehow, though he can see them quite clearly in her serious face.

Cheers, Olivia. You’ve really put this one on me, he thinks vaguely. But it feels right. Antonia’s shown him the cut, he’s already involved.

She sits down on the sofa, curls up her legs and bows her head. ‘I trust you to be honest, Mike,’ she starts and he knows that he will answer truthfully.

‘Was David having an affair with this Misty person?’

Mike takes a deep breath before answering. Seconds pass. His eyes reach hers, then he speaks. ‘I never discussed it with him. I believe that he saw her from time to time, but it’s not something I would describe as an affair.’

‘How would you describe it, then?’ Her question is immediate, her voice tight.

Mike rakes his hair. He finds it hard to explain what he thinks, but he wants to be honest. ‘She’s a fair bit older than David and it’s not as though he was after women in general. To be honest, I don’t think he particularly noticed them.’

‘Did he pay for it?’

Her question throws him. ‘No. I don’t know. Does it matter?’ he replies.

She stands from the sofa and stalks to the fireplace. ‘It does, actually.’ Then she turns and glares at Mike, her eyes dark and fierce. ‘What about you? Do you go to other women for either paid or unpaid relief? Is that what married men do? Am I just out of touch?’

‘No, I haven’t ever …’ His voice trails off. The conversation is going badly. He didn’t expect such anger. ‘Look, he adored you. You know that. I have no idea what their friendship was. It was just rumours. I’m sure it didn’t mean anything.’

‘Of course it meant something. Like his death meant something. It’s me, isn’t it? I’m cold and hard and unable to love.’

Mike stands too. He takes Antonia in his arms and holds her tightly. He wants to say that her words are ridiculous. He wants to tell her that she’s beautiful and very, very lovable. To say the words out loud, but some instinct holds him back.

‘Look, David’s mother died when he was young, right?’ he says instead, his head thoughtful but his body instinctively alert to hers.

Antonia pulls away slightly and searches his face with troubled eyes. ‘So, what are you saying? That she was some sort of mother substitute?’

‘Well, perhaps.’

She frowns and wipes the tears from her nose with the back of her hand. Then she looks at him straight. ‘Like you’re a father figure to me?’

Mike releases his arms and steps away. ‘Well, I’m not that old!’ His laugh sounds empty and his heart feels a stab. ‘But yes, in a way, I suppose so.’

The girl with the hair helps herself to juice from the fridge in the small kitchen annex. She sips it slowly from a pint glass and glares at Sophie without offering her any. Half an hour or maybe more passes before she detaches her spaced-out gaze from Sophie’s face, fetches some jeans and her mobile. Then another half before Barry turns up with a wry smile. He doesn’t look much different, Sophie observes. A youthful tanned face with thick greying hair. Still slim and fit. She can see why men, women and too-young girls still fancy him despite his being in his mid-fifties.