He Said/She Said(97)

‘You never know,’ she said. ‘The weather forecasters get it wrong all the time.’ Her assumption almost made me glad of the cloud.

I’d always scorned the idea of extra-sensory perception but I swear at that moment I felt Beth behind me, and I turned slowly away from Laura to see her leaning against a tree, looking for all the world like just another hippy soaking up the vibe. I shook my head at her, and in response she made a tiny backwards nod that I interpreted as a summons.

Tapping into my newly emerging creative streak, I swivelled to look at the perfectly functioning tea urn. ‘Oh, what’s going on here?’ I twiddled the temperature knob as Beth slunk behind the tent. ‘It’s buggered again, there’s a loose connection round the back. You stay here, have your drink, while I fix this.’ I kissed the top of Laura’s head again.

The trees at the back of the tent dripped with wind chimes that jangled like scraped nerves. I had a sudden urge to round up every wind chime ever made and bash them all flat with a hammer. Beth’s hair had dried in long black snakes and thread veins burned scarlet against the greens and whites of her eyes. There was intimacy between us but she was a stranger, and it didn’t seem right that the two states could co-exist.

‘That her?’ Her arms were folded but her foot was repeatedly scuffing the forest floor, gouging a trench in the dirt.

I was indignant. ‘Of course it’s her. I don’t go around . . .’ but I trailed off. Why should Beth believe me, going on available evidence? ‘I’ve never been unfaithful to her apart from you.’

She snarled a bitter laugh. ‘You’re saying I’m special? You’re saying I should be flattered?’ That was, in fact, exactly what I meant; it had sounded better in my head. ‘No – I don’t know – I’m just saying, please don’t say anything to Laura. I’m so sorry I wasn’t straight with you, but this isn’t her fault, this would break her heart.’ My legs buckled with a primitive compulsion to drop to my knees.

A sudden gust of wind shook the trees around us; leaves roared like the sea and bells rang out of time.

Beth let her arms drop to her sides. ‘Are you in love with her?’

For twenty-one years women had ignored me. Now that I apparently had worth, I wished it away. ‘Yes,’ I said, sensing the need for honesty. ‘It’s everything.’

Beth rocked from side to side, as though she were physically weighing her options. ‘I’ve got to say it looks convincing, from the outside, at a glance. Hard to say without getting her take on it all.’

Everything inside me went loose. ‘Please don’t say anything, I’m begging you.’

‘I don’t need to.’ Her words round, controlled, bulging with unshed tears. ‘If it’s as good as you say it is, I’m not going to wreck her life just because you can’t keep it in your pants. And if you’re the arsehole that I think you are, she’ll find out sooner or later.’

She kept her word; that is, the dreaded confrontation failed to materialise. I saw Beth twice that day, watching us across fields, through crowds, as though by examining us from a distance she could measure what we had. But how could she, from the outside? Even I hadn’t known what I had until I’d come so close to fucking it up.





Chapter 52





LAURA

21 March 2015

The light from the screen hurts my eyes as I check my phone with the wariness of someone coming round from a drunken stupor. That’s how last night feels: surreal, dreamlike, beyond my control. Kit hasn’t responded to my angry text and I think of him, fast asleep in his bunk, unaware of the storm he’s coming home to. I don’t know if I want to hit him or hold him.

At seven, my phone rings, Kit’s photo on the screen; he should be pulling into Newcastle round about now. I decline the call; this is a conversation we need to have face to face. Sixty seconds later the messages start.



Please pick up



Look I know it seems like the end of the world but we can get through this

Please talk to me baby



I wish you hadn’t found out that way but I promise I can explain, we can get over this

I’m so so so sorry

It is at least gratifying that he understands the severity of what he’s done and its potential consequences. But I text back, just to shut him up.



I really don’t want to do this over the phone. I’ll see you at home.



While Ling dashes around trying to gather her case notes, and find a matching pair of shoes, I go over the book that Piper was supposed to read last night, and carefully forge the appropriate page in her reading diary. Juno haggles with Ling for an extra three pounds for coffee on the way home. Mother and daughter are the original immovable object and irresistible force. I’ve got all this to look forward to; I wonder again whether I’m carrying boys, girls, or one of each.

I catch Juno on her way out and slip a fiver into her blazer pocket. She rewards my wink with a rare kiss before disappearing, leaving an unsubtle waft of celebrity perfume in her wake. After Ling heads for the station, exclaiming at the novelty of leaving for work on time, I walk Piper the fifty yards to her school, holding her hand to cross the road and taking the old comfort and pride that strangers might think she’s mine. This will be my twins’ school and I notice with concern that the infant school gates have been colonised by blondes in Breton tops; the ethnic diversity you see in the upper years slowly disappearing. I disapprove of the social cleansing of my neighbourhood, the influx of yummy mummies, even as I acknowledge that, to the outsider, I’m one of them.