Be Careful What You Hear (2 page)

The post natal
depression had brought on a deep, entrenched paranoia, and for a
time I hadn’t trusted James at all. In my mind, he was not only
having an affair, but was preparing to leave me for a younger woman
and
take Grace with him. At first, the identity of this
younger woman had been a mystery to my paranoid self. But soon I
zeroed in on Erika Larson, the twenty-something dentist who had
been taken on by our practice to cover my maternity leave. She was
young, beautiful, intelligent, and shared our passion for oversees
volunteering, having spent a few years in Eastern Europe treating
children in care homes run by charities. Erika, and her supposed
relationship with James, became the focus of my obsession and
insecurity. I dropped by the practice uninvited, thinking I’d catch
them. I went through his wallet, scrolled through his text
messages, and scoured his email account. Finding nothing was just
more proof that he was hiding things well, and was therefore very
serious about the affair. By the time I confronted James with the
allegations, after weeks of self-consuming dark thoughts, I had
even planned to run away with Grace.

James hadn’t
reacted the way I had expected.

I thought he’d
be angry and defensive. Or that he’d take the opportunity to come
clean, and make his break for freedom with his new woman. But
instead, he had talked me down from the heights of despair, and
held me tightly as I sobbed into his shoulder. That night was the
beginning of the end of the terrible times, and the next day I
sought help from our local doctor, accompanied by my husband.

But what about
now? I dried the dishes with a clean tea towel, and put them away,
considering again what I had heard.

What I
thought
I had heard.

I looked over
to the photo frame. I was being stupid. I’d been half-asleep and my
thoughts had intruded into my reality, fusing the two. I retrieved
the receiver and switched it back on, placing it in full view on
the sideboard. I looked up towards the ceiling. There had been no
further noise from upstairs after hearing James’ footsteps. Maybe
he’d gone to the bathroom.

After giving
him a few more minutes, I moved to the bottom of the stairs, and
peered up into the darkness, listening for any sign of life.

There was
none.

I moved slowly
up the stairs, not wanting to wake Grace with my ascent. I clicked
open the stair gate at the top of the stairs, which we had only
just fitted in readiness for Grace’s toddling years. Down the
corridor the door to Grace’s room was pushed to, while off to the
left our bedroom door was open, with the room pitch black. I could
see that James wasn’t in the bathroom, immediately to my left, or
the back bedroom, straight ahead of me.

He was either
in the main bedroom, or back in Grace’s room. The stillness was
unnerving.

I didn’t want
to risk disturbing Grace, so I tried our room first, pushing at the
door. In the shadows I could see James sat up at the head of the
bed, head down. As he lifted his head, the light from the
streetlamp directly outside bathed his face in an eerie orange
hue.

I pushed the
door to behind me as I flipped on the light. James had been crying,
and he looked like a little boy who had just been caught out doing
something naughty. I took a step closer, shocked at the sight of
him, wet faced on the bed. ‘Are you okay?’ I kept my voice hushed,
aware that noise carried through the wall between our room and
Grace’s.

He nodded,
bringing a hand across his face. He squinted at me in the harsh
light. I nodded towards the bedside lamp and he reached around and
turned that on as I simultaneously switched off the main light.

‘You’ve been
crying,’ I said, as I slipped off my slippers and slid onto the bed
next to him.

‘I’m okay,’ he
replied, brushing one last stubborn tear away. ‘It’s just a stress
release, that’s all. It’s been a hard couple of weeks.’

‘You’re
thinking about Margaret?’ Margaret Hughes was a dental hygienist at
the practice. She’d worked there for fifteen years – well before we
had arrived – and everyone saw her as the heart and soul of the
place. Two weeks ago she’d come to James with a concern: a black
spot on her tongue. James had taken a look immediately, and the
initial diagnosis was clear.

Cancer.

Last week, an
urgent hospital referral had confirmed that initial fear. Margaret
had cancer of the tongue. Further histology, and scans, were
required to determine whether the cancer had spread, and what the
treatment would be. It was an extremely worrying time, and Margaret
had taken some time off with her husband to come to terms with what
had happened.

James blew out
his cheeks. ‘It’s affected me more than I thought.’

I placed a hand
on the back of his head and kissed him softly on the cheek. ‘It’s
okay to be upset.’

James gave a
slow series of nods, mulling over things. ‘I just hope she’s
okay.’

‘Me too.’

We sat there in
silence for a minute or so.

‘Was Grace okay
going to sleep?’

‘Perfect. No
need for a third story tonight.’

I was
pleasantly surprised. She rarely went down that quickly. ‘Maybe
that walk in the park tired her out.’ The weather had been
remarkably mild for early November, and I’d taken the opportunity
to go to the local park for a stroll.

‘She
was
very sleepy.’

I suddenly
remembered what had brought me upstairs, and my stomach lurched.
But I was now convinced that I had been dreaming. Both alternative
explanations were scary - that it had been James saying those
things, and planning to do something terrible to us all. Or, that I
hadn’t been dreaming, or hearing my husband for real, but
hallucinating. Hallucinations, both visual and audible, were
serious symptoms of post-natal depression. Thankfully I hadn’t
suffered from either during my four months of hell. But what if my
recovery wasn’t total? What if the horrors were returning, worse
than before?

‘We’re okay,
aren’t we?’ I said, looking right into James’ eyes. ‘We’re through
the bad times.’

James didn’t
hesitate. ‘Of course. The bad times are behind us.’

I smiled as I
placed my head on his chest, closed my eyes and listened to his
heartbeat.

‘I’ve been
dreaming,’ he said, holding me close. ‘Of getting away from it all.
Just the three of us. Alone with ourselves, where no one can find
us.’

My skin
prickled and my body stiffened.

We’re all
going away…

And that’s
where it will all end.

3

James left at
seven, his usual time for heading out to the practice by tube. The
ten mile journey from our home in Balham to the practice in Tower
Hamlets took around fifty minutes on a good day. But when there was
trouble on the lines, which there frequently was, then it could be
much longer. In summer, the journey underground would be hellishly
hot, as well as packed. James had talked of buying a bicycle, but
I’d managed to dissuade him – the fatalities in the capital over
the last few years had been enough to convince me that the trek on
the tube, although sometimes uncomfortable, was preferable to lying
crushed beneath the wheels of a lorry. We did have a car, a six
year old Volvo, but rarely used it for travel in and around the
city – neither of us liked driving that much, and driving around
the city streets was certainly not something we enjoyed. We had
toyed with getting rid of the vehicle, but had decided we used it
enough to warrant keeping it.

I had woken
with a new perspective on the evening’s events. In the cold light
of day, it was easier to rationalise what had happened. I didn’t
think I had been hallucinating, but neither did I think that what
I’d heard had been anything sinister. By the time I had fed and
changed Grace, then taken her downstairs, I’d decided that it had
either been a dream, or I had misheard in my half-wakened state.
Maybe James had been talking to Grace about wanting to get away,
just as he had voiced to me just over an hour later, but my mind
had confused the words.

It was now just
before nine. In an hour I was due to meet my good friend Sophie at
one of our favourite cafes in the high street. Then it was on to
Bounce and Rhyme
, the singing group for parents and babies,
which took place at the local library.

I knelt down
with Grace, who was lying on the play mat, and let her grasp gently
at my fingers.

‘I know I’m
incredibly biased, but you’re the most beautiful little person I’ve
ever had the privilege to set eyes on.’

She smiled at
me, her blue eyes twinkling. With my free hand I stroked her
super-smooth cheek. Nature knew what it was doing when babies were
designed.

Someone rang
the doorbell.

‘You’ll have to
come with me, poppet.’ I scooped up Grace and made my way to the
door.

‘Hi, Georgina.’
It was our neighbour, Max. Recently retired from a job in banking,
Max and his wife Audrey were back in town between holidays. They’d
just returned from a cruise around the Mediterranean, and were due
to fly out to Vancouver in three weeks’ time for a trip around the
Rockies on the
Rocky Mountaineer
railroad.

‘Hi.’ Grace
nuzzled up against my neck, as I watched Max struggle for the right
words.

‘I wasn’t sure
whether to tell you now, or wait until James gets home. But I
decided it was better to let you know as soon as possible.’

Max’s manner
set me on edge. Instinctively I held Grace closer. ‘What’s the
matter?’

‘It’s probably
nothing, but last night, I was looking out of our bedroom window,
at the back, and I thought I might have seen someone in your back
garden.’ He looked embarrassed at saying it, as if even then he was
doubting himself.

‘You saw
someone?’

‘Well, maybe,
yes, I
think
so. I saw
something
. A figure, possibly.
In your back garden. It was dark, I couldn’t really see. I only
looked out of the window to see the full moon, and do a bit of star
gazing.’

‘You could tell
it was a person though?’ He meant well, but his hesitation was
frustrating. You don’t tell someone you’ve seen an intruder in
their back garden without being sure.

‘Yes, I think
so. I’m as sure as I can be. Moving around, near to your back patio
area.’

I shuddered at
the thought. ‘What time would it have been?’

‘Nine
thirty.’

It was when
James and I had been upstairs, lying on the bed.

Grace was
trying to wriggle away from me, but I managed to bring her back
under control. ‘Did you see what they did?’

‘No, I don’t
know. I lost them in the dark. That’s one reason why I wanted to
come around – so you can check if anything is missing from the
back. They might have been after valuables in your shed. Maybe that
lawn mower of yours. Sorry, I nearly called the police, but I
wasn’t sure whether I’d just imagined it.’

I knew how he
felt. ‘Thanks for letting me know. I’ll take a look.’

I said my
goodbyes to Max and took Grace through to the back of the house.
From the patio doors I couldn’t see that anything had been
disturbed. The shed was closed and padlocked. The plants in their
pots, dotted around the garden, were still arranged as normal.

‘He probably
just imagined it,’ I said to Grace, who was reaching out for the
glass of the door. I did a final sweep of the back. The garden was
accessible via the side gate. But the gate too was locked. The only
other way in was from a neighbouring property – and that seemed an
unlikely route in. I shrugged off the possibility that someone had
been prowling around our property, and got ready to go and meet
Sophie. But I would tell James when he got home, just in case.

***

Sophie was
already seated in
Allemandi’s
, a lovely locally owned
independent café on the high street. It had been around for
decades, and was still thriving in spite of the competition from
the big coffee chains that had muscled in during the past few
years. It did the most wonderful cakes, and the owners, third
generation Italians, were masters in the art of coffee making.

I nodded a
hello to Carl behind the counter as I negotiated the tables and
chairs to where Sophie was sitting. She’d already ordered a latte
and lovely looking slice of coffee and walnut cake.

‘I’ll get
that,’ Sophie said, jumping up and lifting a chair out of my path.
‘Sorry, I should have sat nearer to the door. I made a beeline for
the heater.’

It was a cold
and frosty morning, and
Allemandi’s
did have its cold spots,
so I didn’t disagree with her choice of table.

‘Aw, she’s
looking beautiful, as usual,’ Sophie said, admiring a sleeping
Grace as she pulled back the cover of her pram. ‘She’s growing so
quickly. She’ll be in the pushchair before you know it.’

‘Hopefully not
too soon,’ I said, ordering a coffee and pastry at the table from
Carl. ‘I want this time to go on for a while yet.’

Sophie smiled.
She was looking great, sporting her recently cropped hair that she
now wore in a blonde bob. It took a few years off her, and I must
admit it made me slightly envious because I felt older than my
years, even though I had recently treated myself to a hair makeover
that had replaced the increasing grey with brown. Sophie was also
much more fashionable than me, always wearing the latest styles,
while I was content to keep my wardrobe fairly static. The
fashionable jacket and handmade skirt that she was wearing was
brand new, while my woollen top and skirt had been around since the
nineteen nineties. I didn’t normally wear them, but I’d still not
quite lost all my weight after the pregnancy, and the fashion in
the late 1990s was a bit baggier. ‘It’s good to see you happy,
Georgina.’