Seeing Other People (9 page)

I sat down in the chair nearest to her. ‘Rough day?’

‘No more than usual.’

‘It’s just that you don’t seem right. It’s not just because I was late is it?’

‘It didn’t help.’

‘So what is it?’

‘You tell me.’ She looked away and took another long sip from her glass before setting it carefully down on the table. I tried to read her face. She was angry, possibly hurt too, and while I was the cause I couldn’t work out why.

‘You slept with her didn’t you?’ she said, her gaze fixed towards the view of the garden through the French windows.

For the second time that day, I felt my world imploding.

‘What?’

‘That woman today, the one we met at lunch, the tall willowy-looking one, Angela, that was her name wasn’t it?’

‘You think I’m having an affair with Angela?’

‘Had, have, is that how you think you’re going to get out of this – on a technicality? I was there, Joe. I saw the way she looked at you. There was something between you, I know it.’

Brimming over with righteous anger I bounded from the room only to return moments later clutching my phone, which I slapped down on the table so hard that it skidded across the surface and was only prevented from falling off by Penny’s arm.

‘If you really think that what you’ve just said is true then call her up, speak to her and make up your own mind,’ I spat. ‘Tell her what you’ve just told me. Her number’s under Towney.’

I didn’t dare to think, feel or move as we both stared at the phone. My entire life was held in the balance. One wrong move and it would all be over.

Penny pushed the phone away, stood up and buried herself in my arms. ‘I’m so, so sorry, Joe. It’s just that when we bumped into her today, I felt, I don’t know, I just felt like something was . . . off. I felt sure that there was something between you. I should never have said that. I should never have said something so horrible. You’re not my dad. You’d never be like him.’ Sobbing even harder she clung to me fiercely like a child apologising for her accusation over and over again. ‘Please tell me you forgive me.’

‘It’s OK,’ I reassured her, ‘there’s nothing to forgive. Everything’s going to be fine.’

8

That night as Penny fell asleep in my arms I went over the all-too-surreal events of the day. The image of Penny meeting Bella was burned into my brain, as was Penny’s accusation that I’d cheated on her with Angela. I’d escaped by the skin of my teeth but at what cost? Now Penny thought she was losing the plot. Seeing things that weren’t there. But she hadn’t been entirely wrong. I’d had an affair, just not with Angela. With all the time that had passed combined with my lack of memory of the night in question it was easy to kid myself that maybe it hadn’t happened at all. That it was just a bad dream. But the evidence was overwhelming, not least the look on Bella’s face when I asked her why she’d waited for me. It had been a look of hurt and betrayal of the kind that only former lovers use. It had happened. We’d slept together and nothing I said or did could change that.

The following morning over breakfast I announced to the kids that both Penny and I would be taking them to school. To Jack this was like hearing that Christmas and his birthday had arrived early.

‘You’re both taking us. How come?’

‘Mum and I have both decided to take the day off work.’ I looked over at Penny sitting next to me and she squeezed my hand.

‘It’s one of the perks of being a grown-up,’ said Penny. ‘Every now and again you get to put your feet up.’

Never one to miss an opportunity when one presented itself Rosie’s ears pricked up immediately. ‘Can Jack and I take the day off school too?’

‘Not a chance, Missy,’ I replied. ‘You’ve got a maths test today.’

Rosie’s face became the very picture of despair. ‘That’s so unfair! How come you guys get the day off and we don’t?’

‘It’s just the way it is,’ I told her. ‘Now go and brush your teeth and grab your bags because we’re out of here in five minutes.’

Talking Penny into calling in sick had initially proved harder than I had hoped. Having had the idea during the night I had put it to her as we lay in bed that morning but she was still so racked with guilt about the accusation she’d made it was obvious that all she had wanted to do was escape to work. In the end she’d only relented because in the heat of the moment I said, ‘If you don’t take today off, sit down with me and talk through this mess you’re going to end up wrecking this marriage for good.’ As much as I regretted saying it, it did do the trick. ‘You’re right,’ she said tearfully, ‘I’ll phone in,’ and without another word she got ready for the day ahead, made the call and then joined the kids and me for breakfast.

The house was quiet and still as Penny and I removed our coats and shoes having dropped off the kids at school. It was so rare for the two of us to be home alone and even more rare for such a day to occur during the week. Even the light in the house seemed different, and for what felt like the first time I noticed the shadows the oak tree in front of our house threw against the off-white walls of the hallway.

We decamped to the kitchen. I made us coffee while Penny got out a plate on which she carefully presented the freshly baked pastries we’d purchased from the little bakery near the kids’ school. These small routines were so commonplace and soothing, it was almost possible to believe that everything would be OK.

‘Before we start,’ said Penny, cradling her cup in both hands, ‘I know you’ve probably got a lot you need to say about the horrible things I said last night but I want you to know here and now that I have never – and I do mean never – been as sorry as I am right now. What I said, what I accused you of was the worst thing I could ever do because the truth is in all the time we’ve been together you’ve never done anything other than give me cause to be grateful for having you in my life. I just want you to know that I love you and adore you and I will do everything in my power to make up for it.’

This was too much. Being told I was in the right when I was so clearly in the wrong was just too high a price to pay. I wasn’t made of stone. I had a conscience and, when it came to Penny, I had a heart too. I couldn’t bear to hear her say another word. It was as though something cracked within me and the guilt came flooding out.

‘You were right,’ I said, avoiding her gaze. ‘You got the wrong person but I cheated on you all the same.’ I dared a glance at her as she looked on in silent horror. ‘It was a while ago – with Bella, the ex-intern you met the other day. It was a one-off, I swear. I was drunk, or not thinking properly. It’ll never happen again. It’s the worst thing I’ve ever done. I hate myself for it. That’s why I’m telling you now. The guilt is eating me up.’

Penny didn’t speak and somehow her silence and stillness were worse than any dramatic outburst could ever have been.

I took her hand in mine and although she didn’t resist she didn’t respond either. It was as though she wasn’t there at all.

I started to panic. ‘Pen? Please, please talk to me.’ I squeezed her hand still tighter but she didn’t move. ‘I love you, Penny. I’ve never stopped. I just got confused, that’s all. I made some really bad decisions but I swear on my life – on our kids’ lives – that I’ll never—’

‘Don’t you dare!’ spat Penny as though a switch had just been flicked somewhere deep within her. ‘Don’t you dare bring our kids into this! You want to ruin your life, Joe, then be my guest, but don’t try and manipulate me with the kids!’ She stood up and ran from the room. Every fibre of my being wanted to go to her, to comfort her but I just couldn’t move. It was like I was paralysed from the neck down and the only thing that worked was the one thing I wished would stop: my brain. I should never have told her. I should’ve kept my big mouth shut. The torture of keeping this from her was nothing compared to the memory of the look on her face when I’d told her. I’d see that look for the rest of my life; the look of pure shock that said, ‘I never thought that you of all people would do this to me.’

It was impossible to know how long I sat there motionless in the chair but the sound of her returning down the stairs was enough to snap me out of it and bring me to my feet. I needed to see her, to talk to her, to explain that I still loved her and was prepared to do anything to make it right.

By the time I reached the hallway she was putting on her coat. At her feet was her overnight bag.

‘Where are you going?’

‘To my mum and Tony’s.’

‘But what about the kids?’

‘Tell them I’ll call later to kiss them goodnight.’

Outside, a minicab driver sounded his horn. She picked up her bag and reeled off a list of instructions about the kids. It would have been funny – a broken-hearted woman who even in the midst of her pain couldn’t stop herself from entering the role that defined her – had this been a play, or a book, or a film. But it wasn’t any of these. It was my life. Her life. Our life together. ‘You need to write a cheque for Jack’s dinner money,’ she said, ‘and make sure you read with him tonight as he’s having problems with his “th” sounds again. Oh, and check Rosie’s homework diary. She’s taken to declaring that she has none even when it’s written down in black and white.’

She opened the front door. The territorial songs of blackbirds. A far-off siren of an ambulance. The low rumble of a waiting diesel engine. I grabbed her arm but she snatched it away almost immediately. ‘Please, Pen, please don’t go. Look, let’s talk, let’s talk and make this right.’

‘I think you’ve said more than enough for now,’ she replied, then picked up her case and slammed the door behind her.

For a moment I didn’t do anything but stare at the back of the door. She couldn’t have left. Surely any moment now she’d be back. But a moment passed and so did many others until the collective weight of all those missed opportunities came crashing down on me, forcing me to the floor where I sat sobbing uncontrollably. And there I remained, bereft of all hope until I smelled that same sweet heavy scent I’d smelled before I was mugged and turned my head to see the unmistakable form of Fiona Briggs sitting on the stairs.

‘Well,’ she said, ‘you made a right cock-up of that, didn’t you?’

9

Fiona Briggs.

The very same Fiona Briggs I’d dated all those years ago. More to the point, the very dead Fiona Briggs whose funeral I’d attended not so long ago. But she looked so real. So alive, so . . . Fiona. I had to be seeing things. I blinked. I looked away from her. I looked back again. She was still there. Perhaps there’d been some mistake. Perhaps they’d buried someone else that day and Fiona was still alive. But this didn’t explain why she was currently sitting on my stairs examining her painted fingernails nor how she’d managed to turn the clock all the way back to the early nineties. The Fiona in front of me didn’t look a day over eighteen, complete with too much eyeliner and the brown monkey boots she’d loved so much. I put my head in my hands: I was having a hallucination. It was the only thing that made sense. Penny’s leaving me had pushed me to the very edge of sanity. I was in real danger of losing the plot altogether; perhaps I already had.

‘Have you finished with all the soul-searching internal soliloquies or do you need another five minutes? It’s not like I’ve got anything better to be getting on with.’

I raised my head, fixed my eyes on Fiona and rose to my feet determined to take control.

‘You’re not real,’ I said firmly. ‘I know you’re not real, so just go away, OK? You’re a figment of my imagination. I’m freaked out because Penny’s left, that’s all. All I need to do is go upstairs and lie down and you’ll be gone.’

Fiona laughed. ‘That’s brilliant! Your wife’s just left you because you’re a cheating low-life toerag and your response is to take to your bed! Now that
really
is insane! I always knew you were an idiot, Joe Clarke, but I’d hoped you’d have become wiser over the years, not more stupid.’

This was worse than I thought. The Fiona I’d hallucinated didn’t just look like Fiona but spoke like her too. There was no point in trying to argue with this imaginary Fiona – I never could win against the real one so I had no chance now – but perhaps if I indulged this illusion a little I could find why I’d manifested it here and then make it disappear.

‘Yolo,’ said Fiona. She crossed her legs and pointed the toe of her right boot in my direction. ‘
That
is why I’m here.’

I was completely baffled. ‘I have no idea what you’re on about. What do you mean, Yolo?’

‘You. Only. Live. Once. My dad said it at my funeral and you used it to justify your little dalliance with that girl – who incidentally isn’t all that and a bag of chips. Her arse is HUGE and she’s not half as posh as she makes out – anyway, where was I? Yes, Yolo. Ironic isn’t it? There I was spouting platitudes like “You only live once”, and one altercation with the sharp edge of a tiled bench and I’m dead as a doornail and plaguing you from beyond the grave.’

‘So you’re saying you’re a ghost?’

‘We prefer the word apparition but yes, I suppose at a push ghost will do.’

I had to laugh. This was all just too ridiculous. ‘Right, so you’re an
apparition
and of all the places in the world that you could appear right now – like, I don’t know, a spooky Scottish castle or a graveyard at midnight, you’ve chosen my hallway in South London in the middle of the day?’