The Stranger Within (11 page)

Watching him now, I can hear the words he is about to speak. It’s not working. I’ve caused too much trouble. The boys will never be able to accept me and he has to put them first. Then, because he has started he will add all the things he’s wanted to say for too long.
I shoudn’t have married you. You are not Lauren.

“It’s about the boys,” he says, forcing me to focus. I don’t know if I can sit and hear this now but I stifle my urge to run from the room. To leave this house without letting him say the words. But then he surprises me. “It’s my fault. I should have introduced you to them sooner. Given them more time to get used to you.”

It doesn’t sound like he’s about to end our marriage after all, but I’m still unsure. Is he apologising? Blaming himself for the state we’re in?
Wait a year
, he said, when I first asked if I could meet his sons. It was too early. He wanted to be sure. My pleas for us to be introduced fell on deaf ears.

              “And now it’s just a huge…mess.” Finally he looks at me, a signal that it’s my turn to speak, but what am I supposed to say?

“I’m trying, James,” I tell him. He doesn’t look convinced.

Nodding, he stares into his mug. “I know you are. I know. The thing is, I can’t see how to make things better.”

His words hit me and my breath catches in my throat. He
is
going to end this, he has no choice. He can’t choose me over his sons, so if there is no way to fix things, I am the one who will have to go. “I’ll try harder,” I say. “I promise. We can work this out.”

He reaches for my hand and squeezes it. “Oh, Callie, nobody could try harder than you. This isn’t your fault. I hate seeing you like this. Stressed. Not yourself. I hate seeing us all like this.”

“James, I –”

“I just don’t know what to do. This is awful.”

“I know. But we’ll work it out. We can get through this, James.”

“I love you,” he says, but his eyes are tinged with sadness. He pushes his mug aside and stands up. “I just need to drop something off at the shop. I’ll be back before the boys get home.”

And then he is gone. I clear away our unfinished mugs of tea, numb to what’s just happened. James didn’t say it was over, but why does it feel that way? When the front door closes, the numbness evaporates and I break down for the second time this weekend, hating myself for my weakness. Hating that I don’t know anymore whether I love or hate the boys.

When James gets back, I give him space and stay upstairs, telling him I need to study. Lying on the bed with my textbook, I can hear him rattling around downstairs and wonder what he’s doing. Perhaps he is just distracting himself.

It’s not long before I hear Emma arriving with the boys, and they all bustle in, probably excited to share stories of the weekend with James. I force myself out of the bedroom, with each step feeling as if I am walking the plank.

It falls silent when I appear at the top of the stairs, everyone turning to look at me. “Welcome home, boys,” I manage to say, the words sticking in my throat and my legs as heavy as cement. I notice James smile but, again, there is sadness behind it. “I’ll put the kettle on. What would you both like?”

Luke looks at Dillon, then James, then back to me. “Apple juice, please.” Beside him, James ruffles his hair.

Dillon fixes his eyes on me. “Thanks. I’ll have apple juice too, please, Callie.” To Emma and James, the boys are being polite and friendly, but I know what game they are playing. There is no apple juice in the fridge and all three of us know it.

But I won’t let them win. “No problem. I think it ran out, though, so I’ll just nip to the shop and get some. Back in a minute.” I brush past them and open the front door, noticing Dillon’s scowl as I step outside. Round two to me.

Outside, Mrs Simmons stands by her door, talking to a DHL delivery man. She stops mid-sentence when she sees me but says nothing. “Afternoon, Mrs Simmons,” I call as I walk past. She mumbles an incoherent reply, and I increase my pace to escape her heavy gaze.

Back at the house, everyone is gathered around the kitchen table, as if they are having a meeting.

“The boys were thirsty so they’re having orange instead,” Emma says, “and I’ve made tea for us.”

I take one of the three mugs on the table while James, Emma and the boys resume their conversation: something about Luke’s friend Harry, who I have met only briefly, when I’ve ferried Luke to or from his house. James tries to bring me into the conversation, but I struggle to contribute much.

“So you must have loads of coursework to do,” Emma says, peering over her glasses at me. She only needs them for driving so I’m not sure why they’re still perched on her nose. “I hope we’re not disturbing you.”

I shake my head and force a smile. “Not at all.”

“So what are you up to this evening?” James asks Emma.

Finally removing her glasses, she leans forward, closer to him. “Actually, do you fancy a quick pint? I wouldn’t mind talking to you about something. But don’t worry if you’re busy. It’s nothing urgent.”

James looks from me to the boys. “Okay,” he says after a moment, “maybe just a quick one. I don’t think I’m up for going into the village but why don’t we try The Dog and Fox round the corner?”

Emma rises to her feet. “No time like the present, eh?”

While the boys hug her goodbye, James comes over to me. “You don’t mind, do you? I won’t be long. The boys can do their homework.”

“Of course not. We’ll be fine.”

He looks uncertain, but follows Emma into the hallway. “Homework,” he says to Dillon and Luke. “And I’ll be checking it.”

“Aw, Dad!” Luke moans, but he follows his brother upstairs, not even glancing in my direction.

I hear nothing from the boys over the next hour, but their silence is disquieting. I have no idea what they’re doing: homework? Planning my demise? I walk past both their rooms several times, and although they must hear the floorboards creaking, there is no sound from either room.

Deciding to make the most of it – whatever they’re up to – I take my course book to the living room and settle down to study. It takes me a while to get into it this afternoon, and just as I finally begin to take in the words, Dillon appears in front of me, Luke standing behind him. “Oh, is everything okay?”

Dillon stares at the floor. “Um…we’ve done our homework now. And, er, Rhys said he bumped into you yesterday and asked if we’re enjoying our present. What’s he talking about?”

The PlayStation game. I had forgotten all about it. “Oh, well, yeah, I did get you something.”

Luke steps forward. “Really? What is it?”

I try not to feel angry. This is the most effort they’ve made to speak to me since I moved in. This is progress. Even if it’s involved bribery. “Let me go and get it,” I say, leaving my book open on the sofa and ignoring my original plan to make them earn the game through chores.

It takes me a while to remember I’ve left the shopping bag in the car so by the time I get back to the living room, the boys are standing up, about to give up and retreat to their rooms. “Here!” I say, pulling the game from behind my back. “What do you think?”

Dillon’s eyes widen and he steps forward, but Luke is already trying to prise the case from my hand. “Thanks!” he says, when I let go. “This is awesome! None of my friends have it yet!”

“Let me look,” Dillon says, grabbing it from his brother.

It is hard to believe these are the same boys who an hour ago wouldn’t give me the time of day. I want to be hopeful, but I know better.

“Can we play now?” Dillon asks. Somehow his stubborn refusal to meet my eyes is reassuring. Familiar ground.

“That’s fine. I’ll study upstairs.” I grab my book from the sofa and notice that it’s closed, my place lost because I never remember to use bookmarks. I am sure I left it open, but I shrug off my suspicion. Closing the door behind me, I am comforted by the boys’ shouts of delight as they load up their new game, debating who will be the better player.

Upstairs, I sit cross-legged on the bed, hunting for the page I was on. Nothing I read sounds familiar, even when I go back to a chapter I know I’ve read, and I question how much I’m taking in. I grow frustrated. I can’t mess this up. It’s my one shot at independence.

My mobile beeps and I feel for it in my pockets before spotting it on the chest of drawers. I can’t remember leaving it there, but scoop it up and check who has texted me. Tabitha. Very strange. I don’t remember ever storing her number in my phone, but I must have, because her name is staring me in the face. Intrigued, I click the message.

So sorry about last night. Couldn’t help myself. But it was good, wasn’t it?

              Puzzled, I read it twice before I realise what’s happened. That I am holding James’ mobile in my hand, not my own. We both have iPhones and he has taken mine to the pub by mistake. He must have come upstairs while I was at the shop.

              For several moments I’m frozen, clutching the phone, unable to absorb Tabitha’s words. I read the text again, just in case I have misunderstood it, but the meaning is unambiguous. Something has happened between her and James, and now I know my marriage is dead. The boys will have what they want.

I don’t cry, but nausea sweeps through me. I mark the message as unread, place the phone back on the chest of drawers and sit back on the bed, drawing my knees to my chin.

              I don’t know how long I stay in this position, silent and dry-eyed. The bedroom darkens but I make no move to switch on a light or draw the curtains. Even when I hear James returning and the muffled sound of voices downstairs, I stay where I am.

              But then I hear my name and footsteps bounding up the stairs. I switch on the lamp and an instant later James flings open the door.

              “Callie, what is this?” He waves the PlayStation game in front of me.

              “It’s a present for the boys. I wanted to do something nice for them.” I tell him about my trip to Kingston.

James sighs, his shoulders drooping slightly. “But I’ve just spent days telling them off for their behaviour. Why have you rewarded them? Plus, it’s got a sixteen certificate. Luke’s only twelve, Callie. I don’t think –”

              “This is all about the accident, isn’t it? You don’t trust me.” My exhaustion turns to anger. “Why don’t you give me some credit? I would never give the boys anything that could be harmful to them. It’s just a bloody game! That’s all! I’ll take it back.”

James’ eyes widen. “What are you talking about? I’m just saying –”

“What?” I am shouting and no doubt the boys will hear.

He shakes his head. “I don’t know what’s going on but I can’t talk to you when you’re like this.”

His heavy sigh just makes me feel worse, because I know I am being unreasonable. Like Dad
.
But I am powerless to stop my anger and am ready to tell James that I don’t care what he thinks, and that I should be the one criticising
him
.

But before I can open my mouth, James drops another grenade. “The boys said you told them they should hide the game from me and it would be your secret. I know they’re lying, but, Callie, this is just getting worse.”

Shaking my head, I feel strangely immune to yet another malicious lie.

I stare at James’ back as he walks away. For a moment I consider calling him back to confront him about Tabitha’s text, but what good would it do? I don’t have the energy for a different fight and I need to carefully consider what approach to take. I need to be sure there is no way I have misinterpreted anything. I copy Tabitha’s words in the back of my course book, knowing it is not necessary; I am unlikely to forget them.

At the top of the stairs, I lean over the banister, listening. I wait until I hear voices and saucepans clanging in the kitchen, then sneak downstairs and check the pockets of James’ jacket. With the way things have turned out today – and for the last few weeks and months – I don’t expect to have any luck, but I am wrong. My phone is here. Normally frustrated with the lack of attention James pays to his belongings, I am grateful for it now. I swap his for mine, then tiptoe back upstairs.

Lying on the bed, I think about Tabitha’s text again. The words run through my head, tormenting me, giving me something else I have to fight. Isn’t it enough that I have the boys to deal with? But I will keep this to myself for now. It is knowledge belonging only to me, ammunition against what is to come.

Chapter Twelve

Now

In this police interview room, I am becoming used to judgement. I have sat on this hard chair for hours now, reliving the last few months, while DS Connolly and DC Barnes try to work me out. What they don’t realise is that I also want to make sense of my actions. What seemed rational at the time – being dishonest with James by refusing to confront him – I now know has only led me here. But still I must try to help them understand. And that way maybe I will too.

              “Most people would confront their spouse if they had evidence of an affair, wouldn’t they?” I throw it out there before they can ask.

              Pity crosses DS Connolly’s face, and he smiles weakly. “Well, I can only speak for myself but, yeah, I would confront my wife. Course I would. What’s the point of living a lie?” His thin smile disappears then; he has probably realised by now that my whole marriage has been based on lies.