The Stranger Within (24 page)

He thinks about this for a moment, putting out his cigarette. “It wasn’t like that, Callie. You’d just told me he was your stepson so of course I wondered what the hell was going on. I can’t help being curious. Hazard of my job, I’m afraid.”

“What job? What are you talking about?” My hand is trembling and I want more wine but don’t dare to reach for my glass.

Max refills his glass. “I’m an investigator with a law firm in the city. So there’s no point lying about anything because I already know that boy is Rhys Marshall and he’s seventeen.
Seventeen
, Callie. What the hell are you playing at?”

“How did you find out?” I cannot begin to imagine the lengths Max has gone to.

“It doesn’t matter. Just talk to me, Callie. What have you got yourself into?”

It is almost a relief not to have to lie anymore. I am trapped in a corner once more and the lies just make this worse. So I tell Max everything, hoping that by the time I have finished he will have just the tiniest bit of empathy. He listens without interrupting and there is no hint of judgement on his face.

But what he says next is not what I expect to hear. “So are you taking any meds? What are you doing to help yourself?”

              “What? I’m not…I don’t –”

              “That was always your excuse, Callie, wasn’t it? You don’t want to deal with the truth. You just brush it under the carpet and hope the pile won’t trip you up.” He chuckles. “Well, I guess it finally has. And now you’re ruining your marriage.”

              There is nothing I can say because he is right. I reach for my wine and repeat that it’s over with Rhys. “I made a mistake. I’m putting it right now.”

              He shakes his head. “So you think it’s as simple as that, eh? We can do whatever we want in life as long as we’re sorry afterwards?”

              I shake my head. “No, that’s not –”

              “He’s practically a kid, for fuck’s sake. You took advantage of him.”

              “It wasn’t like that. Rhys was the one who came after
me
. He knew exactly what he wanted.”

              “It doesn’t matter. You should have known better. Of course he was going to be ruled by his dick. He’s a teenage boy.”

              “He’s eighteen in a couple of weeks.” I don’t know why I’m trying to make excuses for my behaviour when there is no justification for what I have done.

              “You know, Callie, it sickened me when I saw you in your car. I couldn’t sleep that night. Not just because of the boy, but because of you. Because I hadn’t seen you for years, and when I spotted you in the park I wanted to believe you had sorted your life out. But this was worse than I could have imagined.”

              My glass is nearly empty and Max grabs the bottle from the table and tops it up. I don’t know why he is doing this. Lecturing me when he should just get to the point. I know he wants something in return for keeping my secret, and I am just waiting for him to spell it out so I can release the anger that’s built up inside me.

              “Stop this,” I say. “Just tell me what the hell you want! I know there’s something. In return for your silence. So what the fuck do you want?” I can’t stop my body trembling.

              Max’s eyes widen. He shakes his head before getting up and walking to the window. It almost reaches to the floor and even from my seat I can see what a beautiful view he has. “Please tell me you’re not saying what I think you are.”

              I don’t answer him. I want to hear how he worms his way out of this.

              He turns round to face me and there is a visible change to his face. “You think I was going to force you to sleep with me to keep my mouth shut about this boy? Is that it?”

              I turn away from him.

              “Jesus…fuck…Callie, what the hell? You’re so…deluded. You seriously think I would do that? After everything we went through together? Forget how it ended, it was still five years of our lives. Fuck!”

              He walks back to his chair and sits on the arm, squashing his leather jacket as he does so. I have made another mistake. I am out of control and everything he has said is right. “The reason I wanted to see you is because I was worried about you. Because part of me will always care about you. You’re being reckless and it’s a downward spiral, Callie, if you don’t get help. Surely you can see that? I want to help you. You can’t go on like this. You say you’re ending it with this boy, but what’s next? Because there
will
be something, won’t there? Unless you get help.”

              I am scarcely aware of what happens next. I am not present in my own body. The only thing I know is that I have to hurt Max. I pick up my glass and hurl it across the room, watching as it smacks against his face, falls and shatters on the wooden floor.

I scream as I leave. “I am
not
my Dad!”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Somehow I manage to sleep the whole night, and when I wake up, for a few seconds I have freedom from my thoughts. But then I remember what I did to Max and my throat constricts. How did I get things so wrong? And how many other times have I done this without realising? Things have spiralled out of control just when I am meant to be getting a grip. My hands slip from whatever they touch. And I haven’t even dealt with Rhys yet.

              James’ side of the bed is still warm and I roll over and breathe in his scent, letting it comfort me. I can’t lose him; I won’t let anyone destroy what we’ve got. We have been through too much for it to fall apart now.

              It is eight o’clock, so he must have left for his photo shoot. He told me where it was when I got home last night but I was too shaken to take in what he was saying. Birmingham? Manchester? Either is just as likely or unlikely as the other. But his absence will give me a chance to speak to Rhys.

              I shower quickly and run a comb through my hair. It doesn’t need drying now that it is so short and today I am grateful for the time it saves me. I text Rhys to ask if he can meet me this morning. His reply is immediate.
My house. Parents away. Come now if you can.
He has added two kisses to the end and I wonder how he can be so oblivious.

              I drop Luke at Harry’s on my way to Rhys’ house and he barely says a word. I try to ask him about school but he tells me to mind my own business. I am almost tempted to record him on my phone to show James that his latest talk hasn’t worked, but I won’t burden him with that now. And Dillon and Luke need to believe I am not fighting anymore, then when they least expect it, I will catch them unawares.

              I feel anxious walking up the path to Rhys’ front door. What if his parents have come home unexpectedly and he hasn’t had a chance to text me a warning? What if he has chosen not to? An excuse forms in my mind: I will tell them I am looking for Dillon and thought he’d be here. That will work. It is perfectly plausible. Feeling more confident now, I ring the bell and look around, grateful Rhys doesn’t have a neighbour like Mrs Simmons.

              Rhys answers the door and the first thing I notice is the familiar scent of his aftershave. It is overpowering as usual and I wonder if I should mention it to him. But I’ve got to get the more difficult matter out of the way, and after that it will no longer be my business how much he douses himself in aftershave.
He
will no longer be my business.

              As soon as he closes the door behind us, he leans forward and tries to kiss me. Instinctively I move my head aside and his lips only brush against my cheek. “Let’s talk,” I say. “We need to.”

              He ignores my snub. “I know. I can’t believe your ex. I’ve made you some coffee and it’s still hot. It’s in my room.”

              I should tell him I’d rather stay down here, but there will be enough bad news in a moment. I can at least allow him this much. So I follow him upstairs, all the time wondering how I’ve come to feel so differently about him in the space of just a couple of days.

It’s because of James. He is the only one you can love.
And you can’t even get that right.

“Where are your parents?” I ask, watching his t-shirt crinkle as he walks up the stairs two at a time.

              “They’ve gone to see my nan and grandpa. I was supposed to go with them but I got your text so told them I wasn’t feeling well.” More lies. I just want this to stop.

              “You should have gone. Where do they live?”

              “Not too far. Kent.”

              I make a quick calculation. If anything happens and his parents decide to come back early, they will need at least an hour. Even so, I need to make this quick, I can’t take the chance of being found here, especially when I am putting an end to this today.

              Once we’re in Rhys’ bedroom, he hands me a mug of coffee. It is lukewarm and tastes bitter but I don’t want to offend him so force myself to drink it.

“So what did he say? Tell me,” Rhys says, sitting on the bed and patting the space next to him. “Come and sit.” He thinks I am here to talk about Max. How is this possible? A few days ago I couldn’t keep away from him so how has he not noticed my recent avoidance?

The images of shattered glass and Max’s shocked expression form in my head but I push them aside. I consider telling Rhys that Max knows, that he saw us, but has promised not to say anything, but then I realise what a mistake this would be. Rhys will be pleased that someone has found out; it is what he wants. He wants us to be forced out into the open, so that James will leave me and I can be with him. This is what he believes will happen.

“It was fine,” I say. “Max doesn’t know anything. You were right. He was just messing around to get me to meet up with him.” I avoid Rhys’ stare by taking another sip of tepid coffee.

He frowns, even though this was his theory to begin with. “What? I don’t get it.”

“He just wanted to apologise for how things ended with us. That’s all.” It doesn’t feel good lying to Rhys. Until now, he has been the one person I can be honest with.

The frown remains on his face and I wonder if he sees through my lie. “Okay,” he says. “So we don’t have to worry about him then?” He still doesn’t understand.

I place my mug on the floor by the bed and turn to him. “Look, Rhys, we can’t do this anymore. Me and you. It’s not right. Sorry.” I turn away from him again; I don’t want to see the look on his face when my words sink in.

But he grabs my arm, forcing me to meet his stare. “No…you don’t mean it. You’re just worried. This whole Max thing has shaken you up. We’ll be okay. I promise.”

And then I have no choice but to tell him everything. How it’s not about Max, it’s about James, how I want my marriage to work. I
need
my marriage to work.

“But you don’t love him. You can’t do. Or you wouldn’t have slept with me. And not just once, Callie…”

“It’s all my fault, Rhys, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have led you on. I’m completely in the wrong here, I know that. I really am s –”

“Don’t say it!” He lifts his finger to my mouth. “I don’t want you to be sorry. Not for what we’ve had. I’ll never be sorry about it.” His eyes are glassy as he speaks, and it is only now I realise that what I have done goes far beyond sleeping with someone too young. Our relationship has changed him, left a scar on his skin that won’t easily be removed, and I am responsible.

When he reaches forward to hug me, I let him, although my arms only touch him lightly. I pat his back, not to patronise him but to show him it really is over, but he doesn’t take the hint. Instead he tries to kiss me, more forcefully than he did at the front door a few minutes ago, his mouth frantically pushing against mine until I shove him away. “Stop. We can’t do this anymore. I have to go.”

Standing up, I knock over my half-empty mug of coffee in my haste to leave his bedroom, his house, his life. Fumbling in my bag for some tissues, I bend down to wipe up the liquid, which has already soaked into the beige carpet. “Let me clean it properly. Do you have anything up here I can use?”

“No, don’t worry. Just leave it. I’ll do it.”

I’m about to protest but then I realise he needs me to go. He has to deal with this on his own, without me in sight. I take one last look around his room before I leave – the posters and mess that shriek of teenager – and shudder to think what I was playing at. Like Dad, I have become my own worst enemy.

Reaching the car, I pause and suck in deep, desperate gasps of air. I look up and in the sky are two huge clouds drifting towards each other, their ragged edges slotting together like pieces of a jigsaw. James and I are like these clouds. Pieces of a puzzle that only fit with each other. Nobody else matters; not Rhys, Lauren, Tabitha, Dillon, Luke or anyone else. I make a silent promise to James that I will fight for him and put right the disaster I have caused.

As I get in the car, a black Land Rover pulls into Rhys’ drive and two people step out. Mr and Mrs Marshall. I have avoided them by only a few seconds, and only because I rushed out of the house when I did. When they walk round to the boot and start lifting out Sainsbury’s bags loaded with groceries, I know without a doubt that this is not over.