Who Are You? (28 page)

Juliet frowns at Ben. ‘Don’t be silly, Ben. Of course Mummy doesn’t like hospitals. Nobody likes hospitals, because they’re full of hurt people, sick people. They’re not places that people like to be at all.’

‘We left Daddy behind in London to come to a new house. But I don’t want a new house, I want my old one. I want Daddy.’

‘You’ll have fun in your new house. And I think you might find some nice new friends to play with.’

‘I don’t want new friends. I want Daddy,’ Ben says. ‘I hate Mummy. Mummy’s scary. I want Daddy …’

CHAPTER

19

Alex takes a bottle with him; whisky not wine. He knows it’s going to be a hard night and he needs to make sure that his drink is his drink of choice, not some cheap bloody Argentinian piss. For once it’s OK not to smile. It’s OK to be himself, the man he knows himself to be on the inside. For once there doesn’t have to be the small talk, the inane conversation that clogs these south-west London kitchens like Polyfilla sealing up the brain cells against anything sensible leaking out. He’s feeling hyper-alert to everything, and it’s a good place to be.

Rowena’s wearing a white shirt, tight at the waist that shows off her washboard stomach. There’s a Goth cross and a few gold chains strung around her neck which gives him a jolt. Juliet never wears necklaces, but he mustn’t think about that, he must concentrate on now – on Rowena. She’s got a nice arse. Long legs and high buttocks poured into ripped jeans. Normally she’d have given him a hug, but he notices that tonight she doesn’t. Just the merest graze of cheek against cheek. He smells her shampoo; it’s tropical, coconut. Her scent is floral. Too floral. Doesn’t go with the image. Robert takes the whisky. ‘You’d like?’

‘Thanks.’

They move through to the sitting room from the kitchen. Alex glances around and then places himself in a corner of one sofa, Robert on the other. Rowena sits on the same sofa as Alex, leaving space in the middle. She pats the cushion, then leans forward to pass him an olive. He shakes his head. For a moment there’s an awkward silence. ‘So …’ Robert says.

‘You had no idea?’ Rowena asks.

He shakes his head. ‘No. No idea at all.’

‘Awful shock, mate.’ Robert says. Mate. Doesn’t sit well on Robert’s lips. It’s phoney, this mateyness: I understand. I share. But of course he doesn’t.

Alex takes a slug of whisky and the ice cubes clink against his mouth. He can feel it warm his gullet, sending a good, burning sensation over his tongue. He takes another. Then he gets straight in. ‘You’re sure she didn’t say anything to you?’

He watches Rowena’s reaction. Is there a slight hesitation? The way she looks at her glass, takes a sip before raising her eyes to meet his? Is she hiding something?

‘No, Alex. She never said.’ There’s an edge to Rowena. It’s the bruises. She must have seen Juliet’s bruises.

‘I just feel … so … bad that I didn’t take any action, that I didn’t sort out what was going on. The usual thing. Busy at work.’ Another slug and a pause for emphasis. ‘I got back last night and all Ben’s toys had gone. That was the most painful thing. You don’t realize just what it is that makes a house home, you know, until all those important things that go to make up who you are aren’t there any more. I’m so bloody worried about him.’

‘But Ben’ll be all right with her.’

‘I’ve been worried about her drinking. I don’t know if anyone noticed, but it’s been creeping up. She’d started to hide it.’

‘Hide it? What do you mean?’

‘Christ, I feel disloyal. But now … I suppose it’s all got to come out in the open. I hate it. Like our private lives are going to be sifted through. But I started to find bottles in the bin. Vodka.

‘I thought it was back under control. The trouble is, when she’s drinking she gets really short-tempered. Irrational. When I think back to some of the arguments. Crazy stuff.’

‘Like?’ Alex knows human nature, knows its vulnerabilities, its extremes. Sympathy or prurience; it doesn’t really matter.

‘Ben sometimes wets his bed. He’s only five, so I guess it’s pretty normal. But one night he woke up crying and she got up to go to him. And I heard her screaming at him, like really shouting at the poor little bugger. “Don’t you dare do that again, Benjamin Miller. You’re dirty and disgusting and Mummy will have to throw you away with the rest of the dirty and disgusting rubbish.” Ben was barely awake, but he was crying. So I got up to see what was going on. I was obviously worried about her being so over the top. She had Ben by the arm, dragging him to the loo. Ben was screaming, “No, Mummy, please … no … Mummy you’re hurting me … ” She stood over him, saying “Pee, you little sod. Go on, pee now. Not in your bed so that Mummy has to get up in the night and make it. Mummy’s tired and doesn’t want to wake up. And if you do I shall make sure that Mummy makes all of your toys sleep in your wet little bed so that they all smell like you, so that they’ll stink of piss just like you do.”

‘Ben was beside himself by the time she’d finished having a go at him. So I told her to go to bed and I calmed him down. Changed the sheets, settled him. And do you know what he said to me? He said “Daddy, I’m scared of Mummy. Please don’t leave me alone with Mummy.” And so that’s why I’m worried. I think she’s seriously unstable and I don’t think she should be somewhere I can’t find her, when she’s got a child with her who’s scared of her.’

‘I can’t believe it …’ Rowena leans towards Alex, and Alex wants to believe she’s being drawn to his side.

‘And then on Christmas Day … Remember she wasn’t at the drinks party on Boxing Day? The stomach bug thing? She was so drunk that she fell over, crashed into a chest of drawers. She was a mess. Bruises on her face, a gash on her head. I mean, a real mess. I thought I’d have to take her to hospital but she refused. That’s why she wasn’t there. And then, when Ben was rushed into hospital with his appendix, she was too drunk to go with him. That’s why she didn’t see him until the next morning. She could barely walk. So you see I’m really worried about her … and Ben. About what she’s capable of, given that she’s become so unstable … so bloody volatile.’

‘Christ,’ Robert says.

‘I saw the bruise. I thought … oh, never mind what I thought,’ Rowena says awkwardly.

‘So if she gets in touch, Rowena, if she gives you any inkling where she is …’

‘Of course, I’ll let you know. Honestly, whatever I can do to help. Poor little Ben. No wonder he was having problems.’

‘Problems?’

‘Well, yeah, everyone knows that Ben’s been going through a difficult time. I told you about the sandpit incident, didn’t I? How he blamed Rupert Hunt? But he’s been hitting the other kids, especially the girls. I’m sure Juliet knew about it, but she never mentioned it?’

Alex puts his head in his hands. ‘No, she didn’t. Christ, I had no idea. Little bugger. Why didn’t she tell me?’

‘I dunno, Alex. Maybe she was scared to.’ Rowena looks at him over the rim of her glass and he senses that he’s got a way to go before she’s completely onside. She’s playing a game tonight, much the same as he is. She’s definitely no pushover. Bright. He’s beginning to find her rather interesting. A bit of a challenge. And there’s nothing Alex likes more than a challenge.

*    *    *    *    *

Juliet has cooked – well, really more thrown together – supper for Mark. He’s lit the wood-burner and found all the candles, explained the idiosyncrasies of the ancient oven, and overseen the preparation of Juliet’s fallback favourite, spaghetti puttanesca, or tart’s spaghetti, as Delia calls it. Mark’s brought some salad from the local village shop, a loaf of bread and provided the wine, and despite the trauma of the day Juliet’s feeling mildly happy. Mark’s put music on, Maroon 5, and is keeping her glass topped up. He doesn’t drink any more but has brushed aside Juliet’s embarrassment at drinking alone. ‘It just didn’t suit me,’ he told her, ‘so what’s the point?’

Ben is settled and asleep. After returning from hospital he perked up and ate the whole pizza, and then spent the afternoon playing games on Juliet’s iPad before venturing outside to inspect the large but neglected garden. There are sheds to hide in, and sheep to watch, and Juliet dares to hope that he might even adjust to country living. The least she could do was to offer supper to Mark to thank him for everything that he’s done. She’s emailed Claire to say how lucky she is to have a brother like Mark, and how she will be eternally grateful to her for helping her to find this sanctuary. She has asked Claire for her address because she wants to send some flowers to say thank you, but so far she hasn’t heard back.

‘I just don’t know how to thank you and Claire. I honestly feel like you’ve saved my life.’

‘Come on. All she’s done is put you in touch with someone who wants a reliable house-sitter. It’s a bit of a no-brainer.’

‘But what she went through. The abuse she suffered. When I read about it on the support site I honestly found it hard to believe what men are capable of. Like she was treated worse than an animal …’

Mark is looking down at his plate, and when he looks up, Juliet senses he’s feeling embarrassed. ‘Sorry, it must be really painful for you … as her brother. I’m being really insensitive bringing it up, and reminding you.’

‘Yeah. I suppose I like to think it’s behind her now. She’s all right. Recovering slowly.’

They’re sitting at the little scrubbed pine table in the sitting room. The fire is blazing, the curtains are drawn. There are lots of candles, and the light from a couple of table lamps makes the room feel secure and cosy.

‘It feels really safe here. I feel safe … for the first time in ages. I had this constant knot in my stomach and it’s gone. I never thought I’d get out alive. Being here is like a dream. I want to pinch myself to check I’m not going to wake up.’

‘It’s not a dream. Here, can’t have you with an empty glass,’ he pours red wine for her and Juliet notices that more than half of the bottle has gone already.

‘I’d better slow down. Remember I’ve got Ben upstairs. Wouldn’t Alex have a field day if he could see me now, getting tipsy with a strange man?’

‘Not that strange, I hope. Coffee?’

‘No thanks. Keeps me awake. But help yourself – it’s your machine, after all.’

‘I will, back in a sec.’ Mark clears the plates from the table and disappears into the kitchen. Juliet listens to the peaceful silence and then she tiptoes upstairs and pokes her head around Ben’s bedroom door. The light from the landing illuminates his face and she can see that he is sleeping soundly, his breathing slow and rhythmical.

She goes back downstairs and curls up in the corner of the large sofa. She checks the cover where she and Ben were sitting this morning, just in case there are any blood stains, but it looks fine. Only this morning, but it seems days ago. So much has happened in the last thirty-six hours. She feels pleasantly sleepy and could easily drift off but Mark returns with his coffee. Once again he refills her glass. ‘I shouldn’t …’

‘Don’t worry, I won’t let you do anything untoward. Remember I’m stone cold sober.’

‘I should be too. You’ll be thinking I’m an unfit mother.’

‘Sure I will – especially after seeing you with Ben today.’

‘Yeah, poor Ben. Alex would make something out of that too. Probably say it was my fault. I kept running through stuff like what if Ben was seriously injured – would I have to call Alex to let him know? Honestly, I was terrified. I can’t tell you how relieved I am he’s OK. There I go again, talking about being terrified. I fantasize that one day it will be a word I don’t use any more. Happy … secure … safe … protected … free … hmm, those are all lovely words.’ Juliet closes her eyes and smiles. Then she opens them and looks at Mark. ‘I’m not a nutter, honestly.’

‘If you keep on I’ll start believing you are.’ He laughs. ‘So this bloke of yours, Alex, what happened? How d’you end up with him?’

‘A question I have asked myself over and over. I should have sensed there was something wrong with him before we were married. He was really controlling. Wanted to know what I was doing all the time, you know, who I was seeing. But I was so stupid, I thought it was flattering. I thought it meant love.’

‘So you got married.’

‘Much to my mother’s delight. Alex was the son-in-law of her dreams. I don’t know why I’m telling you this, but I wanted to really hurt her by marrying the most unsuitable man possible. A punk rocker, or a penniless artist. The sort of man who would loathe her and everything that she represented.’

‘Represented?’

‘Oh you know. Her world was a stupid fantasy. Shallow. Ridiculous values. Like you could only be acceptable if you came from the right family, went to the right school, had the right job. It’s because she had none of those things. She came from nothing – her word, not mine – and because she was pretty and flirtatious she landed herself a smart husband. But he got bored with her after five years and fucked off with his secretary. I hardly saw him because he moved with his new wife to the States. And then … oh well … I don’t really think about “and then”. But she got a job on a magazine writing all the society stuff, going to all the right parties, knowing who was who. A walking social encyclopaedia. She was out all the time. I never really saw much of her.’

‘Then who looked after you?’

‘My stepfather. He was happy to stay at home with me while she went out at night to earn money and party.’

‘You don’t sound as though you like her very much.’

‘Like her?’ Juliet laughs harshly. ‘No. I don’t
like
her very much.’

Mark puts more logs on to the wood-burner, more wine in Juliet’s glass and then leaves the room. She snuggles deeper into the cushions and watches the flames lick around the wood. It all feels so good, being here, being able to talk freely. Talking to Mark is a bit like talking to the faceless people on the web, because he’s a stranger. He doesn’t know her so she can be anyone she wants to be, if she chooses.

‘OK?’ Mark says as he sits down at the opposite end of the sofa.

‘Oh yes. Very OK. Just don’t let me bore you with all my awful stuff. It’s just been so long since I had someone to talk to … someone that wouldn’t judge me, or go and talk to other people. It’s hard to trust people. That’s why the internet’s been so good for me. I like the anonymity, the invisibility. And the fact that you meet people exactly like yourself. And I wouldn’t be here without it.’