There was another, much longer, pause while fresh guilt punched me in the stomach. ‘I love you too.’
He hung up, and I slowly pressed down on the receiver to clear the line; the dialling tone sounding in my ear. After Mum died, I used to call home when I knew Dad wasn’t there just so I could hear her voice on the answerphone message: ‘I’m sorry we can’t take your call at the moment, please do leave any message you’d like to.’
I let the receiver momentarily fall from my hands and, still holding Louise’s bit of paper, I reached into my front pocket and pulled out the Dictaphone Ben had bought me. For the millionth time, I rewound the tiny tape to the beginning, and pressed play.
‘Go on! Say – “Mummy! Answer your phone!”’ Ben’s voice was distant. There had been a lot of feedback when I’d held the Dictaphone up to my mobile to record Beth’s first and last voice message before it was automatically erased.
I scrunched my eyes tightly shut, as I heard the faint giggle I’d listened to over and over again, and then her voice: ‘Mummy! Answer your phone!’ I swallowed, and rewound it.
‘Mummy! Answer your phone!’
Click – rewind.
‘Mummy! Answer your phone!’
I let it slip from my fingers because the insistent whirring tone coming from the landline telling me I hadn’t hung up the receiver properly was growing louder. I sat myself up.
Now was the time. Louise had said three o’clock.
I stared at the phone. I should remove myself from everyone’s lives. It was the right thing to do, and I now wanted to do it.
I exhaled, darted a hand out, snatched it up… and began to dial.
Chapter Seven
The ringing echoed in my ear; it seemed to be growing louder and louder… I was actually doing this. There was a click as someone picked up, and I shivered, preparing to speak to Simon.
But instead, a breathless little voice said: ‘Hello?’
It was like jumping into a bath of scalding water unawares. I gasped in shock.
‘Hello?’ the voice repeated, more uncertainly.
The pain was so exquisitely white hot that, for a second or two, I was unable to speak. She sounded so exactly like Beth. Louise had said it would be him that answered. She must realise how this would make me feel? Surely? Was that the point?
‘Hello, Cara,’ I managed eventually. ‘Can I speak to Daddy, please?’
‘Daddy!’ she called out. ‘It’s for you… I don’t know.’
There was a muffled sound of the receiver being passed over, and then Simon’s clear voice. ‘Hello?’
‘It’s me,’ I said.
There was a stunned silence, and then Simon said cheerfully: ‘Hello, David. How are you?’
I thought of Louise in the background, knowing he was lying – and badly. How was he going to explain it if Cara asked afterwards why the lady was called David? But then he probably wasn’t thinking straight.
‘I’m sorry to ring you at home.’
‘That’s OK,’ he said brightly. ‘How can I help?’
‘I take it Louise is there with you by the way you’re talking?’ I tried to keep my voice calm and controlled.
‘Yes – absolutely!’
‘I need to see you. Today. At 6 p.m.’
There was another pause. ‘That might be tricky, David.’
No, it’ll be fine. Trust me. ‘I’ll be at The Armoury at 6 p.m. tonight. I wouldn’t ask unless it was important.’
‘I’ll see what I can do.’
‘Did you hear where I said I’ll be?’
‘Yes, The Armoury,’ he said, confused.
Good – he’d said it aloud. Louise would at least be certain now that I had done as I was told, and that it was me he was speaking to.
‘I’ll see you there.’ I hung up, my hands shaking.
I got to my feet stiffly, feeling cold – and went upstairs to run a bath.
* * *
I winced as I climbed in, watching my skin turn sugar-prawn pink in the too-hot water. Staring at the blank, white tiles in front of me, I glanced right, at Beth’s plastic teapot, still sat in the corner of the bath. Cara’s innocent voice calling her daddy echoed in my head.
Standing up suddenly, I let the water out; I needed to get this over with. I wanted to get on a plane and just disappear. Quickly washing my hair in the shower, I went through to our bedroom, drew the curtains to shut out the dark and pulled on jeans and a black jumper. I hadn’t worn make-up since the funeral, and I hated myself for being vain enough to bother, but I applied some anyway, and dried my hair. Glancing at myself in the hall mirror by the front door however, having shoved my feet into boots, found my hat and buttoned up my coat, I reached up and roughly wiped off my lipstick. It was wrong to be wearing it. Totally wrong.
Yanking open the front door, I breathed in the sharp, cold air of early evening as I stepped onto the path, crunching the snow that was already icing over. It was very strange to be outside again after three weeks of being almost exclusively in the house. I dug my hands into my pockets and put my head down. There was woodsmoke in the air and people were hurrying home to warm houses rather than heading out, like me. Normally I loved this time of year, when people left their curtains open because their Christmas trees were in the front windows. I found the glimpses into strangers’ lives fascinating, but this time I only saw wreaths on doors, and families all cosy, eating tea, the TV on in the background, children rushing around excitedly. I stared down at the compacted snow, lit up orange by the street lights, as I trudged past rows of identical terraces, getting closer to the city centre.
* * *
In the precinct, late-night shopping was in full swing and, despite the weather, plenty of people were grappling with bulky shopping bags and rolls of wrapping paper as they struggled over slippery pavements. I put a few coins in the collection box of the Salvation Army who were playing ‘Away in a Manger’ as I passed – Beth had sung it solo at her playschool nativity the previous year – and then, arriving at The Armoury, I stamped my feet and swung open the door.
A hot fug of booze, fags and food hit me, making my empty tummy rumble involuntarily. I took off my hat and looked around the busy bar, but he wasn’t there, so I walked through to the much quieter restaurant section and immediately saw Simon sat in the middle of the room with his back to me. There was already a bottle of red wine and two glasses on the table.
I took a deep breath and walked slowly over. ‘Hi.’
He turned at the sound of my voice, and looked visibly shaken as I took the chair opposite him.
‘What?’ I asked warily.
‘Nothing! You just look… you’ve lost a lot of weight, that’s all. And you didn’t exactly have any to lose.’
I made no comment, just unzipped my coat, took it off and put it over the back of the chair. ‘I’m sorry about earlier, calling the house.’
‘It’s OK. I know you wouldn’t have unless it was really important. What’s happened?’
I couldn’t answer at first; I just lifted my gaze and looked at him desperately.
‘Tell me,’ he said softly. ‘I can’t help unless you tell me.’
I gave a strange, strangulated laugh. ‘You can’t help anyway. No one can.’
He didn’t say anything to that, just reached out and clasped my hand in his. Our fingers automatically intertwined, and my eyes filled with tears at his touch as I blurrily stared down at us for a moment, just holding onto each other. I sighed shakily, and pulled away, reaching into my jeans pocket for a tissue. Then as if I’d always known it, I suddenly announced: ‘I’m leaving Ben.’
He looked shocked, almost as much as I was to hear myself repeat it. ‘Where are you going? To your dad’s?’
‘I don’t know. I think I’m probably moving away from here, leaving in the morning. I haven’t told Ben yet.’ I dutifully spoke Louise’s words, and yet they felt strangely true, even if I couldn’t believe I’d just said them.
Simon sat back in his chair. ‘Moving away?’ he said blankly. ‘Another country, moving away? Or just to the other end of this one, moving away?’
‘I really have no idea, Simon,’ I answered truthfully.