‘No …’
‘What, Ross?’ My hands were clammy on the phone. ‘Tell me. I know he’s your friend, but I need to know.’ My voice was tearful. I was reaching out to someone I barely knew, but it was true. I did need to know the truth. I was fed up with lies.
‘Are you sure you want to know? I doubt it’s anything really. Just people stirring.’
‘Ross, tell me. Please.’ Surely he couldn’t fail to hear the note of desperation in my voice?
There was a sigh. ‘Davina is going round telling everyone that she had a drink with Ed last Tuesday. I’m sure it’s nothing.’
Last Tuesday? My mind spun as I tried to recall the week. He’d been working late. Suddenly I felt angry. This was my husband we were discussing. We might not have got things right yet, but there was still time. I wasn’t going to let this woman get in the way of my new start. The one I had planned before even meeting Ed.
‘Look, maybe I shouldn’t have said anything. But if I were you, I’d do something about it.’
‘What?’ My voice came out like a croak.
‘Have her to dinner this very week. Have lots of people to dinner. Show her you’re a couple.’ His voice hardened. ‘Davina’s not a very nice person. You’re worth ten of her.’
Then, before I could say anything else, he added, ‘And don’t forget to invite me.’
Quite frankly, a dinner party is the last thing I need now that the case is gathering speed.
‘If we can show there was negligence on the part of the boiler manufacturer, it will have a huge impact on the whole industry,’ Tony had told me after agreeing to take us on. ‘But we’ve got a lot of research and interviewing to do. I’ll start with the expert witnesses. Meanwhile, I want you to interview this lot.’ He passed me a list of phone numbers. ‘They’re other people who have reported extreme changes of temperature in their boilers.’
‘Where did you get them from?’
‘It doesn’t matter. We just need to get cracking.’
There’s hardly been time for a break. I shouldn’t be taking one now. Yet here I am. Eight of us squeezed round the little table in our small flat, which I have somehow managed to make rather pretty with paper lanterns and lilies. Lilies everywhere. I bought armfuls from the market. The smell is overpowering.
I’ve also taken great care, on Ross’s advice, to use the ‘our’ word at every opportunity. ‘Our’ new sofa, which we bought together. ‘Our’ plans for Christmas. ‘Our’ wedding photographs. The message is clear. We’re a couple now. Maybe that’s why everyone could make it, despite the short notice. They’re curious to see how we are getting on.
It’s not hard to see that I’ve really got up Davina’s nose. In fact, she hasn’t stopped sneezing from the minute she got here.
‘I’m afraid I’m allergic to pollen,’ she says in between splutters as I remove the large vase from the middle of the table – just opposite her place setting. Obviously, if I’d known, I’d never have bought them. Probably not, anyway.
Ed’s face is a picture as he takes in his ex. He’s an artist. He likes things to look nice. And right now, Davina isn’t fitting the bill.
Even my coq au vin is quite passable.
I am triumphant.
‘Thank you for a lovely evening,’ she splutters before leaving on the arm of the boring man she brought with her. A different one from the last time.
Ross winks at me as he brushes my cheek goodnight.
‘Thanks,’ I whisper in his ear.
‘Any time.’ His eyes sweep over me. Surely he’s not checking me out? Although for once I think I look rather good. I’m wearing a simple white dress that covers the curves I’d rather not show, while revealing the ones that are more acceptable.
‘You look lovely,’ says Ed, as soon as the door closes. ‘At least Ross seems to think so.’
The thought occurs to me that a touch of jealousy on my husband’s part might not be a bad thing.
‘We might have a drink together next week,’ I say casually, as I pull on my washing-up gloves.
‘A drink?’ His voice sharpens. ‘Why?’
‘He’s been helping me with a case.’ I take a glass, heavily stained with lipstick, and wash it angrily in hot soapy water. ‘We’re just friends, you know. Unlike you and Davina. I know you met up with her for a drink the other night. Don’t deny it.’
‘For pity’s sake.’ Ed flings down the tea towel. ‘It’s you I married in the end. Not her.’
‘What do you mean, in the end?’
He’s not looking at me. ‘We were engaged,’ he says slowly. ‘She broke it off. I didn’t tell you, because I didn’t want you to feel threatened when you met her.’
Threatened? Is he kidding? I feel even worse now.
‘When did she break it off? How long before we met?’
‘Two …’ He hesitates.
Two years? Two months?
‘Two weeks,’ he murmurs.
‘TWO WEEKS? You started seeing me two weeks after your fiancée broke off your engagement and you didn’t think to tell me?’
‘I explained why.’ Ed’s face is red. ‘Aren’t there things you haven’t told me about your life?’
I go hot. And then cold as the picture of the stables comes into my head. What does he know? How can he know? Don’t be silly, I tell myself. He’s just lashing out blindly. Keep quiet. Say nothing.
Ed is moving towards me now. Placing his hands on my hips. ‘Davina and I had a drink to catch up.’ His voice is pleading. ‘There was nothing in it.’
Tears are in my eyes. ‘Did you marry me on the rebound, Ed?’
‘No. I married you because … because you’re kind and caring and beautiful …’
‘Beautiful? Now I know you’re lying.’
‘I’m not.’ He holds me by the shoulders. ‘To be honest, part of the attraction is that you don’t know how lovely you are.’
‘I’m fat!’ I almost spit out the words.
‘No. You have the shape of a woman. A proper woman. But more important than that, you’re a beautiful person within. You care about putting the world right.’
If only he knew, I think to myself as Ed kisses me softly.
Doesn’t he have a right to know?
Do I believe him when he says there is nothing between him and Davina?
Do I have any right to ask when I have hidden so much from him?
And – just as vital – who can honestly declare Joe Thomas ‘guilty’ or ‘innocent’ when we’re all capable of evil on a lesser or greater scale?
The doorbell rings as I am lying in Ed’s arms. I almost did it, I tell myself. Honest love between husband and wife. Well, affection, at least …
The bell goes again. Wrapping my dressing gown around me and glancing at the clock – ten o’clock already? – I make for the door. A beautiful doe-eyed woman in a black and orange silk dress is standing there, dark curls cascading over her shoulders. I’m still so caught up with Ed and me, it takes me a second to figure out who she is.
‘I am so sorry,’ says Francesca. ‘I have to work again and I have no one else to ask.’
Little Carla has already burst through our door as if she lives here. She is dancing up and down. ‘Can we cook like we did before?’ she sings.
Of course this is an intrusion. The warning bell in my head tells me that the more I allow it to go on, the more of a habit it will become. And I have work to do. But I am just trying to form an excuse when Ed comes up, the phone in his hand, his face shocked.
‘That was Davina’s boyfriend. She’s been rushed to hospital with an asthma attack. Brought on by those lilies.’
‘Is she all right?’
‘Yes. But it could have been much worse apparently.’
To my shame, I feel a flash of regret along with relief. Then the lawyer in me goes on the offensive. ‘You should have told me she was allergic to pollen before I put the flowers out. Surely you knew?’
He shrugs. ‘I forgot until it happened.’
The intimacy of last night is fast evaporating. Suddenly we’re aware of the little girl dancing and Francesca waiting impatiently at the door.