My mind is full of what my mother has told me. It changes everything. All this, all the manipulating and the lying, has nothing to do with Tom or that house, it’s to do with Mum and the past. Amber is punishing me for something that I had no part in. And now she’s scared because she knows she’s gone too far and is about to lose me and the life she and Robert have built up around my family. I don’t know what I should do, whether to tell her I know or let her have enough rope to hang herself. I break out in a cold sweat just thinking about it.
‘I don’t want your money. Your friendship is so important to me. I got carried away by that house. I forgot who I was.’
I don’t find this in the least bit reassuring. ‘Then tell me why …’ I hesitate. I’m tired and I need to think before I go wading into a situation I am very far from understanding.
‘What?’
‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘Do you want to come round? I’m on my own tonight. Sophie and Rose are having a sleepover. We could have a glass of wine and put the world to rights.’
‘Amber, I’m sorry. I can’t. I’m over at Jenny’s now. I … well, Tom asked me to leave.’
‘Shit. Vicky. I am so sorry.’
And she sounds it. I’m drawn in, her sympathy playing like the strings of a lute. And then I remember that the only reason we are friends is because she orchestrated it. She must have been following me for years to have kept up with my life, to have known that I was married and pregnant.
‘I have to go,’ I say. ‘Jenny and Simon are waiting for me.’
‘So you’re staying the night there? I suppose it’s for the best. It’ll give Tom a chance to cool off. Oh, and Vicky, Robert’s home tomorrow. You won’t tell him about any of this, will you?’
‘Of course I won’t. I think you should do that yourself.’
Silence.
‘Amber?’
‘I know. You’re right. Vicky, please give me another chance. You’re my best friend. I’ve been weak and thoughtless but if you only knew … well, I’ll tell you sometime. But it hasn’t been easy.’
I sigh. ‘OK, Amber. I forgive you.’ If she really has been through everything Mum described, then what else can I do?
38
I YAWN AS a precursor to going up to bed. we finished supper half an hour ago and have been discussing Jenny’s decision to go back to work. They are a lovely couple and perfectly suited; Simon enormously proud of his wife and Jenny, the more matter-of-fact spouse, humouring him and laughing at his jokes. They are hospitable and generous and have made me feel welcome. I don’t want to encroach on their space.
‘I’m bushed,’ I say. ‘I think I’ll go up.’
Neither of them argues but they both smile at me and Jenny holds out her hand and takes mine.
‘You get a good night’s sleep, Vicky.’
I have my doubts about that. My head is far too full. I go upstairs and run myself a bath in the children’s bathroom and lie in it until my skin wrinkles. Rose’s toothbrush is in a dinosaur-shaped plastic mug, Sophie Collins’s Cath Kidston washbag on the glass shelf. A string bag full of Spike’s toys hangs from a dolphin hook and the door, with its cracked panels and grubby fingermarks, has stickers all over it: glittery butterflies, pirates, exotic birds and Disney characters. Ranged along the side of the bath is a family of bright-yellow, red-beaked rubber ducks. I miss my children, and when I think of them waking up in the morning and finding me gone, my heart breaks. I get out and sit on the side of the bath with my towel wrapped around me, in someone else’s bathroom in someone else’s house. Try as I might, I can’t kid myself that things are going to get better. I fold my body over, suddenly nauseous, and weep silently.
Tom opens the door and looks at Amber as though she’s the last person he expects to see. It seems to her that he’s swiftly rethinking what he was about to say. Presumably he thought it was Vicky. He’s as polite as ever but as tense and wired as a guitar string. Well, she’s nervous too.
‘Sorry about the mess,’ he says, ushering her into the kitchen. ‘Vicky’s had to go away. My sister’s coming to help but she can’t get here till tomorrow. Do you want a drink?’
‘Thanks, that would be great. I won’t stay long. I just wanted to see how you both were.’
‘I’m fine. Have you spoken to Vicky?’
‘Not since yesterday.’ A lie won’t hurt at this stage. The words rush out. ‘Tom, look, I feel partly to blame for what’s happened.’ She takes the glass from his hand. It’s cold and she touches it to her wrist to help cool her down. ‘It’s such a mess.’
‘You’re telling me.’
He drinks his beer straight from the bottle, tipping it to his lips in a way she finds intensely erotic. Amber goes outside where the evening is warm and scented with recently cut grass. Their flower beds are full of bluebells. She lowers herself on to the edge of the decking and slips off her shoes. Her toenails are mother-of-pearl. A goldfinch pecks at the feeder while the last of the sun shimmers above the rooftops. Amber waits for it to dip behind them with a sense of dreamy anticipation. A soft breeze plays in her hair and the alcohol insulates her nerves.
Tom joins her and leans on his bony knees, the bottle between his hands, his thumb rubbing lightly up and down the glass. She turns to him, meaning to start the conversation about Spain, but he speaks first, almost as if he’s scared of even touching on the subject.
‘When’s Robert back?’
‘Late morning.’
‘You must miss him.’
She looks at him, tilting her head slightly and studying his profile. Why is he doing this? Her stomach rumbles incongruously and Tom laughs.
‘I’m starving,’ she says with a mock-petulant smile.
‘So am I. I forget to eat when Vicky isn’t here.’ He looks around as if expecting food to miraculously appear. ‘Actually she chucked my dinner away.’
Amber laughs. ‘Did you deserve it?’
‘Oh totally. I provoked her.’ He brightens and jumps up. ‘There’s a pizza in the fridge. I’ll put it in the oven. Where’s Sophie?’
‘She’s staying the night at Rose Forsyth’s.’ Surely he doesn’t need a clearer message than that. ‘You don’t mind me landing on you, do you? It’s just that normally I’d have Vicky to talk to.’ She readjusts her neckline downwards. ‘We’re not exactly on speaking terms, as you can imagine. She’s convinced I ratted on her.’
He doesn’t respond. Perhaps he hasn’t heard. After a moment she wanders in after him and hovers while he takes the pizza out of its packaging and slides it into the oven. He tops up her wine.
‘Cheers.’ He smiles as he clinks his bottle against her glass.
‘Cheers.’
He turns to fetch plates, knives and forks. Amber sips her wine and watches him.
‘This bloke, David North. He’s a father at the school, isn’t he?’
‘His daughter’s in Year Six,’ she says. She goes over to the cupboards and takes out two of the white china plates, standing close to him. He moves away and sets the table, making her feel as though she’s chased him across the room. That’s not nice.
‘So Vicky taught her last year. Classy.’
‘To be fair,’ she says, pulling a chair out and sitting down, ‘I think it was more to do with him. I don’t think she was looking for it. Sometimes things happen. You meet someone and it’s like a punch. There’s not a lot you can do about that.’
‘Was that what it was like for you and Robert?’ he asks, missing the point entirely.