“What? Oh my God, Jo! When did this happen?”
“I tried to get hold of him to tell him about Aiden, but I couldn’t. He was supposed to be working with his brother in London for at least four weeks, which is normal for him. He used to come back and see me once a week but that fizzled out long ago. Nowadays he doesn’t even call and he’s a nightmare to get hold of. So I called his brother and Steven told me that Hugh hadn’t even been at the office for a week.”
“What?”
“Hugh told Steven he was coming home for a few days so Steven figured he was spending some time with me.”
“What do you think has happened, Jo?”
“He’s having an affair, I know it. I’ve known it for a long time. A friend of mine saw him with a woman in London. Bitch had blonde hair, apparently. Anyway, I checked our joint account and there’s hardly any money in it at all. I think about ten grand is gone.”
“Fuck.”
“I know,” she said. I heard her sniff and then take a deep breath. “I’ve got enough money in my personal account. I’ve been savvy, Emma, don’t worry. I would never let myself end up destitute. I can afford the mortgage, though I’d probably sell this fucking house. I never liked it.”
I knew that was a lie, but I didn’t point it out.
“I wish I could come over and see you. There are so many reporters around the house—”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Em. It’s fine. You stay with Aiden. Jesus, you’ve got enough to be going on with without getting involved in this shit with me and Hugh. Listen, he’s a waste of space, it isn’t even worth discussing. I hope he never does come home. He probably will, though. Steven will kill him if he fucks up the family business by clearing off with some tarty blonde.”
“Jo. Christ. I don’t know what to say.”
“There’s nothing to say.”
“I know. Will you do me one huge favour?”
“Course, Em, anything.”
“No matter how shitty you feel, get up, get showered, and go to work. Don’t let that arsehole bring you down. God, I was such a mess after my parents died. Don’t end up like me.”
“Emma, I’m so sorry about back then. If I’d known you were struggling so much—”
“Hey, it’s not your fault.”
“I was working too hard. I got too involved in work and I forgot about my friends.”
“You’re doing it again,” I said with a smile. “You’re telling yourself off. You always do that. Stop blaming yourself for other people fucking up.”
She laughed. “You’re right. He’s the arsehole. I’m awesome.”
“Better.”
*
It wasn’t like the first time we holed up, where we played games and watched DVDs. This time there was an uncomfortable atmosphere throughout the house. Denise flapped around making tea and sandwiches. She was much more present than she had been near the beginning of the investigation. Marcus came and went, constantly going for meetings at the police station. When he was here he had private conversations with Denise. Jake stayed off work for a day, but then went back to school on Thursday morning. While he was at home he was like a bear with a thorn in its paw. He kept opening cupboards and then closing them. I often caught him staring at Aiden with narrowed eyes. More than once he suggested that Aiden should go to Rob’s parents’ B&B for the week, but when Jake’s lawyer heard of that plan, he told us not to do it. Apparently if we did that it would raise suspicion.
But Rob did come to visit, which frankly was a huge help. He sat and drew with Aiden, not even balking at the strange jangle of black spirals that Aiden liked to scrawl. He brought DVDs we’d watched as teens. Nothing too violent or scary. Things like The Breakfast Club and Home Alone. He brought pizza and told stupid jokes. Why do bananas have to put on sunscreen before they go to the beach? Because they might peel!
“You look better,” he said. It was Thursday afternoon, a mere few days since the ‘shrill’ video had gone viral. “You’ve got more colour about you. I reckon you need to get out of this house though.”
“I’m taking Aiden for another therapy session tomorrow.”
“Good,” he said with a nod. “Just be careful, okay? Did you think about what I said? About Jake?”
I nodded. “It’s not him, Rob. I’d know.”
He took my hands and smiled. “All right. I won’t mention it again. But if there’s anything you need, and I mean anything, you call me. I’m talking ‘Wispa bar in the middle of the night’ shit. Remember when you were pregnant with Aiden and you sent me out for a jar of Nutella at 3am?”
“Oh yes, I remember that,” I said. “I didn’t even spread it on toast, I got a spoon.”
“That spread did not stand a chance.”
It had been a while since I’d laughed. I’d barely cracked a smile for days. We stood in the kitchen watching Aiden through the hallway sat on the sofa. The television was on but I got the feeling he wasn’t watching it at all, and that made goose bumps appear along my arms.