I don’t know if I can cope with ‘one more thing’. But I let him continue.
‘I’m sorry,’ he says softly, ‘but it was me who scratched your husband’s car. I don’t normally do stuff like that. I’m not a vandal or nothing. But, well, to be honest, I wish I’d torched the fucker.’
At this point I couldn’t care less about Dom’s car. But something else is bugging me. ‘Was it you who trampled my flowers? And tipped that paint over my step?’
Callum hangs his head and then nods.
I don’t know what to say to his silent admission. Those things all seem so trivial now, after what I’ve just learnt about Dom.
‘I’m sorry, miss. I did it to get back at your husband, not you. I was so angry.
‘Just go, Callum.’
‘Okay. I’m sorry,’ he repeats.
As he steps out of the back door, I remember something else. ‘Wait!’ I stand and turn to face him.
He stops and turns, his dark eyebrows raised.
‘Was it you who rang me that time?’ I ask.
‘Rang you?’
‘That anonymous call telling me to back off.’ I trawl my brain to remember the exact words… ‘“Stop poking your nose in.” That’s what they said. Was that you as well?’
‘I dunno what you’re talking about. I didn’t even know your number before just now so how could I have called you?’
‘Do you promise?’
‘Look, I just came round here to tell you some pretty serious stuff. Why would I lie about a phone call?’
‘I don’t know. I don’t suppose you would.’
‘And why would anyone say that to you?’ Callum asks. ‘Maybe it was a wrong number.’
‘They used my first name.’
‘So what did they say exactly?’
‘What I just said. “Stop poking your nose in or you’ll regret it.”’
‘Shit. So it was like a threat or something.’
I nod. If it wasn’t Callum who called me, then it doesn’t make sense. Who could it have been? Unless… No. Dom wouldn’t do that to me, would he? I don’t know. My husband is not the person I thought he was. ‘I really need you to leave now, Callum.’
‘Sorry, miss. For… you know. Everything.’
I don’t reply. I just sit where I am, wishing I could blot everything out.
After Callum has gone, a deep silence overtakes the room.
My husband and Hannah Slater. I picture them together, more intimately, his hands on her body, and I rush over to the sink, vomiting up all the water I drank this morning. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. Is Dom still seeing her? Are they in love? It can’t be possible, can it? But then again… it might be.
I grip the edge of the sink and take a breath as my mind unlocks and starts racing ahead. What if Dom hasn’t been working late these past few weeks, and instead he’s been meeting up in secret with Hannah Slater? What if he wants to be with her permanently? I squirt washing-up liquid into the basin and run the hot water tap to clean out the sink. Something else occurs to me – maybe my own husband has been setting me up to look crazy, making me appear neglectful. Could he have spiked my drink at the party? He could have. But he wouldn’t have, would he? Or maybe… was Hannah there yesterday? Did she do it?
Once the sink is clean, I pour myself a glass of water, rinse out my mouth and spit. Then I square my shoulders. I’m not going to sit around here all day speculating. I’ve done enough of that over the past couple of weeks.
I’m going next door right now to find out the truth.
Thirty-Five
I lock up the back door with sweating, trembling fingers. Then I grab my bag and keys, leave the house and march next door to the Parkfields’. As the soles of my sandals slap against the pavement, I remember it’s Sunday morning, so the whole family will probably be home. Fine. Who cares? Let them all hear. If Hannah really is sleeping with my husband then her parents need to know exactly what’s been going on.
I stride up the front path and hammer on their door, ignoring the sharp pains shooting up my bruised arm. No one answers straight away so I put my finger on the doorbell and hold it down.
Eventually, I see a dark shape approaching through the frosted glass. I remove my finger from the bell and stand there, arms folded across my chest, preparing myself for a confrontation.
Lorna opens the door with a scowl of annoyance, wrapping her arms around her body. ‘Kirstie? What are you doing hammering on our door? Have you gone mad?’
‘I don’t know, Lorna. Maybe I have. Is Hannah home?’
‘Hannah?’
‘Yes, you know, Hannah, your eldest daughter. Can I speak to her please?’
‘Are you drunk again?’ Lorna asks, with a faint sneer.
I give a short laugh. ‘You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You know, Mel was right – you are a snobby cow. I always stuck up for you, but I don’t know why I bothered. Now, are you going to get that daughter of yours out here, or do I have to come in and drag her out?’
Lorna’s mouth drops open before she snaps it shut with a glare. ‘Okay Kirstie, you better leave right now, or I’m going to call the police.’
‘Do it,’ I say. ‘Call the police and then I’ll call the school governors and let them know that the headmaster’s daughter got pregnant when she was fifteen years old.’
‘What?’ Her face blanches. ‘I don’t know what you’re—’
‘Save it, Lorna. I know you’re a grandma.’
‘What are you doing here, Kirstie?’ she says. ‘My daughter has got nothing to do with you. What my family does is none of your business.’
‘Look, I need to speak to Hannah.’
‘Why?’
‘Just give me ten minutes with her, and then I’ll leave.’
‘What the hell is wrong with you, Kirstie? First, your behaviour at the barbecue yesterday, and then today, coming over here like this… I don’t think you’re right in the head.’
‘Ten minutes with Hannah, or I’m on the phone to the school governors. Your choice.’
‘Lorna! Who is it?’ Parkfield calls from a distant room.
Lorna sighs. ‘Wait here.’ She closes the front door and I see her dark shape recede through the opaque glass.
As I wait for her to return, I try to rein in my emotions. If Callum is to be believed I’m about to confront the teenage girl my husband is sleeping with. I need to hear Hannah admit it. To tell me to my face that my husband is the father of her child. Of all the things I expected to have to deal with today, this was not one of them. I don’t think it’s even sunk in yet.
A few minutes later, the front door opens again and I’m staring into the faces of both Lorna and Hannah.
‘You better come in,’ Lorna says. ‘Stephen’s working in his study. I’ve told him you’re here to pick up some of the girls’ old clothes for Daisy. I don’t want him to be disturbed by any of this. We’ll go into the living room.’
I step inside and follow them into the front lounge. We stand facing one another, the air between us crackling with tension and hostility.
‘Well?’ Lorna says, ‘Say what you’ve got to say and then leave.’
‘I need to speak to Hannah alone.’
‘No way,’ Lorna says. ‘You can say whatever you’ve got to say in front of me.’
‘I told you what the deal was, Lorna.’ I have a feeling Hannah won’t be quite as truthful if her mum’s in the room. ‘I’m not bluffing about calling the governors of our school and the new school.’
We remain deadlocked for a few moments, neither of us backing down until Lorna finally caves, ‘Fine,’ she says. ‘Five minutes.’
‘Mum!’ Hannah cries. ‘Where are you going? Don’t leave me with her.’
‘Don’t make this more difficult than it is, young lady,’ Lorna says to her daughter. ‘Your stepfather could lose his job because of your behaviour. He doesn’t need any more aggravation.’ She turns to me. ‘And you,’ she points at me, ‘remember she’s still a child. Whatever it is you’ve got to say to her, say it nicely.’
Finally, Lorna leaves the room, and I close the door behind her.
‘Why are you here?’ Hannah asks. ‘What do you want?’
No point beating about the bush. ‘Are you sleeping with my husband?’
‘What? No!’