As she made her way out onto the street, she could feel Cherry watching her from the window. She daren’t look up; she didn’t want to see her gloating, triumphant face.
The dark was creeping in, casting the room in a reverential gloom, but Laura lay on the sofa, couldn’t muster the energy to get up and switch on the light. In fact, she quite liked it, lying there, Moses on her stomach, purring rhythmically, the two of them watching the shadows take hold. It suited her mood. She knew she’d lost her cool earlier, but Cherry’s performance had got to her. Now, lying here looking back on it, it frightened her how much Cherry had controlled the entire incident. She was probably enjoying it, revelling in the way Daniel was turning against her. She’d tried calling him when she’d got back to the house, but it had gone to his answerphone. She’d left a message asking him to call her back, but he hadn’t so far and she didn’t expect a response tonight. In fact, she honestly didn’t know when she’d hear from him again.
The lift door opened in the hallway and Moses pricked his ears. Howard must have come up from the garage.
He entered the room and flicked on the light. Laura winced and covered her eyes.
He was surprised to see her. ‘What are you doing here in the dark?’
‘Nothing. Relaxing.’
Howard stroked Moses, who was weaving in and out of his ankles. ‘Hello, boy.’ He looked up. ‘Where’s Daniel?’
A knot formed in Laura’s chest. She’d have to tell him. ‘He’s moved back to his flat.’
Howard stood. ‘When?’
‘Yesterday.’
‘Was he not going to say goodbye?’
‘It’s not as simple as that.’
He looked at her, waiting for more. Under pressure, she got up and moved into the kitchen. Poured herself a glass of wine from the fridge.
Howard followed. ‘What’s going on?’
‘Daniel and Cherry are back together.’
He looked surprised. ‘What . . . after the way she dumped him?’
‘She didn’t dump him. I told her . . .’ There was a long pause.
‘Yes . . . ?’
‘When we thought he wasn’t going to make it . . . I told her he’d already died.’
Howard stared and then started to laugh, a wild, incredulous bark. The laugh dried up. ‘You’re not joking, are you?’
‘She didn’t love him, I’m pretty sure . . . I know she wants him for his money.’
He rubbed his hand across his hair, making it stick up. ‘Oh my God.’
Laura topped up her wine. ‘Do you want some?’ she said, indicating the bottle.
Still reeling, he shook his head. ‘What about when he woke up? Did you not think to tell him the truth?’
‘Oh, Howard, how could I?’ she said, frustrated at his lack of understanding. ‘And now he’s found out, through Cherry, who’s manipulated herself back into his life.’
‘Cherry’s manipulated?’
‘She’s a very clever, very determined young woman.’
Howard reached for the bottle and a glass. ‘Maybe I will have that drink.’ He looked at her and she wished he’d wipe the judgemental expression off his face. ‘So when he found out, he felt the need to move back to his flat, and judging from your mood when I came in, he’s not best pleased with you.’
‘He doesn’t see her for who she really is.’
‘I think it’s you who’s not seeing.’
‘But she’s—’
‘Not her, you. Look at yourself. At what you’ve done.’ He shook his head. ‘How on earth did you think you’d get away with this?’
‘You’re forgetting. At the time, we didn’t think . . . The doctors told us he was dying. I just needed those last couple of days. As a mother, under the circumstances, I don’t think that’s too hard to justify, is it?’
‘“As a mother . . .” He’s a grown man, Laura. You don’t have to think what’s best for him anymore. How do you think he felt when he woke up and you – Christ, me too – told him she’d left him? Me, consoling him with a load of bullshit about how she wasn’t worth it if she wasn’t going to stick around.’ He was angry now and slammed down his glass. ‘Does he think I was in on this?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Well, you better bloody tell him I wasn’t. No, don’t – I’ll tell him.’ He sighed heavily. ‘Cherry’s OK. What exactly have you got against her?’
Laura flashed a look of exasperation. ‘I’ve told you. She’s after his money, his future. Now she can just hang on to his coat-tails and get herself another life.’
‘And you know this how?’
‘Little things. She’s lied about stuff. Money. Fabricated excuses to get time off to go to France. But it’s more than that; it’s . . . I don’t know . . . a feeling . . .’
‘What, mother’s instinct?’
‘Don’t dismiss it,’ she snapped, hurt.
‘You’re deluded. Just let go. Let go of him.’ He looked at her with a new distance, as if he didn’t know her. ‘Stop making excuses for your obsessive behaviour. You’ve driven him away – you – and you’ve only got yourself to blame.’ He shook his head as he looked at her, as if he was hit by a great sadness, then left the room.
She heard him go upstairs, and after a while the footsteps faded out. She sat down, and pouring some more wine, found her hand was shaking. She hadn’t said anything about Cherry’s threats but had a feeling Howard would’ve just thought she was being sensational, or what was it he’d called her? Deluded.
FORTY-TWO
Friday 2 October