Two weeks later and she still hadn’t heard from Daniel. Outwardly she put on a show of being level-headed and rational, acting as if it would all blow over, but inside she was a writhing mess of anxiety. There was no one she could talk to about it. She and Howard were more estranged than ever and didn’t even seem to achieve their occasional meals together now. He’d send her a text telling her he had a late meeting at work and she’d end up having a solitary dinner in the kitchen. Eating alone soon lost any appeal and she’d got into the habit of not cooking, sometimes not really bothering to eat at all, and had lost a few pounds. She noticed her cheeks were a little more hollow as she inspected her face in the mirror above her dressing table. But it wasn’t really the more sunken look that was different; it was the dullness of her eyes. She quickly glanced away. Tonight might take her mind off things. She was going to a dinner party at Isabella’s. A handful of friends had been invited, she said, then had followed by asking if Howard would be working, rather than asking if he was free to come. Laura hadn’t pressed for an invitation for him – he wouldn’t come anyway, not with the way things were between them. She wasn’t really in the mood for lots of jolly conversation, but it was better than staying at home.
She hoped Isabella was going to be too busy to ask much about Daniel. She hadn’t told her he’d moved out, and she didn’t want to get in an awkward corner making up something to avoid explaining about the lie. No, the plan was, get out of the house, have a change of scene, mingle with some old friends and then come home early. She was also going to avoid drinking too much – she didn’t want to start feeling desperate or maudlin and end up blurting something out. She preferred not even to think about it; it was like a shameful secret, a dirty great black goblin that sat on her shoulder, poking her in the back of the neck every now and then, just to remind her it was there.
She slid the lipstick expertly over the edge of her cupid’s bow just as she heard the lift door open. Howard was home. It instantly made her nervous. She snapped the lipstick shut and put it down. Then she left her bedroom. It was good he was home early, she told herself, as there was something she wanted to ask him, had been wanting to ask him for a while now.
She headed into the living room, where Howard, still in his work suit, was pouring himself a whisky.
‘Good day?’ she said with forced brightness.
He turned, saw with some surprise that she was dressed up but didn’t comment. ‘Fine. Yourself?’
Laura wasn’t going to tell him she’d tried calling Daniel for the third time since he’d thrown her out and had, for the third time, got his answerphone. She’d not left a message, didn’t see how she could really expand on the previous two. But the lack of communication was killing her and somehow she had to get onto the subject. ‘Yes, great, thanks. You up to much tonight?’
‘No, not really. Been a long week.’
‘Meant to be a nice weekend. You catching up with anyone? Seeing Daniel?’
It was about as subtle as a brick, but she kept her fixed smile in place.
‘Not got any plans to,’ he said slowly.
She braced herself and any pretence left her. The question had been burning away for days and she had to know. ‘Has he been in touch? You know, since he moved out?’
Howard took a sip of his drink. ‘Yes.’
It cut her down even though it was the answer she’d secretly expected.
‘Is he OK?’
‘I take it you’ve not spoken to him.’
She didn’t feel the need to reply.
He was awkward. ‘He’s fine. Busy at work. Doesn’t have a lot of spare time – you know how it is, these trainee doctors.’
Knowing he’d lied to spare her pain made it all the worse. If Daniel had time to speak to his dad, then he had time to speak to her.
‘Has Cherry moved in?’ Her voice sounded tight, strangled.
He looked at her. ‘You want me to answer that?’
Laura took a deep breath and glanced around the room without really looking at it.
‘Leave it, Laura.’
Hurt, she looked at him. She didn’t want to get into another row. ‘Right, well, I’d better be off.’
‘Going somewhere nice?’
‘Just to Isabella’s.’
‘Well, enjoy.’
She was about to say why didn’t he come too, seeing as he was back earlier than expected, but he’d already turned away, was fixing himself another drink. She nodded at his back and went into the hall, put her shoes on and left.
She was the last to arrive. Isabella had hired caterers and a young woman with sleek dark hair, who reminded her of Cherry, took her coat. She was led into the front room, abuzz with chatter and good humour, and she recognized most of the people there: Diane and her husband, Phillip, who’d come to the barbecue last year, as had Sally and Edward. A couple of others she’d seen at Christmas but no one since, as socializing had taken such a knock over the last few months. No one noticed her. She stood just inside the doorway, on the periphery, unable to join the flow of the party. She felt as if she didn’t belong, as if, should she go over and try and join the conversation, they’d turn with cool glances. She’d lied that her son was dead. Laura was under no illusion what these people would think if they knew. They’d reel in shock and a collective muted horror. Even if they knew the truth about Cherry, it wouldn’t be enough. She’d said the unsayable and allowed it to permeate deep into other people’s lives. They’d distance themselves from such sordidness. They’d judge, gossip, some maybe even getting a kick out of the eyebrow-raising, the subtle amusement at her expense.
She was starting to regret coming and wondered about just backing out and going home when Isabella spotted her. She waved delightedly and headed over.
‘Darling, you’re almost late. I hope it’s not because you’ve been working yourself too hard.’ She didn’t wait for an answer, but kissed her on the cheek and signalled for the waitress to bring over some champagne, holding her own glass out at the same time for a top-up. ‘Come and meet my new friend Andrew. You look great, by the way, that silver grey does wonders for your eyes.’
Laura was pulled in the direction of Isabella’s husband, Richard, who was talking to an energetic, wiry man with grey hair and a tanned, weathered face.
‘Andrew, allow me to introduce you to my great friend Laura.’
‘Hello, Laura.’ He held out his hand warmly and she took it as Isabella looked on. ‘Laura is a television producer, and Andrew runs an exporting business. Oh, we’re ready,’ she said as a gong went off in the dining room.
Laura found she’d been seated next to Andrew, and as she looked around the table, realized they were the only two people in the room who had arrived alone. A flash of suspicion crossed her mind and then it became clear during the first course.
‘So what do you do for fun?’ asked Andrew.
Laura smiled. ‘It’s questions like these that always remind me I need to take more time off.’
‘I know what you mean. Running a business, monsters that chew up all your waking hours.’
‘So not much time for anything else?’
‘I do try and keep fit.’
‘What’s your thing?’
‘Triathlons, mainly. Set myself a target twice a year.’
Laura kept smiling, but inside she was deeply uncomfortable. She’d expressly told Isabella not to set her up. It felt like another weight on her shoulders, an evening she had to spend being polite to a man in whom she had no interest, at least not romantically. What had he been told? Christ, it was so embarrassing. She was suddenly angry, which made her feel exhausted, which in turn angered her more. She passed through the meal as best she could. More than once she wondered what Daniel was doing. When was she ever going to hear from him? The questions whirled round her head, tormenting her while she fended off polite questions about the difference between a director and a producer.