I’m packing my overnight bag when the house phone rings.
‘It’s Paul Harris here,’ the voice says. ‘We got the path results through for Justin.’
‘Justin?’ What on earth’s he talking about? ‘Sorry – wrong number I think.’
‘Mr King’s Pomeranian puppy?’
‘Oh God, sorry!’ Of course. I forgot the silly name – Justin. ‘You should talk to my husband. It was his children’s dog. Can I give you his mobile number?’
‘Sure.’ The vet takes it down. ‘But you might want to do a quick sweep of your home. Check there’s no more rodenticide around.’
‘Rodenticide? Do you mean like rat poison?’
‘Exactly. It wasn’t the virus I suspected after all. It was blood poisoning unfortunately. A chemical ingredient called cholecalciferol was detected in his bloods. Lethal for dogs.’
I put the phone down feeling anxious. I’m sure we haven’t put any poisons down in the house, and the dog was inside the whole time. Apart from in the woods, I suppose. But he barely walked; he was carried most of the way.
* * *
Our night away is far from the big success I’ve hoped for – the one we really need it to be.
The hotel is, as I expected, lovely. Five star, very luxurious in an understated sort of way, set in country grounds. It all makes me a little nervous to be honest, and I’m not planning to do anything but hang out with Matthew – but he needs to do some work when we arrive, as he left the office early.
I swim in the indoor pool. Gazing out at the Cotswold hills all swaddled in mist, I try to feel like this is just what I wanted to do – swim alone; have some time to myself.
Trouble is I have nothing but too much time to myself. Frankie’s out more and more, and soon he’ll go again for good. He’s got a place in Leeds to study music production in the autumn, and before that a job picking grapes in France.
I’m gutted by this, though I try to hide it, and even though he’s already been up in Hull briefly, I’m just not used to him being away. He’s been my be-all and end-all forever it seems. He was what I lived for when Simon left.
At least it gives me an understanding of Matthew’s sombre mood sometimes, when he seems a little – distant, missing his kids daily, although of course he does see them regularly, and it’ll be years before they’ll be off for good.
But when Frankie is away, I spend whole days talking to no one apart from myself – and Matthew when he gets home – often quite late.
At least that’ll change now, thank God, with my new job!
* * *
At dinner Matthew keeps his phone on the table, awaiting a call from Tokyo.
I tell him about my job, and he seems pleased, if a little surprised. ‘You kept that quiet!’
‘I mentioned it the other night,’ I point out. ‘That I had a second interview, remember?’
‘So when do you start?’ He gouges a snail from its shell, sucking the greeny-brown flesh up with vigour.
Poor creature! I shudder. ‘In about four weeks I think.’ I crumble my bread roll, not very hungry suddenly. ‘I’ve got to go for an induction, meet the other staff, stuff like that – but the teacher who’s leaving finishes at the end of term.’
This is the time to tell him about the final piece of the puzzle I’ve kept to myself. I take a big sip of water and promptly choke.
When I recover my breath, the waiter arrives with the champagne Matthew has ordered and a big bunch of red roses.
‘They’re beautiful.’ I am surprised and touched. Can I tell him now? I have to.
I neck my glass of champagne. ‘Matt…’
His phone rings. ‘Sorry,’ he murmurs, glancing down.
I’ve seen the name on the screen.
‘Please.’ I put my hand out to him. ‘I really need to tell you something.’
But he takes it. ‘Might be the kids.’
Even from the other side of the table, I can hear her shouting down the line.
Eventually Matthew stands, walking out to the foyer to talk, pacing up and down.
He comes back tight-lipped. I gather it is more blame about the dog.
‘Couldn’t he have eaten something before he came to ours?’ I say. ‘The poor puppy?’
‘Something like cyanide?’ he snaps. ‘I doubt it very much.’
‘Cyanide?’ I gaze at him. ‘But I thought – I’m sure the vet said rat poison when I spoke to him?’
‘Yeah he did – and now apparently this as well.’
Something about Matt’s face tells me to leave it there.
We finish the rich, heavy dinner in complete silence.
* * *
Despite the lavish room and the draped four-poster bed, we are awkward as we get ready for bed. Matthew is exhausted after a hectic week at work, and I feel shaken again by the puppy and Kaye’s shouting.
Why does she seem to crop up at such inopportune moments?
Lying on my side, watching Matthew descend into deep sleep without touching me, without coming near me at all, I feel ugly and unloved.
The sheer lacy nightie I bought especially for tonight stays forlornly in my case, as one hot tear after another squeezes out of my half-shut eyes.
* * *