Crossing the Line (Kerry Wilkinson) (10 page)

As Jessica followed Hugo’s gaze towards the statue, two young women were walking through from

the toilets towards the bar area. Both were wearing dresses entirely inappropriate for the weather,

although Jessica saw Adam’s eyes drifting towards them too. ‘Mr Wandering Eyes’ she called him

whenever they were in a car together. His point was that just because they were living together,

practically married, technically engaged – although it was complicated – that didn’t stop him having

the same raging hormones as another male who wasn’t in his position. Being the geeky scientist that

he was, he even explained the chemical reaction – which seemed a fancy way of excusing himself

from ogling other women.

As soon as he spotted that Jessica had noticed where he was looking, Adam turned back to his

sister and her boyfriend. Meanwhile, the two women stopped on the spot, heels scraping across the

floor as one of them whispered to the other, pointing at Hugo. Caroline didn’t remove her hand from

Hugo’s arm as the two girls click-clacked across the floor, hoiking up their collective cleavages, and

asking him for his autograph. If looks could kill, then Caroline would have been off down the station

bang to rights but Hugo seemed, as ever, unaware. He signed a pair of napkins, drawing a doodle of

Lowry for one of the girls, and had his picture taken with each of them – all without moving from his

seat. Caroline glowered but she should have probably been more jealous of the Lowry figure. In the

war between a bronze statue of a nineteenth-century Mancunian artist and two pairs of bra-related

feats of engineering, there was only one winner in Hugo’s mind.

When the women had disappeared in fits of giggles back towards the bar, Caroline finally settled

again, shaking her head and mouthing the word ‘cows’ at Jessica.

Everyone around the table was still in their thirties, with the exception of Humphrey, who was in

his fifties and struggling to fit into the conversation – although that might have been because of the

presence of Georgia’s hand on his thigh. Georgia had been trying to get Jessica and Adam to meet her

new boyfriend for weeks but Jessica’s work, as usual, had interfered with every suggestion. He was

dressed smartly, wearing a suit with a waistcoat and an expensive-looking watch which he kept

glancing towards. He’d spoiled it slightly by wearing a bright green blazer but no one else had said

anything, so Jessica let it go.

‘What was Oslo like, Hugo?’ Humphrey asked, trying to make conversation.

‘Huh?’

‘Oslo – what was it like?’

Hugo turned back to the table. ‘It’s very Norwegian. I only said yes because I wanted to go to the

Edvard Munch museum.’

‘He painted “The Scream”, didn’t he?’

Instead of replying, Hugo pulled the face from the famous painting, with the added bonus of the

pack of cards still being in his hand.

‘Hugo’s off to Germany next week,’ Caroline said after an uncomfortable silence. ‘He’s getting

really big in Europe now. It means he’s away a lot, though.’ Hugo shrugged, his attention now on the

menu. ‘He’s got an agent and a publicist, all sorts of people, haven’t you, hon?’

Another shrug.

‘I’ve always wondered what they actually do,’ Humphrey said but Hugo didn’t seem to know.

The waiter took their orders, with Jessica and Caroline sharing a bottle of wine. Caroline nattered

about how well her job was going, peppering everything with how much she missed Hugo when he

wasn’t around. Jessica ummed and aahed in all the right places but couldn’t stop herself from being

distracted by Humphrey. The way he checked his watch was like a nervous tic – a flick of his wrist to

see the time and then back down again. It happened so quickly that she wondered if anyone else had

noticed – perhaps he didn’t even know he was doing it. The problem was that because Jessica had

seen it once, she couldn’t stop seeing it. Every four or five minutes, he would roll his sleeve back,

spin his wrist around, glance down and return the sleeve, all within a couple of seconds.

Caroline quickly became distracted by the walking cleavages taking stools at the end of the bar that

meant they had a view of Hugo, using their phones to take photographs of him. As Caroline went off

to find a waiter, bouncer or contract killer, Adam leant in to whisper into Jessica’s ear. ‘Your mum

called the house earlier. She said she couldn’t get through to you.’

Since moving back into their Swinton house, Adam had let his stubble grow and was now sporting

a tidy dark beard. His black hair was shorter than it had been in a while, flopping around his ears.

‘What did she want?’

‘To talk to you.’

Jessica had a large mouthful of wine, keeping it her mouth so she didn’t have to reply. After the

death of Jessica’s father, her mother had sold their house in Cumbria and moved herself into a

community home for retirees just north of the city. Her reason was ‘to be closer to you’ but Jessica

was struggling to get used to it. They’d never had a bad relationship and not fallen out in any way

other than a teenage girl battling with her parents, yet Jessica didn’t feel the same connection to her

mum that she had to her father. She had always been a daddy’s girl but when it was just her and her

mum alone, there was nothing to talk about, other than the usual ‘How’s work, how’s Adam, how’s the

house’.

Then there was the other thing.

‘What did you talk about?’ Jessica asked.

‘The house, the weather, you, me. She was telling me about some of the friends she’s making. You

should visit her.’

More wine.

‘I’m too busy at work.’

‘She said she’s been trying to call.’

‘She always phones when I’m busy – either at work, or in meetings, or on overtime. I have things to

do.’

Adam lowered his voice even further. ‘Is it about—?’

‘Of course it bloody is.’ Georgia and Humphrey stopped their conversation and turned to her.

Realising she had shouted, Jessica lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘If she wants someone to visit her,

you do it.’

‘It’s you she wants to see.’

‘She only ever wants to go on about the same thing.’

‘So tell her to stop.’

Jessica called over a waiter and ordered another bottle of wine. Sod Caroline, she was getting

through this by herself. ‘I have! At first it was just “Are Adam and you still trying?” but then she

started talking about articles she’d read about conceiving and asking if we’d thought about IVF. She

never stops.’

Adam smiled in the infuriatingly understanding way he always did, seeing both sides. Sometimes,

he was
so
annoying. ‘She’s had a really bad eighteen months – we all have. She’s feeling lonely and living in a place where, to be honest, everyone is winding down their lives. After your dad, she’s

thinking that she would love to have a grandchild before . . . you know . . . it’s only natural. Just tell her the truth – she’ll understand.’

Why did he always have to be so rational? Foolish fly-off-the-handle reactions Jessica could

understand; calm, measured responses were beyond her and only made her more annoyed.

Jessica was saved by the waiter arriving with their food and Caroline returning in a huff,

presumably because she hadn’t succeeded in having the other girls chucked out for daring to take

photos of her semi-famous boyfriend. Jessica hid herself behind forkfuls of corned beef hash

whenever anyone wanted to talk, continuing to observe Humphrey. Aside from the watch thing, there

wasn’t anything particularly wrong with him; he had grown into his looks in the way some older men

did – and she could see the attraction for Georgia, despite the age difference. Georgia hadn’t gone as

over the top as Caroline in getting dressed up but her bleached hair had been curled into a bob and

she was wearing skinny jeans and a tight jumper, showing off a figure that made abundant at least one

of the reasons why Humphrey was with her. Despite all of that, there was something about him that

made Jessica uneasy. Avoiding eye contact could be seen as shifty but he was the opposite, staring

directly at whomever he was speaking to. In many ways, that was even more unnerving.

As Jessica glanced up from her plate, she accidentally caught his gaze, dark brown beads staring

into her. Even though he was smiling, she didn’t feel it. ‘What’s it like having my girl living with

you?’ he asked, squeezing Georgia’s arm.

Jessica had mistimed picking up her glass and had no option other than to answer. ‘It’s nice to have

another woman around.’

Sometimes she really was a terrible liar.

Georgia thankfully didn’t seem aware of the fact that Jessica preferred having the house to herself

on her days off. ‘It’s only temporary,’ Georgia said, flashing a toothy smile for her boyfriend. ‘I’m

looking at a flat on Monday evening if you want to come?’

Humphrey did the weird thing with his watch before nodding. ‘Remind me this weekend and I’ll

see what I can do.’ He turned back to Jessica, waiting for her to finish chewing before adding: ‘Do

you mind if I ask you a personal question?’

Yes.

Fake smile, feel for Adam’s hand under the table, hope he doesn’t ask about children, curl your

toes so the rest of you doesn’t tense, stay calm.

‘No, go for it.’

He nodded towards Jessica’s hand, which was gripping the fork far too tightly. ‘You wear a

wedding ring but you’re not . . .’

Whew, an easy one.

‘We sort of are but we’re not,’ Adam replied, saving Jessica the job. ‘We did the whole ceremony

thing but there was a problem with the paperwork. There are pictures and everything but we’re not

legally married.’

‘Any plans to have another go?’

Adam squeezed Jessica’s hand under the table but didn’t glance sideways at her, didn’t offer that

stupid knowing grin that couples always saved for each other. Bloody hell, he was good at this.

‘We’re happy as we are for now.’

Good answer, she should have thought of that, shouldn’t she?

Georgia interrupted, pointing towards Adam excitedly. ‘What’s that thing we’re going to?’

‘What thing?’

‘You know, that park thing. What’s it called?’

‘I don’t know, you’re telling me.’

Georgia flapped her hand around in the air, umming. ‘You know . . . I know you know.’

‘ParkFest?’ Caroline said.

‘Yes!’ Georgia turned to her boyfriend. ‘Ads, Jess and me are all off to ParkFest – you should

come. One of my mates was going to come up but she can’t make it.’

Humphrey didn’t seem so sure, checking the diary on his phone, but Georgia wouldn’t take no for

an answer. ‘If you’re at work in the morning, I’ll give you the ticket – then we can meet there. Go on,

you can come, can’t you? For meeeeeeeeeeee?’

‘I’m sure I can figure something out.’

That got him a kiss on the cheek and another squeeze on the thigh. Humphrey nodded towards

Jessica again. ‘Sounds like you should be busy at work with everything that’s been on the news the

past couple of days?’

‘What, the footballer shagging around?’

Laughter. Ha, ha, ha, that was good. Be funny, keep joking, then no one asks The Question. Adam

squeezes her hand again; only he knows. He sees both faces – this Jessica, the work Jessica, the funny

one. Then there’s the other Jessica; the broken one who miscarried Marcus. She hates him knowing

that the other Jessica exists. That’s why she avoids places like this, new people with their questions.

Work, work, work and then nobody asks.

Jessica pushed her chair away from the table and excused herself to go to the toilet. Adam pressed

his fingers into hers one more time. He knew. The bastard.

10

Lisa Dawes knew she’d made a mistake in giving her kids a treat. It wasn’t taking them to tea after

school, nor was it missing the five o’clock start time at the cinema, meaning they had to watch the

half-five show. It wasn’t letting them have an ice cream while they were waiting – it did at least shut

them up – but it was definitely allowing them to share that bag of sweets during the film. The

crunching, shuffling, fidgeting and double toilet break she could handle; what she was less happy

about was the running. They flew out of the cinema, chasing each other and leaping the bollards

before nearly knocking an older woman off her feet.

Lisa apologised, helping the woman pick up her shopping, before turning and shouting at the boys

to stop running. She hated being one of
those
grown-ups: the ones who bellowed at their kids in

public, letting everyone know what bad parents they were. The pair slowed to a fast walk but still

stayed ahead of her, desperate to charge on again, despite the shopping centre being full of early

evening bargain-hunters. Didn’t these people have homes to go to? Somehow, Lisa had to get them to

bed when they got home, despite the fact they were flying high on the produce of Mr Cadbury. She

really was an awful mother, wasn’t she? That’s what the custody counter-claim said anyway: Bad

Mother. Still, he had his bimbo and she had the kids, so who was the winner there.

Wishing she still had the reins from when they were small, Lisa allowed her sons to lead her along

the top floor of the shopping centre, through the double doors and into the lifts. Except they didn’t

wait for the bloody lift, did they? As they screamed their way up the stairs, Lisa followed, legs