Living with Shadows (36 page)

The anticipation of just walking in and surprising her and then announcing he could spend the night with her had been almost as exciting as the act. He wondered what it was that heightened his emotions so. Was it the secrecy or the subterfuge? Certainly, there was an element of excitement in both of these; in knowing something your partner is completely unaware of, and in devising strategies to continue this covert behaviour. Was it love? He thought he loved Kate. He did, but not in the way he loved Helen. He deliberated over every argument he could think of to explain why he had entered into this affair and what it was about each of these women that caused him to behave in a way as yet alien to him—infatuation, retaliation, beauty, apathy, sex, neglect. He explored all these ideas as though it was the most natural thing in the world to contemplate infidelity through logic. One emotion he had avoided was guilt and that was nowhere near strong enough to change a thing.

A car on the drive took him by surprise and immediately aroused suspicion. Jim knew of only one visitor since he had worked for Helen—her thug of an ex-husband. He swung his toolbox out of the van and walked around to the back of the house. From the side window he could see into the kitchen where a man leaned casually against the breakfast table with a mug in his hand. A feeling of rage swept over him as he remembered Helen’s bruises. Could this be the man responsible for that sickening act of brutality?

Jim walked directly into the kitchen and dropped his toolbox onto the tiled floor. He eyed the man up and down before growling, ‘Where’s Helen?’

‘As you can see, she isn’t here.’ Though Jim’s tone was threatening, the man showed no sense of intimidation. ‘You must be the odd job man, am I right?’

‘I’ll ask you again, where’s Helen?’

‘She’s out on an errand. Satisfied now?’

‘It all depends who you are and what you’re doing here.’

The man put his cup down on the worktop and stood up straight. ‘For an odd job man, you don’t seem to have many manners. Who I am and what I’m doing here is none of your business.’

Jim seethed at the chap’s cool arrogance. He wanted to punch him there and then simply because of his attitude. Instead he picked up his toolbox and strode past him towards the conservatory. It was only after he resumed work and his anger had subsided that he began to question whether the man really was Helen’s ex. For a start he appeared to be several years younger than her and from the bits of conversation they’d had about her husband, Jim felt sure he was an older man. And then he thought that if he had picked up all the supplies Helen had asked him to bring, which would have meant calling at another store, he would not have arrived for at least another hour by which time her visitor might well have left. The idea that she could be having an affair with another man sickened him. It crossed his mind that he had no right to expect her to be faithful to him. After all, he was a married man. He had made no promises to her or given her any indication that he would leave his wife. He had never thought their relationship was heading in that direction. It was less complicated than that. It was a purer thing than marriage could ever hope to be. It was passionate, unrestrained and undomesticated. So far he had been able to compartmentalise, separating his home life from his affair. The possibility of a rival turned everything on its head. Now he felt threatened.

The scrutiny of his true feelings for Helen was interrupted when he heard her voice and realised she was back. He strained to hear what was being said between her and her visitor but their voices were hardly above a whisper and so it was impossible to make sense of the broken words. Besides, he didn’t want it to be obvious he was listening. An odd job man should be drilling or hammering or making some noise. He picked up his hammer and drove a nail through a piece of timber for no other reason than to release his frustration.

Before long, Helen came into the conservatory. She was wearing a smart grey suit with a white blouse. Her hair, twisted into a chignon, made her look every inch the business woman. Jim stopped what he was doing and studied her. Though she tried to hide it with a smile and the offer of coffee, she seemed on edge.

‘It’s OK, thanks. I’d better carry on here. I’m falling behind.’ He knew he sounded pathetic, as though he was getting his own back after a reprimand. It was stupid because what he really wanted to do was take hold of her, tear off her grey uniform and revel in her nakedness.

‘Then let’s skip coffee,’ she murmured huskily moving towards him, her slim fingers working a small white button through its corresponding buttonhole to expose the swell of her breasts above lacy underwear.

Next, she’s in his arms and he’s kissing her furiously, passionately, at the same time realising his earlier thoughts. His urgency is overwhelming as he pushes her half naked body against the wall and presses himself against her. He feels her hand pulling down his zip and groping for him as he hitches up her skirt. The touch of her hand drives him mad and with a crude jerk, he pulls down her pants and thrusts into her. And then he is telling her over and over that he loves her and she returns his love so that the words mingle on their lips and in their breath until every ounce of their passion has been spent and they lean against the wall holding each other tightly until their hearts cease to race and their breathing becomes regular once more.

Jim held her face up to his and looked deep into her blue eyes. It felt like he had been on a journey and arrived at a place he knew he always wanted to be. Next minute he is filled with a sense of dread. As his passion subsides, reality creeps over him like a shroud, quickly filling the space around him with names and places, voices and faces. He shudders and her blue eyes fill with uncertainty.

Helen buried her head in his chest and he felt her sigh. After a short while she looked up at him. His moment of doubt passed with the exception that he had learned something about himself, something he did not care to dwell on.

‘I’ll make that coffee now.’ There was a serious look in her eyes. ‘And then I need to tell you something.’

Jim ran his hand over her cheek. ‘You don’t have to. You don’t owe me anything.’

‘I know that. But since I met you something has changed—I’ve changed, and I want to put things right, starting from now.’

Jim frowned. ‘Sounds a bit heavy?’

‘It was becoming unbearable but now that I have you . . . no, don’t look so alarmed . . . I didn’t mean . . . I know you’re married and you probably love Kate in spite of . . .’

He pulled her to him and held her close. He did this more to hide his own face than to save hers. He’d been foolish in telling her he loved her. He wasn’t sure what he felt. But when her shoulders heaved and tears spilled from her eyes, he was overcome with pity and concern. There was no way he could add to her misery by letting her see that he was uncertain about this relationship.

Jim put his hands on her shoulders and looked into her face. ‘Hey, what is it?’ He knew this had something to do with her recent visitor and he felt that whatever it was she was about to tell him, it was not going to be easy for her so he steered her towards the kitchen and settled her at the table before filling the kettle.

Helen sat quietly for a few minutes. She wiped away the tears from her face and examined her long red fingernails, stroking each one in turn. Jim brought two coffees over and sat beside her. He took one of her hands in his and waited for her to speak.

‘That man, Carl; he isn’t my husband, he’s my brother-in-law.’ There was a pause but Jim remained silent waiting for her to continue. Helen laughed as if to herself. ‘He used to be a great kid, nothing like his brother. Unfortunately, he didn’t stay that way.’ She looked Jim in the eye. ‘It’s in the blood, you see—evil, rottenness. For the past God knows how long I’ve been living in fear. I always knew he’d find me and make me pay again and again for what happened.’ Helen gave a deep sigh and squeezed Jim’s hands in hers. ‘You’re the best thing that’s happened to me in years. You know, I haven’t let another man near me since . . . that night. I never trusted any of them . . . but I know I can trust you.’

Jim smiled warmly but he didn’t understand how she could allow someone to frighten her like this. ‘If he’s threatening you, you need to tell the police, don’t you?’

Helen moved her hands away and played with her fingernails. ‘It’s not as simple as that.’

‘Then he must have some sort of hold over you.’

‘Got it in one.’

This time when she looked up Jim noticed a cold stare in her eyes as if she was looking right through him. He squirmed in his seat. She was close to some sort of confession he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear. Once she had unburdened herself to him, he believed nothing could be the same. He would be a party to whatever she’d been running away from all these years and instinct told him it was something more serious than he cared to be involved in. ‘You don’t have to tell me, you know.’

‘I know. And I know I’m taking a risk . . . with us, but I can’t live like this any more. One way or another, it has to end.’

Not twenty minutes ago he had told her he loved her, and now she was prepared to bear her soul to him. If he hadn’t got carried away, would she still be telling him this? He didn’t want to know her secrets; he wanted things to stay as they were. He could just about handle an affair but nothing too heavy. He wasn’t sure what he wanted anymore. Why had he told her he loved her? He could hear his heart beating in his chest and he just wanted to get out of there.

The house bustled with activity. Bridesmaids tripped in and out of rooms in various stages of undress; a blur of green satin or white underwear as first one and then another raced past for some small item from Sam’s bedroom, nail polish, hair clips, make up, the final touches to her appearance. Kate was leaving them to it. Sam had let it be known that she was running the show and though things looked pretty chaotic, she resisted the temptation to help.

She studied her reflection in the long mirror and questioned her choice of wedding outfit, a lilac dress with cream accessories, including the large brimmed hat trimmed with lilac ribbon. She hated to wear a hat; a hang up from childhood when her mother used to make her wear the most hideous bonnets for school. As soon as she was out of sight, she would yank the abomination from her head and leave it dangling between her shoulders by its straps, replacing it only when she was the same distance from home on the return journey.

She had married Jim in lilac and still wasn’t sure whether the colour suited her. As she ran her hands over the soft linen, turning this way and that in the mirror, she wondered whether her outfit might be a tad wishy-washy for the mother-of-the-bride. Too late now, she thought. They’d be leaving soon, which reminded her, Jim wasn’t back yet. He’d left early that morning to sort out a problem at Mrs. Duncan’s. The way he pandered to her infuriated Kate at times but he insisted he had to keep her happy in view of the huge amount of money she was paying him. This was no doubt reasonable enough, but surely he must have told her what day it was. She glanced at the clock and reckoned he had barely an hour to get ready if he came back now.

With Jim not there to keep Sharon company, she had been pretty much left to her own devices. Her offers of assistance had been politely declined as everyone had their own agenda so the best Kate could do was to give her a novel and hope it would help pass a few hours. She seemed content enough with this and pushed the baby out into the garden where she sat reading while mayhem reigned indoors.

Kate and Sharon had met for the first time the previous evening and Kate had been taken aback by her likeness to Jim, the same dark eyes and full mouth. What was even more surprising were the shared characteristics, her gestures, laugh, the way she frowned when she was concentrating. And stranger still was the fact she hadn’t seen her father since she was a young child so how could she have picked up his mannerisms? Her observation reminded her that at times she had noticed some of their father’s traits in Sam and Ben, a certain look or gesture. Genes passed on through generations, determining a person’s make-up, their predilection towards one thing or another; these things fascinated Kate. How was it possible for every individual to be unique with so many influences?

She hadn’t had much chance to speak to Sharon since she arrived, not when there was so much catching up to do with her father. Kate had sat by patiently listening to their stories about family, friends and relationships, pastimes and work. At times it seemed as though they had forgotten Kate was in the same room.

The mirror yielded another blur of green satin reminding Kate that she still had things to do. At the same time she heard the front door open and a voice calling out ‘I’m home.’ Kate stepped onto the landing and peered over the banister just as Jim was leaping through the hallway. ‘Jim, hurry up, you’re late,’ she remonstrated.

His response was upbeat given the hour. ‘Ready in ten minutes.’

The improbability of it flashed across her mind as she went downstairs into the kitchen to find him opening a bottle of champagne. ‘Something to steady the nerves,’ he grinned. When he saw her, he stopped what he was doing and his face grew serious. ‘You look lovely.’