Name & Address Withheld (18 page)

I was only twelve, but I can still remember the day my mum found out that my dad had been having an affair. They stayed together (for better, for worse, for me, etc. etc.) until he died, but she’s never really got over the betrayal and I’ve always promised myself that I would never let history repeat itself. At least we haven’t got any children to worry about, but my biggest fear is that now I think I might have actually driven him away. And the million-dollar question is: could I ever forgive him? Answers on a postcard. Suppose I’d better get on with my day.

R x

Children. What if Matt had children? What if he was someone’s dad as well as someone’s husband? Lizzie added it to her mental list of questions—none of them light and fluffy—which she was saving for lunchtime and clicked on ‘reply’.

Sorry to hear things aren’t running as smoothly as you’d hoped. My advice—personal and professional—is to stop putting it off and start talking to him. Stop worrying about failing. If you really love him and want to make things work then you need to tell him to his face. If it’s a case of mixed messages, harsh as it may seem, you are both to blame—and if making your marriage work is the most important thing to you both, then you’ll be able to weather this storm. Think of the long-term bigger picture and throw guilt and pride out of the window. Only you two know what you’ve had in the past, whether you can get it back, and whether it is
worth fighting for. Hold that head up and go for it. Fingers Crossed. Happy Wednesday!

L x

She got a response right away.

L

Don’t mince those words! Thanks, though. Right, as always.

R x

Clare popped her head round the door at 10:28 with a mug of tea and a saucer piled high with chocolate biscuits. In her eyes dire emotional situations called for emergency rations, and yesterday Clare had compassionately filled the cupboards with all Lizzie’s favourite foods. She needn’t have worried. Lizzie’s appetite was usually the last thing to go. Although Clare had failed to notice that the one packet was lasting an eternity—more than half a day was a lifetime in biscuit terms—it was not a good sign.

‘Sleep out of fashion these days?’ Clare was doing her best not to mention anything that might provoke tears. To be frank it didn’t leave her with many subjects to choose from.

‘Just woke up really early and thought I’d make the most of the morning, seeing as I did nothing yesterday except stare into space and watch black and white films. Sometimes I think life would be simpler if it was in black and white…’ She was off on a whimsical train of thought. It seemed, though, that Clare wasn’t interested in anything but the most direct and practical this morning.

‘Oh, and doing your show last night wasn’t work, was it? Honestly, Liz, sometimes you’re your own worst enemy. You put more pressure on yourself than anyone else ever will.’

True, Lizzie had pulled herself together for her radio show, but actually focusing on something other than herself had been a relief.

‘Maybe… Thanks for the tea.’

‘No problem. Look, I’m heading off in a minute—I’ve got a few things to do before the lunch rush. If I were you I’d let the answer-phone screen your calls. After all, you don’t want any nasty surprises.’

Lizzie smiled weakly. ‘I’ve got nothing to say to him. Onwards and upwards, hey?’

It was fighting talk with no fight. Lizzie wished Clare would hurry up and go before Matt called to finalise their arrangements. She’d decided not to mention it just in case Clare decided to lock her in the airing cupboard to prevent her from going. She could always tell her that Matt had dropped in unannounced and dragged her out if she needed to talk to her about it later. Still, fight or no fight, Clare was pleased with the apparent change in Lizzie’s attitude.

‘That’s my girl. I know it’s hard, Liz, but it’s the only way.’

‘Mmm.’ Lizzie was pretending to be deeply absorbed by a letter from her postbag. It felt very wrong to be deceiving the closest thing she had to a sister, but maybe he wouldn’t even call and then she wouldn’t be lying to Clare anyway and could probably get off on a technicality. Lizzie was suddenly aware of the fact that Clare was now just standing in the doorway, staring at her.

‘Clare?’

‘Yes, Liz.’

‘Please stop feeling sorry for me. I don’t think I can bear it.’

‘Don’t be daft. Just thinking how brave you’re being. I know it’s been tough for you…’

Been tough? Clare really had no idea what she was going through, did she? A mere day and a half into her crisis, it was getting tougher every hour. Lizzie didn’t have the energy to have a whole conversation right now, so nodded in a ‘thank-you-now-piss-off-with-your-tea-and-sympathy-so-I-can-geton-with-agonising-over-what-to-do-next’ manner. The message wasn’t conveyed. Lizzie obviously had a bit of work to do on her meaningful nods. Clare was still chatting.

‘Listen, I was thinking—one of the girls at work does Reiki massages. She’s fully qualified and everything. Why don’t I
see if she could pop over and give you one here? My treat. I’m sure we can spare her for a couple of hours this afternoon.’

‘Thanks, but…’ Lizzie didn’t quite know how to put this without sounding ungrateful and spoilt, but the last thing she wanted was someone dropping in this afternoon. She had to nip Clare’s latest scheme in the bud or run the real risk of being found out. ‘How well do you know me?’

‘Very well?’

Clare was tentative. She wasn’t sure what the right answer was. Lizzie obviously had one in mind, and she didn’t want to get it wrong when she was patently teetering on an emotional tightrope this morning.

To Clare’s relief Lizzie nodded. ‘Yes. Sometimes better than I know myself…in which case you should know what I think of alternative therapies…’ It was meant to be sarcastic bordering on the amusing but out loud it just sounded rude. ‘Reiki…whatever next? Shovelly… Trowelly… Spadey…? Clare, you of all people shouldn’t be taken in by this Eastern channelling of energy, I’ll lay my hands on you for forty quid bollocks.’

Clare decided to overlook Lizzie’s lack of gratitude in light of everything going on.

‘So I take it that I shouldn’t send her over?’

‘No, thanks. I appreciate the concern but I’ll be fine. I’d rather you bought me forty pounds’ worth of white toast and chocolate spread than a massage.’ Lizzie smiled to demonstrate to Clare that she appreciated the gesture even if everything that came out of her mouth was acid-coated at the moment. It was the best she could do.

Clare swallowed her slightly dented pride and administered a maternal peck to the top of Lizzie’s head. Clare knew she’d probably burst into tears the minute the front door closed behind her, and irritatingly all she could do was make sure Lizzie knew that she was there for her. ‘Look after yourself. You know where I am if you need me…and ten out of ten for washing your hair this morning. No wonder you’re feeling more human today. Lots of love.’

Lizzie heard the front door close and gave it ten minutes be
fore she took the saucer of biscuits back to the tin for recycling. Just because she was confused and depressed didn’t mean she wanted to be fat too.

Eerily the phone rang only seconds later as if Matt had sensed Clare’s recent departure. True to his word he’d booked lunch somewhere quiet in Richmond, and was coming to collect her
en route
.

They were quiet in the taxi. It was as if they were saving heavy conversation for the table and small talk at this point would somehow have been hypocritical. Lizzie checked her bag and was relieved to discover that she’d had the foresight to bring her sunglasses. It wasn’t exactly sunny, but it wasn’t raining either, and she was sure that they’d prove useful when leaving the restaurant.

Meeting up to talk to Matt had appealed to the drama queen in her. Now, at their table tucked away in the corner, she was wondering whether this had been such a good idea. Matt looked tired. His eyes were dull, his face haggard and drawn. His skin was—well, grey. He reached across the table and took Lizzie’s hands in his.

‘I am so sorry. You’ve really got no idea how sorry. I’d do anything to turn back the clock and to have told you at the beginning. That was the original plan.’

But, Lizzie wondered, if he had told her, would she still have gone out with him? It was a tough one. Probably not. But then she’d never have known what she was missing. Part of her could understand why he’d found it so hard to bring it up but, she reminded herself sternly, he’d tricked her, he’d lied, and that was unacceptable however flatteringly you tried to pitch it.

‘When did it all get so complicated?’ Her voice trembled as she started to speak and she swallowed in an attempt to steady it. ‘I wish I was a child again, when the most stressful thing about life was whether it was hair-wash night or not.’

Matt smiled. Lizzie was incredible. Trying to retain her sense of humour when he had given her every reason to trade it in for a machete. She looked pale and resigned, but underneath the shadows she was still Lizzie. ‘Thanks so much for
agreeing to meet. I just wanted a chance to set the record straight. To tell you how I feel. To try and explain. I had the best intentions…’

The blood was visibly draining from Lizzie’s face, and if her eyes had been any wider they would have met in the middle. She snatched her hand back and ran it through her hair distractedly. Matt was confused. He hadn’t really said anything yet. Suddenly she leapt to her feet, a pseudo but instant smile now plastered across her face. Matt turned to follow her gaze.

Small world alert. Friends on the horizon. Lousy timing. One beautiful young Elizabeth Hurley body double and an older well-dressed woman with something familiar about her.

‘Darling! It is—you see…’ She turned to her companion. ‘What a coincidence. I thought it was you, but Alex was trying to tell me that you’d be hard at work, not lunching in Surrey. But I just knew. Is that a new jumper? Very nice. The colour really suits you.’

Lizzie glared at her mother as she advanced towards her. This was definitely not a moment for her to grab the scruff of her daughter’s neck and inspect the label. Lizzie leant forward and gave her a kiss. It seemed to be enough to distract her.

‘Working hard?’ Did Alex look mischievous or was Lizzie just feeling ridiculously guilty? Had she whipped her hand away in time?

‘Mum, Alex…what a surprise!’

Matt breathed in. Lizzie’s mother. And the legendary Alex. He’d heard plenty about her. And, surprisingly, on first appearances she did live up to her reputation. Her physique didn’t suggest that she’d ever been anywhere near an obstetrician. Matt didn’t really know where to look. He had no idea how much they did or didn’t know. He was going to have to follow Lizzie’s lead.

‘Working lunch?’ Annie Ford was almost rubbing her hands together with the excitement of the moment.

‘Something like that. Are you two having lunch here too?’ Lizzie prayed very hard that they were running late for a very important appointment. They had to be going. They just had to.

‘No…unfortunately not.’

Relief flooded Lizzie’s system. In her opinion there was absolutely nothing unfortunate about it all.

‘We came in for a morning coffee and were just on our way out when I thought I saw you walk past.’

‘Annie we’ve got to get going. I’m supposed to fetch Josh in ten minutes and we’ve got to get the car from the multi-storey. I don’t want to be late. He’ll think he’s been abandoned.’

Lizzie could have kissed her sister-in-law. Regrettably, though, her mother didn’t seem to be going anywhere. She now seemed to be staring at Matt, just waiting for an introduction. Lizzie was going to make it a quick one.

‘Sorry—how rude of me…’ Lizzie turned to Matt almost apologetically.

‘This is David. He works at the advertising agency that runs the City FM account.’

Lizzie glared at Matt/David. He beamed back at her, any surprise or confusion carefully camouflaged. Lizzie shouldn’t have underestimated him. After all, she kept forgetting he was practically a professional liar.

‘Lovely to meet you, David.’

‘And you…’ Matt left a gap for her to fill.

‘Annie—Annie Ford. Lizzie’s mother.’

‘No, surely not. You couldn’t possibly be. You simply don’t look old enough.’

Lizzie balked, glad she had just invented his persona. She couldn’t have anyone she was supposed to be in love with saying things that cheesy in public. But, judging by the rapturous expression on Annie’s face, it appeared to be working.

Luckily there were no more chairs at their definite table for two, and her grandson was demanding vehicular attention, or Lizzie felt sure that her mother at the very least would have sat down to join them. But, with Alex now practically rattling her car keys under Annie’s nose, ‘David’ was spared an interview. As Lizzie watched them walk into the street she waved, silently waiting until they had turned the corner just in case her
mother’s bat-like hearing was in extra-sensory pick-up mode. Matt was the first to speak.

‘Sorry, Liz, I had no idea your mum lived in Richmond.’

‘She doesn’t. She must be on day-release from Hampstead. Do you think they suspected anything? I bet Alex knew what was going on; she just had that glint in her eye.’

‘Knew what? What is there to know? Surely you haven’t mentioned a mystery David from the agency before today?’

‘No, course not. But you don’t know my family. They’re not going to a let a little thing like a different name get in the way. Shit. This could even get back to Clare now. It’s not going to take a lot of imagination on her part to work out what’s going on.’ For the moment Lizzie’s mind was overcrowded with every possible nightmarish eventuality.

‘Just for the record, they seemed very nice. You’re right about Alex. Gorgeous. A little too groomed for me, but I can see what you mean.’

This was all too weird. She shouldn’t have come. Yet Matt had handled it all so well and now, inspired by his stealth, she could feel herself weakening. Lizzie took a deep breath and told herself not to be so pathetic. There was a silence at the table while they gathered their thoughts, recently scattered by their surprise visitors. Matt was the first to recover.