Saving Grace (33 page)

‘Craigslist?’

‘I don’t even know. I just know he put ads in a few places and met with a few people, then came home one day saying this girl had been in for an interview who seemed great. Betsy McCarthy.’ Emily involuntarily sneers as she says her name. ‘I remember asking him what she looked like, because, I don’t know . . . maybe I sensed something, but he said she was totally dumpy and plain and that I was so cute to even ask the question and to be nervous. I came into the office just after she started because Campbell wanted me to meet her, and he was right, she was dumpy and plain, and there was no way I had anything to worry about.

‘After a couple of months the guy who owned the building Campbell’s office was in decided to sell, so Campbell moved the office into the bonus room above the garage. Betsy came to our house every day and, I have to say, I started really liking having her around.’

‘She got involved with your life too? Offered to help? Organized your cupboards?’

‘Yes! She did the same to you? That’s exactly what she did. She made herself indispensable and I thought she was amazing. And she
was
amazing.’ Emily’s expression clouds. ‘The children adored her. She was like this incredible nanny, assistant, friend. Everything. But you know,’ she leans forward, ‘I never wanted to say it out loud, but there was always something I wasn’t sure about. I couldn’t have put my finger on it and I told myself I was being ridiculous. She made herself my friend. My best friend. I was flattered by all the attention. I thought it was sweet.’

‘I know,’ says Grace. ‘Trust me, I know.’

‘We became friends, and then one day she shows up and she’s in this brand-new little Mazda Miata and she’s almost giddy with delight. Apparently her uncle died and left her one and a half million dollars, and this was the first time she had ever been able to buy herself anything nice. I remember being really happy for her, and then, a couple of months later, she went off to Atlantis in the Bahamas for a week, which just had me green with envy. I mean, Atlantis! It’s a fortune.

‘She came in one day soon after that and, by the way, everything had changed by then. It was as if the money had bought her this incredible confidence. Suddenly she was in great clothes, she’d lost weight, she started buying up crazy expensive designer handbags, and she didn’t look like an assistant anymore, she looked like a partner.

‘Which is what she suggested to Campbell. She wanted to be an investor, and she wanted to be a partner. It would have been laughable a few months before when she first started, but suddenly it made sense. She would go to meetings with him and Campbell said she just wowed everyone with her smarts.

‘We were still friends, kind of, but I wasn’t sure I liked who she was becoming. Suddenly she had this air about her, like she was better than me. She had this idea of doing regular girls’ nights out with my friends, and we’d go out drinking. . . .’ Emily tails off, shaking her head.

‘You’d go out drinking?’ Grace prompts gently.

‘Obviously it sounds crazy now. But I thought we were friends. I would be drinking – but never very much, I’ve never been a big drinker – but everyone was drinking, that was the point of these evenings. To let loose and let our hair down. I’d usually have a couple of drinks, which for me is a lot; I’ve got horrible tolerance for alcohol. The next morning I’d always wake up embarrassed that my tolerance had got so bad that two drinks would make me completely drunk, but everyone was drinking. No one cared. That was the point of the night out. So there was Betsy, building up quite a collection of videos from our Thursday night outings. Things started changing between me and Campbell. He suddenly became really stressed. Work had been going fantastically, but suddenly it all started to look bad, and everything I said or did seemed to irritate him. The only person who could get through to him was Betsy. I know this sounds nuts, but by this time I had withdrawn. I felt like Betsy had morphed from being this amazing girl, to this all-powerful creature who had taken over my life. She would march into the kitchen and help herself to coffee, or breakfast, as if she owned the place. She’d even make the kids packed lunches for school, and if I said anything she’d look at me in disbelief, as if I was the crazy one for questioning her packing a healthy lunch.

‘I’d feel so stupid, I’d just disappear and hide in my bedroom. That was basically the only place I could get away from her, our bedroom.

‘I tried telling Campbell that I didn’t like her, that I didn’t feel safe around her anymore, but he wouldn’t hear it. And then, three months later, he announces he’s really unhappy, he’s been unhappy for years, and he wanted some time out from the relationship.’

Grace reaches over and squeezes her hand. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘I had no idea what had happened. I’d had this amazing marriage to the only man I’ve ever loved and it was all slipping through my fingers and I had no way to stop it. Two weeks later I’m out for dinner with a girlfriend, in a restaurant in town surrounded by people I know, and I’m served with papers. There in the restaurant. Divorce. He’s going for sole custody because of my “alcoholism and sexual addiction.”’

‘What?’ Grace is shocked.

‘She talked about me constantly being drunk on our girls’ nights out, and lied, saying I always drove my kids to school drunk, replaced water with vodka in the water bottles I took everywhere with me. And she’d been on my computer at home, had placed two ads from a woman looking for a bit of “extramarital fun”. She put my email address on it.’

‘You couldn’t prove this in court?’

‘It was my word against hers and she had the evidence. She had witnesses. All my friends who were subpoenaed had to say it was true, they had seen me drunk when we went out on Thursday nights. I lost custody,’ Emily says quietly as her eyes spring with tears. ‘They live with their father and I get visitation every other weekend.’

Grace says nothing, staring at this poor woman in shock.

‘And what happened with Betsy?’

‘Her inheritance? It turned out to be Campbell’s. She’d had Campbell sign a contract he hadn’t read properly entitling her to a salary, and bonuses, and benefits we knew nothing about. Campbell was so consumed with trying to build it up, he didn’t know until it had all gone. I think my house is shabby, but you should see Campbell’s. He’s been trying to get a job in banking again for the last year but no one wants him. He’s been working as a driver, driving former friends of ours to the airport and back. I guess that’s his penance. All of us have suffered. All of us had our lives ruined.’

‘I don’t understand why you couldn’t do anything,’ says Grace.

‘We tried. But it was, as I said, her word against ours. Campbell had signed the contract. She claimed we had agreed to all of it.’

Grace reaches into her bag and brings out a stack of photographs, placing them on the table in front of Emily. ‘Just to be absolutely sure, this is who we’re talking about?’ Shots of Beth she’d found online, taken at literary events over the last few months, now lie on the table.

Emily reaches down and picks them up, looking carefully at each one. ‘She looks different now. Different hair colour. Older. But yes. That’s her. I’d know that face anywhere.’ She looks back up at Grace. ‘I can’t believe she’s still doing it. Maybe this time you can do something, you can stop her.’

‘I don’t know that my story is quite as bad as yours.’ Grace thinks of the public humiliation of being called an alcoholic and a sex addict, the shame, in a town as small as this, and the unending pain of losing custody of your children. She thinks of Clemmie, grateful she did not have to endure this, grateful to be sitting here today as a whole person, even if she’s one who has no idea what her future holds. ‘But my story is not dissimilar. I didn’t get slapped with alcoholism, I got bipolar disorder, and she also created enough evidence that if you didn’t know me, you would have believed it. I even believed it myself or, at least, I didn’t know with certainty it wasn’t true.’ They both shake their heads in shared disgust before Grace continues. ‘I need to ask you to trust me with this, Emily. I imagine you want to phone the police right away, but I’d like to be able to do that myself, if that’s okay with you. There’s one more thing I need to do before we bring her down.’

‘Can I help? Is there anything I can do? Please! I want to be there when she falls.’

‘I promise I’ll let you know what happens. If there’s a way for you to be there when it happens, I’ll make sure of it.’

‘At least I’ve discovered I’m a survivor,’ Emily says, as they pay the bill. ‘I lost everything. My husband, my children, my home and most of my friends. And here I am,’ she gestures around the diner. ‘In Southport, which is lovely, but in a crappy little cottage, which I pay for all by myself, working two jobs to try and treat the kids to nice stuff when I have them, but able to stand on my own two feet. This isn’t the life I ever expected to have.’

‘Are you happy?’ They stand outside, in the car park, looking at the cars speeding by.

‘No. I’ll never be happy until I get my children back, but they’re older now. They’re reaching a stage where they want to be with me and their father won’t be able to stop them. Hopefully one day I’ll be able to explain what happened, the lies that were told. So, not happy, but made of strong stuff.’

‘What is it they say? What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger?’

Emily lets out a bark of laughter. ‘Sadly I never wanted to be this strong, but yes, it’s definitely made me stronger. Take care of yourself, Grace. Stay in touch and let me know what I can do to help.’

‘I will,’ says Grace, wondering how on earth she’s going to get her old life back.

‘W
as
that you? At some Library dinner in the city the other night?’

‘What do you mean?’ Grace turns her head to watch Clemmie drive, so proud at who her daughter has become, how grown-up, how capable she is. ‘My God, Clemmie,’ she says. ‘I missed you.’

‘Don’t change the subject. Dad says he thought he saw you at some dinner.’

‘Did he tell you that before or after you told him I was back and wanted to see him privately.’

‘After. He said he knew it was you, but that you disappeared before he had a chance to talk to you. I think he misses you, Mum. He won’t ever admit it, but it’s clear to just about everyone he knows he’s made a terrible mistake. I ran into your housekeeper in the market the other week and she said every time she’s there cleaning she overhears them having the most terrible fights.’

Grace feels a pang of both shameful pleasure that he is getting what he deserves and sadness. ‘I just can’t imagine your father having anyone scream at him. He was always the one doing the shouting.’

‘I’m not sure she screams at him. I think she’s more subtle than that. Calmly cruel seems to be her thing. Either way, she has him firmly under her thumb. Everyone knows, but no one can do anything about it. He misses you desperately, Mum. You need to make him see. Then you can get back together with him.’

‘Yes.’ Grace stares out the window as Clemmie drives along Route 6, looking at all the familiar houses perched on the cliff over the Hudson, remembering all the years she has driven this route, every inch of this road containing a memory, a part of her life.

‘Do
you
want to get back with Dad?’ Clemmie’s voice is fearful as Grace thinks carefully about how to answer.

She sighs. ‘I didn’t. If I’m honest, while I was in England I felt so enormously betrayed, I just couldn’t contemplate it. But now . . .’ She pauses. ‘We’ve been together for so long; we have, in so many ways, such a good life together. I can’t imagine a life without him. But . . . it’s hard. I honestly don’t know. I wish I did, but I really don’t. The only thing I know that I really want right now is for Beth to be gone. For all of our sakes. After that, we’ll see.’

They continue driving, on their way to meet Ted. Grace isn’t sure this is the right thing, but Clemmie has insisted and Grace will do anything to keep Clemmie happy.

They pull up in front of the Starbucks, Grace unexpectedly nervous at seeing the man she has been married to for so long.

‘I’m really not sure about this,’ she says to Clemmie.

‘That’s okay,’ says Clemmie. ‘You don’t have to be. You and Dad just have to sit down and talk.’

Ted is sitting at a table in the corner when they walk in. Clemmie leans down to give him a kiss, but he barely looks at her, unable to take his eyes off Grace.

‘Grace.’ He shakes his head in disbelief. ‘Grace. You came.’

‘Well, yes.’ She pulls out a chair, unexpectedly nervous. ‘I was the one who asked to see you.’

‘Of course,’ he says. ‘Yes. You look good.’

‘Thank you,’ she says as Clemmie goes to order her a cappuccino. She studies him, the shadows under his eyes, the way his face has fallen, how very much he has aged since she left. She cannot decide whether she wants to slap him or take him in her arms and make it all better. ‘You look . . . tired.’

‘I
am
tired,’ he says.

‘Actually,’ Grace pauses, ‘you look, as we say in England, bloody awful.’

He manages a wry smile. ‘I
feel
bloody awful,’ he says as his face crumples. ‘Everything seems to be a bit of a disaster. Career-wise. I suppose you’ve seen the reviews?’

Grace nods.

‘More today. They are calling me a has-been, saying it is hard to reconcile the flowery, romantic, puerile writing of this book with the formerly great writer that once was Ted Chapman. That’s a quote, by the way.’ He winces.

‘I’m sorry, Ted,’ Grace says. ‘I haven’t read the book. I don’t have an opinion. But I know how hard this must be.’

‘The sales are terrible. It’s a disaster. I’ve never experienced this in my career, feeling like such a failure.’

‘Beth was involved in this book, wasn’t she, Dad?’ Clemmie says. ‘Didn’t she edit it?’

‘She was involved,’ he says. ‘But the publisher would have told me if they were unhappy with it.’

Grace and Clemmie both catch each other’s eye, knowing full well the publisher kowtows to the terrifying Ted Chapman, no one there daring to tell him this book didn’t make the grade.