Second Life (32 page)
I sip and nod and say yes, then Lukas turns to me.
‘It’s so great to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.’
I smile thinly. ‘You, too.’ I watch as he thanks me, then takes Anna’s hand and squeezes
it. ‘Anna has told you our news?’ He strokes her hand, looking into her eyes with
an expression I recognize, one of love, of pure adoration.
‘Yes. Yes, it’s wonderful!’
‘It is!’ says Hugh. He’s turned on the charm, is trying hard to impress. ‘You’re
sure you won’t have a drink? Just one?’
Lukas says nothing for a moment, then nods his head. ‘Okay, then. Why not? One won’t
take me over the limit. Just a short. You’re sure you don’t mind me dropping in on
you like this?’
‘Not at all,’ says Hugh. He goes over to the drinks cabinet and gets out the bottles
of whisky, vodka and gin. ‘What’ll it be?’ Lukas chooses a single malt, something
I’ve never seen him drink before.
Hugh prepares the drink. Lukas turns to me. ‘Anna tells me you’re a photographer?’
His face is open, his head tilted, as if he’s genuinely interested. I look from him
to Anna, back again. I can’t work out what he’s doing, whether I should say something,
tell her now. I’m in shock, I suppose, though there’s a kind of weird detachment.
I need to figure it out. All this time, while I thought I was having an affair, he
was already seeing my sister’s best friend. I’ve been utterly betrayed.
I was
the
affair.
But they met before Kate was killed, I think, so why did he choose me? It can’t be
coincidence. If it were, he’d have been shocked when I opened the door to him tonight.
‘Julia!’ he’d have said. ‘What are you doing here? Where’s Anna?’ And then I guess
I’d have told him how I knew his fiancée and we’d have agreed to keep quiet, to say
nothing. He’d be trying to get out of here as soon as he could, not accepting a drink
from Hugh, not settling in for a long chat, not asking questions he already knows
the answers to.
I realize everyone is looking at me expectantly. The room is quiet, the air heavy
and too warm. I’ve been asked a question and need to respond. ‘Yes. Yes. That’s right.’
I look from him to Hugh. One word, that’s all it would take. Is that what he wants?
To break me and Hugh up, to
detonate the bomb that I’ve placed underneath my family?
‘Sounds really interesting.’ He leans forward. He really does look like someone who
is fascinated. Absorbed. He asks me what kind of photos I take, and even though the
pain and anxiety is almost physical, even though he’s seen my pictures, even though
we’ve lain naked on a bed together looking at my work, I tell him.
He nods, then after a moment he speaks again. ‘By the way, I was so sorry to hear
about your sister.’
You bastard
, I think.
You’re fucking enjoying this.
I nod. I smile, but my eyes are narrowed. ‘Thanks,’ I say. I have to remind myself
he didn’t kill Kate, though right now I could hardly hate him more if he had.
He looks at me, straight in the eye. ‘I never met her. I’m so sorry about her . .
. passing on.’
Anger hits me, then. I can’t help it, even though the last thing I want is for him
to see how he’s upsetting me. ‘She didn’t
pass on
. She was murdered.’ You know that,
I’m thinking. I look for a sign of remorse, of sadness, even of mischief, but there’s
none. I even think I might want him to laugh – then I can just hate him without being
scared of him – but he does nothing. Nothing at all. Even his eyes betray no sign
that we’ve ever met before; right now, he looks like his own twin brother.
The room is frozen. I’m aware I’ve raised my voice. I look defiant. I’m daring him
to say something. Hugh looks from me to him, then back to me. The moment stretches;
the only sound comes from Connor’s room upstairs.
The tension thickens, then breaks. Lukas shakes his head. ‘Oh, God, I’ve offended
you. I’m so, so sorry. I never know what to say in these situations . . .’
I ignore him. I’m aware of Hugh, twitching, willing me to say something, but I don’t.
I hold Lukas’s gaze. Anna looks
from him over to me. She’s expectant, and after a
moment I relent. ‘It’s okay. No one ever knows what to say. There’s nothing
to
say.’
He shrugs. He’s staring at me. Hugh and Anna are in the room, watching. They can
see it, I think. Surely. Is he crazy? Does he
want
them to see what’s going on?
Or maybe he doesn’t care. We’re locked in combat, the power is flying wildly from
one to the other. We’re both blind to our partners, they’re unimportant, relegated
to the status of bystanders. We’re potassium in water, acid on skin. We could burn
each other, wreck everything and hardly notice, hardly care.
I open my mouth to say something – I still don’t know what – but then Hugh speaks.
‘Remind me what you do again, Ryan?’ He’s trying to diffuse the tension, and for
a moment Lukas doesn’t move. ‘Ryan works in the arts,’ says Anna, then Lukas turns
to take her hand.
‘I have my own company. In digital production.’
Not what he’s told me.
Hugh nods. ‘Based in Paris?’
‘Yes. I’ve been there for almost five years now. I do a fair bit of travel, though.’
I look at my hands, folded into my lap. With each of his answers it hits again; it
was me he was lying to all along, not Anna. Not his fiancée, the woman he’s been
seeing several times a week. I look up. I can’t stop thinking about that last time,
in the hotel room as David arrived. I can still feel his hands on me.
And now he’s back for more. I can’t bear it. Before I know what I’m doing I’ve stood
up. But what can I do? What can I say? Anna is about to marry this man, and clearly
knows nothing of what’s been going on. I open my mouth, close it again. My mind reels.
And then, suddenly, I feel myself collapse inwards. It’s as if I’m disappearing,
reducing to nothing. ‘Julia!’ says Hugh. ‘Are you all right?’
‘Yes. Excuse me,’ I manage, and then I’m heading upstairs, into the bathroom.
When I return Anna asks me if I’m okay. ‘Yes. Fine.’ Lukas is draining his glass,
putting it on the coffee table.
‘We should head off!’ he’s saying. He turns to me. ‘We thought we’d go to Soho. Maybe
a jazz bar. Ronnie Scott’s. D’you know it?’ They both turn to me. ‘You should come.’
I say no. I’m numb. I just want all of this to stop.
‘You go if you like,’ says Hugh. ‘I’m far too tired . . .’
I feel a wave of guilt as I picture the two of them there. What have I done to my
friend? What might still happen?
‘No. It’s late. I should turn in, too . . .’
‘Oh, come on,’ says Anna. ‘It’ll be fun!’
‘I really don’t mind, darling,’ says Hugh.
‘No!’ I speak a little too harshly, then turn back to Anna and soften my voice. ‘Honestly.
You go ahead.’
They stand and we all move into the hallway. Anna turns to me, smiles. ‘Well . .
.’ she says. She holds out her hands, I step forward, into her embrace, while Hugh
and Lukas shake hands. ‘It’s all been too quick!’ says Anna. She can tell something
is wrong. ‘Promise me you’ll come and see me soon. Bring Connor! Promise me! And
I have to let you know about the wedding, as soon as we start to plan. You will come,
won’t you?’
I look over to Lukas. He’s smiling, waiting for my answer.
‘Of course I will. I’m seeing you on Saturday, anyway. But I’ll call before then.
Soon. Later. Okay?’ She releases me. I want to hold on to her, to tell her to be
careful, to warn her, but
I don’t want to frighten her. In any case, Lukas is stepping
forward.
‘Well. It was great to meet you. I’m sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to upset
you.’ For the briefest moment I think he’s talking about the attack, but then I realize
he’s talking about Kate.
‘I’m not upset.’ I hold out my hand. The last thing I want is for him to touch me,
but it wouldn’t be right for me to avoid him so obviously. ‘You, too.’ He takes my
hand and pulls me towards him; I realize he means to embrace me, as if we’ve bonded,
as if we’re now best friends. I don’t want to feel him, feel his body, and I resist.
But he’s powerful. He hugs me tight, then kisses me. First one cheek, then the other.
I can feel the muscles of his chest; despite everything I can’t help the barest fluttering
of desire. He holds me for a moment, and I freeze. I’m hollow, scooped out. I’m aware
that Anna and Hugh are saying their own goodbye, laughing about something, oblivious
to what’s going on.
He whispers into my ear. ‘Tell her and I’ll kill you.’ I feel cold, paralysed, but
then a moment later he lets go. He smiles at me once more, then takes Anna’s hand
and squeezes my arm.
‘It’s been so great to meet you!’ he says, and then they both turn away and, with
another flurry of smiles and waves, Hugh and I are on our own.
I close the door. I hear Lukas and Anna’s footsteps as they walk down the path to
the street, and then I hear them laugh. They sound so happy, so at peace with a life
that they are living together. I can almost believe Ryan really is who he says he
is, that the last half-hour has been imagined. I can almost convince myself that
my affair with Lukas is a thing of the past, that Anna’s engagement has just begun
and these two things are totally unrelated.
But they aren’t. His final words still ring in my ears.
I turn to Hugh. He’s standing behind me, where he’d said goodbye to our guests. He
hasn’t moved. ‘What on earth has got into you?’ He’s speaking quietly, so that only
I can hear, but his tone is one of fury.
I can’t let him know. I can’t have him suspecting. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’
I go into the living room.
He follows me. ‘What was that all about?’
I pick up a plate, a glass.
‘What?’
‘I know it’s annoying when people say “passed on”, but these euphemisms are pretty
common, you know. I hear them all the time. He meant well.’
I can’t even begin to tell him the truth.
‘I’m just . . . I just get sick of it. You know? She hasn’t
passed on
, she hasn’t
gone to a better place
. She was
murdered. That guy hit her over the head, with God
knows what, until her skull caved in and she bled to death on the ground in an alleyway
in . . . in . . . fucking
Paris
.’
He takes a step towards me. I can see he’s trying to calm down now, to be placatory.
‘Darling, I know you’re angry, but that was no reason to take it out on our guest.
And think of Connor—’
‘Hugh. For God’s sake!’
I’m shaking, he can see how upset I am; I don’t want him even to suspect what it’s
about. I don’t want him to connect it with my behaviour in the hallway when Lukas
arrived.
I take a deep breath, close my eyes. I try to take myself out of my anger.
‘Look, I’m sorry.’
He smiles, but it’s a sad smile.
‘You’re not all right, Julia.’ I know where this is going.
‘Don’t start, Hugh!’ I turn to face him, trembling with rage, my heart hammering
as though it’s about to explode.
‘I just—’ he begins and I turn round, slam out of the living room, storm up the stairs.
I know Connor will be able to hear, but right now I don’t care; I no longer even
have the capacity to consider my son.
I get to the bedroom and close the door. I stand still, paralysed. I don’t know what
to do. I hear him follow me, stand at the top of the stairs.
I have to warn Anna. Even if it destroys our friendship. I have no choice.
‘Julia?’
‘I’m
fine
!’ I shout. ‘Just give me a minute. Please.’
I think again of what he said.
I’ll kill you.
I feel the bruises on my back, my arms,
my thighs; they begin to pulse again, as if they were still fresh. I remember what
he did to me in
that hotel room, how he made me feel. I feel used; used and then
discarded.
But
kill
me? He can’t have meant it.
I hear Hugh retreat. I try to calm down. I tell myself that Kate’s killer is in custody
but, over and over, the thought keeps coming back. He did it. They’ve made a mistake.
They’ve got the wrong guy.
My mind will not be still, will not be rational. This is what he’s done to me. This
is how low he’s brought me. I’m rejecting all sense.
My heart hammers. I remember logging on to Facebook, navigating to his page. I’d
scrolled back to the photos of him in Australia, in Sydney, in front of Uluru. The
dates tallied. I clicked on his friends, the ones he was with, and saw they’d posted
more pictures from that holiday. One of him on a beach, another in which he’s surfing,
a third of him snorkelling off a boat. The evidence had been there.
If he had anything at all to do with Kate’s death, then half of his friends must’ve
been in on it.
I feel my breathing go back to normal. He’s not a killer, just a nasty piece of work.
Scaring me because he knew my sister had been killed. Maybe it’s his revenge, for
ending it, for running out on him. How he must hate me.
There must be a way to warn my friend. I pick my phone up from the bedside table
and scroll quickly through to Anna’s name. Without hesitating, I press call; I don’t
think as it rings out, but then it goes to voicemail. It’s as if she’s silenced it,
and I wonder what they’re doing. Maybe they’ve skipped Ronnie Scott’s, or wherever
they’ve gone instead, and are on their way back to the hotel.
I picture them. She’ll be under him, kissing him as he enters her, running her fingers
down the muscles of his back.
Or maybe she’ll be cowering, in terror, a bruise already forming.
A wave of nausea hits me and I swallow it down. I have to believe he loves her. I
have to. Their relationship is genuine; he’s just someone who saw a photo of me –
perhaps the one that Anna took when I was over in Paris – and decided he wanted me.
I imagine the conversation. Anna telling him she met me, showing him the snap. ‘She’s
really nice,’ she says, and he agrees. And then he comes for me, and I was only too
willing to let him have me.