Swan (12 page)

As I continued to study him, I noticed that his
general demeanour had changed. He had a cocky self-assurance that I hadn’t seen
before; he cracked jokes with dubious sexual undertones; he poked fun at my
sister’s abysmal culinary skills and had less of a potbelly, like he’d been
working out.

This definitely wasn’t the Phil I knew. The Phil I
knew would never have mocked David so harshly. At that moment, I was almost
certain that my brother-in-law was having an affair.

* * *

Later that night, when I got home from the party,
Beth phoned me for the obligatory after dinner gossip.

‘Darling, did you get back safely?’

‘Yeah, we managed to get the last train.’ I kicked
off my shoes. The straps had been digging into my heels all evening, and my
feet were killing me.

She hesitated, like there was something on her mind.
‘Mads, I don’t know what’s gotten into Phil. For some reason, he doesn’t like
David.’

‘Why not?’ I patted my hair irritably.

‘I don’t know. He keeps going on about how David
lied about supporting Arsenal. Phil says it was terribly disingenuous of him
and reckons it’s a sign that David’s not to be trusted. I mean, if he lied
about that, what else is he hiding? He also said that he noticed David doesn’t
like making eye-contact with people, another sign that he’s shifty.’

‘Nonsense! That’s absolute rubbish, Beth.’

‘I know, I know, I totally agree. I think David’s lovely.
Phil’s probably jealous cos I won’t stop going on about the time when David did
that Krav Magga thingy. But darling, listen, there’s something else ...’

‘What?’

‘Phil reckons David wears a wig.’

‘What!’

‘Well,’ she explained, ‘you know how Phil used to
help glue on his dad’s toupee? Well, he knows fake hair when he sees it and ...
well, Phil says David’s definitely wearing a wig.’

I fell silent. ‘Okay, so David’s bald - so what? Not
all men want to walk around with a bald patch like Phil.’

‘Couldn’t agree more, darling. Wigs are absolutely
fine in my opinion.’

Neither of us said anything. I was hurt by Phil’s
attack more than I let on. By insulting David, it was like he was insulting me,
and I didn’t like it. I felt a surge of indignation in my chest.

‘Anyway, Phil’s a fine one to talk about trust,
isn’t he?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, look at this thing with his receptionist.
He’s talking about David looking shifty, when he’s up to his own dirty tricks.’

‘Maddy, I thought you said I was overreacting about
that!’

‘Well, maybe I’ve changed my mind. There was
something odd about Phil’s behaviour today. He didn’t seem like himself. Like
he was hiding something.’

‘Gosh, do you think so?’ My sister sounded fearful.

‘Has his receptionist called the house since I last
spoke to you?’

‘Yes, once or twice.’

‘How did she sound?’

‘Nervous, like before.’

‘Just keep your eyes open, Beth, that’s all I’m
saying. I don’t want you getting hurt.’

‘I knew he was up to something; I just knew it!’

I smiled mirthlessly. The seeds of doubt had been
planted.

After I’d hung up, I felt a bit bad for dishing the
dirt. But I just couldn’t let Phil get away with being so nasty about David.
What did it matter if he wore a wig and had occasional smelly feet? If
anything, it made me like him even more, because it made him more human. God
knows I was no oil painting. Who was I to judge?

Chapter Nine

After that, I didn’t hear from David for a couple of
days. It didn’t bother me too much, as I knew he’d probably need some space
after the awful party. But I was confident that our relationship had progressed
to new heights of intimacy. The way we had defended each other at dinner was an
indication of our allegiance to each other, of the bond we had forged.

I thought about him constantly: the good times we’d
spent together and marvelled at how a man I’d only known a few short weeks had
managed to have such an impact on my life. Even work didn’t seem so bad because
I knew I had someone who cared. So what if our relationship remained forever platonic;
it was still better than nothing, wasn’t it?

I bided my time, counting down the days until I
thought it safe to call on him again. I didn’t want to appear too pushy. I knew
I had to take my time, had to be patient. After all, as my father used to say,
patience is a virtue. And patience was something I’d learned to exercise for
twenty-five long years.

I managed to hold out until the following Tuesday,
by which time I was simply gagging to see him. As usual it took him forever to
answer the door.

He’s
probably adjusting his wig
, I
thought humorously.

When he finally appeared, he looked morose; his eyes
were red and puffy, like he’d come down with a cold and he seemed to have
layers and layers of clothing on underneath his towelling dressing gown.

‘Oh, I’m sorry David, did I wake you?’

‘No, no, not at all.’ It was the first time I’d seen
him without his glasses, and he looked younger somehow. Fresher.

‘Are you okay? You don’t look too well.’

He gave a massive sneeze, rubbed his nose vigorously
with a tissue. ‘No, I haven’t been feeling too great of late.’ He sneezed
again, causing his eyes to water even more. ‘Would you like to come in?’

‘Thanks.’

David stepped aside for me to enter. I followed him
tentatively through the hallway and was shocked by what I saw. The place was a
complete state: piles of dirty plates crowded the sink, socks and shirts
scattered everywhere. He clearly wasn’t taking very good care of himself.

I took a seat in the living room.

‘Do you fancy a coffee or something?’

‘Er, yes. Actually no, I’m fine.’ The thought of
coffee poured into one of those scummy mugs from the kitchen wasn’t too
enticing.

David coughed loudly, his whole face contorted with
discomfort.

‘You’re really not well, are you darling? Have you
taken anything for it? Seen a doctor?’

‘No, no, I’m fine Madeline, really. In a couple of
days I’ll be right as rain.’

I stood up, put my hand on his arm. ‘Do you want me
to pop to the chemist and get you something? You can’t not take anything,
David. At this time of year, a cold could turn into pneumonia, and you don’t
want that.’ I didn’t know what the hell I was talking about, but hoped I
sounded convincing.

David beamed at me through his muggy haze. ‘You’re
so good to me, Madeline. But really, you don’t have to.’

I held up my hands to shush him and led him out of
the living room into his bedroom, which was even more chaotic: piles of clothes
strewn unceremoniously on the floor. Pulling back the duvet covers, I gently
eased him towards his bed. ‘You need to rest darling. Look, tuck yourself in,
give me your keys and I’ll get everything sorted.’

He reluctantly obliged. God, men could be so
difficult sometimes!

‘Do you need any money for the chemist?’ he called
as I headed out the door.

‘No, don’t worry. I’ve got money. Just relax, David.
I’ll be back in a minute.’

The chemist was fifteen minutes of a walk from our
flats. That was one of the downsides of Blackwall - shops in either direction
were a bit of a mission. God help you if you ran out of milk in the middle of
the night.

When I got to Wellworth’s, I made straight for the
pharmacy at the back. Without a GP’s prescription, I knew I would only be able
to get David something fairly tame in terms of medication. I’d have to put on
my doctor’s hat and make my own diagnosis. In the end, I opted for a packet of
throat lozenges and a bottle of a sickly sweet cough mixture. Then I went to
the corner shop and purchased some vegetables and spices. I had decided to go
the whole hog and make David some soup.

When I got back to the flat, he was sitting up in
bed and reading a newspaper. He looked pleased to see me. I felt rather like
his wife coming home from a shopping trip.

‘Right,’ I said, laying his keys and medicines on
the dresser, ‘I’ve got you some cough mixture and some other stuff. I hope it
helps.’

‘Thank you, Madeline. You’re very sweet.’

I blushed, turned to go. ‘You’re not leaving yet,
are you?’ His voice had an air of desperation. This warmed me.

‘No, I was just going to the kitchen to make you
some food.’

‘Oh God, don’t go in there, please. It’s in such a
state. I haven’t been on top of things recently, sorry.’

‘Don’t worry, David. I’m sure I’ve seen worse. Now
just you rest and concentrate on getting better. I’ve got everything under
control.’

He smiled appreciatively, and returned to his paper.

I went into the kitchen, washed up the dishes, wiped
down the draining board and mopped the floor. Then I opened the cupboard, took
down a large saucepan and, after cleaning it thoroughly, proceeded to make the
vegetable soup. My aim was to make two day’s worth, enough for David not to
have to cook for a while. As I fried the cubed vegetables over a low heat, I
thought about how cosy we were, how right it felt being together like this. Not
since Mum had died, had I been able to fuss over someone like this. For a
moment, I actually dared to imagine a life of domestic bliss with David.

‘That smells marvellous, Madeline. You’re really
spoiling me.’

‘Thanks. Shan’t be long.’ My heart was racing. I
added the vegetable stock, almond flakes and ground coriander then left the
soup to simmer for a while. I was totally in my element.

When it was ready, I ladled some into a bowl and
took it to him on a tray. David put down his paper when he saw me and patted
down the duvet in preparation for his food.

‘You’re such an angel,’ he beamed.

I perched at the edge of the bed and watched him
eat. He told me the soup was delicious, the best he’d ever tasted. I swelled
with pride. Turning, I gazed around the room. It was spartan - very white and
very bare.
Impersonal,
I thought. Not
homely at all.

David wasn’t very talkative after he’d finished
eating. He looked like a puffy little frog. I could tell that he was really
struggling to contain his flu-like symptoms. Poor lamb. I studied his face and
wondered just how bald he was under that wig. I could definitely see it was a
wig now: it had the dry straw-like quality that synthetic hair has after a
while. I wished I could let him know that he had nothing to fear, that he could
be free with me: I didn’t care if he was as bald as a coot under there.

I bit my lip. Was this why David had been so
standoffish with me physically? Was he terrified of me discovering his wiggy
secret? I wanted to hug him and reassure him that I was every bit as insecure
as he was, probably more, in fact.

      After a while I left
him to sleep. I went into the living room, picked up some socks, tidied up a
bit. Then I went to the toilet. As I was washing my hands, my eyes fell on a
small, round container on the bathroom shelf next to the toothpaste and the
soap. Gingerly, I picked it up, examined it. The label read:
Screenface Foundation
[E7]
 
.

I frowned. Surely David didn’t wear make-up?

I unscrewed the lid, sniffed at it then dipped my
finger in. The liquid was a pale pink colour and had a thick consistency. I
rubbed some into my hand and watched it slowly blend into my skin. No, there
was absolutely no doubt that it was foundation. Hastily I put the tub back on
the shelf and shook my head clear. I was jumping to silly conclusions. Perhaps
it belonged to an ex-girlfriend, or perhaps he’d done a photo shoot and one of
the models had left it there. There had to be a logical explanation. It just
wasn’t conceivable that it belonged to David. That would be a step too far,
what with the wig and everything else.

Suddenly I felt terribly guilty for poking around in
his things. I had no right to pry and was disappointed in myself for giving in
to temptation. Sometimes it was best to leave well enough alone. I decided that
now was probably the best time to go home. So I saw myself out and left David
to sleep.

      *
* *

About midnight, I was awoken by the harsh sound of
my doorbell ringing. Cursing under my breath, I climbed out of bed, threw on my
dressing gown and went to the intercom.

‘Hello?’ My voice was croaky with sleep.

‘Maddy, it’s me.’

‘Beth?’

‘Yes, yes, let me in!’ My sister sounded agitated.

Hastily, I buzzed her in. Wondered what on earth
brought her to my house at this time of night. A shiver coursed through me. Had
something bad happened?

When my sister got upstairs she looked like death:
her eyes were red from crying and her hair was all over the place.