The Sleeper (10 page)

He put the cash on the table next to me. I remember staring at it, knowing that things had never gone this far before. I did not dare to hand it back. I could not pick it up. It sat next to my maths books, red hot and impossible to ignore.

Olivia turned and stormed out of the room, visibly restraining herself from slamming the door. Dad put a hand on my head, ruffled my hair, and left the room himself. As I listened to Olivia’s footsteps storming up the stairs, I knew she would hate me for ever, because of this.

And she does. Not just because of that, but partly.

‘I’ll have a Giardiniera, please.’ I smile at the waitress. ‘And could we have some tap water?’

‘No way,’ says Olivia. ‘A Giardiniera? They probably have your photo in every branch of Pizza Express, with your order written next to it. “This woman has partaken of nothing but Giardiniera for the past twenty years. Do not bother to ask what she wants.” Good to see you branching out, sis.’

She makes a point of ordering a new pizza, one that comes with a hole in the middle that is filled with salad, just to demonstrate to me how open-minded and impulsive she is.

‘Evening all!’

I look up, delighted and relieved at the sound of my godfather’s voice.

‘Leon!’ I get to my feet and hug him. He is standing right beside the table, having somehow slipped in without any of us noticing. I don’t care about Olivia now. Leon is Dad’s best friend from university, and, oddly, he is my best friend in the world. He always took a distant yet friendly godfatherly interest in me, until I really needed him. Then he came through for me like no one else ever has. Leon is the one person who knows everything.

‘Lovely to see you,’ he says quietly. ‘You OK?’

‘Better now you’re here,’ I tell him, sensing Olivia’s mocking gaze, not caring. Leon is, like my father, in his mid sixties. Unlike my father, who is increasingly looking like a heart attack waiting to happen, Leon gets more stylish and better-looking as he ages. His grey hair is swept back and reaches almost down to his collar, while his bone structure is somehow enhanced by his ageing skin. His clothes help, too: he has always dressed impeccably, and these days he looks like the chic European man you would find in Paris or Milan. Though she has never said anything explicitly, I know from the smirks Olivia gives me every time his name is mentioned that she thinks we have had an affair, perhaps that we are still having one. She is wrong, though nothing I could say would ever convince her of that. Leon and I have a far stronger bond than that.

He turns to the rest of the family.

‘Olivia,’ he says, with a warm smile. ‘You’re looking spectacularly stylish this evening. As ever, yet somehow more so.’

She doesn’t reply, but inclines her head towards him, one stylish person to another. I sit down as Leon kisses Mum on each cheek, shakes Dad’s hand and pulls up a chair between me and Mum, who looks at him with a small smile, then picks up a doughball and starts tearing it into tiny pieces. Dad refills everyone’s glasses. The room echoes with the sound of other people’s friendly chatter.

‘So, how’s the Wilberforce family?’ Leon asks, looking around.

‘Fine.’ Olivia answers quickly, which is unusual. She has pushed her glass away, and in fact I notice that she has not drunk anything. ‘Actually, there is some news.’

I close my eyes. Whatever this is, I can tell from her tone that I am not going to like it. In a second she is going to start telling everyone why I am such a terrible lodger. I will be forced to defend myself, and there will be carnage.

She notices.

‘Lara, you’ve got your eyes closed. I’m not going to hit you.’

‘I know. Look, I’ve opened them. Is that all right?’

‘Jesus. Look. Everyone. It’s not anything terrible. I’ve got used to the idea now and it’s actually a positive thing.’

Someone drops something on the other side of the restaurant, and the whole room is suspended for a second as everyone listens to what must be several plates smashing on the floor. Then normality is resumed, with staff rushing around and conversations starting up again; except on our table, where we are all staring at Olivia with transparent dread.

She rolls her eyes. I realise what she is going to say just before she says it.

‘I’m pregnant.’

I watch as all three of them turn their gazes to me. Everyone but Olivia is now checking my reaction.

‘Congratulations.’ I do not look at her. ‘That’s lovely.’

‘Yeah. Cheers.’

‘When’s it due?’

‘April. April the twenty-third.’

‘Shakespeare’s birthday. No pressure then.’

Of course she is pregnant. I make myself inhale. I have put all of that behind me, have determinedly moved on, but the years of monthly dashed hopes, followed by the injections and intrusive scans, the bills, the torment and the marital strains that changed our relationship fundamentally all come flashing through my mind before I shove them away.

Dad leans forward.

‘Do you mind me asking one thing?’ he says, his voice dangerously casual. ‘Who’s the father?’

She glares. ‘Yes, I do mind. I mind you asking who the father is before saying congratulations or being pleased that you’re getting a grandchild after all. Yes. I mind that, so I’m not going to tell you.’

‘Oh, for fuck’s sake, Olivia.’

I stiffen. I hate it when Dad swears. It always means danger.

‘For fuck’s sake yourself,’ she retorts. ‘You only want a grandchild if it comes from the sainted fucking Lara, don’t you? You don’t want my lesser genes passed on, do you? Well, Lara’s not come up with the goods and it seems that, accidentally, I have and that’s that. Get used to it. Things change.’

Oddly, it is Mum who rises to this. She does it while Dad is still drawing breath.

‘Olivia,’ she says, leaning forward, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. She so infrequently steps into a row that I am transfixed. Her voice is soft, rarely used, so we all listen. ‘That’s not fair on Lara. You’ve taken us by surprise, that’s all. Give us a few moments to get used to this, please.’

My sister laughs. ‘Right! Of course. Because this is all about you guys.’

‘No,’ says Mum, and she is perfectly calm. No one has the faintest idea of what goes on beneath the surface with her, so this is all we can go on. ‘It is, of course, about you, and even more than that, it’s about the baby. And it will be lovely to have a baby in the family again.’

Everyone but Olivia, I realise, is still looking at me, while pretending they are not.

I look at my sister, and she holds my gaze with triumph in her eyes. Although I have heard her crying – and now I suppose I know why that is – and although I know very well that she did not plan for this, she has beaten me on something. She is revelling in this fact.

I wanted a baby. I did. However much I have determinedly moved on, everything but the baby is plan B and it always will be.

‘You OK?’ Leon says quietly.

‘No,’ I say. ‘Come for a drink?’

He looks around the table.

‘Of course.’

I make myself stay calm.

‘Olivia,’ I say. ‘I’m happy for you. I really am. Congratulations. But right now I’m going to go and have a drink, away from here. I’ll move out of the flat too. I’ve been meaning to for a while and you’ll be needing the space.’

‘OK.’ She shrugs, as if the thing I have been steeling myself to do for so long is no particular deal. I look away. I will see her smirking, whether she is actually doing it or not.

‘Lara, are you sure?’ asks Dad. I am on my feet now, checking my bag is with me.

‘Yes.’

‘I’ll go with her, Bernie.’ Leon’s hand is pressed to my shoulder, briefly.

‘Thanks, Leon.’ Dad nods.

Mum looks at me with a pale smile and sips her drink without a word.

We step out on to Charlotte Street, where people are hurrying around through the dusk. Everyone has a place to go, a coat pulled tight, a scarf. The balmy September of six weeks ago when I started my job has settled into uncompromising winter.

It is almost completely dark, and the street lamps are lit. Although it is not raining, water seems to hang in the air, dampening my face and hair as I walk.

‘Here.’ Leon steers me into a pub, a small one that is full but not too full. We find a little table in a corner and he makes me sit down, then goes to the bar without asking what I want.

He comes back with four drinks: two are small and two are tall and clear.

‘This first.’ It is an amber liquid. Whisky, I think, or perhaps brandy. I sip it and force a smile. It warms me all the way down.

‘Drinks like this are great,’ I tell him. ‘Everyone should drink more of them. The ones that are so warm they burn you on the inside. Good for winter.’

‘Drink it up.’ I look at him and take another sip.

‘Thanks for this.’

‘I’m sorry we haven’t seen you much since you’ve been up here. You’ve not been happy at your sister’s. I know that. Where are you going to go? You’re welcome to the spare room, but I’m sure you’d like more independence.’

‘Thanks. There’s a place near work, a corporate sort of hotel. I might get a room there for a bit and see what happens.’

‘A hotel? Lara, that doesn’t sound like the best way of getting your debts at home paid off.’

I shrug and put the glass down, empty.

‘I want a bit of space. Just for a while. I’ll sort out something more sensible in a week or two.’

‘And how are things in Cornwall?’

I realise I have not given Sam a thought.

‘Oh, they’re OK.’

Our eyes meet. Leon told me years ago that I shouldn’t marry Sam because I would end up bored. I attempt to acknowledge the fact that he was right with a look, and to signal that we are not going to talk about it.

I pick up the second drink and sip it.

‘Vodka and slimline tonic,’ he says.

‘Thanks.’

‘Your sister is poisonous, but even she will not have done this on purpose.’

‘I know. I know she didn’t. I’ve heard her crying at night, and having muffled phone conversations. I’ve got no idea who the father is because she wouldn’t tell me if she had a boyfriend. It might be the tall, stringy guy. Allan. He seems nice. But I know it’s not about me, it’s about her. I can’t ban everyone around me from getting pregnant. It’s just …’

‘I know. It’s still raw for you.’

‘You know what? It is. I didn’t realise how much it is. I’ve just been telling myself that I’m half relieved, that Sam’s the one who’s upset and that I’m perfectly happy to move on.’ I knock back half my second drink in one go. ‘But it’s not that straightforward. And I do think it’s destroyed Sam and me. I asked you to get me this job because I was desperate to get away from him. Absolutely desperate. What does that say? Nothing good. We’re finished. I know that, but I can’t tell him because he has no idea.’

He raises an eyebrow, waiting for the rest.

‘And,’ I continue, because Leon is the only person I could possibly tell, ‘I’ve kind of met someone else.’

I look at him.

‘Mmm.’ He nods. ‘That’s difficult, sweetheart, but I’m not surprised.’

‘Oh God, Leon. I don’t know what to do. I have to stay away from him.’

My godfather nods again.

‘Things will be much less complicated if you stay away. Work out what you want. Do you want to tell me about him?’

I think about Guy, about his warm eyes, his thick hair, the muscles of his forearms. I think about the reality of him, and shake my head.

‘No,’ I tell him. ‘It’d only encourage me.’ Then I realise what it is that I really want to ask him. ‘Leon,’ I add. ‘Look. You’re the only one who knows about what I did.’ I pause, wondering whether to say it, but I cannot let the words pass my lips. He knows. ‘In Asia,’ is all I can add as clarification. ‘This sounds stupid, but sometimes I think it’s catching up with me. I knew I wouldn’t get away with it. I did bad things to scary people. It terrifies me.’

He narrows his eyes and fixes me with a serious stare. ‘Has anything happened?’

I try to smile. ‘No. I just … I don’t feel safe. I think people are watching me. I don’t know which is worse: if they really are, or if I’m cracking up and imagining it.’ I look at Leon and feel instantly better, and a bit silly. ‘Am I imagining it?’

He leans forward. ‘I’d say so. You’re under a lot of stress, Lara, but not because of the past. That’s long been over and done with. Because of the present. The future. You don’t want to adopt a child, and Sam does. That’s a confrontation that’s going to have to happen, and you know it. This new man, whoever he is, is a distraction. As are these thoughts of Thailand, though keep a proper eye out. If anything actually happens, you must act. But I think, to be honest, that you’re trying to come up with other crises to avoid having to look at the real one.’

I sigh. ‘You’re right,’ I tell him, and I force myself to think of the present, instead of the past. ‘I know you are.’

I knock the rest of the drink back in one go, and try to think of a way of breaking Olivia’s news to Sam.

chapter eight

On Friday night, all I want to do is drink and talk. The only people I want to talk to are Ellen and Guy. I get to the station early, but because they don’t serve alcohol in the first-class lounge, I go up the escalators to the pub at the top of the station.

This smells like a generic pub. It feels like a generic pub. I’m vaguely surprised that it’s possible to be in a station without feeling as if you’re in a station. A man sits at a table reading a tabloid article about cancer; a couple with big suitcases sit opposite each other, a packet of crisps torn open on the table between them, him with a pint of lager in front of him, her with half a pint. No one looks up as I walk to the bar, sit on a bar stool and order a vodka and tonic from an implausibly young blond barman with acne scars.

I knock it back. I don’t think or talk. Then I order another one and do the same.

I spent the night of Olivia’s revelation, the night of the letter, in her box room, carefully avoiding her in the morning, and packing enough stuff to keep me going until I can bear to go back and pick up the rest. Last night I slept at the hotel in St Paul’s. It is a business hotel, perfectly tolerable though utterly impractical financially.