The Stranger Within (27 page)

              This time is also a devil’s playground for the mind and as I lie here on my side, facing away from my husband, I am forced to think of Max. What would I be doing now if we had stayed together? If we hadn’t lost the baby? If he hadn’t left me? Would I be better off? Or would I still have made mistakes?

It was inevitable that somewhere along the line I would fall. Mum didn’t change Dad and neither did having a daughter. He is who he was meant to be. And so am I.

              At six o’clock, I go downstairs and make a cup of coffee. I can’t remember a time when I have been up before James and I hope he doesn’t dwell on what it means. I will just say I needed to study.

              Jazzy’s face appears at the kitchen door, peering in at me, just like Mrs Simmons did yesterday. I unlock the door and go to the shed to feed him. It is already warm out here, too warm for June. It is making headlines on the news, this unexpected heat wave, but I wonder why the weather matters to anyone. Don’t people realise what’s truly important?

Instinctively I look up at Dillon’s window as I walk back to the house, but his curtains remain closed. He is having no trouble sleeping.

I’m on my third cup of coffee by the time James comes down for breakfast, already dressed for work. “You’re up early. Are you okay?”

I try to reassure him and offer a smile. “Just anxious about my next assignment. It’s due in a week and I haven’t even started it yet.”

James smiles. “You’ll do it. You always do.”

We sit together at the breakfast bar and look out into the garden. Jazzy is prancing around on the grass, swiping at insects, but James doesn’t say a word about him. His top lip turns up slightly, though, so I am sure he is finding the cat amusing. He would let him in the house if I asked him, but right now I can’t bring myself to ask for anything.

“Callie?” he says, turning to me.

“Yeah?”

He pauses for a moment. “You’ll do well on your assignment. I’m sure you will.”

I’m grateful for his encouragement but am sure this is not what he wanted to say.

“Right, I’ll get going.”

My whole body feels heavy as I walk James to the door and kiss him goodbye. I don’t deserve him.

I have half an hour before it’s time to wake the boys, too much time to sit and stew about Mrs Simmons. Nothing is the same now. I can play along as if it is, but my gut knows the truth. How long do I have before everything falls apart?

When James’ key turns in the lock and he rushes back inside, I immediately fear the worst. “It’s Mrs Simmons!” he says. “There’s an ambulance outside her house. They said she collapsed yesterday and she’s been lying there all night. She’s had a nasty knock to her head. They think it happened as she fell.”

“Is…is she okay?”

“They’re not sure. That’s all they told me. I feel awful. I should have looked in on her more often, even if she’s a bit difficult. I better wake the boys and tell them what’s happened – I don’t want them to see the ambulance and panic. You know how fond of her they are.”

He rushes upstairs and I am left to ponder his words. I should feel something at this moment. Sadness? Guilt? But then I picture Mrs Simmons’ face as she threatened me, the pure hatred in her eyes, and I am only relieved. This has bought me some more time. It is a godsend.             

Footsteps pound on the floor upstairs as the boys wake up and no doubt rush to the window to see what’s going on. I go into the kitchen; I don’t want to hear their displays of sorrow. I should feel guilty for feeling this way, but I don’t. Mrs Simmons will not die. She will be back home, causing me more trouble soon enough.

I open the back door and step out onto the patio so that their voices are mumbles. Then James pops his head into the kitchen and says he’s off, leaving me alone with the boys.

              There is some bread in the cupboard so I toast a few slices and lay out butter, marmite and jam. As usual, I get no thanks, and the boys ignore me as they discuss Mrs Simmons.

              “She won’t die, will she?” Luke says.

              Dillon pats his brother’s arm and butters a slice of toast for him. “No, I’m sure she’ll be fine. They’ll look after her in hospital.”

              Luke seems appeased by this and I feel both sad and angry that I am not the one delivering words of comfort.

              “What were you doing there yesterday?” Dillon says. At first I don’t think he is speaking to me – he hasn’t so far this morning – and it is only when the room falls silent that I turn and see them both staring at me.

              My heart pounds so heavily I am sure they can hear it. “I just popped over to check she was okay.” I turn away, not wanting to scrutinise their faces to see if they believe me or not.

              “But she hates you!” Luke blurts out.

              I open my mouth to respond but quickly close it again. There is nothing I can say to this, and I am already buried under an avalanche of my own lies. “Your lunches are in the fridge,” I say, before walking out of the kitchen.

As soon as the boys leave for school, I hunt around in James’ study for Mrs Simmons’ son’s number. I know he has it, but the chances are it’s in his phone rather than scrawled on a piece of paper somewhere. I have to try, though. I have to find out how she is and if she has said anything. I can’t even remember his name: Darren? Dominic? I will know it when I see it. But there is nothing. James is too organised to have scraps of paper lying around.

              I pop next door to see if anyone happens to be at her house, my hand trembling as I ring the doorbell. But there is nobody home. The house is silent. Ominous.

              My only other option is to call the hospital, but how would that look? I could say I’m a relative, but I’m sure James has mentioned before that her son is her only family. There aren’t even any grandchildren. No, I will have to sit tight and wait for news from James. Whatever it will be. I go back inside and upstairs to the study again to try and make a start on my assignment.

              At lunchtime Rhys texts again, asking how I am and when we can meet. I don’t reply. And when he texts three more times, before school has even finished for the day, I delete them without reading a word.

My eyes open and I’m not sure what’s woken me. I have fallen asleep on James’ chair, my text book slumped on my lap. The sound of voices drifts up from downstairs and I grab my phone to check the time. Ten past four. That means the boys are home from school.

              With the heaviness in my legs that seems to be a constant companion, I head downstairs to make my presence known, before they call James to tell him I’m not here. The last thing I expect to see when I walk in the kitchen is Rhys digging around in the fridge while Dillon leans against the counter.

“Oh, hi, Mrs Harwell,” he says, beaming a smile only I can read. Dillon doesn’t even glance at me. “Dillon invited me for dinner. That’s okay, isn’t it?”

              I hesitate. “I, um...I’ll need to check with James.”

              “Dad said it’s fine,” Dillon snarls, still not looking at me.

              “I don’t want to be any trouble,” Rhys says.

              “You’re not.” Dillon pours out a glass of apple juice and hands it to his friend.

              “I’m afraid it won’t be anything special,” I say, avoiding Rhys’ gaze.

              “It never is,” Dillon mumbles.

              I ignore his comment and go outside to check on Jazzy. But as I walk off I can still hear their conversation. Dillon telling Rhys what’s happened to Mrs Simmons, and adding, with a raised voice, that I was the last person to see her yesterday. He can’t know this, of course. It’s possible she had a visitor after I was there, but he won’t care about this. He is too excited to suggest I am somehow guilty.

              Once I’m outside, out of earshot, I call James to find out if he has heard anything. Tabitha answers but falls silent when she realises it’s me, handing the phone to James without another word. I won’t let her get to me. She is bitter and twisted because I have something she wants. For how much longer, though?

              “Do you know how Mrs Simmons is?” I ask James as soon as he says hello.

              “No. I spoke to her son this morning when I got to work but he didn’t know much at that point.”

              “What’s his name again?”

              “Duncan. He’s in Exeter and can’t get down until late tonight. I said I’d go and see her for him this evening.”

              “I’ll go. You’ve got enough to do. I can go after dinner.” There is no way I can let James visit Mrs Simmons.

              “Are you sure? That would really help. I’ve got so much work to do on this website. We need it to go live tomorrow.”

              I tell him it’s no problem, that I’m happy to help, and can hardly bear to picture him nodding and smiling, thinking what a good wife I am.

              “How are the boys?”

              “They’re…fine. Rhys is here. Did you say he could stay for dinner?”

              “I don’t remember Dillon asking, but I don’t mind if it’s okay with you?”

              “It’s fine,” I say, glancing towards the house. Through the glass door, I see Dillon and Rhys guzzling their drinks, huddled together over the breakfast bar, conspiring. I say goodbye and feed Jazzy before I go back inside, sickened by the thought of sitting round the table with Rhys. And the visit I have to make to the hospital. It is hard to say which is worse.

              Somehow at dinner I end up sitting next to him. He has nudged his chair as close as possible to mine and I am surprised nobody else seems to have noticed. James sits opposite me and devours his chicken, talking about Mrs Simmons in between mouthfuls. I can feel Rhys’ eyes on me but I daren’t look at him. I can tell he is bursting to talk to me alone. There are questions he will want to ask me, so I have to ensure he doesn’t get the opportunity tonight. When his leg nudges mine under the table I still don’t turn to him, but focus on forcing down my food quickly so I can get to the hospital.

              When he’s finished eating, James excuses himself and goes upstairs to work. Eager to spend some time on his computer, Luke follows him up, and I am left alone with Dillon and Rhys.

              “I’ll help you clear up, Mrs Harwell,” Rhys says, and my chest tenses.

              “Don’t bother,” Dillon says, before I can answer.

              But Rhys insists, staying behind while Dillon slouches off, scowling.

              I wait for a few moments before turning to him, my voice a whisper. “What are you doing? Just go upstairs with Dillon.”

              He shakes his head. “No, we need to talk. You’ve been ignoring my texts all day. You promised we could talk.” His voice becomes louder. “And what happened to your neighbour?”

              “How would I know? She’s elderly, Rhys. She was fine when I left her.”

              “I’m not saying –”

              “Shhhh! Keep your voice down.”

              “When are we meeting up? You promised.” He reaches for my arm but I shake him off.

              “Rhys, let this go. Forget about me. Move on.” It is hard to keep whispering when I am telling him something so important. So final.

              For a moment I think I may have got through to him. But then he speaks, not bothering to keep his voice down. “No, I won’t do that. Not until you talk to me like you promised. You can’t treat people like shit, Callie.”

              I pick up the casserole dish, needing both hands to lift it, and for a flicker of a second I picture smashing it across Rhys’ face, wiping the smugness from it, destroying all the power he holds over me. But the thought is gone as quickly as it appeared and I load the dish in the dishwasher and close the door.

              “Leave me alone, Rhys. Get over this and just stay away from me.” I turn from him and walk away.

He remains silent until my hand reaches for the door handle but then he says, calmly and quietly, “You can’t stop me coming here. Dillon’s my best friend. I’ll be here all the time, Callie. There’s nothing you can do about that.”

By the time I get to the hospital, visiting hours are over and the nurses won’t let me see Mrs Simmons. They huddle around the desk and tell me that because I’m not family they can’t make any allowances. “She wouldn’t be able to talk to you anyway,” one of them says, and I take comfort from this thought. It means she won’t be able to carry out her threat.

I drive around for a while, hoping that by the time I get home Rhys will be gone. The problem with Mrs Simmons might be dealt with for now but I still have Rhys to worry about. And the boys. And Tabitha will always be lurking in the background, ready to take my place. I feel as if I am in a maze, with no idea where the exit is.

My phone beeps with a text message so I pull over to check it. Not Rhys this time, but James asking when I will be back.

The house is dark and silent when I get home and I have no idea if Rhys is inside. Upstairs, I see light coming from under James’ study door, but it is closed so I leave him to his work.