The Third Wife (25 page)

Luke threw her a strange look. She thought it was disgust at first, at her gluttony. But then she saw he was nervous. ‘Listen,’ he said, ‘there’s another thing. About Charlotte. She said something a bit weird.’

‘What, like,
My, what a huge penis you have
?’

He tutted. ‘No. About Maya. It sounded like, I don’t know, like she might have had a grudge against her. It made me wonder if maybe it was her who wrote the emails?’

‘Wonder if it was
who
who sent the emails?’

‘Oh.’ Cat turned at the sound of Otis’s voice. ‘Nothing,’ she said dismissively. ‘Nothing at all. You really should get dressed.’

‘No point getting dressed now, it’s closer to bedtime than it is to getting up this morning.’ He shrugged. ‘Who were you talking about?’

‘Nobody,’ she said. ‘Just a woman at Dad’s office. That’s all.’

She gave Luke a warning look and mouthed
later
at him.

‘Hi, Otis,’ said Luke.

‘Hi, Luke.’ He didn’t make eye contact but he smiled gently.

‘Having a good holiday?’

Otis shrugged. ‘It’s OK,’ he said. ‘Pretty boring.’

Luke looked at Cat and then at Otis and then at the two children buried in cushions at the other end of the room and he clapped his hands together and said, ‘Shall we all go out for tea?’

Otis looked up at him suspiciously. ‘Where?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Luke. ‘You choose.’

‘Nando’s,’ said Otis.

‘No,’ said Pearl, ‘sushi!’

‘No,’ said Beau, ‘I want pizza!’

Cat looked at Luke and rolled her eyes. ‘See?’ she said. ‘Constantly. Every single time I try to suggest anything. It’s so boring.’

‘Right.’ Luke pulled a piece of paper from a memo pad and tore it into three strips. He wrote the name of a restaurant on each strip, screwed them up and then tipped them on to the counter. ‘Cat chooses,’ he said.

Children started to complain. Luke pretended to put the balls of paper into the bin. They stopped complaining. Cat picked a ball of paper. ‘Nando’s,’ she announced. ‘Come on, then. Clothes on!’

Five little Wolfes, sitting in a row. Cat wondered if anyone was looking at them, if anyone was wondering how they all fitted together. There was little connecting them physically. It was family lore that each one had been fathered by a different milkman.

‘Everyone happy?’ she asked across the table. Beau nodded effusively. Pearl smiled enigmatically. Otis grunted. Cat smiled and turned to Luke, who was sitting opposite her. ‘So,’ she said, tucking into a pile of chips and half a medium-hot chicken. ‘How are you getting on, living with Dad?’

‘Not too bad actually,’ said Luke, picking over the contents of a spicy chicken wrap. ‘He’s not so bad.’

‘I know,’ said Cat. ‘I’ve been trying to tell you that for years.’

‘He is a bit of an old fart though.’

‘He’s only forty-eight. He’s not that old.’

‘No, but he is, you know, fart-like.’

‘In what way is he fart-like?’

‘Oh, you know, wearing the same old clothes, all that weird organic stuff he buys, the radio droning on all the time. You know, there are forty-eight-year-old dads who listen to cool music, wear cool clothes. I mean, hard as it is to believe, he was actually a teenager during punk.’

‘Oh, come on, you don’t really want a dad like that, do you? A trendy dad? An
old punk
dad?’ She tipped some ketchup on to the rim of Beau’s plate. ‘Your problem’, she said, ‘is that whatever Dad does, it’s never good enough for you. You’ve been like that about him since you were tiny. It’s like …’ She paused and screwed the lid back on to the bottle. ‘It’s like you were expecting someone else. And he turned up. And you never quite got over it.’

Otis turned at these words and eyed Cat and Luke curiously. ‘Are you talking about Dad?’ he said.

‘No,’ said Cat.

‘Yes,’ said Luke.

He looked at them both in confusion.

‘Yes,’ said Cat, with a sigh.

‘What are you saying?’

‘Just that we all have a different view of him. That’s all.’

‘I have the same view as Luke,’ said Otis.

‘Oh,’ said Cat, slightly taken aback. ‘Right.’

‘Yes. I think he’s an idiot.’

‘I never said he was an idiot!’ said Luke.

‘No, but you think he is one. It’s obvious.’

‘Obvious, how?’

‘The way you talk to him. The way you talk
about
him.’

‘Nice one, Luke,’ said Cat, under her breath.

‘You know, all the shit choices he makes. Leaving Susie for Mum. Leaving Mum for Maya. For, like, no apparent reason. Then making Maya so miserable she walked under a bus on purpose.’

Cat rocked back in her seat at her brother’s words. ‘Whoa now, Otis, we don’t know that she did it on purpose. It’s more likely it was an accident. And blaming that on Dad is
really
unfair.’

‘Why is it unfair? He was married to her. It was his job to keep her happy.’

‘Yes, but we know why she was so unhappy now, don’t we?’

‘I don’t think that was the emails,’ he said mysteriously. ‘I think those are a red herring. I think it was something else making her unhappy. So unhappy that she didn’t even want to
be
with Dad any more.’

‘Beau, sweetness,’ Cat said nervously, ‘do you need the toilet? Pearl, can you take Beau to the toilet?’

For once the two younger children did as they were told without complaint and watching them disappear through the door to the toilets, Cat turned angrily to Otis and hissed, ‘Otis! What are you doing? Stop it!’

‘I’m just telling the truth. It’s time to tell the truth now. Maya hated being married to Dad and then she fell in love with somebody else. And it was someone she shouldn’t have fallen in love with. And
that’s
why Maya killed herself.’

‘Oh, come on. Seriously—’

‘It’s true. It’s totally true!’

‘And where exactly did you pick up this red-hot nugget of information from?’ said Luke, his voice calm and even.

‘From a woman. Just from a woman.’

‘What woman?’ said Cat.

‘The woman who knew the man that Maya was in love with!’ he barked impatiently, as if it was startlingly obvious, as if they were idiots.

‘Right,’ said Cat, ‘and this woman was who exactly?’

‘I can’t tell you,’ said Otis. ‘I promised.’

Cat and Luke stared at each other blindly across the table.

There was a moment’s silence, muddied by the sound of the restaurant around them, of piped world music and cutlery and chatter.

‘Have you told Dad?’ asked Luke, his face deathly white. ‘Have you told him what you’ve been told?’

‘No,’ he replied, almost in a whisper. ‘How could I?’ He looked up then, properly, and stared desperately at both Cat and Luke. ‘Promise you won’t tell him?’ he pleaded. ‘Promise?’

Cat looked desperately at Luke. Of course they would have to talk to their dad about this. Of course they would. Otis saw the look pass between them and got to his feet, panicking. ‘No,’ he said, loudly, seriously. ‘No. Promise. You have to promise.’ His big brown eyes flashed with terror.

Still Cat and Luke stared at one another.

‘Well …’ Luke began, circumspectly.

‘Fuck,’ said Otis. ‘Fuck.’

And then suddenly he was heading away from them, sprinting out of the door, towards the High Street. Luke jumped to his feet and gave chase. Over his shoulder he shouted to Cat, ‘I’ll see you at Caroline’s. Wait there for me!’

Beau and Pearl returned from the toilets. Cat forced a smile.

‘Where are Luke and Otis?’ asked Pearl.

‘Oh, they’ve just gone for a walk,’ said Cat. ‘We’re going to meet them back at the house.’

Pearl looked at her suspiciously.

‘It’s fine,’ said Cat. ‘Come on. Finish your tea. We can go home via Costa if you like, get you one of those giant Bourbons.’

Pearl shook her head. ‘No,’ she said quietly, ‘I think we should just go home.’

‘Fine,’ said Cat. ‘Eat up.’

Cat regarded her own plate of food. There was over half a portion of chips left and all the best bits of the chicken, but suddenly she didn’t have the stomach for it. She concentrated, instead, on collating the children and their possessions, including, hidden beneath a crumpled napkin, Otis’s phone. Otis normally guarded his phone like a Rottweiler. It was always in his hand, in his pocket, under his pillow. She slipped it into her handbag and led the children home.

There. There she was. My God. It was actually her, after all these months.

She was wearing a fitted white cotton dress, black wedge-heeled sandals and a denim jacket. Her golden hair was combed straight and worn down, pushed back from her face by a pair of oversized black sunglasses. She was chatting to someone on her phone as she approached her office, laughing and strolling, clearly a personal call, not a business call. Adrian got to his feet and threaded his way through the traffic. She didn’t see him at first; she’d pulled over by the entrance to her office to finish off her call, leaning backwards against a wall, her legs crossed in front of her, a sudden blast of sunshine illuminating her, causing her to lower her sunglasses and twist slightly away from him. Adrian pretended to use his own phone while he waited for her to finish her call and then, as she turned back, a smile still on her face, he stood before her, smiled and said, ‘Hello, Jane.’

She clutched her chest. ‘Shit,’ she said, ‘you made me jump.’

She pulled up her sunglasses and there they were, those remarkable, peculiar eyes of hers.

‘Sorry,’ he said, ‘I’ve just been waiting for you to finish your phone call. I didn’t mean to startle you.’

‘What on earth are you doing here?’

‘I’ve been following the trail of your phone. The phone you left in my flat.’

‘Oh,’ she said, ‘right. Well, I really don’t need the phone. It wasn’t mine anyway, I borrowed it from someone. They’re really not bothered about it.’

‘Well, that’s just as well since I ended up giving it back to the woman who had it three owners back.’

She smiled nervously, clearly struggling to make sense of the situation.

‘So,’ she began, her eyes turning constantly to the office building to her left, as if to make her intentions obvious. ‘What can I …?’

‘I’d like to talk to you,’ he said. ‘About Maya.’

He watched her carefully, looking for signs of recognition. And he saw it, a flicker of her eyes, a parting of her lips, a mental recalibration. ‘Who?’ she said feebly.

‘Maya,’ he repeated. ‘My wife? The one who died?’

‘Right,’ she said, feigning confusion.

‘Have you got time’, he said, ‘for a quick drink? A cup of coffee?’

‘Look,’ she said, ‘I really don’t understand. I didn’t know your wife …’

‘They’re not expecting you back just yet. And honestly, I only need five minutes. We could sit over there if you like.’ He pointed at the bench on the other side of the road.

She looked at the bench and then back at her office block. He could see her hand inside her bag, her fingertips tracing the edges of her cigarette packet. He could see her resolve separating into two parts: the part that wanted a cigarette, that wanted to get rid of whatever it was she’d been wanting to do or say to him when she first came to his flat back in March; and the part that wanted to disappear into her office block and defer this thing indefinitely.

He stared at her impassively. He didn’t want to scare her away. ‘Five minutes,’ he said again.

Her hand came out of her bag and on to her hip. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry. I really do need to get back to work. But listen …’ She stopped and softened. ‘Your family, how are you all? How are your beautiful children?’

‘They’re OK,’ he said, feeling that there was a right and a wrong answer to this question and that the key to opening up Abby’s secrets rested in answering it correctly. ‘But there’s been some unsettling developments, regarding Maya. I think we’re all feeling a bit, you know, shaky.’

Bingo. Her hand left her hip and hung loosely at her side. Her shoulders slumped. Her face lost its stiff mask of defensiveness. She sighed. ‘I could meet you later. If you like.’

‘How do I know you’ll turn up?’

‘I will. I promise you.’

‘So, you do know something?’ he said. ‘About Maya?’

‘I didn’t say that.’

‘But you’re agreeing to meet me. Why would you unless you knew something?’

‘I am agreeing to meet up with you. You obviously want to talk to me. We’ll work out the rest later. OK?’ Her voice was soft and her hand rested on his sleeve. He was reminded of the impression she’d made on him all those months ago, her warmth and wisdom, her kindness and beauty.

‘Yes,’ he said, his hand squeezing her upper arm. ‘Of course.’

‘Meet me at seven, at the Blue Posts in Rupert Street. Do you know it?’

‘Yes,’ said Adrian, ‘yes, I’m sure I’ve been there before. I’ll find it, anyway.’

‘I’ll see you later,’ she said.

‘Thank you,’ said Adrian. ‘I’m very grateful.’

‘Well,’ she said, her smile faltering, her hand going to the strap of her handbag, ‘maybe you should wait to hear what I have to tell you before you feel too grateful to me.’

She smiled again, uncertainly, and then turned and headed into the office block, the door opening and closing behind her with a buzz and a click.

Luke kept the shaggy helmet of Otis’s hair in his line of vision for a short while after he disappeared from the restaurant. Otis had started out at a brisk pace and then, as he neared the corner of the road, he’d begun to run. Luke picked up his pace to keep up with him and tore around the corner, nearly knocking over an elderly couple as he did so. He saw Otis’s head bobbing, weaving urgently through the crowd. All the way up the road and around the corner he kept Otis in view. And then suddenly he was gone. Just like that.

He rounded the next corner, his heart pounding now with dread. It was Charlotte. That’s who Otis had talked to on the bench outside Angel. It was the same day that Charlotte had turned up outside his office, unannounced, when they’d gone for a beer and she’d showed him photos of the bridesmaid dress she liked. Mere hours earlier she’d been telling his little brother that Maya had been in love with another man. Why? Why was she telling a twelve-year-old boy? And more importantly, had she told him who the other man was?