The Woman Before Me (27 page)

She appeared at the top of the stairs with Luke in her arms. I called his name, and he smiled at me, gurgling as she handed him over, and I couldn’t resist kissing the top of his head, where his golden hair was growing unruly. I could have cuddled him all morning, but I forced myself to look at Emma. She was dressed in a ridiculously short pink dress and hat. The skirt was too tight on her stomach, as she hadn’t yet lost all the weight she’d put on in pregnancy.

“You look lovely, Emma.”

She kept pulling at her skirt and fiddling with her straps.

“Oh Rose, it’s so long since I’ve been to anything like this. Dominic’s colleagues are mainly women, and I feel like my brain’s turned to mush since having Luke. And I don’t know anything about horseracing.”

“You’ll be fine, Emma. Just choose the horses with the best names. Have a few glasses of wine and you’ll soon relax.”

“You think so?”

“They’ll love you.”

Dominic was standing at the open door but Emma hesitated by the hall mirror, fussing with her hair. It took all my patience not to scream at her. I bit my tongue as she told me which toys Luke preferred, what time he had his milk. “There’s a bottle made up ready in the fridge.”

We stood at the window, watching the car pull out.

I held up his arm, so he was waving goodbye.

It was a fresh spring day and I wanted to push the pram. Not Emma’s pram, but the one I’d bought for Joel. I lifted it out from the boot of my car. It was immaculate. I’d refused to get rid of it. I’d known that one day it would come in useful. I left it in the porch and fetched Luke from his blue bouncy chair.

“Look,” I said, “this is your new pram. Do you like it?”

He gurgled at my excited voice, kicking legs in joy. As I lowered him onto the mattress I thought of how this simple pleasure should have been mine a million times over.

I walked into town slowly, pushing the pram, taking in the world. I talked constantly, pointing out dogs and birds and motorcars. A new baby attracts attention, and several women looked in the pram to admire my boy. I wasn’t selfish; I stopped and indulged them.

“He’s three months old. Yes, he’s a good baby – he was poorly when he was born but now he’s thriving.”

But after a while he became fretful, so I decided to take him to our home.

As I pushed the pram over the doorstep to our flat I knew what a newly married man must feel, lifting his bride over the threshold. It was a new beginning. I carried Luke up the stairs and along the hall into the nursery. Like the pram, his room was immaculate. I showed him the cherry wood cot, the jointed teddy bear in its pristine waistcoat that had never had a child’s love. I showed him the tiny birds nest, and told him how the babies in it had died.

It was Luke’s room now; everything in it belonged to him.

When Emma arrived back it was just after five. She walked with a wobble and when she snatched Luke from my arms I could smell alcohol on her breath. Dominic followed, looking sulky.

“You’re back early,” I said, as Dominic shrugged off his jacket

“Emma totally overdid it. Downed a bottle of champagne before we’d even eaten the main course.”

He went to the kitchen and I heard the click of a beer bottle being opened. Emma was swaying too much to notice, and I took Luke from her, afraid she would drop him.

Dominic walked back in, drinking from the bottle. He seemed to have forgotten that I was still there. “I’ve never been so embarrassed.”

“Oh, sod off! When did I last have a chance to drink? And why didn’t you warn me how stuck up you’re friends are?”

“They’re my pupil’s parents. They pay my wages.”

“Well, they were boring. All that talk about jockeys and trainers and handicaps – not one of them asked me about my life. Not one!”

“Well what do you expect them to say? You were slurring your words and spilling your wine on them.”

Emma shot her husband a reproachful glare. “I was bored, Dominic. And I’m still young, remember? Not like you. I just want to have some fun for a change. God, I’m so sick of this house and nappies and bottles and being tired. I just wanted to have one night when I could just be me.”

“For God’s sake, Emma! What the hell’s wrong with you? You’re talking like you’re in prison. You’ve got a beautiful home, a healthy son. Me. Stop being such an ungrateful bitch.”

She swung round, staggering forward, “don’t you speak to me like that!”

Dominic was furious, “you ruined our day. What a waste of a ticket. There’s a concert on at six. I’ve a good mind to go back on my own.”

“Well, go then. I’m not stopping you.”

“Fine.”

Emma sat heavily on the sofa. “You piss off and enjoy yourself. Don’t worry about me.”

Dominic grabbed his coat and stalked out of the house.

When the door slammed Emma stared at it, fury on her face.

“Luke’s just been fed,” I told her. I’d already tipped the formula milk down the sink. “And I’ve given him his bath.”

“God, I’m sick of this.” She closed her eyes and leaned back into the sofa.

“You look shattered. Why don’t I put Luke to bed for you?”

I took him upstairs. He looked so perfect in the cot, so cosy and soft and drifting into sleep that I just wanted to climb in and lay down next to him. As I kissed him I said I’d come back later. I looked at him, and touched his cheek to seal my promise.

When I got back downstairs to Emma I saw that she hadn’t moved.

“Was your day out that bad?” I asked, sitting on the floor, near her feet, collecting the scattered toys and putting them in a pile.

“Fucking awful,” she cried.

“What is it, Emma?” I sat down next to her and put an arm around her shoulders. “Is it just too much drink?”

“What?” she sniffed, wiping her nose with her hand. “No – not that. It’s Dominic. Sometimes I feel like one of his bloody pupils. He treats me like a fucking child. I just wish he could talk to me like a normal person. You know, like two equals.”

“Maybe it’s because he’s so much older than you?”

“He’s not that much older. He just likes lording it over me. A marriage shouldn’t be like this. It should be fun.”

“Like your first marriage?” I don’t know how I managed to say it. I held my breath.

She thought about it, biting a torn nail. “My first husband was totally different to Dominic. I didn’t see how easy he was to be with until now.”

“Do you ever see your ex-husband?”

I held my breath waiting for her answer.

“I’ve bumped into him a few times.” She twisted the gold band that was loose on her finger. “They say you don’t appreciate things till they’ve gone. Life’s so bloody unfair.”

My throat constricted, and I couldn’t say anything. I pushed her away, no longer able to stand her self-pity. The bitch already had Luke, and now she wanted you back. By 11p.m. the house was in total darkness, except for the landing light, which I knew she kept on until morning.

You were working shifts at Auberge and didn’t get home before midnight, so it was easy for me to spend evenings in my car parked across the road from Emma’s house, watching. I knew what time the house was hushed, when the nursery light was switched on for Luke’s late night feed. But I’d never left the safety of my car before.

Great care was needed. I’d waited patiently, knowing I would never have the courage to do this if Dominic was at home. Thanks to his selfishness he was back in Newmarket. I’d already planned what I would wear: light shoes, trainers. Nothing likely to rustle, just black leggings and a black top. I looked like a cat burglar, sleek and silent, a creature of the night. Searching through our hall cupboard I had found several torches and chose the smallest. I collected what I needed, laying it out on the bed, feeling like Cinderella before the ball, my heartbeat out stepping the clock, which slowly ticked towards the time when the dance would begin. I was giddy, full of fearless love. It would be a brief, glorious dance but I must leave before the clock struck midnight.

Parking my car in the street next to Emma’s, I skirted hedges and climbed fences until I was there, tiptoeing up the side to the back door. I put my key in the lock, eased down the handle and opened the door very quietly, leaving it slightly ajar.

The house was still, the darkness only broken by the streetlights outside. My torch was a spotlight as I padded through the hall, my trainers squeaking as I climbed the stairs, the carpet at least dulling the sound. I switched off my torch, allowing the light from the street to guide me.

I trod carefully to my first destination: Emma’s bedroom. Inside the room it was silent, her mobile phone was on the bedside cabinet, switched on.

I’d never seen Emma asleep. She looked more beautiful than when awake. Sleep smoothed her face, the lines of worry gone, her lips softened into a near smile, some happy dream transporting her away from the dangers of this world. I envied her. Even asleep I was plagued with the loss of Joel.

Half-drunk with my recklessness, I put down my torch and lay next to her, where Dominic would normally be. Where you had laid, Jason, when you betrayed me. It was a warm night and the duvet was pushed low below her bare breasts. I gently pulled it down further to reveal more of her. She was naked and her skin was luminous. Her breathing was so deep and steady that I knew she wouldn’t wake.

Intoxicated with my daring, I touched her shoulder, my hand cupping its soft contour. She rolled towards me, and my hand stroked her bare breast. I was hot, on fire. The rise and fall of her chest mocked my unsteady breathing. It was as though she controlled me, despite being unconsciousness. I inched closer until my body mirrored hers, and pressed my lips to the graceful curve of her neck and then, on the pillow next to her, I saw a long golden-red hair.

Too golden to come from Emma’s scalp, not silver enough for Dominic’s, too long to belong to Luke, although it was the same colour.

I lifted the hair, stared at it in the moonlight, wondering if I was losing my mind. Then I had another thought: her mobile phone. I picked it up and walked into the hall. I went to her messages and looked down the list. There were messages from Dominic, from me, from her hairdresser, then… my heart thumped when I saw your number. I retrieved the message:

I’ll come 2 U. Usual time?

In her sleep Emma moaned softly, beginning to stir, and I switched the phone off, placing it back on the cabinet. Breathless, I inched away from the bed and out of the room.

It was only when I tucked the key back into my pocket that I realised I’d left my torch behind.

45

When Rose appeared in the classroom Cate could see that she had been asleep from the pillow crease on her cheek. Callahan had told her that a lot of inmates slept over lunch, which was a lengthy two hours. There was not much else to do in a cell, especially when the weather was warm. Rose sat on the chair opposite, and began to take a cigarette from her lapel pocket; then, looking at her, replaced it.

“It’s too hot in here,” Cate said, feeling sweat itch her neck. She thought about removing her jacket but rejected the idea.

“Always hot in here. Except when it’s freezing, that is. They never can get it right.”

When Rose turned her face, Cate saw the purple bruise on her brow and cheek.“What happened?”

Rose touched her cheek, as if she had forgotten the injury. “The usual. Someone called me a nonce.”

“Did you tell one of the officers?”

“Oh yes,” Rose smiled slightly, “they know all about it.”

Cate focused on her notepad. “I understand that you’ve already seen Officer Callahan’s parole report. It says you get on well on the unit. That you’re popular.”

Rose sneered. “Well, there isn’t much choice for company on the inside. And I come in handy, I suppose. I like to look after the new girls. I feel sorry for them, especially the ones with kids. At least I know where my boy is, and he’s safe.”

“In heaven, do you mean?”

“Maybe. I believe in something like that, anyway. Don’t you?”

“No,” said Cate. “I’m afraid I don’t.”

“I thought you do-gooders always had some kind of faith.”

“Not this one.” Cate took a breath, watching Rose, her impassive face beyond reading. “I wanted to speak to you about Emma Hatcher. I visited her yesterday.”

As soon as she heard this, Rose’s face crumpled into lines of concern. She leaned forward as if to pull the information from Cate. “How is she?”

The words came in a rush and Cate decided not to spare her after all. It would be a test, another hurdle that Rose could never adequately clear. “Terrible. She’s very fragile.”

Rose rubbed her fingers on the bridge of her nose and lowered her head. “And her husband?” This was said with less intensity.

Cate cast her mind back to the interview, and remembered how angry Dominic Hatcher had been, but also how he had put his arm around his wife to support her. “I should think he’s coping a bit better. But the future won’t be easy for either of them.”

She didn’t mention the new baby. Rose had no right to know of Hope’s existence.

Rose looked up, crystal clarity in her eyes. “They need to learn to accept it,” she advised, “to see it as something greater than themselves. That’s how I manage. Joel and Luke are in a better place now, in the sprit world. That’s what gets me through. Have you ever lost anyone?”

“No. I’ve had no bereavements.”

“It doesn’t have to be through death, any loss is the same. You have to adapt, to change the way you feel about things. My father is still alive but he’s more lost to me than my dead mother.”

“That must be hard.”

“And my brother, Peter, is the same. Mind you, we were never close. Do you have any siblings?”

“A sister.”

“And are you close?”

“Used to be, when we were kids. There’s only 15 months between us.”

“What about now?”

“I haven’t spoken to her in a long time. ”

Cate felt Rose had taken over the interview. It was time to shift the focus back. “Now, I think we should talk about you instead of me. That’s why we’re here.”

“What do you want to know?”