27
27
I returned to work the day after we got back from Shropshire. The shop was busy, which helped to distract me, and I should have been happy. Emma and I were getting along better than we had in years. Even Dylan had commented on it: ‘What’s up with you two? Anyone would think you actually like each other.’
We knew we still had work to do. There were a lot of wrinkles that needed to be ironed out. But I was confident it was going to be okay between us.
There were, however, two things gnawing at my good mood.
First, Rose’s behaviour on the trip and the continuing tension between her and Emma. I couldn’t work out if it was emotional growing pains or something more. I did hope, though, that the two of them spending this week together would help, and I had my fingers crossed that by the weekend they would be best friends again, and we would be reassured that our daughter wasn’t growing devil horns and a pointed tail.
The second thing playing on my mind was my growing worry about Fiona. Not the hug I’d exchanged with her – because that’s all it had been, a comforting hug – but my concern that, well, to use Dylan’s words: there was something sketchy about her . Like, when she doesn’t know you’re watching her, she changes.
Last night, I had gone round to pick up Lola’s stuff. Fiona was friendly, relaxed, asking about the trip, wanting to know if Rose had enjoyed herself. I wanted to get out of her house quickly so didn’t tell her about the incident at laser tag. But while we chatted I tried to surreptitiously study her. Had she deliberately tried to break me and Emma up, encouraging her to contact Mike while flirting with me? If I’d thought she wanted me, and that the stuff with Mike was part of a scheme to send me into her arms, I would have understood it. Seeing her after the trip, I was nervous, worrying she would be all over me. But she showed no signs of liking me in that way at all. She acted like we were nothing more than neighbours. I was simultaneously relieved and confused.
But why had she led Emma towards the meet-up with Mike and then acted as if she knew nothing about it? There was something devious about her behaviour.
It played on my mind all day at work. So much so that, when I got home, instead of going into my house, I headed over to see Iris.
She invited me in and I immediately spotted the suitcase in the hallway.
‘Oh, you’re going away?’
‘Yes.’ She beamed. ‘I’m off to Canada. I’m going to visit my son and see my grandchildren.’
‘That’s so lovely. Are you on your way out right now?’
‘No, I’ve got a taxi picking me up at one. Early-morning flight from Heathrow. I’m so excited, Ethan! And I wouldn’t be able to afford it without you.’ I followed her into the kitchen. ‘I was actually going to come over and ask if you could keep an eye on the house for me.’
‘Of course.’
We were standing by her kitchen window, which gave me an excellent view of both my house and Fiona’s. Iris followed my gaze.
‘Everything all right?’ she asked. ‘You seem like there’s something on your mind.’
I hesitated. This was why I’d come over here. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve remembered where you know Fiona from, have you?’
She exhaled with frustration. ‘No. It’s been driving me crazy. I can feel it right there, just beneath the surface. I probably need to be hypnotised to free the memory.’
I looked at her and she laughed.
‘That wasn’t a serious suggestion. A friend of mine was hypnotised and she still thinks she’s a chicken.’
‘Really?’
Another laugh. ‘Oh, Ethan, what’s happened to your sense of humour? Tell me again what you know about Fiona. Perhaps it will shake something loose.’
We sat at the kitchen table and went through it all again. She had grown up in Western Australia but moved here when she was in her early twenties. She used to work in Canary Wharf, something to do with banking.
‘Has she ever mentioned any friends?’ Iris asked. ‘Boyfriends or ex-husbands?’
‘No, though I think she’s bisexual. And, as far as I’ve seen, she doesn’t have any friends.’
This had only just struck me. It was odd, wasn’t it? It wasn’t as if she was completely new to the Greater London area. But I hadn’t ever seen anyone visit her house and she never appeared to go out, unless it was with Rose. She had never mentioned any friends either.
Iris fetched her iPad and her reading glasses. ‘Let’s have a look and see if we can find her online. Fiona Smith, yes?’
She typed the name into Google and we scanned through the results. There were, of course, seemingly thousands of them. Academics, lawyers, doctors, councillors, a woman who did make-up tutorials on YouTube.
‘Search for “Fiona Smith banker”,’ I suggested.
Iris tried that and there were a number of results, but none of them were my next-door neighbour.
Next we tried Facebook, where Iris had hundreds of friends, far more than me. Again, there were many Fiona Smiths but none of them looked like the person we were looking for.
‘Why can’t she be called Moonbeam Skyrocket or something?’ Iris asked. ‘Fiona Smith is a bit like being called Jane Smith, isn’t it? Or John Smith.’
‘You think it might be a fake name?’
‘Hmm. That wasn’t what I meant. But ... do you think it might be? No job, no friends, a name that is unsearchable ... Oh my goodness.’
‘What?’
Her voice was hushed, as if there might be criminals at the door, listening in. ‘Do you think she might be in witness protection? Maybe she’s due to give evidence against some dangerous people.’
‘I hope not! I can’t imagine her volunteering to be a childminder if she had people after her.’
‘True.’
At that moment a car pulled up outside and, through the kitchen window, we watched Tommy get out, heading towards his house.
Iris got up. ‘Wait there. I just need to tell him I’m going away.’
She went to her front door and I watched Iris chatting with him. I had heard that Albie’s long-term prognosis was much improved, which was a big relief. Then something else came to me and I went out on to the front lawn where Iris and Tommy stood. I was quite shocked by his appearance. He had dark shadows under his eyes and looked like he was coming down with something nasty.
‘Hey Tommy,’ I said. ‘Can I just ask you something?’
‘I’m in the middle of a conversation.’
Iris stepped back and said, ‘It’s fine. I need to water the garden before I go away anyway.’
Tommy said, ‘Have a wicked holiday, Mrs B.’ Then, as she went through the side gate towards the garden, he turned to me. ‘What is it?’
I flicked my eyes across to Fiona’s place and spoke quietly, as if she’d be able to hear me from across the street. ‘Do you still think Fiona might have had something to do with—?’
He cut me off. ‘Nope. No way.’
‘Oh. Because last time I was here, Eric said something about you having your eye on her.’
‘Did he?’ Why did he seem so flustered? Spots of pink had appeared on his neck. ‘That kid doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Albie’s accident was just that. An accident.’
‘But—’
‘I’ve gotta go, yeah?’
He vanished into his house and I turned to find Iris standing just beyond her gate. She had clearly been eavesdropping.
‘Is it me,’ I asked, ‘or did he start acting extremely weird when I mentioned Fiona’s name?’
‘It’s not you.’
I could see movement behind the windows of my house. I hadn’t been home yet. ‘I’d better get back. If you think of anything while you’re in Canada, will you call me?’
‘Of course. Take my advice, Ethan. Don’t get old. It does terrible things to the memory.’
‘Getting old is better than the alternative.’
‘Ha. Very true.’
I walked back to the house, wondering what to do. It was only a fortnight until Rose went back to school, and she would be spending this week with Emma, but should we stop Fiona from looking after her for the final week? I knew Rose would protest vehemently if we did.
I went through the front door, intending to talk to Emma about it, and found her in our bedroom. She was wearing a dress and putting her make-up on in the mirror.
‘What’s happening?’ I asked. ‘Have I forgotten something?’
She kissed me. ‘No, I decided to surprise you. I’ve booked us a table at this new place in Wimbledon. The one that was in the Guardian a couple of weeks ago.’
I had a vague memory that I’d read the review out to Emma, saying how much I’d like to go there. A new Indonesian place that sounded amazing.
‘I was about to call you to find out where you were. You’d better start getting ready.’
‘What about the kids? Are they coming?’
‘To our romantic evening out? No, I’ve sorted it. Fiona’s coming round.’ The doorbell rang. ‘That’ll be her now.’
I heard footsteps on the stairs. Rose running down to open the door.
‘What’s the matter?’ Emma asked.
‘I . . . Nothing.’
It was too late to do anything now. Fiona was already here and I could hear her and Rose talking in the hallway, Rose speaking quickly, excitedly, thrilled to be reunited.
I went to the top of the stairs and looked down. There was Fiona, wearing jeans and a baggy T-shirt. From here, I could see the dark roots of her hair. It hadn’t struck me before that she wasn’t a natural blonde.
She sensed me looking and glanced up.
‘Hi Ethan.’
Our eyes met and she held my gaze, and it was like she was looking right into my brain, reading my thoughts. I forced myself to smile and she smiled too, though hers looked as fake as mine felt.
It was as if we were playing chess and she’d realised I’d figured out she was about to attempt to checkmate me. Like we were entering some sort of endgame.
The problem was, I had no idea what that endgame was.