Chapter 4
FOUR
Ellen had been barely a minute grabbing her cardigan from the wardrobe but, as she returned to the table, Lucy was already emerging from the kitchen with a tray of three small custard desserts, which she held aloft. ‘Catalan Cream.’
With no time to tell Robert what she’d overheard, Ellen retook her seat with a tight smile.
Forcing herself to take the same tiny spoonfuls as Lucy made her more frustrated by the second, fueling her anger.
By the time Lucy pushed her bowl away and suggested more coffee, Ellen was ready to explode. ‘Actually, I think I’m ready for bed.’
Lucy’s shoulders dropped in disappointment. ‘But it’s still early. And you’re only here for three nights. We need to make the most of your time.’
If it hadn’t been for the overheard conversation, Ellen might’ve felt guilty. ‘It must be the flight, and the wine. I’ll be much livelier after a good night’s sleep.’
Lucy had turned to Robert then. ‘You’re not going to go, too? Shall I put on more coffee?’
Over her shoulder, Ellen shot him a look that dared him not to come with her and he got the message. ‘Do you know what, I’m tired, too. Let’s save the coffee for breakfast.’
As soon as the door was closed to their bedroom, she was on him. ‘What was that all about?’
He looked genuinely confused. ‘What?’
He could play dumb all he wanted. ‘You and Lucy. The flirting.’
A bemused smile played at the edge of his mouth. ‘Flirting? Are you serious?’
She wasn’t going to be put off. ‘In the pool earlier, you were pretty cosy just the two of you.’
Unbuttoning his shirt, Robert sighed. ‘We weren’t cosy. You didn’t want to get in the pool. And I was trying to compensate for the fact you were acting so strangely. What were you doing, just sulking on the side like that?’
A lump rose in her throat. Did he really have no idea? ‘I wasn’t sulking. I just felt…left out.’
Even to herself, she sounded pathetic. But wouldn’t it be even worse to have to say the truth. I felt fat. I felt frumpy. And old. And, yes, left out next to Lucy and her slim body and stylish hair and expensive clothes.
Robert threw his shirt over the back of a chair and pulled on the pyjama top she’d left on his side of the duvet. ‘Can we just go to bed? You said that you were tired.’
Anger and frustration made her snap at him. ‘I only said that to get out of there. I know something strange is going on. I overheard Lucy talking about us on the phone. She said he’s here and then she doesn’t know anything . What do you think that means? What don’t I know?’
Robert shook his head at her like she was a small child having a tantrum.
‘You don’t even know that she was talking about you.
She was probably talking to her husband.
About one of their daughters, maybe? It’s been an emotional few days, Ellen.
And you’re tired. Everything will look better in the morning. ’
He sounded so reasonable that she began to doubt herself. His explanation was more likely. Could she have misunderstood? Still, she wasn’t ready to give in. ‘Well, the two of you were still very flirty.’
Robert was the most amenable of men, but even he had his limits.
‘Now you’re being paranoid and I’m too tired for this.
You do remember that I didn’t even want to come on this holiday?
You were the one who pushed for it, you were the one who said I would enjoy it once I got here and now you’re criticising my behaviour?
Because I’m talking to our host? I’m going to sleep. ’
With that, he threw back the cover, got into bed and turned away from her.
As she stared at his unmoving shoulders, hot tears collected at the back of her eyes.
Why couldn’t she tell him how she felt? He was her husband.
They’d slept next to each other for the last twenty-seven years.
He knew her better than she knew herself and yet…
something had changed between them recently.
If only she could put her finger on when it had started, maybe they could claw it back.
Was it the so-called empty nest syndrome?
They’d had children pretty much their whole married life.
They’d never learned to be together without children.
Now, with Abigail leaving home, going to university, they were forced to look at one another again.
What if he looked at her and didn’t like what he saw?
Being here with Lucy, she wasn’t sure that she liked what she saw, either.
She couldn’t even blame having children on the fact that she’d let herself go, because didn’t Lucy have two daughters at pretty much the same age as her?
What happened if their relationship didn’t outlast their youngest daughter leaving home?
She slipped her pyjamas out from underneath the pillow on her side of the bed.
Even they seemed further evidence of her lack of style.
She didn’t imagine for a second that Lucy wore grey jersey pyjamas that had begun to go bobbly through being washed so often.
Lucy would probably wear silk and lace, short and sheer.
And her husband would not be snoring with his back to her.
Slowly, she laid herself next to Robert, already knowing it would be impossible to sleep.
The fresh white sheets were pleasantly cool, but his body was hot and made her feel lonelier than ever.
She opened her Kindle, but after rereading the first sentence five times, she gave up on that and picked up her phone.
Doing what she swore she wouldn’t once Abigail was at university, she checked her location.
She wasn’t back at her halls of residence. In fact, she wasn’t on campus at all.
She’s eighteen. She’s sensible. She needs her freedom.
She repeated the mantra to herself but it was no use.
Ellen’s heart thudded in her chest at the memory of Lucy describing her own daughter as a ‘livewire’.
Where might Emily have taken her? Would Abigail stick to her own plan to ‘never have more than three drinks a night’?
She closed her eyes. Why had she looked? Now she wouldn’t be able to settle until she was sure that Abigail was safely home. Although even being back at the campus wouldn’t be evidence of her safety. There’d be parties in their halls and who knows what might happen?
This wasn’t normal, was it? Obsessing about where her daughter was and what she was doing.
Abigail wasn’t Ellen and this wasn’t 1997.
Her daughter was far more prepared for university life than she had been.
But she was wide awake now and there was no use laying here tossing and turning.
All she’d achieve would be to wake Robert and he’d remind her of her promise not to use the tracking app to torture herself.
Her mouth and throat were dry. Maybe a glass of water would help.
The marble floor was cold on her feet and, as she padded to the kitchen, she saw the blue electronic glow of a phone before she saw Lucy on a stool next to the breakfast bar, drinking a glass of wine in the kitchen. She looked up and smiled, her face half in darkness. ‘Can’t sleep?’
After pretending to be tired, Ellen didn’t want to admit to insomnia. ‘Actually, I was going to get a glass of water. Is that okay?’
Aside from the phone, the only other light in the kitchen came from a strip beneath the wall cabinets. Lucy’s eyes were in darkness and difficult to read. ‘Of course, help yourself. The glasses are in the top cupboard, next to the refrigerator.’
Neatly lined up on the second shelf, the glasses were made of heavy crystal – very different from the mismatched selection that would’ve been on offer in Ellen’s kitchen.
Was everything in this place perfect? She let the water run a little until it was cold, filled her glass and turned back to Lucy. ‘You’re up late.’
Lucy waved her phone. ‘Texting with Joe. He’s out to dinner with some clients.’
Ellen’s own phone was still in her hand and, when she checked again, Abigail was still out. ‘Does he work away a lot?’
Lucy sipped at her wine. Even this small movement was measured, controlled. ‘Yes. Before Emily started university, there were a lot of flights back and forth.’
The mention of university and Emily made her check her phone again. No movement. ‘Is that difficult? Being apart so much?’
Lucy shrugged. ‘A little. But I have a pretty full life.’
There’d been no mention of a career, so Ellen wondered what her life was full of. ‘Don’t you worry about him? Being away on his own, I mean.’
‘Are you asking me if I trust my husband?’ Lucy stared at her as if she had grown a second head.
‘No. No. Sorry. I just mean…that your lives are so separate. Doesn’t it cause problems when you’re together?’
Even in the darkness, she could see the depth of Lucy’s frown. ‘What kind of problems do you mean?’
From the look on Lucy’s face, Ellen realised how rude she was being.
‘Sorry. You must think I’m being awful. It’s just…
well, in the past, Robert travelled a lot with work, but he almost always came home at the end of the day, whatever time it was.
But lately, business has been harder to come by and he’s had to widen his sales territory.
It means he’s away more. And for longer. It’s a change. We’re having to adjust.’
When they were younger, she’d sit up and wait for him.
After children, she would go to bed but make him promise to wake her when he got in, wanting to know that he was home and safe.
These days, she was more likely to be alone in their king-size bed while he was in a budget hotel hundreds of miles away.
Lucy’s smile was as inscrutable as the Mona Lisa’s. ‘I don’t think it matters if your husband works across town or across the country. If you want your marriage to work, you need to make sure you create something that he wants to hurry back to.’
She swept an arm to take in the beautiful kitchen – its clean, expensive, luxurious gleam – and then swept the same arm down her own body, before laughing.
Not knowing the Lucy of now, Ellen really didn’t know how much was a joke and how much was serious.
She had certainly created something beautiful, both in her home and in herself.
Standing here in the middle of Lucy’s life, the difference between the two of them was in stark relief.
What about her life? What had Ellen and Robert created?
She couldn’t help but worry that their life – potentially even Ellen herself – weren’t enough for Robert now that the girls had left home. Is that why he was away so much lately?
She hadn’t realised that she’d checked her phone again until Lucy remarked on it. ‘Are you waiting for a message?’
Her cheeks warmed, embarrassed to admit that she was checking up on her daughter. ‘Just looking to see that Abigail is back in her halls. I like to know that she’s safe.’
Lucy raised an eyebrow. ‘Surely you’re not tracking her? She’s eighteen. She shouldn’t be home this early. They’re supposed to be out every night enjoying themselves for the first few weeks. It’s when they’ll make their friends. You remember what we were like?’
Ellen remembered exactly what they were like. That was the problem. With relief, she saw Abigail’s icon moving in the direction of home.
At the same time, Lucy’s phone buzzed with a message and she turned it over. Smiled. ‘That’s Joe. Dinner was a success. He’ll be here tomorrow afternoon.’
For a moment, this seemed like an opportune moment to ask about Lucy’s call earlier. But Robert’s words came back to her. Was she just being paranoid? ‘Great. I’m going to get back to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.’
As she made her way to her bedroom, Ellen wondered what Joe would be like. In her mind he was handsome and fit and successful. Once he was here, surely Lucy would no longer be paying Robert quite so much attention. Still, Lucy’s words were ringing in her ears. ‘You remember what we were like.’
She did remember. All too well.