Chapter 28 #2
‘Well, I’m glad you do,’ he says, with the faintest air of concern, or sarcasm, I can’t tell which. Maybe I’m imagining it.
I drain the water and add the courgettes. Sprinkle in some fennel seeds.
‘I get frustrated with the team,’ he says. ‘So many of the numbers people just keep butting their heads in – saying stupid shit that doesn’t have any bearing on what the writer wants to hear. She needs to be guided, not told We will give you anything you want.’
I add more olive oil. ‘Some people would probably like to be offered whatever they wanted.’
‘That’s not how it works, Mal. These people don’t know their arse from their elbows – not really. And it’s my job to show them what they want.’
I start ladling the pasta onto two plates. ‘I see.’
‘Some of my colleagues are complete morons. Had to bite my tongue from telling one of them to shut up when he asked the author if she’d thought about her dress for the premiere. Idiot.’
I squeeze the lemon juice on top, just as Ronan said. ‘He sounds like one. Hopefully she will see through it and hear what you have to say. I’m sure she did, and I’m sure it was enough.’
‘I hope so. We find out tomorrow.’
I crumble the feta. Done. ‘Want to eat in here?’ I say, holding a plate in each hand, turning to him for the first time.
He nods. ‘Where else?’
There is something. I suddenly see it in his features. His expression. Something underneath it all. It’s enquiring. Probing. Like his hand on my shoulder when he asked me to show him the photos on my phone.
‘Good point,’ I concede, putting a plate down in front of him. He doesn’t look at it. Keeps his eyes on me. ‘You’re staring,’ I say. ‘Is everything OK?’
‘Yes, sorry, I just thought you had something on your...’ He points to his own upper lip, referring to mine.
‘Oh!’ I wipe it with the back of my hand. Nothing.
‘No, I think it’s just the shadow of your...’ He pauses. ‘Oh, have you not bleached your moustache?’
This sentence comes as such a slap, such an icy blow, that I have to look down, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. ‘Oh God,’ I say quietly. ‘I haven’t for a while. I’m sorry – is it really noticeable?’
‘It is,’ he says. ‘But don’t worry. It’s just me.’ He pauses. ‘I’m a little worried you’re not taking care of yourself, Mal.’
‘I am... I just forgot.’ I turn back to the cutlery drawer and take out two forks. When I hand him one, I try to seem unphased, nonchalant, but he can see the cracks now. ‘Sorry.’
He takes the fork. Silence.
He stares at me.
I hate it when he does this.
‘I think maybe you should give me your phone for a few days, Mal.’
‘What?’
He places his fork down on the table next to him, his eyes still fixed on me. ‘Why were you in Muswell Hill today?’
Oh, shit. Shit shit shit. ‘What?’
‘And more importantly – how was that not the first thing you told me when I got back?’ His stare doesn’t falter.
‘Ronan—’
‘One of your new patients?’
Shit.
‘Joanie called me.’
Fucking Joanie. ‘Oh, did she?’
‘Yes. Why didn’t you tell me you had a new patient?’
Fuck. ‘Patient confidentiality.’
‘That’s not held you back before, Mal.’ His whole body is completely still, eyes locked, not allowing me to look away, nor allowing me any space to manoeuvre out of his vision. ‘And someone that assaults old women, no less?’
‘Wait—’
‘I’m concerned.’
‘You don’t have to be.’
‘How can I protect you if you’re not sharing these things with me?’
‘I’m not supposed to—’
‘He doesn’t sound safe. This Leo.’ Shit. ‘He doesn’t sound like the kind of patient you can handle.’
‘Why do you want my phone?’
‘Because I think you need a break. I think you are becoming stressed. And today sounds like quite an intense experience, and it might be good to take a bit of time away from everything.’
‘I’m fine.’
‘And we both know what happens when you become stressed.’
‘I’m not unwell, Ronan.’
‘You said that the last time.’
‘I’m not.’
‘Mal.’ He stops. Waits. Staring. ‘What kind of marriage are we in if we don’t share everything with each other?
Isn’t that what love is?’ He stands. Moves around the island towards me.
Places his hand on my shoulder. I don’t flinch.
I am stuck to the floor. He speaks more softly now.
‘We both know that you’re vulnerable, Mal,’ he says.
‘I love you. I know you. You can be triggered quite easily and it sounds like a triggering event. Just take some time for yourself.’
‘Ronan—’
‘You don’t know what’s best for you, Mal, we’re agreed on that.’
‘I think—’
‘You were out with a young man who assaulted an old lady and you decided not to tell me?’ His voice is still quiet.
‘It doesn’t warrant giving you my phone. No. I promise – I am keeping myself safe.’ My legs. Don’t give way. Please stay standing.
He is staring. Calm. Nothing changes in his face. ‘Fine. But I’d like you to turn on location settings and share them with me. Just so I know where you are.’
‘But—’
‘And I’m going to take your car keys.’
‘What? Ronan – this is ridiculous. I need my car.’
‘It will help you reset. I can order you in some nice Ocado food. You can cook. Be at home. Sounds nice, doesn’t it?’
‘I...’ My brain whites out. All I can do is try to remain standing upright and keep my eyes on him. We stay like this, in this exact position, for what feels like an incredible amount of time in which no other person, no other room, no other conversation exists. ‘OK.’
‘Good.’ He exhales, shaking his head. ‘Good, Mal.’
I nod. ‘OK.’
I watch him pick up his fork, twirling it in the pasta. He puts it into his mouth, then looks up at me. ‘There’s no flavour.’ He places his fork back on the table, then leans down, lifting up his briefcase. He opens it, and holds something out to me.
A book.
I can see the title.
Getting Ready for Parenthood.
I take it. ‘Thank you.’
‘I’m going up for a bath, I need an early night.’
‘OK.’
‘Our phones are still linked – aren’t they? So I can see your location? Don’t look so scared... It’s just so I know you’re OK, Mal.’
I nod. ‘Yes. They’re still linked.’
‘Good.’ He kisses my forehead. ‘I promised when we got married I would do everything to protect you. And that’s what I want. I love you, Mal. See you in bed.’
‘Yes,’ I say. ‘Sorry about the food. I am.’
‘It’s fine. I’d already eaten.’
‘Right. Sorry.’
‘Don’t be sorry. Oh, and I’m going to send you a link to a fertility app I found. We can share it, so we both know when your ovulation period is.’
He turns and leaves.
I hear his footsteps up the stairs. One flight.
Two.
The opening of our bedroom door.
The pipes in the wall gurgling on.
I grab my phone.
Open up messages.
Find him.
Hi Leo
Just seen this
Same time tomorrow?
I can meet you at a park near my house
There’s a bench that is very quiet
Priory Park – Crouch End
Yeah. OK
Nice. Thanks
Don’t worry
Glad you’re safe