Chapter 4
BETH
I nudge Justin. His head turns slowly to me as if he’s debating how he’s going to explain this. It can’t be a coincidence. His eyes meet mine, wide. I glare at him and then at her before returning my gaze to him.
‘We meet again.’ The girl waves and grins. ‘What are the chances of this?’
Three months ago, I would’ve answered ‘High’ to her question.
Somehow, my husband would’ve woven a way for her to be sitting next to him.
Concocting a way to invite her back to our house.
Three months ago, I’d have sworn she’d been planted there.
But not this time. Apart from when we drifted apart in Duty Free – him to browse the aftershaves, me to search the cosmetics stalls for a new moisturiser for my sagging skin – he didn’t leave my side the whole time at the airport.
Then I remember the ten minutes I spent in the toilet, dealing with the familiar waves of nausea that plague me these days. But I’d have seen him when I came out.
Wouldn’t I?
Don’t be silly, Beth. He couldn’t have arranged this.
Could he?
‘Unbelievable.’ Justin forces his body back against the seat and pats my knee. ‘This is Immy.’
Immy. The same name as that girl from the office. The one I had to get rid of. He’s winding me up. He must be. He turns to the girl. ‘And this is my wife, Beth.’
I force a smile. A habit I’m well accustomed to. I glance out of the window as the plane taxies along the runway. He must’ve bumped into her while I was in the toilet. Or he sought her out.
‘Oh!’ Immy reaches for her locket. It’s a small, golden heart. ‘My mother’s name was Beth.’ Another gushing smile. That all-too-positive air. It’s nauseating.
‘Really?’ Justin rubs his beard, like he always does when he’s deep in thought. I love his beard. He keeps it well-groomed – like every part of himself – trimmed to the jawline with neat, well-defined edges. He adjusts his rectangular full-framed glasses.
‘Well, her actual name was Mandy – Mandy Bethany, but she always called herself Beth. She much preferred it.’
My stomach tightens at the mention of that name. Mandy. I start sweating. Mandy. Mandy. Mandy. I can’t bear it. The memories are just too much. Justin glances at me. He knows how much I hate it. Detest it. This is unbearable. He’s hatching a plan. I know he is.
‘Immy’s just been telling me about her mother, who had dementia. Double dementia. The same as Mum,’ Justin says.
‘What’s double dementia?’ I ask.
‘Vascular and Alzheimer’s.’ Her tone turns sombre. ‘A double blow.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ Justin says.
Here he goes.
The cabin crew make their safety announcements. My hands grip the seat handles. Claustrophobia overcomes me like a heavy, dark cloud. I check my watch. We’ve got over an hour like this. I want to get off this plane. Leave right now.
The girl shrugs. ‘It’s OK. Mum died two years ago, so I’ve got pretty used to not having her around. Her passing was a blessing in the end. She was suffering too much.’
I make a quick calculation. ‘She must’ve been young.’
‘Early onset,’ she says. ‘She was only forty-two when she was diagnosed. She died eight years later.’
Forty-two. The same age as Justin and me.
‘Cabin crew, seats for take-off,’ the captain announces.
‘My mother was diagnosed five years ago,’ Justin says. ‘She had a fall earlier this year, and she’s gone downhill. So much so, we moved her in with us, didn’t we, darling?’ He spares me a glance and turns back to the girl.
I want to correct him. No! We didn’t move your mother in with us. You did. And you promised to help me with her.
But I should know by now. There are always so many broken promises with Justin.
It’s his work that now fuels his ego, bouncing from one place to another as he plays up to his ever-growing tribe of followers. Sometimes I wonder if it’s because he hates being at home with me. With my illness. Or perhaps it’s his mother and the burden of her being around all the time.
‘It’s so sad watching their decline, isn’t it?’ Justin says. The concern on his face is sickening. It’s all show. Well-chosen words, slick beyond belief. A martyr to the cause.
But I should be used to it all by now.
Justin shifts in his seat, every aspect of his body language gravitating towards the girl.
‘It was either my mother came to live with us or she went into a care home, and we couldn’t bear the thought of that,’ he says with gushing sincerity.
His hand moves to my knee. I know exactly what he’s up to. ‘Could we?’
I shake my head.
‘We visited a few but found nothing suitable,’ he adds.
Immy’s lips form a straight-line smile conveying apparent empathy, but I can’t work out if she’s putting it on. ‘Dad and I cared for Mum right up until the end. It was hard. Especially when she started wanting to leave the house in the middle of the night.’ She tightens her seat belt.
‘Yes, I found Mum wandering around the garden one night, too.’ He grimaces. ‘We had to start hiding the door keys.’
The aircraft halts. Those momentary seconds, I’m sure pilots take for effect.
The engines roar. A waft of engine fumes drifts in as the plane accelerates along the runway.
Items in the overhead lockers rattle, making it feel as if the whole aircraft is about to fall apart.
Picking up my phone, I distract myself with a game of Candy Crush.
I’ve never liked flying. I can’t get my head around how a few hundred people, plus their luggage, jammed in a metal cylinder are able to get into the air, let alone stay there.
But this. Trapped in this situation my husband has somehow orchestrated is beyond unbearable.
‘Who’s looking after your mother this weekend?’ Immy asks.
‘Our son, Connor. He’s currently at university and living in London, but it was Beth’s birthday yesterday, so he came home to look after Mum for the weekend, so I could take Beth away.’
That’s not wholly true. But there’s always another angle with my husband. Connor came home because Justin was the guest speaker at the conference this week.
Echoing my thoughts, the girl says, ‘And you still found time to do a talk.’ She smiles at me. ‘Happy birthday for yesterday.’ She’s smart. Cute, this one.
I can’t believe what Justin asks her next. They must’ve become quite acquainted while I’ve been asleep. ‘So who do you live with in Norfolk?’
‘My dad. He’s still grieving the loss of my mum, so I haven’t got around to leaving home yet.’
‘Do you work?’ he asks.
She pauses. ‘Sorry?’
‘I asked what you do for a living.’
‘Oh, sorry, yes. I’m… I’m doing an Open University degree.’
‘What in?’ His voice is grating on me. I want to scream at him. How dare he do this?
‘Social work,’ she says.
‘That sounds interesting.’
‘I was at uni in London for a year, but then Mum’s condition deteriorated, and Dad couldn’t cope on his own with her any longer, so I moved back home and switched to the Open University.
I work part-time for a care agency – a couple of shifts a week – looking after the disabled and a few people with dementia.
It’s amazing how much you learn when you have to care for a family member on a full-time basis.
’ She drops her head to the side and smiles.
I close my eyes. It’s the only thing I can do to stop myself from screaming at him. At her. At everyone.
The air hostess’s trolley bumps and rattles along the aisle. ‘Let us buy you a drink,’ Justin says to Immy. ‘What would you like?’
Us? I don’t want to buy this girl who poses such a threat a drink.
I just want the pilot to land the plane and for us to be safely at home.
Alone. I wish I’d never agreed to come. I’m not well enough.
Not really. I try to put on a brave face, but inside, I’m crumbling.
When Justin booked me a ticket as a surprise to join him for my birthday, I was moved he’d gone to so much trouble, especially knowing he’d be busy with the conference.
But it’d been a while since we’d been away together.
I thought perhaps we could rekindle our physical contact, which has been lacking for a while now.
A long while, because I’ve still not got over losing my breasts.
But when it came to it, I couldn’t bring myself to remove my top in front of him.
Happy bloody birthday.
‘A glass of white wine would be nice,’ Immy says.
I hold my breath. If I keep my eyes closed long enough, perhaps he won’t do it. Perhaps she’ll disappear.
‘Two glasses of white wine,’ Justin says to the air hostess. He turns to me. ‘Would you like anything?’
I shake my head.
Bottles click open. Wine glugs into plastic glasses. A child screams two seats down. I want to do the same.
‘Cheers,’ Justin says. I watch him out of the corner of my eye. He raises his glass to clink against hers.
Her glass meets his. ‘Cheers.’
‘You know, it’s good to talk to someone about caring for someone with dementia,’ he says. ‘Someone who understands.’
Good grief! That’s it. They don’t stop talking the whole flight.
I pretend to sleep so he can’t draw me into the conversation. I can’t bear to watch this show play out. Perhaps I’m wrong. But I’m not.
Because I know my husband.
He just can’t help himself.
When the captain tells the cabin crew to take their seats for landing, Justin pops the proposition I knew was inevitable. Almost two hours of torture I’ve sat through, hoping the moment wouldn’t arrive.
‘Why don’t you come and stay with us? Save you from having to sleep overnight at the airport. We’re only twenty minutes’ drive away.’
‘That’s kind of you.’ Immy smiles. ‘But I couldn’t possibly trouble you like that.’
‘It’s no trouble. You could meet my mother and perhaps give us some hints on how to look after her. We have an annexe you could stay in. It has its own bathroom.’ He squeezes my knee. ‘That’s OK, isn’t it?’
A wave of rage rides through me, turning my emotions into a nasty-tasting cocktail that’s making me feel sick to the core.
‘Beth or I can drop you back to the airport for your flight to Stockholm in the morning, can’t we?’
Fear creeps through me.
I want to cry.
It’s happening all over again.
And this time, I’ll be ready.