Chapter 12
TWELVE
LIANE
The sound of the front door opening makes me jump.
Not because I wasn’t expecting it, because I was.
I knew it would open soon after Frederik left the house to go and collect Joel and Haven from town after their shopping trip.
The reason I am startled is because I have spent all day troubled by the note I found in Haven’s pocket and now they are home, it is time to ask her about it.
Or at least it should be.
But as my son and his girlfriend enter the kitchen, several shopping bags in tow, I chicken out of asking and instead keep the note firmly stashed away in my own pocket.
‘Hey. How was town?’ I ask the pair of shoppers as they drop their numerous bags to the floor and take a seat at the breakfast bar.
‘Great, we bought a few things,’ Joel replies.
‘I can see that,’ I say, eyeing up the bags.
‘A few things? I’d say you cleared out a couple of shops back there,’ Frederik says as he enters, tossing his car keys onto the table before heading to the fridge.
I watch as he takes out a bottle of beer before offering the youngsters one as well.
They both accept, so he pops the lids off before furnishing them each with a cold beverage.
He doesn’t bother offering me one but only because he knows I’m not really a beer kind of gal.
I bet he likes that Haven is. He once remarked, many years ago, that he finds a woman who drinks beer to be particularly attractive.
I didn’t think much of it at the time, but now as I stand here and watch my husband watching Haven take a thirsty glug from the bottle, that comment troubles me a lot more than it ever did before.
‘What did you buy?’ I ask, wondering how they could afford all of this when my mother’s money hasn’t been transferred yet.
‘Just a few T-shirts to replace a few of the ones I lost while I was travelling,’ Joel replies, and at least that sounds somewhat sensible.
‘I bought a new dress,’ Haven says next. ‘I needed something to wear for when I meet all of Joel’s school friends on our night out.’
I don’t need to see the dress in question to know that Haven will look good in it, nor do I need to see my son’s friends’ faces when they all get their first look at their mate’s new girlfriend.
But I wouldn’t mind getting a look at the receipt to see how much the dress cost. After all, I thought neither of these two had any money, at least not yet, anyway.
Unless they’re putting all of this on a credit card, confident they can pay off whatever debt they have accumulated when my mother’s money comes through for them.
But considering the note I found in Haven’s jeans earlier, it feels like I’ve already done enough rummaging around for one day, so I forget about trying to see the receipt and instead just think about what I have already seen.
I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the mysterious handwritten note that I discovered and I have been driving myself crazy trying to figure out who could have written it and what it could mean.
I still have no clue, but despite that, I haven’t shared my problem with my husband.
I haven’t told him what I found in Haven’s jeans, mainly because I know he will admonish me for checking inside her pockets.
It won’t matter that I feel I had a perfectly good reason to do so, preparing the clothes for a wash cycle and all.
He’ll just say that I shouldn’t be sticking my nose into other people’s business and tell me to leave it at that.
But there’s no way I can leave it, not after I have read that note, so I will keep it to myself for the time being.
Or at least for as long as it takes for Haven to realise that her jeans have been washed and the note is now missing.
It doesn’t take as long as I thought.
‘Are those my clothes on the radiator?’ Haven asks when she spots one of her blouses drying where I hung it earlier.
‘Yes, I did some washing,’ I say. ‘I thought I’d help out. I hope that’s okay.’
‘Thanks, Mum,’ Joel says before swigging his beer without a care in the world. But Haven doesn’t react in the same way, no doubt because she does have a care to give.
‘Did you wash my jeans?’ she asks me, her eyes scanning the room for any sign of that particular item of clothing drying somewhere.
‘Erm, I might have done,’ I say, feigning uncertainty because I don’t want to make a big deal out of this. If I do, she might figure I saw the note, and I’d like to keep that a secret for as long as I can.
‘Oh,’ Haven says.
‘Is that okay?’ I ask, wondering if she might mention the note herself.
‘It’s just that I keep things in my pockets and I’m not sure if you would have checked them,’ Haven says, eyeing me with suspicion.
‘Don’t worry, my wife is a pro at checking pockets before anything goes in the washing machine,’ Frederik says, speaking up from his side of the breakfast bar where he is holding his beer.
‘She has to be in this house because me and the boys were always leaving things in there that shouldn’t come into contact with water. ’
My husband and son laugh then, both reminiscing on all the times I gave them a lecture about not putting valuables into the wash basket with dirty clothes.
But Frederik’s rather correct assertion that I always check people’s pockets is not really helpful to me in this moment, as I don’t want Haven knowing that I checked hers.
‘Oh, I’m sorry, but I didn’t actually look inside any of your pockets,’ I lie to Haven. ‘I didn’t think it was appropriate. Should I have done?’
‘Erm…’ Haven seems unsure what to say, so I speak for her.
‘I’m so sorry if there was anything in your pockets. Was there?’
Will she admit it?
‘There was something,’ she tells me. ‘A piece of paper. You didn’t see it?’
‘I’m afraid not,’ I lie again. ‘And I’m afraid if it went through the washing machine, it is most likely gone now.’
God bless the torrid insides of a washing machine and their propensity to destroy flimsy pieces of paper.
Haven looks disappointed by what I just said, as she might well be, given that I have just told her something she owned has now gone for good.
‘Was it something important?’ I ask her, leading her towards what I hope will be more information for me.
‘Oh, no, it doesn’t matter,’ she says simply, but I can tell she is lying based on how quickly she puts the tip of the beer bottle in her mouth after speaking.
Psychologists say that when people lie, they subconsciously try to stop themselves from saying more words, so they often put something in their mouth to cover it up as quickly as they can.
While I might not have a degree in psychology, I have watched enough TV shows to know that Haven was lying to me then when she said the piece of paper was no big deal.
She knows it’s a big deal.
What she doesn’t know is that I have it in my back pocket.
‘Maybe in future, just leave my things and I’ll wash them myself,’ Haven says then.
‘Okay, I can do that,’ I reply as casually as I can.
‘It’s not that we’re not grateful for you washing our clothes,’ Joel quickly says, in case Haven’s request came across as rude.
‘Of course,’ I say, swatting the air. ‘Don’t worry about it.’
With that, the conversation is over, and while I didn’t learn any more details about what the note I found might be referring to, I did learn one thing.
Haven wants it to be kept a secret
Too bad for her that it is not.