Eliza’s house is early Victorian, and sits low on a hill on one of the most expensive streets in the city. It has to be worth several million. There is a gravelled forecourt big enough for five cars, and black iron gates that are over two metres tall. I really need to find out where all this money comes from.
The gates are locked, so I push a button above an intercom. Eliza’s voice greets me as she buzzes me in and the gates swing open. I hate being captured on film. But cameras are what people who live in houses like this insist on, so there is no avoiding them.
I smile as I crunch across the gravel towards Eliza and the open front door. Alice is anaemic. Her doctor wants her on iron straightaway, but Eliza didn’t get the blood results until late yesterday, through a voicemail that was left while she was on her way to meet me at the pizza restaurant. She listened to the message in horror as we waited for our wine, so I offered to pick up the prescription and bring it over as soon as I could this morning. Anaemia is something I know about first-hand but don’t like to remember.
‘Do you have time for a coffee?’ she says.
Knowing that Zac is safely in Edinburgh, I say that I’d love one, then follow her into what appears to be a beautiful mausoleum. The floors are white marble, and the stairs, which go up and down and in all directions in a fair imitation of Hogwarts, are white marble too. Is there a danger of Alice falling? There are no stair gates.
It takes more effort than usual to get my bearings in this seeming labyrinth, as we descend to the basement, where there is a kitchen that is twice the size of my flat. One wall is made entirely of glass, and opens into a huge garden that slopes gently downwards.
I rummage in my bag, then hand her the bottle of iron. ‘It’s in liquid form. She’ll absorb it best if you give her some juice and food with it. Oh – and avoid milk if you can, close to when she takes it. There are instructions on the bottle label.’
‘Do you do this for every patient?’ Eliza smooths her already-smooth dark hair. I’m struck by her dark eyes, which are huge and lovely but so unlike Alice’s.
‘Only the special ones. And their mums. But her iron is very low – the doctor wants her started on this.’
‘As soon as she finishes her nap.’ Eliza’s face is radiant. ‘Did you know her hearing test was perfect?! We’re in the lucky forty per cent. I knew we would be!’
I do know, because I looked up Alice’s result, but all I say is, ‘That’s wonderful news.’ And it is, because the majority of those with type 1 Waardenburg syndrome have hearing loss.
‘We had so much fun last night, Helen.’
‘I think she got more of the toppings on herself than the pizza base.’
‘Well, I was so tired. I can’t tell you how much that little break meant. Sitting and enjoying a glass of wine while someone else entertained Alice. You absolutely enchanted her. I hope she didn’t exhaust you.’
‘Not at all.’
While Eliza busies herself with the cafetière, I climb onto a high stool at the breakfast-bar end of a granite-topped island. There is a row of old servants’ bells on the wall, with an oval plaque underneath each one to indicate where the call is coming from. North Bedroom. Blue Tapestry Room. Dining Room. Study. Library. The Red Room. The Cabinet Room. Picture Gallery. The Chapel. Grey Dressing Room.
‘Most of the rooms those bells rang in are long gone.’ Eliza is arranging biscuits on a stoneware plate. ‘Our house is the sole surviving wing of a once-grand mansion. The wing was a late nineteenth-century addition.’
‘It still seems pretty grand to me.’
She laughs. ‘The central building and the other wing burned down in 1904. There was parkland, these huge grounds, but they sold most of it off and built on it. There’s a bit of the original garden left.’ She points to the right of her own garden, where the tops of several trees are visible on the far side of a tall brick wall. ‘Over there. Do you see?’
‘Yes.’
‘It belongs to the city, now. I love taking Alice there for walks and picnics.’ Eliza smiles at the flowered paper bag I’ve laid on the table. ‘What’s that?’
‘Oh. A little something I thought Alice might enjoy.’
‘How kind.’ She slips the book out of the bag. ‘Horton Hatches the Egg. I love Dr. Seuss – I don’t think I’ve read this one.’
‘It’s one of my favourites.’ There was a copy among the picture books that were part of my forgotten life with my parents, chosen by them. I kept those books in my childhood room. They are probably still there, alongside my father’s edition of A Tale of Two Cities, because I can’t imagine Milly letting anyone move them.
Eliza takes the chair beside me, gives my hand a squeeze. ‘I’m so happy you’re here.’ Her eyes look wet, as if tears are on the verge of spilling. Even now, a stranger’s kindness can sometimes make me cry. Does Eliza have reason to be that raw, too?
‘You must be homesick. Bath is much smaller than London – it’s lovely, but there’s so much we don’t have in comparison. When did you move in – I can’t remember if you said?’
‘I’m not sure I did. A month ago. My husband’s idea.’
‘It must be hard, being away from your friends.’
‘It is. Meeting you helps. I should probably say that I don’t usually pick up new friends in hospitals.’
I laugh. ‘Me neither.’
She reaches across, squeezes my hand. ‘It’s just, my husband—’ She bites back whatever she was about to say.
‘Have you taken Alice to some toddler groups? We have details for loads of them at the hospital. I can grab some flyers for you.’
‘I’m not sure I can—’ Again she breaks off, leaving me anxious at this visible sign of a woman censoring herself – it is too familiar.
‘It’s not easy, moving to a new place, meeting new people.’
She nods vigorous agreement. ‘Absolutely. That’s what I try to explain to Zac. He travels all the time for his work, so he doesn’t understand – he’s away in Edinburgh right now – I think I told you. He’s away so often.’
There it is at last. Despite my guess about who Eliza was from the day I met her, and Maxine confirming it, to hear her finally use Zac’s name punches the air from my stomach.
I study Eliza’s beautiful face. She looks so innocent of her effect on me, though in spite of Maxine’s assurances to the contrary, I still wonder if Eliza has been cultivating me because Zac wants her to.
‘Have you and Zac been married long?’ I don’t hesitate to say his name. I won’t let myself be fearful of speaking it or thinking it. I won’t allow him that power.
‘Alice was a year old when we got married. I met him at university. I had a big crush on him then. You could probably say I was a bit in awe. But nothing happened. He barely noticed I was alive.’
‘I find that hard to believe.’
‘We ran into each other, quite by accident, about two and a half years ago …’ Her face reddens. ‘That’s when Alice was conceived. I don’t usually open up about this, but Alice was a happy accident. Zac didn’t tell me until I was pretty far along that he was in a relationship. I thought— Well, until Alice was a few months old, I thought I’d be raising her alone.’
I know all too well how good Zac is at keeping secrets. Did he tell Eliza in that London hotel that he was expecting a baby with his wayward and mad girlfriend, who happened to be asleep in their room upstairs? Maybe he was making this confession as I watched the two of them from the doorway of that hushed bar.
‘It’s great when things work out.’ I am scanning for family pictures. There is nothing in this pristine kitchen, which isn’t surprising, given how Zac detests clutter. He isn’t someone who would tolerate a fridge that was covered in a child’s art or magnet photo frames, as Peggy’s used to be. In fact, I cannot see a fridge at all – it must be hidden behind the bespoke cupboards.
Eliza pushes the biscuits towards me. ‘And you? I was starting to ask you last night if there’s anyone, but then Alice sprinkled you with sweetcorn.’
‘I like sweetcorn.’ My smile is real, when I remember Alice trying to brush it off me, afterwards. ‘There’s nobody – I’m good on my own.’ I take a rectangle of shortbread, nibble on it. ‘Can I use your loo?’ I hear how abrupt the question is.
‘Of course.’ She directs me. ‘Don’t get lost. Everyone does.’
I laugh too. ‘I never get lost.’ Though this time I plan to.
I deliberately miss the ground-floor cloakroom that she told me about, instead passing through huge rooms that seem to dissolve into one another. There is nothing personal in any of them. No discarded shoes or toys. No dust anywhere. It is as if this house is a giant hotel, a place straight out of Zac’s dreams. My trainers squeak with every step, and I make a quiet note to myself that trainers on marble are not good.
I climb the stairs to the first floor, where I find two master bedrooms, each with its own sitting room and bathroom. They make me think of castles where the king and queen each had their separate quarters, though the king would visit his lady’s chambers on occasion. Is this the kind of arrangement Eliza and Zac have? It is difficult to imagine Zac wanting that.
In Eliza’s room is a framed collage of photographs, the first intimate thing I have found in this house. It sits on a dressing table that is made entirely of mirrors. I snap a photo of the collage as fast as I can, knowing I will study it more closely later.
For now, I cannot let myself react to what I see. Eliza holding Alice at a few weeks old, looking blissfully pleased with herself, as I would have. They are both wearing white eyelet sundresses, a mother and her mini-me dressed as angels. My heart is pounding, and I press my lips together.
It pounds harder still at the photograph of Zac, holding an older baby Alice at about six months. He does not look happy, though he is standing in a playground, holding his child beneath a maple tree so heavy with red leaves it resembles a firecracker.
I am increasingly disinclined to agree with Maxine that Eliza doesn’t know who I am. How can she not? But if she does, why doesn’t she say? I shake my head. My thoughts seem to shake with it, in a confused jumble. Again, I ask myself if Eliza engineered that appointment at the hospital. Then I remind myself that Alice’s condition is real – Maxine was right to say that the need for her to be examined regularly at that clinic is an absolute.
Given this, did Zac ask Eliza to look for me there, and to try to strike up a friendship with me? It’s also possible – no, probable – that Eliza is another of his victims. And this could be true even if he has forced her to collude with him.
Does Zac know I am here now, in this house? All at once, I am consumed by the idea that this is a distinct possibility, despite Eliza saying he was in Edinburgh. I think of the hidden surveillance cameras in the house we shared in Cornwall, and his ability to monitor them in real time using the Internet. He has probably done the same thing here, so he can spy on Eliza and Alice. He could be watching me live, standing in Eliza’s bedroom. I am torn between my impulse to run and the intensity of my need to learn more. For myself and for Jane, and maybe for Eliza too. Above all, for Alice. Because how can she be safe with such a father?
I rush from the room, enter a bathroom on the same floor, flush the loo without using it, wash my hands without needing to, splash water on my face, compose myself.
I re-enter the kitchen. ‘I did get lost! Your house is beautiful. Very big, and a bit of a labyrinth, but extremely lovely!’
‘We like it.’
‘Do you mind my asking where you go for your hair? I really love it.’ Does she hear the falsity of this over-bright guest voice?
‘He’s near Pulteney Bridge. I’ll give you his card. I used to be blonde, but I wanted a change – you can feel so frumpy when you spend all your hours looking after a child – but Guy is a genius with colour.’
I remember that flash of her long light hair in the hotel bar. Her admission is so open. For most people a change in hair colour isn’t a sinister disguise. It is simply what human beings sometimes do.
Eliza tops up my coffee. ‘You’re wonderful with Alice.’
I smile, trying to keep it light, keep it natural. ‘I love children – that’s why I love where I work. Alice is especially gorgeous.’
She touches my hand. ‘Sometimes you seem rather sad.’ She smiles wistfully. ‘Sorry to be so personal – I know what it’s like.’
‘Are you sad, Eliza?’
‘Sometimes. It makes me sound spoiled, to say that.’ A shadow falls across her face. ‘Zac is always saying …’ She stops herself.
‘You don’t sound spoiled at all. What is it that Zac is always saying?’
She starts to take a sip of her coffee but stops. Her hands are shaking. ‘I’m so lucky to have Alice.’
‘Well, Zac is right about that.’
‘Oh, no, that isn’t what he says. It’s what I say.’ She hastily adds, ‘And lucky to have Zac too, of course. But marriage … don’t ever let anyone tell you it’s easy.’
‘I don’t think anyone ever has.’ I picture my parents’ wedding photo. They look so shining and joyful, despite my grandmother’s sour presence. Did they find it easy? I will never know. Is that why I am the way I am, always trying to find things out, to compensate for knowledge that is impossibly out of my reach?
Eliza looks down at her own lap, laces and unlaces her fingers. ‘Previous relationships, they form you, don’t they? Set your behaviours.’
‘They do.’
‘The things that went wrong with Zac’s previous girlfriend have made him’ – she searches for the right word – ‘extra-protective.’ Is she doing this on purpose? If she is, she is a wonderful actress. It isn’t lost on me that I could have said this very thing of Jane.
‘That must be hard on you both. Did he ever tell you what those things were? That went wrong, I mean.’ I’m not a bad actress either. That I can be so calm, so normal-seeming and unreactive, is amazing even to me.
She shakes her head. ‘He won’t talk about her. He says it’s too painful. Won’t even speak her name. She – I think she may have killed herself – as best as I can piece it together. I do feel so sorry for her, but – you’ll think I’m a horrible person if I tell you this.’
‘I’m sure I won’t.’
She takes a deep breath. ‘It’s hard, knowing I’m his second choice.’
‘I’m sure you’re not, but I’ve felt that too, before.’ Saying this makes me remember my initial jealousy of Jane. I can’t let myself harden towards Eliza, who may also be desperate for help. At the same time, I can’t trust her, either. How do I remain open, between these two states of mind? ‘I’m sure he loves you in your own right.’
She lifts a shoulder in a half-shrug. ‘That’s what I try to tell myself. I’ve searched for information about her. All I found was a folder of medical articles. Mostly they were about breaches of electronic patient records – he was enraged by some scandal with that. But a few were about suicide in young women – he admitted he had them because of her, but that’s all I’ve ever got out of him. I’ve even gone through his drawers – I know it’s wrong.’
‘You’re not the first or last woman to do that.’ I know better than anyone how good Zac is at hiding his past. Did she find those articles because he meant her to, or is she playing with me, knowing full well that Zac’s supposedly dead ex-girlfriend is sitting in her kitchen? I am in a state of profound uncertainty.
‘Have you?’
‘Oh yes. With every man I’ve ever lived with.’ Never mind that Zac is the only one.
She laughs. ‘Good to know I’m not alone.’ She takes a huge breath, then swallows. ‘Zac is a wonderful husband. And he’s amazing with Alice. I’m – tired today. Alice was up again most of last night. She hasn’t been sleeping well lately.’
‘Poor Alice. And poor you. Hopefully the iron will help her feel better, so you’ll both get more sleep.’
‘I’m sure it will. Plus, she’s especially unsettled when Zac’s away – I think she misses him tucking her in.’
‘That’s sweet.’ I feel as if a knife has twisted in my heart. ‘What does Zac do? I meant to ask.’
‘Ah. He’s a doctor. Cardiology. He’s not practising right now. Something went wrong. Honestly, he was in a kind of post-traumatic stress when he and I first got together.’ She’s giving me so much of the truth I am veering towards thinking she is sincere – that she can’t be playing some manipulative game. ‘These days, he offers himself as an expert witness in cases of clinical negligence. Basically, he advocates for patients. He’s on a kind of mission.’
‘It sounds as if he wants to do as much good as he can.’ I remember Zac’s intercalated BSc was in Medical Ethics and Law.
‘He hates oppression, hates it when powerful people do wrong and get to cover it up. The reason he’s in Edinburgh is to advise on a case. He works so hard. But do you know, he did the grocery shopping for me and Alice before he left? That’s how kind he is – he knew I was tired.’
Positively heroic to buy sprouts and milk, I think, imagining him popping along to my flat to deposit the dead robin before he trundled off to the supermarket and the airport.
‘This poor woman in Edinburgh …’ Eliza tops up my coffee. ‘They missed all the signs of her skin cancer. It’s criminal.’
‘That’s awful.’
‘Zac won’t let them get away with it. He’ll expose them. Do you know, pretty much all of the competency reviews in hospitals are cover-ups. Internal stitch-ups. Zac always says, “If a plane crashes, you don’t get the pilot to conduct the investigation.”’
‘If a plane crashes, isn’t it rare for the pilot to be around to do that?!’
‘Yes, but you get my point.’ She tops up her own coffee too. ‘External scrutiny is crucial, don’t you think?’
‘Absolutely. Though it must be incredibly hard to be a doctor. The consequences of making a mistake are so serious.’ I wonder, not for the first time, if they could have intervened earlier, got my baby out earlier, if they missed some sign. Although what happened to me wasn’t medical negligence. What happened to me was Zac.
‘Anyway’ – she pushes her coffee cup way – ‘he’s on his way home now. He’ll be able to tell me all about it.’
It is difficult not to jump up and run for the door. I make myself smile. ‘I don’t want to interrupt his homecoming.’
She looks worried, but her face relaxes when she checks her watch. ‘It’s eleven. His flight doesn’t touch down until midday. He’ll have taken a carry-on, and his car’s waiting at the airport, so if everything is on time, he should walk through the door at one.’
I would blow out air with relief in other circumstances. At the same time, my stomach clenches to witness this recitation of his minute-by-minute itinerary, remembering how I used to play it out in my own head.
She seems to want to say something, grapples for the right words. ‘He can get – a bit – upset, when things are unexpected. I mean, when there are guests here and he’s not prepared.’
This could be me, trying as delicately as I could to brief Milly on timings, so she’d be sure to be gone before Zac walked in. Milly always knew exactly what I was doing. Early on, she would call me on it. By the end, she had given up.
There is a long wail from the baby monitor, which sits on top of one of the grey-green kitchen cabinets. The cry seems to echo, except that it grows louder each time instead of fading. I sit as if tranquil.
Eliza stands, straightens her tan suede skirt, checks that her thin black sweater is properly tucked in. She is dressed for a casual lunch with the Queen, schooled in the Zac Hunter fashion playbook. ‘Won’t you come up and say hello? Alice would love that.’
‘Okay.’ I calculate that I still have plenty of time to be cleanly away before Zac walks in the door. Despite my vow to stop running, I am not ready to see him yet. Not like this. Not unprepared. And not behind the closed doors of this house, where his wife might be willing to aid and abet anything he does.
Eliza’s court shoes click-clack on the tiles, and I squeak up the stairs behind her, past the ground- and first-floor landings, to the second floor. We pass what appears to be a nanny flat, though empty and unlived in. Then there is Alice’s room.
Alice’s hands are clutching the top rail of her pale pink cot. She is standing on one foot. The other foot is beside her hands, as if she is planning to climb out. I realise now that the extra-paleness of her skin is from the anaemia. There is a tear, still perfectly formed, below her dual-coloured eye. When she puts her leg down on the mattress and lifts her arms, it’s all I can do to stop myself from stepping forwards. Those arms are for Eliza, not me.
‘Hello, funny girl.’ Eliza picks Alice up. The white forelock is gathered into its usual ponytail-spout. ‘Did you wake up grumpy?’ Alice nods once. ‘Do you feel better now?’ Alice nods again. ‘Do you want to say hello to Helen?’ Alice hides her head against Eliza’s chest, peeps at me, then lets out a squeal of laughter.
Eliza looks at the open door of the bathroom, which is more white marble, from floor to ceiling. She turns to me. ‘Would you mind taking her for a minute? I’ll be quick.’
‘Of course. If she’s happy.’
‘Little limpet.’ Eliza peels Alice away and plonks her in my arms. ‘She loves you. She never goes to anyone.’
Alice is so warm, and so light, and slightly damp after her nap. She smells of soap and warm bread. She smells the way my baby would smell. ‘Hello, mermaid.’ I sink into a rocking chair and settle her on my lap.
Alice puts a hand on my face, caresses it with her fat fingers. ‘Tear,’ she says, touching my cheek. ‘Tear,’ she says again, proud of herself.
I blink several times, very hard, and swipe at my eyes with a sleeve before the bathroom door opens and Eliza emerges.
‘Tear,’ Alice says again.
Eliza looks puzzled.
‘This has been so lovely, Eliza.’ I tickle Alice beneath the chin and she giggles. ‘Thank you for having me. I wish I could stay longer, but I’m working this afternoon.’
‘Thank you for the book. You must come back soon. Or meet me and Alice in the park again. Won’t you?’
‘Of course.’ Alice is playing with my hair.
‘We can do it when Zac’s next away.’
‘Whatever works best for you.’
Eliza lets out a little gasp and visibly jumps at the sound of the door opening downstairs. Then, there is a voice. ‘Eliza?’ It is a voice I haven’t heard in two years, and hoped never to hear again.
Eliza’s face has drained of colour. I can feel that mine has too. If I weren’t sitting, I might fall. She shouts down to him, ‘Up in Alice’s room.’
Alice climbs off me. She is practically dancing. ‘Daddy!’ She is laughing and smiling. ‘Want Daddy.’
Daddy. He gets to be Daddy. I am nothing. I have no name. Even the one I was born with has been stripped away. My heart is thudding so violently I imagine it would be visible if I looked down at my own breast. I stand, amazed my legs don’t simply fold at my own weight, though my fingers are tight on the arm of the rocking chair. I can hear him coming up the stairs, up and up the stairs, his footfall still in my bones.
‘You get to meet Zac sooner than expected.’ Eliza attempts a smile, but it falters.
He calls, ‘I changed to the early flight.’
Eliza’s distress at Zac’s seemingly unexpected early return has me convinced that she doesn’t know who I am. If she does, she deserves an Academy Award. If she does, then she and Zac have planned this with chilling care, including the charade that he was in Edinburgh.
But I don’t think this is a charade. She found out about Alice’s need for iron late yesterday. I know that was genuine, and by then she’d already said he was away. She isn’t handing me to Zac on a plate. More likely she doesn’t want him to catch her with a friend, or to imagine she has made any. He is doing to her exactly what he did to me all the time. Pretending to go away. Or actually going but returning ahead of schedule for a surprise ambush.
Eliza’s hands are trembling. I nearly clasp them in my own to try to calm her, but she moves before I get the chance.
‘Daddy!’ Alice toddles off towards the door, and Eliza scoops her up. ‘Daddy now!’ Alice cries. She is squirming so furiously I don’t know how Eliza manages to keep hold of her. I can make sense, now, of how Eliza got the red mark on her cheek a couple days ago. ‘Want Daddy!’
The footsteps pause on the first-floor landing. He calls up. ‘I wanted to see the two of you before my afternoon appointment. Let me take a quick shower, first.’
‘Daddy!’ Alice is screaming. She is pounding her fists against Eliza’s shoulders and arms.
‘Be right there, sweet girl,’ he says. There is the sound of a door closing.
Thank God he is still germicidal. He can’t bear to fly without washing the air travel away as soon as he walks in the door, before touching anything or anyone.
‘Don’t worry,’ Eliza says. ‘Daddy just wants to get all clean for us, after the aeroplane. While we’re waiting for Daddy, how about we go and try some of the special new medicine Helen brought you? We can have it with some juice. Shall we try apple?’
‘I’ll slip out, Eliza. Leave you time alone with your family.’
Relief washes over her face. ‘Are you sure? I don’t want you to feel unwelcome.’
‘You’ve made me very welcome.’
‘He’s so – concerned – about my having friends. I think – I get the feeling maybe his previous girlfriend had friends who came between them. I know he wants the best for me and Alice.’ She is ten years older than I am, but suddenly looks ten years younger, and so vulnerable.
‘Daddy, Daddy, Daddy.’ Now the words are a happy chant, a game, each one stabbing me in the chest.
‘I’m sure he does.’ I kiss Eliza’s cheek, then the wriggling Alice’s, and make my voice light. ‘I’ll meet Zac when the time is right. I can see myself out – you have your hands full.’
I practically fly down the stairs, cursing my shoes for squeaking, my heart pounding each time a foot hits the marble. When I get to the heavy front door, I can’t figure out how to unlock it, and I struggle for what seems like minutes but is probably seconds, my hands slippery with sweat, so this feels even more nightmarish, and my breathing comes still faster. At last, miraculously, the knob turns and I jerk the door noisily open, taking a quick look over my shoulder as I step into the sunlight, half-expecting a monster to be chasing me. But there is nothing.
I rush along the gravelled drive, only to find that the black iron gates are closed. I let out a cry of despair, and decide I have no alternative but to climb them. I have both feet on the horizontal rail that runs a metre above the ground, linking the posts, and I’m trying to work out how I will manage to clear the spearheads that decorate the top, when there is a click and the gates start to swing open with me clinging on. Eliza must have realised I’d be trapped here, and pushed a magic button somewhere inside. I jump down, stepping quickly out of the path of the slow-moving gate. Then I slip through the gap and walk away as fast as I can without drawing attention to myself, though what I want to do is run.