That evening, Aidan and I went to a party together. I put on my green silk dress and piled my hair on top of my head. I applied red lipstick that made my face look unhealthily pale and squirted perfume behind my ears. When I stood in front of the mirror, I seemed like a stranger, which made me feel both triumphant and uneasy.
We both drank a large gin and tonic before we left and I filled my glass to the brim with red wine when we arrived at Lex and Corry’s house near Victoria Park. It was a fortieth birthday celebration. There were lots of people there and most of them were pretending that they were still young and childless. I hugged old friends and introduced everyone to Aidan – he still didn’t know many of my circle and I knew few of his. I smoked a dizzying cigarette in the narrow garden with Lex and a man called Geoffrey and felt a bit nauseous. The moon was up, buttery yellow and almost full. I could smell roses. As the evening wore on, I danced, my body loose and free. I put my face close to my old friend Simon’s and said:
‘Did you like Jason?’
‘Jason? I liked him because you were with him.’
‘But did you like him?’
‘Is this a real question?’
‘Yes.’
‘I would say he was a bit arrogant. Some of the time. Not always.’
‘Did Jason ever make a pass at you?’ I asked my friend Megan as we sat together on the stairs, propped against each other.
‘You’re drunk,’ said Megan affably. ‘So am I.’
‘But did he?’
‘No. But he always felt’ – she made a flapping gesture with her free hand – ‘available.’
‘Available,’ I repeated.
I felt dangerous, as if the self I had carefully kept under control was coming loose and unravelling. I sought Aidan out and wound my arms around his neck and he kissed me on my jawline.
‘Beautiful woman,’ he said softly.
‘Nice man,’ I said.
‘What I said was nicer.’
‘No. That’s the sexiest thing you can be. Nice, nice man.’ I kissed him hard on the lips. ‘If you ever cheat on me, we’re over. No second chances.’
At half past four in the morning, I woke with a dry mouth. Aidan was lying on his back beside me, straight as a log and with his hands gathered on his chest, which rose and fell peacefully. He looked younger in his sleep, more vulnerable.
I quietly climbed out of bed and went into the main room, which was washed with moonlight, though day was already coming. I made myself a mug of tea and sat by the French windows looking out into the garden. Miles away across the city, Poppy was sleeping. I could picture her, her hands pressed together under her cheek as if in prayer and her mouth very slightly open, all the heat and fret of the day gone from her.
But was she safe? The question made my heart hammer faster. I cradled my tea in my hand and tried to turn my mind onto other things. But the fear that, far from me, Poppy might be in danger, had rushed back and was filling me with a churning dread.
At last, I tiptoed into my bedroom and in the dim light put on a pair of jeans, a shirt and plimsolls. I left a note on the kitchen table for Aidan – Couldn’t sleep so gone for a walk; back before long xxxx – took my light jacket from the hook in the hall and left the flat, shutting the front door with a quiet click as I went.
The curtains were all closed in the house in Brixton, but there was a light on downstairs. At twenty to eight, the front door opened and Emily appeared in her dressing gown. She put out a bag of recycling, then went back inside.
At ten to eight, the curtains were opened in Poppy’s room, which looked out onto the street. Standing on the other side of the road against a lamp post, I waited to see Poppy herself, but only made out a larger figure move briefly across the space. Jason? My tummy rumbled. I needed breakfast. I could be sitting in my flat right now with a pot of coffee in front of me, while Aidan made scrambled eggs for us and the goldfinch came to the bird feeder.
Half an hour later, the front door opened once more and Emily’s brother Ben came out, Roxie at his heels. He was moving slowly, as if carrying a heavy weight, and dragging his feet on the ground. His hands were deep in his pockets and his head was lowered.
Ten minutes later he was back, carrying a bundle of newspapers. Jason had always liked to get the Saturday papers.
Another half an hour went by and then the door was flung wide and out came Jason, Emily and Poppy. I knew where they were going: they were going where Jason and Poppy and I used to go on a Saturday morning – the little café on the edge of the park. Jason would have granola with blueberries and two mugs of coffee, milk on the side. Poppy would probably have the pancakes with maple syrup. It was the same tradition, just a different cast of characters inhabiting it.
I followed them at a safe distance. Poppy held Jason and Emily’s hands. Sometimes she would drag down on their arms and I knew she was asking to be swung. Twice they gave in and I saw Poppy lifted high in the air and heard her whoop in delight.
Now Poppy was refusing to walk. She tried to sit down on the road and Jason held her up by one arm so she dangled like a rag doll. He was dragging her along. I groaned out loud. I watched as they went into the café. I dithered uselessly on the pavement, then edged a bit further towards the entrance.
‘Tess? It is Tess, isn’t it?’
I spun round. Ben was standing there, holding Roxie on a lead and looking confused.
I couldn’t think of anything to say.
‘I thought you weren’t collecting Poppy until later.’
‘I was in the area. And I remembered there was something I forgot to give Jason.’
‘He’s in there.’ Ben jerked his head towards the café.
‘It’s not important.’
‘Give it to me then.’ He held out his large soft hand, palm upwards. ‘Whatever it is.’
‘I’ve changed my mind.’ I stepped back.
‘Give it to me,’ he repeated.
‘It doesn’t matter. Got to go.’
‘You don’t like me, do you?’
‘What do you mean? I’m just sorry I bothered you.’
I half-turned, but as I did so the door of the café swung open and there was Jason and he was striding towards me.
‘Tess,’ he said. Ominous voice.
‘I’m just going. Passing. You know. There was something I was going to—But it’s OK. Poppy can wait till this evening. Silly. No worries.’ I lifted a hand in histrionic farewell and began walking away so fast I was practically running. My breath was ragged. Where was the hole I could hide in? Where was the ground that would open up and swallow me?
Jason easily caught up with me.
‘What?’
‘You’re spying on me.’
‘I’m not.’
‘Yesterday Emily said she saw you at the school when she went to collect Poppy.’
‘I needed to speak to the teacher.’
‘Stop it.’
‘I’m going now,’ I said.
He put a hand on my shoulder and I jerked and pushed it off.
‘Careful,’ said Jason. ‘Poppy might see you behaving like this. Is that what you want?’
‘What do you have to say then?’
He leaned in closer. Stubble. The smell of coffee on his breath. ‘You’re this close…’ He held up a thumb and forefinger, almost touching. ‘This close to me getting lawyers involved.’
I made a scoffing sound that sounded more like a squawk.
‘I’m serious. This is serious. You tried to stop me seeing Poppy. You lied about arrangements. You spied on my wife.’ The phrase ‘my wife’, spoken so pompously, made me smile nastily. ‘You’re here now, spying on our family. Stalking us. You need to get a grip on yourself, Tess, and quickly.’
‘Is that it?’
‘That’s it.’
‘Right. I’ll leave you to your wife, your family.’
‘Make sure you do that.’