The next morning, it rained heavily, water clattering down on the leaves and running off cracked earth. Poppy and I dashed to school under an umbrella but still arrived soaked. When I got home, I changed into running clothes and headed for London Fields, barely able to see through the downpour, my feet splashing through the rapidly forming puddles, houses and trees damp smudges on the drenched horizon.
I ran for more than an hour, as fast as I could, chasing along paths, blindly retracing my footsteps. I wanted to wear myself out; I wanted my lungs to hurt and my legs to ache. When I finally got back to my street, I saw there were two figures standing at the door of the flat, one of them holding an umbrella. I slowed down and squinted through the driving rain. A man and a woman.
I drew nearer then halted. The man was Jason – here when he should be at school. I had never seen the woman before.
‘Jason?’ I said, walking up to them. My sodden top and shorts were plastered to my body, my hair was dripping.
They turned. The woman was wearing glasses that had misted over, so I couldn’t see her eyes.
‘I tried calling. I need to speak to you,’ Jason said.
‘Is something wrong?’
‘Can we come in?’
I put my hand up to retrieve the key that I hang round my neck when I go running.
‘Shit.’
‘What?’
‘I forgot my key. We’re locked out.’
The woman took off her glasses and blinked at me. She was older than me, severely thin and neat.
‘So what do we do?’ said Jason.
‘I’ll see if my neighbour’s in.’
I rang Bernie’s bell and to my relief heard his unmistakeable thumping down the stairs.
‘Tess,’ he said. ‘You got caught in the rain.’
‘I know. I forgot my key.’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘You’re in a bit of a pickle then, aren’t you?’
There was a horrible moment where I tried to remember whether I really had given him the spare key or whether I had borrowed it back from him and not returned it and wondered what on earth I was going to do. And then I looked at him and saw him smiling.
‘It’s OK,’ he said. ‘Of course I’ve got your key.’
He ran back up the stairs.
‘You know the song about good neighbours,’ he said cheerfully when he returned with the key. Nobody responded. ‘Becoming good friends. Anyway.’ He clapped Jason on the shoulder. ‘We met before. The other day. Poppy was rubbing mud into her little friend’s face. I’m Bernie.’
‘Jason.’
‘I know. The ex.’ He looked at the woman. ‘Is this your new—?’
‘I’m sorry,’ Jason said. ‘We’re in a bit of a rush.’
I opened the door to my flat and we stepped in, shutting it on Bernie’s grin.
‘Is it all right if I change?’ I asked when we were in the conservatory. ‘How much of a rush are you in?’
‘It’s fine,’ said the woman.
I was puzzled. She was speaking as if she were in charge.
‘I’m sorry, who are you?’
‘My name’s Fenella Graham. I’m a friend of Jason’s.’
That didn’t feel like a proper answer, but I was beginning to feel cold and clammy and also grimy and dishevelled compared to them in their smart, dark clothes and me with wet bare limbs and goosebumps. I hastened into my bedroom, peeled off my clothes, towelled my hair and pulled on a tee-shirt dress.
Back in the room I offered them tea or coffee.
‘We’ll only be a minute,’ said Jason.
We sat at the kitchen table, me on one side, Fenella and Jason facing me. I laughed nervously.
‘It feels like an interview,’ I said.
‘I wanted to make this informal,’ Jason said. ‘Fenella is a friend and she’s doing this as a favour. It’s very generous of her. To you as well as to me.’
‘What do you mean?’ I said. My mouth suddenly felt dry, but I didn’t exactly know why except that I felt something bad was coming. Jason looked at Fenella and nodded and she nodded back and then looked at me.
‘As I said, I’m a friend of Jason’s.’
I gave another scratchy laugh.
‘I thought I knew most of Jason’s friends.’ As I said the words, I remembered that there was a whole other category of Jason’s friends that I hadn’t known. Was Fenella another of them?
‘I’m also a solicitor. But I’m not here officially.’ She lifted her eyebrows. ‘I don’t normally make house calls.’
‘After your recent behaviour,’ said Jason, ‘I thought I should get some legal advice.’
‘What do you mean?’
Jason held up one hand. He spoke calmly, drawing out his words, watching them land. I could imagine him talking like this at one of his meetings at school.
‘I’ve tried to be patient,’ he said. ‘I know you’re under stress. I know that my marriage to Emily has caused you jealousy and distress and the fact of her pregnancy has been very painful for you. And I accept that there have been faults on both sides.’
‘What is this actually about?’
Jason looked at the solicitor. She smiled at me, as if we were two new friends, sitting over coffee.
‘You know, Tess,’ she said, ‘I work in family law and, as a lawyer, one of the main pieces of advice I would give a friend is, don’t bring in lawyers. Once they get involved it quickly becomes very unpleasant and very expensive.’
‘You are a lawyer.’
‘As I said, I’m here as a favour. To you as well as to Jason.’
‘You’re here as a favour to me?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘Could you explain that?’
Her smile faded; her face was stern again. ‘Jason has told me about the events of the last few weeks. He has told me about things you have said, about things you have done and accusations you have made. Jason is understandably upset by this. He feels threatened, he feels that his family are threatened, and he feels that his daughter is unsafe. Nevertheless, when we talked about this, he was sure that you could settle it like reasonable people.’
I looked at the two of them, first one then the other. I felt I was under attack and I didn’t know how to defend myself.
‘What do you mean?’
‘I think a useful first step would be if you agreed not to approach or go near Jason or his wife or her brother.’
‘This is ridiculous. We have a daughter together.’
‘Emily can collect her for the time being,’ said Jason. ‘Not tomorrow, as it happens. She’s not well and I don’t think it’s a good idea for Poppy to come to our house. But she can collect her from school on Friday, and in the future, we can make arrangements for an efficient exchange.’
‘It’s all about being sensible,’ Fenella Graham continued. ‘You need to stop making it difficult for Jason to see his daughter. And you mustn’t make contact with his colleagues or acquaintances.’
I shook my head.
‘This is all rubbish,’ I said. ‘I’m not going to be told what I can and can’t do.’
She smiled again. I hated her more when she smiled and pretended to be friendly than when she was serious and businesslike.
‘Look, Tess, I don’t think you realise how tolerant Jason is being. Based on my understanding of what he has told me, he would have no trouble in obtaining a restraining order against you. If he wanted to pursue it, I’m confident he could successfully press charges against you. More than that, with his new marriage and family, his stable household, I believe a family court would be likely to award him sole custody of your daughter.’
‘You can’t. No. You can’t.’
All of a sudden, my throat thickened and, for a moment, the two figures blurred. For I had remembered that I hadn’t deleted those emails I had sent myself from Jason’s computer. They were there in plain sight. If he happened to look through the sent items, he would see at once that I’d broken into his house and into his laptop. Nothing more simple, nothing more incriminating. I put a hand across my mouth to stop myself howling.
‘Are you all right?’ Jason asked.
‘I just…’ I couldn’t continue.
‘I’m simply describing the situation as I see it,’ said the solicitor.
I was filled up with fear. I could taste it in my mouth and feel it rolling in my stomach. I had broken into Jason’s house. I had hacked into his computer. I had sent emails that I found there to my own computer, private and intimate correspondence. If he found that out, and it would be so easy for him to find that out… I couldn’t continue the thought. Jason turned to me. I could see the bones of his face, the curve of his jaw, the tiniest grimace, or perhaps it was a smile, tugging at his mouth.
‘Keep away from me, Tess, from all of us. This is your final warning.’