Vicky’s voice has become high-pitched and I can hear Phil moaning in the background. I picture him turning over and shoving his head beneath the pillow to block out his hysterical wife this early in the morning.
‘Where the hell are you? Christ. I’ve been mad with worry.’
A cloying fear hardens in the pit of my stomach.
‘What on earth are you doing and why didn’t you tell me? Why did you lie? To me? Of all people? Is Nathan right? Are you with,’ she hesitates, her confusion obvious, ‘Cameron Stewart?’
I can’t find any words. Images of Cam kissing my shoulder and the curve of my neck battle with the thought of her sitting in bed, sheets pulled up to her chin, aching with exhaustion having been up half the night wondering where I was.
She growls with frustration. ‘Why didn’t you tell me? If you had I wouldn’t have called him.’ The hurt in her voice is replaced by defensiveness.
‘You called him?’
‘Your landline.’
‘But you never call the landline?’
‘Well, last night I did. Your mobile went to voicemail.’ She pauses and swears under her breath. ‘I was drunk. Hammered, actually. And you said he wouldn’t be there. You said he was in London with some man from Dubai. I missed you and felt bad you weren’t with me. So I called you to tell you. And he answered. I asked him why he was there. I was cross. I was ready to tear strips off him for ruining our night away for no reason. Then he asked to speak to you and I had no idea what he was talking about. I said you weren’t with me. I didn’t think. Like I said, I was hammered. And he started yelling at me. I mean, he really went for it. He was shouting about Cameron Stewart. Saying you were having an affair. Are you? I said there was no way because you hate his guts. I was so drunk I nearly told him why. About Cam walking out on you when you told him about the baby. God, Hannah, why the hell did you lie to me?’
My head is swimming.
Cam furrows his brow and mouths, ‘What’s going on?’
I shake my head and flap my hand, indicating I’ll tell him in a minute, then turn my back.
‘So then I start telling him how much I hate him and how he doesn’t deserve you.’
It goes from bad to worse and I swear quietly.
‘And that it’s criminal how he treats you, and then he says, for God’s sake what’s she been telling you, like he’s shocked or something. Then he launches in and says I’m a bitch for encouraging you to go away with Cameron flipping Stewart?’ She pauses. Sighs. ‘He said you’ve never stopped seeing him and called me an interfering cow for covering for you. Then he mentioned the money I gave Alex and said it was because of me he was able to run away and Alex could have been killed and it would have been my fault.’ She pauses as she tries to gather herself. ‘I told him again you’d no way be with Cam because you hate him and he laughed. Told me I know nothing about you. He said you don’t even like me; you just can’t think of a way to get rid of me. I said that wasn’t true then he said well, if you’re really friends why the hell did you lie to me.’ Quiet sobbing interrupts her flow. Vicky doesn’t cry. The sound kicks me in the gut. ‘Is that true? Do you wish we weren’t friends?’
I can hear him saying those things to her. Twisting and shaping his words. Smiling to himself when he hears her faltering and allowing the self-doubt creep in. All these years she’s managed to keep him at bay and he’s finally got to her.
‘Of course not.’
‘But if it’s not true why didn’t you tell me the truth? Don’t you trust me?’
Then I hear Phil in the background again. Now he is angry and frustrated, and makes no effort to lower his voice. He wants me to hear. ‘For fuck’s sake. Put the phone down, Vic. You don’t need Hannah’s shit in your life anymore. Just put the phone down and come back to bed.’
‘Jesus, Phil.’
Their voices become muffled and I assume she’s covered the phone with her hand, but it’s not enough to disguise what he’s saying.
‘She doesn’t deserve you. We’ve had years of their crap. I’ve had enough of it. You bend over backwards for her and all she does is take, take, take.’
A door closes. Then her voice, clear and loud, echoing slightly, as if she’s moved into the bathroom. ‘I’ve got to go.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I whisper. ‘I’ll explain. I’ll—’
‘If you don’t trust me, what’s the point of being friends? Did you think I’d tell Nathan? Or judge you? If you did, you don’t know me.’
‘It wasn’t like that.’
‘It’s not like our friendship is that great anyway. An hour on a Tuesday morning to eat cold toast and deal fags?’ She pauses. ‘You made me feel like crap, Hannah.’
‘This isn’t about you.’ The words have slithered out before I can hook them back in.
‘Excuse me?’
I swallow. My chest has tightened. ‘Please don’t make this about you.’
‘Are you joking? This is all about you. Everything is always about you.’ Another pause. Another breath. ‘You know what? Phil’s right. I’ve had enough of this. Just leave me the fuck alone and sort your life out.’
‘Vicky, don’t, please. I—’ But she’s gone.
I stare at the phone for a moment or two and will her to call back. It stays quiet and I look up at Cam. ‘Nathan guessed I’m with you. He thinks we’ve been having an affair all this time.’
Cam doesn’t reply.
‘He’ll go to the police, I know he will.’ I screw my face up hard. ‘We should have told the truth back then. Gone to the police and told them what happened.’ I bang the heel of my hand against my forehead. ‘I need to get home. I need to make sure Alex is OK.’
I dial my son’s mobile, but it goes straight to voicemail. I wait a few seconds and dial again. Straight to voicemail.
‘His phone’s off.’
‘Call the home phone.’
I hesitate. Adrenalin fizzes through me. My hands are trembling when I dial the number.
But, of course, it’s not Alex who answers.
‘You depraved little tramp.’
My voice sticks in my throat as if he’s rammed a fist down it. ‘Nathan, I—’
‘Where are you?’
‘Can I speak to Alex?’
‘Answer me!’
‘Is Alex OK?’
‘Of course he is,’ Nathan snaps. ‘It’s the dog you should be worrying about.’
The line goes dead.