Saturday, 13th July 2019
He was released at eight in the morning. It seemed unnecessarily early, the entire day stretched out in front of him, taunting him. Shouldn’t he just be delighted? He took a deep breath, took in the damp air, the traffic fumes. This was what his freedom smelt like. It was raining. In his mind he’d imagined the sun would be shining the day he was released. It had been hot all week. The men inside had smelt worse than usual. He knew that Daisy and Millie had broken up from school yesterday, he imagined her making wry jokes about it being typical that the weather had broken now the kids were on holiday. She had made the same observation over many years.
He stood outside the prison, hands in his pockets. Not carrying a cardboard box. There was nothing he wanted to bring with him. The few, meagre possessions he had collected over the years he had left for Leon. Some writing paper, some stamps, a couple of books, it wasn’t much but it was all he had. Simon had not been able to say goodbye to Leon, who had another two days to endure in solitary. He wouldn’t be able to visit him either, it was a condition of his licence. He would write. He would send money orders so that Leon could buy newspapers and chocolate, it was the least he could do.
Lucy tooted her horn and waved at him. Gratefully he ran towards her car. Lucy had always had nice things, impressive cars with smart interiors, he remembered that, but as he slipped into the leather seat he felt overwhelmed by the luxury, the cleanliness. He felt grubby, inadequate and judged. He pulled on his seatbelt. It caught, jarred. It was embarrassing. He wanted things to go smoothly. He repeatedly tugged at the belt.
‘Hello, long time no see,’ Lucy said with a grin.
Simon tried to smile back. The seatbelt finally cooperated. It was a relief. Something. Lucy started the engine. Initially he’d been disappointed to hear that Connie couldn’t pick him up, although not surprised when she also revealed that Luke had vetoed her idea about him staying with them. He hadn’t imagined Lucy would come forward and provide not only the lift, but also an offer of a home, an address he could have approved by the authorities. He hadn’t imagined anyone would. He was grateful, he just didn’t know how to show it. For three years he’d been careful to supress all emotions: gratitude, fear, happiness, hope – they all just left you vulnerable inside. Anywhere really, he thought grimly.
‘It’s very kind of you to do this,’ he muttered. An understatement. He was awash with appreciation and embarrassment. He didn’t want to feel the ignominy of being beholden but feared he would for a long time, if he was lucky enough that kindness came his way. And if it didn’t? Then he’d feel livid, disappointed. He couldn’t win. He was doomed to a life of shame or anger. Was that the truth of coming out of prison? Was it now impossible to win at life?
‘It’s not a problem,’ replied Lucy lightly, and he wanted to believe her. ‘Connie told me you needed a safe and permanent address before they’d let you out. Peter and I are model citizens,’ she added dryly.
‘I won’t impose for long, I’ll be on my way soon.’
Lucy raised a beautifully manicured eyebrow, sceptically. Where was he going to go? She didn’t ask that, instead she said, ‘You can stay as long as you need. We have a spare room.’
‘Connie has a spare room,’ he pointed out, sulkily.
‘Yeah but we have three.’
‘I only needed one.’
Lucy flicked her eyes over him. ‘Hey, I could be offended. Why aren’t you happy to be staying at ours? Ours is way cooler than the Bakers’. Is it the minimalist thing? It’s not to everyone’s taste,’ she joked.
Simon smiled obligingly. ‘I’m sorry. Of course, I’m grateful.’
‘I don’t need you to be grateful.’
‘Honestly, it doesn’t matter where I stay.’
‘It just made sense, they have three kids, we have one. Luke’s father has just had an operation. They’ve a lot on.’
‘Yeah, right.’
‘What does that mean? “Yeah, right”.’
Simon stared out of the window throughout the conversation. There was so much to see. The streets were already teeming with life. The traffic was heavy, people dashing to work or maybe on day trips. Delivery vans causing bottlenecks which led to horn-honking and rude hand gestures. Shopkeepers were rolling back their shutters and café managers were stood in the doorways of their premises, smoking a cigarette or vaping, assessing the weather, wondering if it would clear up later and they’d get to unstack the metal bistro chairs. The streets were full of pedestrians walking their dogs and hurrying their children, scooters, people on skates, boards, bikes. Everyone was in a hurry. They’d all been dashing about for three years. Simon sighed and replied, ‘It’s just that Connie has been visiting me and she offered first, so that’s what I was expecting, but I know why I can’t stay with her and, obviously, that pisses me off.’
‘You’ve lost me.’
Simon couldn’t be bothered to dissemble, not even to protect Connie. He didn’t have the energy. ‘It’s because Luke had an affair with Daisy. Luke is Millie’s father. Luke is no friend to me. He doesn’t want me staying. He doesn’t want that to come out.’
‘What?’ Anyone else might have hit the brakes, hard. Lucy didn’t say another word until she spotted a car parking spot which she neatly pulled into. She turned to him. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘Oh, I know, it’s hard to believe. St Luke and Daisy, Mother Teresa’s more devout sister, having an affair, but they did. I know they did.’
‘You know nothing, Simon.’
‘I knew before I went inside. I’m not Millie’s dad. I’ve accepted it for what it is. What pisses me off is that Luke has got away with his treachery. Connie hasn’t a clue, which is galling.’ Lucy stared at him, astonished. ‘Oh, don’t worry, I’ve no intention of telling her. I don’t want to hurt her. I’ve had long enough to think about it.’
‘And yet this is what you’ve come up with?’ Lucy looked frustrated. ‘Luke is besotted with Connie. He’d never have an affair. And he was your best friend.’
‘He never visited me in prison once.’
‘You did run over his goddaughter. He’s pissed off with you. But before then, he found you work, he was forever bailing you out of trouble. He was your best friend.’
‘But was he, though? You had an affair with Rose’s husband. People do. You should know that more than anyone.’
‘That was entirely different.’
‘How?’
Lucy looked as though she wanted to scream at Simon.
‘Because Peter and I are nothing like Luke and Daisy. We’re morally fluid.’ Simon looked confused. ‘We’re selfish, OK? I’ve said it. Do you even know your wife at all? Have you forgotten that as a result of our affair she gave me the cold shoulder for over fifteen years? If she could, she would have me branded with a scarlet letter “A”. There is no way that woman had an affair. She’s not the type.’
‘Clever cover,’ replied Simon confidently. ‘Playing the part of the one amongst us with the strong moral compass. Such a hypocrite.’
‘I’ve known her forever. She’s a lot of things: judgy, passive-aggressive, sometimes boring, but she’s not a hypocrite. Think, Simon. Think!’
Lucy started up the engine and continued with their journey. They sat in silence until after half an hour Simon realised she was not following the route back to Notting Hill.
‘Where are you taking me?’ he asked.
‘Home.’