I’ve been thinking a lot about the timing of Ellis’s appearance and Alice’s departure—the synchronicity of it. Not to be paranoid, but their names are strangely similar too. Then again, lots of names are samey, especially girls’. She hasn’t got back to me about my blurty voicemail last night though. It’s Tuesday now, and with every passing hour, I’m starting to get the uneasy feeling that she isn’t going to get in touch.
I don’t like that she’s the one in control, as though there’s a threat within her silence and in my lack of memory. There are gaps in Saturday night that are troubling me, a nasty pulse at the back of my mind that won’t stop beating.
What if I said more to her than I can remember; something worse? That’s if there is anything worse than wishing Fred dead.
It’s not easy trying to focus on work with a disturbed mind. By lunchtime, I have a migraine, so I take a walk along the seafront. Sitting down on a bench, I’m about to unwrap my sandwich when my phone rings and I jump so much I bite my tongue.
It isn’t Ellis; it’s my mother-in-law.
“Hi, darling,” she says. “How are you?”
“I’m fine, Monique. Couldn’t be better.”
That’s such a stretch; I imagine her nose wrinkling. “Even with Alice gone?”
“Even so.”
I don’t know why I can’t tell her the truth. Maybe I just don’t want her to think of me as vulnerable, with everything going on with Fred. I don’t know what lies ahead, but being seen as a pushover isn’t going to get me very far.
“Well, I’m glad to hear you’re not moping… When Freddy left, I was so distraught. And then I joined a choir and my life opened up… Have you thought any more about that?”
We’ve had this conversation many times. I’m not very musical.
“You don’t have to be musical,” she intuits. “I think you’d like it. It would give you a sense of belonging.”
“We’ll see.”
The difference is that Monique didn’t work, but I don’t want to say that. It’s not really about working or not working. It’s about happiness and we all get that from different sources. For Monique, it was choir. For me…well, it’s environmental reports.
Something else is bugging me though: she thinks I’m missing a sense of belonging. I don’t think I’ve ever given her any reason to think that, so it’s presumptuous, patronizing. Yet, I can count my family on one hand, so I let it go. Even though as I’m thinking this, I realize this is exactly what she’s getting at.
Aside from Jam, and Claire at work, I don’t have many people on my side. And Monique knows it.
“Anyway, the reason I was calling was to ask what you’re doing about Saturday?”
“Saturday?” I draw a blank, can’t think past the end of today.
“Your wedding anniversary.” She laughs.
Oh, crap. That’s this week? “I don’t think we’re doing anything. We don’t normally do much.”
“Exactly. Which is why I’m inviting you over for lunch. It would be nice to see you.”
When I don’t reply, she presses on. “There’s no pressure, if you’d rather get a burger and watch the sun set.” She’s referring to last year. That’s what we did, but Will and Alice were with us then. I can’t see that happening this year.
And that’s another reason for us to split up. Without our children, there’s nothing holding us together.
“So, would you like to come?” she asks.
“Okay,” I say, trying to sound cheerful.
“Perfect.”
“Great,” I reply, hanging up with a sense of dread. The last thing I want to do is spend my anniversary with my in-laws. She’s never invited us before. I’m struggling to think of a time when she’s even acknowledged the date. In fact, she once said that wedding anniversaries were private, just between the couple.
As I unwrap my sandwich, I have the horrible feeling that she knows about me and Fred. I thought I was doing a good job of acting, but maybe he’s confided in her. Yet, said what exactly? That he’s cheating on me?
And now I’ve lost my appetite. I’m just about to go back along the seafront when I see a flash of bronze hair that makes my stomach do a loop the loop. It’s only a GD, clutching the arm of a yachtie. But for one moment, I thought it was…
I can’t let this spill over into work. I need to be able to concentrate this afternoon, and every day after. I’ll give her until tonight and then she’s out of my phone, out of my life.