‘So, babe, are we off in for a cup of a tea and a chat?’ Damian St Claire, ruffled Cillian’s hair as he indicated, with a nod of his head, the huge, locked wrought-iron railings that separated the five houses in the gated community from the rest of the world. ‘Nice-looking kid,’ he went on, smirking slightly at Lexia as the colour drained from her face.
‘Take your hands off him,’ Lexia spat, pulling Cillian roughly towards her. Cillian looked up in surprise at her tone of voice and the unexpected handling of him as his mother pushed him forwards towards the gate. ‘Keys,’ she muttered to herself. ‘Where’s the sodding keys?’
‘Hey, babe, there’s no need to be like this.’ Damian put out a restraining hand as Lexia brought out a bunch of keys from her pocket with a trembling hand and held the entry fob against the gate, the remains of the artisan loaf she and Cillian had been enjoying together falling to the ground. ‘Come on, just two minutes. I’ve always wanted to see inside one of these joints. And this little chap here and I can get to know each other better.’
‘My husband is at home,’ Lexia lied as the gates began to slowly swing open. Cillian skipped through and ran ahead, eager to be reunited with games on his iPad.
‘Great stuff. All the better, I’ve always wanted to meet the great Theo Ryan. Does he know… you know, babe?’ Damian gave her an oily smile.
‘You know damned well he doesn’t. I’ve paid you enough over the years. That last lot, you promised that was it. No more, you said. You promised.’ Lexia’s voice rose and Cillian looked back at her as he waited, impatiently, by the glossy black-painted front door of this new house they’d only just moved into.
‘Did I?’ Damian smiled again. ‘Well, maybe I did, babe. But that was four years ago.’
‘Three,’ Lexia said tiredly, massaging the thump that had started over her right eye. ‘I gave you enough to pay you off for ever.’
‘Inflation,’ Damian smirked. ‘Brexit. Call it what you will. Your sister’s been pretty good over the years,’ he added, giving Lexia a long hard stare to gauge her reaction.
‘My sister?’
‘Oh, sorry, you’ve three altogether, haven’t you? Maybe they’d be willing to contribute a little too? Your lovely sister, Dr Armstrong, is my GP. Now, that’s a coincidence, isn’t it? Great doctor,’ he went on conversationally. ‘Cured my bad back just like that.’ He snapped his fingers in Lexia’s face and she jumped back in alarm. ‘Yes,’ he went on, his thin face turning towards the gates where a black Porsche that had just pulled up behind them was waiting for access. ‘Pandora, the most upstanding member of Westenbury community, has been brilliant at paying her debts. But then she would, wouldn’t she? Can’t imagine the lovely Pandora ever getting behind with her gas or electricity bill…’
Theo Ryan’s Porsche suddenly drove past them at speed, pulling up outside the house in one of the three designated parking bays. Theo jumped out, black leather training bag in one hand, and immediately scooped up Cillian who had run to greet him with the other, while his son squealed in delight at seeing his father.
‘Loves that boy, doesn’t he?’ Damian smiled. ‘Look, lovely to see you, Lexia, babe. Been too long. I’ll be in touch…’ And with that, he pressed her arm, none too gently, his meaning apparent, before drifting away into the shadows and back through the still-ajar gates.
‘Who was that?’ Theo put Cillian down and unlocked the front door, watching as the huge gates clanged shut behind the visitor.
‘Press,’ Lexia said shortly.
‘Didn’t look like your usual press,’ Theo frowned. ‘Which paper?’
‘Oh, the local rag… you know. I said we weren’t interested.’
Already losing interest, Theo picked Cillian up once more, throwing him up towards the ceiling until he was giggling helplessly. ‘Right, Lexia, get yourself dolled up, we’re off to a party.’
‘A party?’ Lexia looked at Theo in dismay, her pulse still racing from Damian St Claire’s unexpected visit. Unexpected? She closed her eyes. That was daft; she’d known he’d turn up sooner rather than later.
‘Yep. Matt Rogers is having drinks at some club down in Midhope. You know, to welcome the new players, and wives and partners are expected to be there.’ He looked at his watch. ‘In an hour’s time. Come on, sort yourself.’
WAPS? Lexia pondered the handle, probably for no good reason other than an attempt to shift St. Claire from her brain. Is that what they were called now? Instead of the ubiquitous WAG she’d been branded in the early days of her relationship with Theo? She looked Theo full in the face, wondering, not for the first time, what on earth she’d ever seen in him? Fame? Fortune? The money? She’d had all three in bucket loads herself; hadn’t been overly bothered about having his as well. ‘No, I’m not going.’ She frowned. ‘You know I hate parties.’
Theo reached for Lexia’s wrist, digging his fingers into the soft flesh. ‘I think you are, darling.’ He turned to Cillian. ‘Shall we tell Mummy she has to go out, Cillian?’
Torn between wanting to be on the same side as his father, but not wanting to be left at home with a babysitter, Cillian didn’t say anything and instead, walked over to the ridiculously large TV taking up almost one wall of the sitting room and turned it on.
‘We can’t,’ Lexia hissed, pulling her hand away from Theo’s grip and glaring at him. ‘We’ve no babysitter.’
‘Ah, that’s where you’re wrong, my darling girl.’
‘There’s no way I’m having one of your floozies coming here to look after my son.’ Lexia lowered her voice, but still manged to convey, in a whispered hiss, her contempt for the local football groupies she assumed had already made an inroad into Theo’s new life up here in Midhope. He’d attempted the same before, down in London, and Lexia had always managed to send the young girls arriving at their door – dolled up to the nines in their tiny skirts and ridiculously long eyelashes – away, refusing to leave the house to attend the many social events they’d both been invited to over the years and to which, in the early years, she’d adored.
‘Sure, and I don’t think you could call this one a floozie.’ Theo grinned. ‘Now, take that puss off your face, d’you take me for a complete eejit? I’ve arranged for an oul wan to come round tonight?’
‘An oul wan?’ Lexia stared. ‘Have you been in touch with my mum?’
‘That’s a point. Never thought about her, she’d be a free babysitter, wouldn’t she? Or one of all those sisters of yours I’ve never really met. Funny lot, your family.’
‘Don’t start, Theo,’ Lexia said crossly. ‘I’m not leaving Cillian with someone he doesn’t know. Someone I don’t know.’
‘Well,’ he said as the front doorbell chimed some tune Lexia recognised but couldn’t name – it changed on a daily basis – ‘now’s your chance to get to know her.’ Theo gave Lexia a triumphant grin and followed Cillian, who’d run to answer the door, down the hallway.
Terrified it might be Damian St Claire back again, Lexia was relieved when Theo returned with an elderly woman in tow, but she still looked with some suspicion at the newcomer. Where had Theo found this one? Ah, another one from the Emerald Isle, Lexia realised as the woman spoke to Cillian, chatting away in a soft Southern Irish burr about what he liked to eat, what were his favourite TV programmes? Well, Theo needn’t think she was going to be won over that easily. She couldn’t leave a four-year-old with some strange woman she’d only just met.
‘Ah, you’re worried about leaving the little one, I’ll bet?’ The woman turned soft, kind eyes on Lexia and, for some reason, some daft reason she couldn’t explain, she wanted to sit down with this granny, curl up on the sofa next to her and tell her everything. Everything she’d not been able to talk about for all the time since it happened. ‘I don’t blame you. You don’t know me from Adam, God bless that poor man’s soul. Would you like me to give you the phone numbers of people I’ve nannied and babysat for in the area? You can have a chat with them? Put your mind at rest?’ The woman pulled out a sheet of paper and handed it to Lexia.
Theo tutted. ‘Look, Lexia, Mrs Brennan is well known in the village.’
‘So was that witch in Hansel and Gretel,’ Lexia interrupted and then, as the woman’s surprised face turned to a smile, both of them suddenly started laughing and couldn’t stop.
‘I’ve had my supper.’ Lilian Brennan wiped at her eyes and indicated the paper she’d just handed Lexia. ‘But look, why don’t you ring Harriet Westmoreland or Grace Stephenson – I’ve nannied for all their children – and then you go and get yourself ready and I’ll make young Cillian here – that’s a fine Irish name you’ve got for yourself, young man – his supper.’
‘I’m not sure he’ll want much.’ Lexia smiled. ‘He’s just eaten half a loaf of bread.’
‘I’m starving,’ Cillian piped up. ‘Come on.’ He grabbed Lilian’s hand. ‘I’ll show you how to make French toast.’
‘French toast?’ Lilian winked at Lexia. ‘Sure, and I know how to make Irish toast and even English toast, but you’re going to have to show me French toast.’
*
As Lexia showered, really seeing for the first time, and marvelling at, the sumptuous bathroom with its luxurious gold fittings, she knew she was going to have to pay Damian St Claire off once again. It shouldn’t have, but it had come as a shock to know Pandora had been doing the same all these years. She conditioned and rinsed, casting her mind back over the years to the number of times she’d actually seen Damian St Claire. That wasn’t even his real name: it was plain old Damian Sinclair, nothing fancy at all about his last name. How she’d fallen for him when she was just fifteen, letting him tell her what to do: lose some of that puppy fat, shorten your skirts, pout a little more.
And don’t bother going into school.
She’d really missed out on her education she thought sadly as she rubbed her hair dry before searching for the hairdryer she hadn’t yet unpacked. How was it she had such clever sisters, really clever, and yet she hadn’t even sat her GCSEs? She supposed Patrick had been there for the others, checking they’d done their homework, helping them with their revision and testing them in readiness for exams. Although, to be honest, she couldn’t really recall him doing much of that at all. When he was home, he was either shut up in his study or, when he was back again, with his tail between his legs after sniffing after some student like the rampant old dog he was, professing his undying love for her mum, he would be holding Helen, kissing her, stroking her and telling her she was everything he’d ever wanted or needed. Ariadne had obviously left home while she, Lexia, was still a toddler and both Pandora and Juno had just seemed to get their heads down and get on with it.
Lexia frowned, unplugging the hairdryer and reaching for primer before starting with foundation. If you’d inherited the Sutherland brains to start with, and not had the worry of looking after a mentally unstable mother once your dad had finally pushed off and left, then yes, there was no reason for her sisters not to have achieved the academic success they all had. But when she’d been in her final year at school, when she should have been working hard for GCSEs and thinking about doing A levels at the sixth-form college down in Midhope – one of the best in the country apparently – she’d just about given up with it all, only going in when they sent someone round to accompany her there before bunking off again once she’d gone to registration, and maybe a couple of the English lessons she really liked. No one there seemed to care enough to make her carry on with all those lessons, the teachers continually surprised, it seemed, that she was clever Ariadne, Pandora and Juno Sutherland’s sister. A Sutherland sister that had broken the mould and was, let’s face it, thick. What had she overheard one of the teachers call her? One of the ‘TAPS’. She couldn’t work out the acronym for ages until horrible, full of herself, Jodie Stringer had put her right. Thick As Pig Shit, Jodie had informed her knowledgably with a little smirk before heading off with her gang of girls to maths. Maths had been the worst of all – totally beyond her, all that integration and differentiation. What was all that about?
So, when school and Pandora thought she was at home, taking care of Helen – which to be fair, she more often than not was – or at school, she was at the Ambassador Club or at Damian’s dad’s place, a scruffy two-bedroomed council flat down by the town ground. Funny how things turned out, with her now married to one of the football club’s brand-new expensive players.
Lexia pulled on a plain black cashmere tight-fitting dress that emphasised her slim figure, adding only a pair of gold ear-rings as adornment, before moving over to the massive walk-in wardrobe to hunt for sheer tights and black heels she’d not worn in forever, it seemed, but which she knew were around somewhere. She looked, she realised, like the old Lexi, and was about to rub off the bright red lipstick that had once been her signature trade-mark, splashed over the front-covers of countless glossy magazines and copied by huge numbers of girls and women eager to get the Lexi look, but then changed her mind. What the hell? She added more in defiance, swallowed an extra Valium to get her through the evening and went back downstairs.
‘Mummy, you look lovely. I want to come out with you.’ Cillian looked up from the garishly-coloured pieces of sticky paper and child-proof scissors Mrs Brennan must have brought with her in that oversized bag of hers. His eyes narrowed – a sure sign a paddy was in the offing. He drew in his lower lip mutinously as Lilian Brennan, sat with him at the kitchen table, calmly handed him a day-glow-orange paper tiger.
‘But I want…’
‘So, where’s your panther?’ Lilian raised an eyebrow. ‘You’ll need to mind yourself – my lion’s bold, fierce savage. He’ll have your panther for breakfast if you don’t add his tail quickly. You see, that’s where all the magic is – in the tail.’
Distracted, Cillian went back to the sticky paper and scissors and Theo pulled Lexia out of the room. ‘Come on, Lexi, you spoil him. It’s no wonder he has so many tantrums when you give in to him so easily.’ He glanced across at Lexia as she shrugged herself into the long, cashmere camel coat she’d had for years, helping to pull her long hair free from the coat’s collar before stroking the back of her neck. ‘You’re looking hot, girly.’ He grinned, moving his mouth down to where his fingers had been. ‘Play your cards right and I’ll show you a good time once we get back home.’ He twisted a strand of Lexia’s long hair around his fingers, pulling none too gently until her mouth was level with his own. He’d been drinking, she realised, smelling the alcohol on his breath. If he carried on throughout the coming evening, he’d get to that stage where he was dangerous; where it felt like she was living with a dangerous animal, ready to pounce… he’s bold, fierce savage and he’ll have you for breakfast. Lilian Brennan’s warning words to Cillian skittered through Lexia’s head and she closed her eyes momentarily.
The best way was to keep her wits about her by not drinking herself, and let Theo drink enough not to make a fool of himself, but to be distracted from any amorous inclinations he might be harbouring. It was a subtle calculation Lexia had come to master over the years. Ha, the maths teacher at Westenbury Comp would be impressed with her ability to work out this particular equation.
‘I’ll drive,’ Lexia said, removing Theo’s warm fingers from her neck, ‘and then you can have a drink.’
‘There’s something very sexy about a woman handling a powerful car.’ Theo gave what she assumed he thought was an amorous glance in her direction – lecherous glance came to mind – threw Lexia the keys and opened the front door for her to pass through in front of him in order to place his hands on her bottom.
Lexia shuddered slightly but concentrated on beeping both the Porsche and the huge black gates’ locks before walking in front of her husband down the path towards Theo’s car.
*
The private party was being held in one of the function rooms at Brenton Wood, Midhope’s largest golf club, several miles from Heath Green, and Lexia enjoyed controlling the car, driving it slowly through the outlying villages and then, more confident, letting the Porsche have its head once they were on the bypass heading for their destination. She’d once had a little Boxster of her own, a sleek flash of silver with a red roof – to match her lipstick – and had loved the feeling of power she’d had over it. But she’d been young and reckless then, the speed of her little car helping to push away the thoughts that, unbidden, returned most nights, manifesting themselves in the same old nightmare that would have her sitting up in bed, frightened and sweating and needing to talk to someone who would listen and understand.
‘Fuck’s sake, be careful, Lexia.’ Theo sat up in alarm as Lexia drove at some speed towards the one remaining space in the club’s carpark, cutting up the driver of a large four-wheel drive who’d obviously spotted the space as well and had had the same intention. Theo glanced at Lexia whose face was a picture of fear and triumph. She seemed different this evening – more like the old Lexia he’d gone after and married – the flame-coloured-lipstick-flaunting icon he’d been determined to have for himself. Until she’d gone all weird on him and become as passionate as a wet dishcloth – even worse once she was pregnant with Cillian, but doubly so after his birth.
Lexia felt her heart pound; that had been close. She wasn’t sure why she was suddenly feeling a bit braver unless the visit earlier that afternoon from Damian St Claire had finally sparked something inside her and set off a sort of slow-burning anger. That enough was enough – she needed to sort out her demons before they sorted her.
Feeling shaky, Lexia cut the engine, sitting at the wheel until she felt her breathing come back to normal. She glanced across at Theo who was continuing to stare at her.
‘You’re a mad bitch, Lexia,’ he said, shaking his head at her. ‘One minute you’re as miserable as sin, refusing to have a shower or leave the house, and then you perk up and drive like a maniac, cutting up poor innocent drivers…’ Theo stopped. ‘Oh Jaysus, I do hope that’s not my boss you’ve just nearly killed. I sometimes think you need locking up like your—’
‘Don’t you dare,’ Lexia hissed in his face. ‘Don’t you dare call me mad. And don’t bring my poor mum into this.’ Lexia flung open the door of the Porsche, slamming it closed as she begun to walk towards the entrance of the golf club on her black patent heels.
‘Excuse me!’ The driver of the four-wheel drive had jumped out of his vehicle, leaving the car where it had come to its abrupt halt when Lexia had nudged him from the parking slot. He was walking swiftly after her, ignoring Theo a few steps behind.
‘Yes?’ Lexia turned, her bravado disappearing as the man gained on her.
He stopped suddenly looking from Lexia to Theo. ‘Lexia?’
Lexia stared, her heart pounding once more at the realisation of just who it was standing in front of her. ‘Richard?’ Thirteen years since she’d seen him, thirteen years since she’d heard any word whatsoever from him. A hand flew to her mouth and then came to rest on her chest, as if by doing so her heart might stop its racing. She felt she couldn’t breathe. Please don’t say she was going to have another panic attack right here in the car park in front of the group of people making their way to the main door and who were looking at her with some curiosity as she stood, unable to move, unable to speak.
‘It’s OK, lovey, it’s OK.’ Pandora’s husband, Lexia’s brother-in-law, moved towards her and took her in his arms, stroking her hair and murmuring in her ear. ‘Honestly, it’s all alright.’