Jesus, I feel sick. Sick, dizzy and dry-mouthed. And my head is killing me. I’ve just woken up and can see from the time showing on my bedside clock that I’ve been asleep for fifteen hours. I didn’t wake once in the night; exactly what I wanted. So why don’t I feel refreshed? Why do I feel like I’ve got the biggest hangover ever, when I drank no more than one glass of wine last night?
I ease myself off the bed, my head still feeling like it’s being stabbed by a thousand needles, while my stomach is churning so violently I virtually have to crawl to the bathroom to pee. And then, sitting on the loo, I remember taking one of Dr Cousins’ pills, and why I took it. The photographs of me and you kissing; the note warning me not to show them to the police.
I still can’t understand how the intruder got in. There was no visible sign of a break-in, and the only people apart from me who have keys to the house are Greg, Daniel, Ella, Janine and Miranda. And it can’t be any of them.
Can it?
Downstairs, I drink a pint of water, make some strong coffee, and slowly begin to feel better. It was absolute bliss to sleep through the night, but I’m not sure I can face feeling like this every morning. I wonder if the pills affected Janine this badly? Maybe they can’t be mixed with any alcohol? But surely Dr Cousins would have warned me if that was the case? I’m about to call Janine to ask if she can shed any light on this when the doorbell rings. It’s 9 a.m., too early for the postman. Feeling on edge after last night, I go to the window to check who it is.
It’s Daniel. I’m shocked to see him standing there, not just because it’s early but because Greg said he was refusing to see or speak to me. Plus he invariably lets himself in with his own keys. No doubt he’s here to lash out at me. It’s the last thing I need, but I can’t turn him away. I’ve done that enough times over the years, and I know how badly he must be hurting.
I’m not dressed, but I can’t possibly go to the door in my dressing gown; he’ll respect me even less. I call out, ‘Hang on,’ then rush upstairs and throw on some joggers and a sweatshirt, before racing back down and unbolting the front door.
He looks awful. Sunken eyes, blotchy face, as if he’s been drinking too much, and his hair is greasy and unkempt. ‘What took you so long?’ he snarls. ‘I was about to let myself in, but thought it only polite to knock first. Even though you don’t deserve it.’
‘Come in,’ I say, ignoring his remark. There’s no point in getting into a meaningless argument.
He comes in without taking his coat off, then heads straight for the living room. I follow him there and we sit down on opposite sofas. The atmosphere is stifling as I wait for him to speak. Finally, he says, ‘So you had an affair behind Dad’s back, and that’s why Freya feels uncomfortable being my fiancée and your shrink at the same time. You managed to make things so awkward for her, she’s ended our engagement. Tell me, Mum, why do you do it? Why do you seem to enjoy making me miserable?’
I’m crushed by his words because what he’s accusing me of isn’t true. Causing him further unhappiness is the last thing I wanted. But I understand why he sees it that way.
‘I don’t enjoy making you miserable, and it was certainly never my intention to break you and Freya up,’ I say. I yearn to go over to him and place my hand on his, but I know he’ll snatch it away so there’s no point. I wasn’t a good mother to him as a child, so why would he welcome my affections now?
‘Why confess to your affair now, after all these years you’ve kept quiet, lied to me, to Ella, to Dad? Was it purely because of the note, the email?’
I realize Greg must have told him about those. ‘No – I mean, I don’t know,’ I say. ‘I wasn’t even aware of the email when I told Freya. She was very persuasive. She encouraged me to be honest with her in a way that others hadn’t before. And there was something so soothing, so engaging about her, it just felt right to tell her. Yes, the note played a part in my decision, but so did hearing about your father’s affair, which I assume you now know about?’
Daniel nods.
‘I guess it made me less afraid to tell her.’
‘I see. An eye for an eye, right, Mum?’
‘No,’ I protest, although he’s probably not entirely off the mark. I certainly felt less guilty telling Dr Cousins about my affair after finding out about Greg’s.
‘And what about the email calling you a whore? How does that make you feel, Mother? Not good, I bet.’ Daniel’s eyes are scornful and it’s obvious he enjoyed saying that word, making me feel cheap, making my cheeks prickle with shame.
‘No,’ I reply, ‘not good at all.’
‘Can’t you try and change her mind?’ Daniel pleads. Scorn is replaced by despair, and my son looks about ten again. ‘Won’t you at least do that for me? Ella says you’re too self-absorbed to do such a selfless thing – that you always put your own needs first and there’s no chance of you changing now – but is she right, Mum?’
‘Ella knows about my affair?’
‘Yes, of course. She’s the one who told me about it; along with the note and the email. She knows about Dad’s affair, too. He told her when they met up for dinner.’
It feels like my entire family is ganging up on me. ‘Your father said you didn’t want my help.’ I look at Daniel, hoping for a reaction, but he remains poker-faced. ‘Despite that, I tried to help. I asked Freya yesterday to rethink her decision.’
‘You did?’ Daniel’s eyes are suddenly anxious.
‘Yes.’
‘What did she say?’
‘She said it was too late, that she knew too much.’
I watch his shoulders slump. ‘I don’t get it. It’s not like I’ve lied to her. And it can’t be our age difference. It’s never felt like an issue. It’s you, all you!’
‘Daniel…’ I say, rising from the sofa to go and comfort him, but he anticipates my move and leaps up before I can get to him. ‘I can try again,’ I offer. ‘She might still change her mind now that you know the truth. She won’t be keeping anything from you any more.’
Daniel looks up, mutters, ‘Yeah, OK, whatever.’
‘Do you want me to or not?’ I say more sternly.
‘Yeah, I said yes.’
‘OK then, I will.’
Daniel’s face relaxes a little as he offers a grudging, ‘Thanks.’
There’s an uneasy pause, and I hate the fact that there should be such awkwardness between me and my own child. But there it is, it’s all my doing, and I need to accept it.
‘Who was he, Mum?’ Daniel’s question breaks the quiet. I’d half expected him to ask, but I still don’t feel prepared for it. I answer the only way I’m able to.
‘It’s not important. What’s done is done. It happened a long time ago, and not a day’s gone by since Heidi was taken when I haven’t regretted it.’
‘Still not being honest, even after causing all this heartache.’ He grimaces, before making for the door.
‘Please, Daniel, I’m not keeping quiet for my sake. Other people’s feelings are at stake, and I’m thinking of them, not me.’
‘Yeah, right, you’re such a saint,’ he sneers, before leaving and slamming the door behind him.