Author: Amanda Robson
Category: Thriller
Go to read content：https://onlinereadfreenovel.com/amanda-robson/page,4,560635-my_darling.html
‘Your mother is always cross about something.’
He wipes the cheese from his chin with his napkin. ‘No she isn’t, Daddy. I have a lot of fun with Mummy and Shelly.’
I try to stop my lip curling in distaste at the thought of fun with Shelly and Mummy. I suspect they take drugs and go picking up men together. Drinking heavily. Crossing boundaries.
‘What sort of fun?’ I push, not sure I want to hear the answer. Knowing I must find out.
‘Laughing, singing, playing games.’
And suddenly I see Heather, as she was when I first met her. In a pub with a group of friends. Sharing a joke, head back laughing. It was the sense of fun that pulled me towards her. Fun without responsibility. Fun that went too far with other men instead of me, so far that she left.
25
Jade
Siobhan has Tomas on her side, and together they have forced me into a joint counselling session. We are sitting in her office, in a triangle of high-backed armchairs. Tomas is sitting too close to me. I can’t bear to look at him, so I look at the oatmeal carpet. At the magnolia walls. The room smells of vanilla and cinnamon. Siobhan must hope that the reed diffusers she uses will affect my psyche.
I do not look at Tomas, but I know he is leaning back in his chair, in a daydream, thinking of you, Emma. And you are probably thinking of him as well. He is good-looking. Too good-looking. Overwhelming and enticing. A face that never changes. Always beautiful. Never tired. Never groggy.
Siobhan tosses her exuberant hair. ‘Shall we make a start?’
I nod my head.
‘Yes,’ Tomas says and his resonant voice spreads like honey across the room.
Siobhan looks across at him and smiles. Tomas always makes women smile. She leans forwards.
‘You start, Tomas. What would you like to say to Jade?’
‘I love you Jade. Always have. Always will.’
The words trip off his tongue. So casual. So complacent. How many times do I have to listen to his lies?
26
Emma
Tomas steps into my consulting room to have his crown fitted. Smart City suit. George Clooney eyes. He hugs me and kisses me lightly on both cheeks. Is this friendship? Or is he coming on to me? I step away from him and frown.
‘What’s the matter?’ he asks.
‘I don’t think I should treat you any more.’
His mouth drops open in surprise. ‘Why ever not?’
‘Jade thinks you’re in love with me. We need to be careful. Keep away from each other. She seems most unhinged.’
‘You have to treat me. You’re my dentist. I don’t want to see someone else halfway through my treatment.’
I shake my head.
‘I should have explained,’ he continues. ‘She’s unwell. But it’s under control, with the right meds. Believe me. Please don’t worry. Please let me continue as your patient. She’ll be like this whoever I go to.’
‘Even if it’s a man?’
‘Then she’ll decide I’m bisexual or gay.’
I shake my head. ‘You really, really need to sort things out with her.’
‘Our marriage is fine. When she is balanced we have an excellent relationship.’
An excellent relationship? I’m aghast. How can anyone have an excellent relationship with someone who is so unwell?
‘It must be hard,’ I say.
‘Sometimes. But then she can be wonderful in between. The best wife out there.’
The best wife? Is he in denial? Fooling himself?
He takes my hands in his. ‘Please, please fit my crown. I’m really busy at work. I’m here now. I don’t have much time to arrange to go anywhere else.’
‘OK, if you’re sure. I don’t want to cause any trouble between you.’
He smiles his generous smile. ‘Sure, I’m sure.’
As I remove my instruments from the autoclave, as I buzz for Tania to come back from her break, I remind myself that however unsuited they seem, no one can see into someone else’s relationship.
27
Jade
You are getting closer and closer to the Stereotype. Now you can’t keep your hands off her from the moment you arrive. I can see you from my hiding place behind the willow tree. I see you hug her. I see you kiss her. I do what my counsellor says and count to twenty. Breathe. Breathe. I look up and you are still holding her. Now she is pushing you away. You are standing, eyes locked, fixated by what she is telling you. Infatuated. She has put a spell on you. You hold her hands, melting with love.
Memories
Shouting, so much angry shouting from my father, coming from the lounge. I ran upstairs to hide in the wardrobe in the spare room again. But no. He found me there last time. I stepped into my parents’ bedroom instead. I wasn’t allowed in there. He would look there last. It was cold. I shivered as I crept past Mother’s empty dressing table. No jewellery. No perfume. No photographs. No mementoes.
I opened the wardrobe door. Dad’s clothes on the right. Mother’s clothes on the left. Colourful dresses hanging. Colourful clothes I had never seen her wear. I stepped inside, shut the door and curled up on Mother’s side.
I knew the pattern by then. The screaming, the crying. I thought the screaming had almost reached a crescendo. I sat hugging my knees, breathing deeply, silently praying for it to stop. But it didn’t stop. Mother was screaming like a feral animal. Today – this – was worse.
And then the bedroom door burst open. I could see through the crack where the wardrobe doors met. He was carrying her in his arms. She was sobbing now, her body limp against his. The screaming had stopped. He threw her on the bed and the screaming started again.
28
Jade
Despite the change in my drug regimen, the CBT and our session with Siobhan, it is still eating me up that you are so infatuated with the Stereotype. And I warned you, Tomas, what would happen if you betrayed me again. You have done this so many times. Your liaison with your gym instructor. The girl from accounts. The woman who lived around the corner who you used to meet when walking our elderly dog around the block at night. Men are like dogs. A dog bites once and gets the taste for blood. A man strays once and gets a taste for extramarital sex. You cannot trust him again.
I’m frisking your clothes, your possessions. Looking for evidence of your betrayal, even though I have seen you with my own eyes, holding her, touching her. Pretending you have pain in your teeth so that you can see her regularly.
I open your bedside table. I flick through your socks and underwear. Does she like your bright orange Emporio Armani boxers? Into the wardrobe, checking every pocket of your suits. Brooks Brothers. Ermenegildo Zegna. Roderick Charles.
Nothing. Only loose change. Receipts from Pret. A pair of broken cufflinks. In the last pocket of the last suit I find a receipt for a pair of women’s Brora gloves, purchased yesterday. Seventy-nine pounds. Wow. Lovely. You’ve got me a present. But where are they? I check the drawers in our bedroom. I can’t find them anywhere. Maybe they are in your office. Maybe you will bring them home tonight.
29
Emma
The doorbell rings and I answer it. A chubby woman is standing in my porch, wearing a baggy dress, knee-high boots and an old-fashioned velvet jacket with wide lapels. Her hair needs washing. It is dry like a bird’s nest.
‘I’m Heather Brown, Alastair’s ex-wife. I need to talk to you. Can I come in?’ she asks.
I hesitate. She has caused so much trouble for Alastair. Is letting her inside my home appropriate?
‘Please,’ she begs, running her fingers through her bird’s nest. ‘It’s important.’
‘OK, fine. But I hope it won’t take long. I need to leave for work soon.’
She steps into my hallway. ‘Can we sit down?’ she asks.
‘Come into the drawing room,’ I reply, leading the way.
She sits down and crosses her legs, glancing at the Murano glass painting on the wall. The photograph of Colin and me
, in front of Cotswold yellow stone grandeur, taken on our honeymoon. Greedy eyes weighing up my possessions. I shudder inside, but I force myself to be polite.
‘Would you like a drink?’ I ask.
She turns towards me. ‘No thanks.’
‘Is everything OK?’
She swallows. ‘I need to warn you about Alastair. You must believe me – or you’ll end up in trouble. He’s controlling. He’s aggressive.’ She pauses. ‘Not to begin with. He gradually envelops you. I had to escape.’
‘If he’s so dangerous, why did you leave Stephen with him?’
She flicks her hair from her eyes. Eyes with panda bags beneath them. ‘Because he threatened to hurt him if I took him.’
I shake my head slowly. ‘All the more reason to take him, and report Alastair to the police.’
A wry smile. ‘You’re naive if you think reporting the situation to the police would protect us. People regularly break restraining orders. Believe me, I had to leave Stephen with his father, to keep the man sweet.’
‘You should have stayed with him then, to protect Stephen.’
She looks as if she is about to cry. ‘I could only cope with so much pain.’
‘But what about your son?’ I push.
‘Alastair doesn’t hurt children, only women. Children are safe. It’s you who needs to mind your back.’ She clasps and unclasps her fingers on her lap, nervously, swallowing to push back tears. ‘He treated me unfairly – try to understand that.’
I take a deep breath. ‘Alastair is my boyfriend, and I love him. Please go away. Leave us alone. I’ve heard all about you. I know you’re the difficult one.’
‘You’ll regret this.’
30
Alastair
I’ve just arrived at work and am collecting my day’s box of evidence for analysis. The clerk, a woman in her forties with shoulder-length black hair, hands it to me, pursing her cherry-red lips into a reluctant smile as she does every morning. Smiling and frowning at the same time.
I step away from her, into my changing area. Pulling off my outdoor clothes and hanging them up. Slipping into my scrubs. Going through the rigmarole of wrapping myself in my Tyvek suit. Grabbing my sealed box and stepping into my lab.
I yawn inside. Another day working alone for hours and hours. Changing gloves, taking swabs. Hours and hours to think. Too much time to think. About you, Emma. About my monstrous ex-wife, Heather. Trying to cause trouble. Trying to come between us, and between me and Stephen. Telling him I’m a bad man. What if you turn against me, Emma? What if people believe her?
I doze off and drift into a dream. Stephen is sitting in the middle of a roundabout, at the local playground. Heather is pulling it around. Pulling and running. Wearing a grey baggy tracksuit. Her hair is tangled. She runs and runs. Her hair becomes lighter, smoother, longer. Smooth as gossamer. Her face transforms into yours, Emma. My body jolts and I wake up.
I need you, Emma. I need stability. For myself. For Stephen. For the rest of my life.
31
Emma
Back home from work, I park the car. A few minutes later Tomas is standing on my doorstep in his smart City suit and Hugo Boss coat, brown eyes smiling into mine.
‘Is everything all right?’ I ask.
‘Yes. But I would like to talk to you. Can I step inside?’
‘Do I need to remind you about Jade’s attitude to our relationship?’
He shakes his head. ‘You don’t need to worry about Jade. Her bark is worse than her bite.’
‘Good job.’
He laughs, mouth curving into a wide smile. ‘And she’s at a late Pilates class, so she won’t know I’m here.’
‘Even better job,’ I reply. ‘If Jade is out, of course you can come in.’
He steps into my hallway. He rummages in his coat pocket, pulls out a gift bag and hands it to me.
‘What have I done to deserve this?’ I ask.
‘I just wanted to say thanks for helping me with my teeth.’
I open the bag and pull out my gift. Black cashmere gloves. Softer than soft.
‘They’re exquisite, thanks.’
A grin. ‘I just didn’t want you to think I was taking you for granted.’
‘I was pleased to help. I didn’t think that.’ I pause. ‘Would you like to stay for a cup of tea, or do you need to get back?’
‘I’d love a cup.’
He follows me into the kitchen. I lay the gloves on the windowsill and put the kettle on. I make a pot of tea and pour us both a cup. We sit opposite one another at my kitchen table.
‘I know Jade’s attitude towards you is difficult, but I need to maintain my relationships with my friends. I need to fight back.’
He leans across the table and takes my hand. Is this friendship? Or is Jade right? I do not want to get in between a warring couple. I pull my hand away.
32
Jade
I lied, telling you I would be out at a late Pilates class tonight. I parked my Porsche around the corner, outside the church hall, to confuse you about my whereabouts. Now I’m hiding in her garden, behind the rhododendron bush, warmly dressed. Puffa jacket. Beanie hat. Watching your every move. Watching my breath condense in front of me as I breathe. The rhododendron bush is in full bloom, its blood-red flowers dropping petals. Its spicy scent enveloping me.
I knew you were unreliable. I’ve been putting up with your infidelity for years. So many other women. But this is the end of the line; giving the Stereotype my present. Seventy-nine-pound cashmere gloves, lying on her windowsill. Seventy-nine-pound cashmere gloves from Brora that should have been for me. The present I was so excited about.
You are sitting holding hands with your loved one.
It’s over between us, Tomas. I cannot put up with this any more.
Memories
It wasn’t just violence. It was far more invasive than that.
I remember coming home from school on a soft spring day, not long before I sat my GCSEs. Sitting in the kitchen, filling out my application for sixth form. Mother frying chicken thighs in butter for her signature chicken casserole, the warm aroma making me feel hungry. But it would be hours before it was ready to eat. Dad, home from work early, was sitting next to me, leaning over my shoulder.
‘Science A levels? Is that really what you want to do? You’re punching above your weight,’ he said in his sharp, shrill voice. The voice I had grown to hate.
I looked up. His eyes were hard and flat; lips pinched.
‘I need science A levels, I want to be a scientist, not sure which type.’
A smile. Insincere. Mocking. ‘A scientist? Science is complicated. I’m not sure that’s a good idea. Wouldn’t you rather be a big fish in a small bowl than try something too ambitious?’
‘It’s what I’m interested in, Dad. I need to try.’
A dry laugh. ‘Try being the operative word, don’t you think?’
‘Whether try is operative or not, I’m going to go for it.’
‘Good for you. Good for you.’ There was a pause. ‘But I’ll eat my hat if you succeed.’
33
Emma
Jade is standing on my doorstep, short hair sharp and shiny, make-up-free face scrubbed and washed. She stretches her mouth into a smile.
‘I wondered whether you’d like to come around again. For a drink? A girls’ night?’
I’m not in the mood for difficult company. ‘What date did you have in mind?’ I ask, determined that whatever date the Clusterfuck suggests I intend to be out.
‘Well, Tomas is away at the moment. So any night except Wednesday. Wednesday night is book club. Apart from that I’m around all week.’
I can’t be unavailable every night. She has already asked me three times. I take a deep breath. I might as well get it over with. ‘What about tomorrow, then?’
‘Tomorrow’s good,’ the Clusterfuck snaps back. ‘See you at eight p.m.’
34
Alastair
I can’t get you out of my mind, Emma. Your silken hair. Your taut body. Your emerald eyes. I love you. I so want to make our relationship work. I need to hold you. I need to see you. To inhale your scent. Taste your breath. I need to catch up midweek.
I call your mobile. It rings ten times, then you pick up.
‘Alastair, how are you doing?’
Your voice sounds cheery and positive. Pleased to hear from me.
‘Fine. Good.’ I pause. ‘I was just wondering whether I could pop over for a drink tonight?’
‘I’m sorry, but I’m going to Jade’s.’
‘Tonight? I thought you didn’t tend to socialise midweek? And I know you don’t like Clusterfuck.’
‘She coerced me. I couldn’t get out of it.’
Is it poster boy Tomas who really invited you? ‘Will Tomas be there?’ I ask.
‘No. He’s travelling on business apparently. It’s just me and her.’
I laugh. ‘A mind-blowing party. You and Clusterfuck. I’m jealous.’
‘Come and join us if you like.’
‘No thanks, I’ll pass.’
35
Jade
You stand on my doorstep holding a bunch of lilies in your hand. You pass them to me with a smile. ‘Thanks for inviting me.’
As you step inside I silently admire your dress. Navy velvet caresses your slender figure. Your blonde hair falls in carefully blow-dried ringlets. How many hours a day do you spend manufacturing your appearance? Do you realise there is always a whiff of artificiality about you that spoils your perfect looks? We walk into my boudoir with the bar in it. My main drawing room.
‘I’ve made you my favourite cocktail,’ I say.
I give you a simpering smile as I pour it. I hand it to you. ‘Thanks,’ you say.