S. Watson - Second Life

We’re both silent for a while, and then, without warning, Hugh speaks.

‘Oh, God,’ he says. ‘I haven’t told you about Paddy.’

My eyes flick open. The name is unexpected and it jolts me. I hope it doesn’t show.

‘Maria rang me yesterday. I completely forgot to tell you. He’s been mugged.’

I hear myself echo him. It sounds like my own voice, but coming from a long way away.

‘Mugged?’

It’s too hot in here, suddenly. I’m sweating. The water is oily and viscous.

‘Yes. Over the weekend. I think Maria said it was Friday.’

‘Where? By who? Is he all right?’

An awful thought is forming. Last week I told Lukas what Paddy had done. I’d let him think it was worse than it was. Much worse.

He’d said he wanted to protect me.

‘He’s bruised and battered, and his nose is broken, but he’ll be fine. It happened right near where they live, apparently. He was coming home late. He can’t remember much…’

I think of Lukas. He said I’d be getting my present later. Is this what he meant?

My mind goes to Kate. I see her, lying there in her own blood, her nose broken, her eyes swollen shut.

I look over at my husband. It’s as if I know what he’s going to say next.

‘Funny thing is, they didn’t take anything.’

Something within me begins to collapse. I find myself standing up, though I don’t know why, or where I’m going. The water slides off me and for a moment I think it’s blood. ‘Like Kate,’ I’m saying. ‘Just like Kate.’

Hugh stands, too. ‘Julia? Julia, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told you. I wasn’t thinking. Julia, sit down. Please?’

It can’t be, I tell myself. It can’t be him.

Tell me you want me to teach him a lesson , he’d said, when we were right in the middle. And I think I said yes. Had I said yes?

But he hadn’t meant anything. Surely? He hadn’t taken me seriously? It’s just a coincidence, it must be. It must be, it has to be.

I think of his hands on me, the bruises, the things he’d done. The things he’s told me he’d like to do.

‘I’m an idiot,’ says Hugh. ‘Julia, I’m sorry.’

I turn round. I shiver, I’m freezing, yet the sweat is pouring off me. I run out, into the changing rooms. I make it as far as the bathroom, just.

Connor arrives home late the next morning. Dylan’s with him and the two of them crash in, talking non-stop. I’m waiting for the kettle to boil when they land in the kitchen.

My son. I’ve missed him; he’s all I’d wanted when I got in last night, the only thing in my life I still think I have a chance of getting right.

‘Hi, Mum!’ he says. He seems surprised that I’m there, and for a moment I think he’s going to ask me if I’m okay. I’m not sure what I’ll say if he does. Dylan stands behind him, and when I smile at him says, ‘Hi, Mrs Wilding.’

‘We might go upstairs?’ says Connor.

I force a smile. ‘Okay. Did you have fun?’

‘Yeah.’ He doesn’t elaborate.

‘Want anything to eat?’

‘No, thanks.’

‘Dylan?’

The other boy shakes his head and mumbles something. He’s even skinnier than I remember.

‘We had something earlier,’ says Connor. ‘Can we watch a DVD?’

‘Sure. Let me know if you want anything,’ I say as they disappear upstairs. I turn back to the kettle and make my drink.

I know what I have to do. I’ve been putting it off all morning. I sit down at the table and phone Lukas.

‘Morning, beautiful. I was just thinking about you, too.’

Normally that comment would thrill me, but today I barely notice it. I’m too wound up, too anxious. I’ve run out of energy. I’ve spent all night thinking about him and Paddy, about what he might’ve done. What I might have done. I’m exhausted.

‘Lukas. We need to talk.’

I sense him shift a gear. I imagine him lying in bed, then abruptly sitting upright. I try to picture it, but fail. I’ve never seen his bedroom, never seen his house. It’s nice, he’s told me, semi-detached, with three bedrooms. ‘Modern, but with some character.’ He’s always sounded proud of it, so why haven’t I been there?

I wonder if he keeps it tidy. A man, living alone; I wonder if he even makes his bed. Connor wouldn’t, if I didn’t insist.

‘What is it? Is everything okay?’

I feel a sudden rush. I want to shout, scream. I want to tell him, No, no, it isn’t!

I take a deep breath and try to calm myself.

‘Paddy was attacked.’

Even saying the words hurts. It reminds me too much of Kate.

‘Who?’

‘Paddy.’ I’m annoyed, and at the same time frightened. Has he forgotten? Or is this all part of some game? ‘The person I told you about. The friend I told you had kissed me.’ I hesitate. My voice wavers. ‘He’s been beaten up.’

‘Jesus…’ He sounds concerned. It’s genuine, I think, but how do I know? I don’t know anything. ‘Are you all right, Julia?’

I don’t want to ask the question, but it’s a weight, pressing down on me, and I have no choice. It’s the reason I called him, after all.

‘Did you have anything to do with it?’

There’s silence. Saying it out loud has made it seem real. The suspicion has become a certainty.

I picture him, shaking his head in disbelief. Every muscle in my body is tensed, then he speaks.

‘Me? What on earth—?’

I interrupt. I don’t want to, but I can’t help it. I say it again, louder this time. ‘Did you have anything to do with it?’

His reply comes more quickly this time. He’s rushing to his own defence.

‘No, of course I didn’t.’ I can’t decide whether he sounds angry or just emphatic. ‘Is he going to be all right?’

The words rush out, tumbling over each other. ‘It just seems a coincidence, that’s all. I mean, I tell you last week, and then this week—’

‘Listen. Calm down—’

‘—this week,’ I continue, ‘this week, this happens.’

I stop speaking. My body is suddenly alive. I can feel his hands on me, my skin sings with the rough urgency of the sex in the toilet cubicle, my wrists carry a dull ache where he’d gripped them. I think back to what he’d said.

‘You asked me if I wanted you to teach him a lesson.’

‘I know,’ he says. ‘And, if you remember, you said yes.’

I collapse inwards. I’m almost breathless, with panic, and rage.

‘I didn’t mean it, though! We were just messing around. It was play-acting!’

‘Was it?’ His voice has taken on an edge; he sounds different. Not like him at all. ‘You know,’ he says, ‘you have to be careful what you wish for, Julia. Very careful…’

Fear hits me. Terror. It’s real, physical. I’m on fire, my phone is alive, dangerous. I want to hurl it across the room. I wish I’d never met him. I don’t know who he is, this man, this person I’ve let into my life. I want everything to go back to how it was before.

‘Lukas!’ My voice is pleading, I’m almost shouting, only vaguely aware that Connor is upstairs. Right now I’d sacrifice anything to be certain that what happened to Paddy had nothing to do with Lukas. Almost anything. ‘Please…’

I stop. He’s making a noise; at first I can’t tell what it is, but then I realize. He’s laughing, almost to himself. I’m flooded with light, with air.

‘Lukas?’

‘Relax. I’m joking…’

‘Joking? What’s so funny?’

‘Julia, I think you need to calm down. Think about it. Aren’t you being a little paranoid here? I mean, you only told me about this guy last week. Do you think I marched straight round there and beat him up? How could I? You didn’t tell me where he lives. You didn’t even tell me his full name. For God’s sake, I only found out your real name yesterday.’