S. Watson - Second Life

‘Good,’ says Lukas. ‘Good. I’m a bit worried about Julia, though.’

Hugh turns to me. ‘Are you all right, darling?’

‘Yes,’ I say, even though I’m not. The room has stopped spinning but still I shake with an anxiety so intense I worry I’ll not be able to control it.

‘I don’t know what came over me.’

‘Well,’ says Hugh, ‘come in at least, Ryan. Come in.’

Lukas thanks him. We go through to the living room, an awkward entourage. Hugh invites Lukas to sit on the sofa, Anna sits next to him, takes his hand. Hugh offers him a drink, but he shakes his head, says he’s driving. I watch it all through a gauzy screen of fear, as if it’s happening elsewhere, to other people, this scene of polite normality that no longer has anything to do with me. Wordlessly, I accept the drink Hugh gives me: a glass of water.

‘Have this. You’ll feel better.’

‘Are you sure you’re okay?’ says Anna.

I sip and nod and say yes, then Lukas turns to me.

‘It’s so great to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.’

I smile thinly. ‘You, too.’ I watch as he thanks me, then takes Anna’s hand and squeezes it. ‘Anna has told you our news?’ He strokes her hand, looking into her eyes with an expression I recognize, one of love, of pure adoration.

‘Yes. Yes, it’s wonderful!’

‘It is!’ says Hugh. He’s turned on the charm, is trying hard to impress. ‘You’re sure you won’t have a drink? Just one?’

Lukas says nothing for a moment, then nods his head. ‘Okay, then. Why not? One won’t take me over the limit. Just a short. You’re sure you don’t mind me dropping in on you like this?’

‘Not at all,’ says Hugh. He goes over to the drinks cabinet and gets out the bottles of whisky, vodka and gin. ‘What’ll it be?’ Lukas chooses a single malt, something I’ve never seen him drink before.

Hugh prepares the drink. Lukas turns to me. ‘Anna tells me you’re a photographer?’ His face is open, his head tilted, as if he’s genuinely interested. I look from him to Anna, back again. I can’t work out what he’s doing, whether I should say something, tell her now. I’m in shock, I suppose, though there’s a kind of weird detachment. I need to figure it out. All this time, while I thought I was having an affair, he was already seeing my sister’s best friend. I’ve been utterly betrayed. I was the affair.

But they met before Kate was killed, I think, so why did he choose me? It can’t be coincidence. If it were, he’d have been shocked when I opened the door to him tonight. ‘Julia!’ he’d have said. ‘What are you doing here? Where’s Anna?’ And then I guess I’d have told him how I knew his fiancée and we’d have agreed to keep quiet, to say nothing. He’d be trying to get out of here as soon as he could, not accepting a drink from Hugh, not settling in for a long chat, not asking questions he already knows the answers to.

I realize everyone is looking at me expectantly. The room is quiet, the air heavy and too warm. I’ve been asked a question and need to respond. ‘Yes. Yes. That’s right.’

I look from him to Hugh. One word, that’s all it would take. Is that what he wants? To break me and Hugh up, to detonate the bomb that I’ve placed underneath my family?

‘Sounds really interesting.’ He leans forward. He really does look like someone who is fascinated. Absorbed. He asks me what kind of photos I take, and even though the pain and anxiety is almost physical, even though he’s seen my pictures, even though we’ve lain naked on a bed together looking at my work, I tell him.

He nods, then after a moment he speaks again. ‘By the way, I was so sorry to hear about your sister.’

You bastard , I think. You’re fucking enjoying this .

I nod. I smile, but my eyes are narrowed. ‘Thanks,’ I say. I have to remind myself he didn’t kill Kate, though right now I could hardly hate him more if he had.

He looks at me, straight in the eye. ‘I never met her. I’m so sorry about her… passing on.’

Anger hits me, then. I can’t help it, even though the last thing I want is for him to see how he’s upsetting me. ‘She didn’t pass on . She was murdered.’ You know that, I’m thinking. I look for a sign of remorse, of sadness, even of mischief, but there’s none. I even think I might want him to laugh – then I can just hate him without being scared of him – but he does nothing. Nothing at all. Even his eyes betray no sign that we’ve ever met before; right now, he looks like his own twin brother.

The room is frozen. I’m aware I’ve raised my voice. I look defiant. I’m daring him to say something. Hugh looks from me to him, then back to me. The moment stretches; the only sound comes from Connor’s room upstairs.

The tension thickens, then breaks. Lukas shakes his head. ‘Oh, God, I’ve offended you. I’m so, so sorry. I never know what to say in these situations…’

I ignore him. I’m aware of Hugh, twitching, willing me to say something, but I don’t. I hold Lukas’s gaze. Anna looks from him over to me. She’s expectant, and after a moment I relent. ‘It’s okay. No one ever knows what to say. There’s nothing to say.’

He shrugs. He’s staring at me. Hugh and Anna are in the room, watching. They can see it, I think. Surely. Is he crazy? Does he want them to see what’s going on?

Or maybe he doesn’t care. We’re locked in combat, the power is flying wildly from one to the other. We’re both blind to our partners, they’re unimportant, relegated to the status of bystanders. We’re potassium in water, acid on skin. We could burn each other, wreck everything and hardly notice, hardly care.

I open my mouth to say something – I still don’t know what – but then Hugh speaks. ‘Remind me what you do again, Ryan?’ He’s trying to diffuse the tension, and for a moment Lukas doesn’t move. ‘Ryan works in the arts,’ says Anna, then Lukas turns to take her hand.

‘I have my own company. In digital production.’

Not what he’s told me.

Hugh nods. ‘Based in Paris?’

‘Yes. I’ve been there for almost five years now. I do a fair bit of travel, though.’

I look at my hands, folded into my lap. With each of his answers it hits again; it was me he was lying to all along, not Anna. Not his fiancée, the woman he’s been seeing several times a week. I look up. I can’t stop thinking about that last time, in the hotel room as David arrived. I can still feel his hands on me.

And now he’s back for more. I can’t bear it. Before I know what I’m doing I’ve stood up. But what can I do? What can I say? Anna is about to marry this man, and clearly knows nothing of what’s been going on. I open my mouth, close it again. My mind reels.

And then, suddenly, I feel myself collapse inwards. It’s as if I’m disappearing, reducing to nothing. ‘Julia!’ says Hugh. ‘Are you all right?’

‘Yes. Excuse me,’ I manage, and then I’m heading upstairs, into the bathroom.

When I return Anna asks me if I’m okay. ‘Yes. Fine.’ Lukas is draining his glass, putting it on the coffee table.

‘We should head off!’ he’s saying. He turns to me. ‘We thought we’d go to Soho. Maybe a jazz bar. Ronnie Scott’s. D’you know it?’ They both turn to me. ‘You should come.’

I say no. I’m numb. I just want all of this to stop.

‘You go if you like,’ says Hugh. ‘I’m far too tired…’

I feel a wave of guilt as I picture the two of them there. What have I done to my friend? What might still happen?

‘No. It’s late. I should turn in, too…’

‘Oh, come on,’ says Anna. ‘It’ll be fun!’

‘I really don’t mind, darling,’ says Hugh.