S. Watson - Second Life

‘It’s about Ryan.’

‘Ryan?’

‘Listen.’ I take her hand. I tell myself it’s what Kate would have done. ‘I don’t want you to think I’m… y’know… jealous…’

‘Jealous? You’re not making any sense!’

‘Of you and Ryan, I mean.’

‘Why would you be jealous? Julia, what’s this about?’

I hesitate. I’m searching for the right words, but they seem just out of reach.

‘It’s just—’

‘What?’

‘Do you know if you can trust him?’

‘Of course! Why?’

‘It’s just, you haven’t known him that long, and—’

It sounds petty, lame, and already I know I’ve said the wrong thing. I see Anna’s expression change to one of anger.

‘I’ve known him long enough,’ she says. ‘What’s this about, Julia? I wouldn’t expect this from you, of all people!’

I take a deep breath. I begin to speak. ‘I don’t think he’s who he says he is,’ I say. I close my eyes. ‘Sorry—’

‘What?’ She sounds shocked. ‘What on earth are you saying? What d’you mean?’

I tread carefully. I need her to work it out for herself. I need her to realize that the man she calls Ryan is lying about where he goes every week.

‘What does he do? On Tuesdays?’

‘He goes to work…’

‘In Paris?’

‘It varies. He travels a lot.’

‘London?’

‘Sometimes… What’s this about, Julia?’

‘The thing is,’ I say, but then I stop. The atmosphere in the room has shifted, the door to the bar, swung open, has admitted a current of cool air. Over Anna’s shoulder I see Lukas, scanning the room, looking for us. He looks utterly calm.

‘Shit!’

‘What?’ She looks over her shoulder. ‘Oh, hi!’ She calls him across the few tables that separate them, and when he notices her he waves.

I grab her hand. ‘Listen.’ I talk quickly, I have to get it out before he gets here. ‘You can’t trust him, he isn’t who he says he is. He’s seeing someone else. You have to believe me—’

‘Julia!’ She’s shaking her head. I feel a rising urgency; any moment it might tip into panic.

‘ Just leave him! ’ I’ve spoken too loudly. The waiter has noticed and no doubt Lukas as well.

She pulls her hand away and stands up. She looks at me with disbelief. Disbelief and anger.

‘I’m sorry—’ I begin, but a moment later Lukas arrives.

‘What’s up?’ Anna’s face relaxes. She turns to kiss him, then looks back to me.

‘Julia was just leaving.’ She smiles. ‘Weren’t you?’

‘No. Listen to me…’

Lukas steps forward, puts himself between me and Anna. As if it’s me who’s dangerous. He looks angry, protective towards his future wife.

‘What’s this about?’

Anna turns to face me. ‘I know what this is about.’ She sounds upset but determined. ‘You’re jealous. Just because you and Hugh are falling apart and we’re just coming together. Or is it about the money?’

‘The money?’ I have no idea what she’s talking about.

‘You know we’re going to sort our wills out on Friday—’

‘What?’ My mind whirrs. I don’t know anything about that. I cast my mind back, try to remember our last conversation.

‘Anna, no. No, it’s not that at all. That money is yours. Kate left it to you. I want you to have it.’

I think back to the conversation we’d had in Paris, all those months ago. I’d told her as much then.

‘Listen,’ says Lukas. He puts his hand on my arm and I flinch. ‘I don’t know what’s going on here, but you two need to calm down.’

Anna is angry now. The bar staff have noticed; a man is coming over. ‘Miss,’ he’s saying, to me, and then, ‘Is everything all right here?’

‘Fine,’ says Lukas. ‘It’s fine. Nothing we can’t handle.’ He begins to steer Anna towards the door. She’s looking at me with an expression of disbelief, shaking her head as if she can’t believe the person I’ve become. I wonder what else she’s thinking, maybe that Kate was right all along, I’m a jealous bitch who betrayed her, stole her child and wouldn’t give him back. ‘I think you’d better leave,’ says Lukas firmly, turning to me, and at the same time I feel a hand on my arm. It’s the barman, turning me around, escorting me in the opposite direction.

‘He’s Lukas!’ I shout as they reach the door, but she’s looking away and my voice is swallowed by the cavernous bar. The other patrons look at me – they think I’m drunk, a troublemaker, a jealous ex – but I’m not sure Anna heard me. It’s only when I break free of the waiter’s grip on my arm and turn round to say it again that I see I’m too late.

She’s gone.

I pay and leave. There’s nothing else to do, and I can’t stay, not after the commotion I’ve caused. When I reach the car I open the window then light a cigarette from the packet I’ve started to keep in the glove compartment. I think of Hugh – he doesn’t approve of smoking in the car – and wish I could be with him right now.

I screwed it up. I don’t know what I could have done differently, but I screwed it up.

I exhale, sit back in the leather seat. I’ve parked on a side-street just off Portland Place and can see the doorway to the hotel framed in the wing mirror. Even though it must be after midnight now, people are still coming and going.

I wonder if Anna was right. Maybe it really is all about my sister’s money, though not in the way she imagines. I imagine Lukas, hearing about Kate’s death, moving in on me but then finding out my sister had left all the cash to her best friend.

But no, that makes no sense; he was definitely seeing Anna first, before Kate died. I’m back to square one.

Again the same thought forms, the one that’s been haunting me. It grows, I can’t shake it, can’t hold it down. It’s because I know he lives in Paris, now. It rises to the surface, inexorable, unstoppable.

It was him .

But it can’t be. There’s Kate’s earring; they’ve made an arrest. Plus, we know the police checked everyone out, all Kate’s online contacts. They’re satisfied. It can’t have been him.

So why did he target me, then? Or am I not a target at all – was it just sheer chance?

I finish my cigarette then toss it on to the pavement, through the half-open window. Straight away I feel the urge to light another; I fight it, but it seems pointless, futile. I have to calm my mind. I have to sort it out. I lift my bag off the passenger seat and begin to rummage inside it.

It happens quickly. I don’t see him come out of the hotel, don’t hear him approach, I’m barely aware of him opening the door. I look up and he’s there; I’ve gone from alone to not-alone in an instant. My heart leaps with sudden terror.

‘What the—?’ I begin, but he turns to me.

‘Surprise!’ His exclamation is dry and humourless. His face is inches from mine; he smells of aftershave, the one I’m used to. The fragrance of wood – sandalwood, I think – mixed with something else, something medicinal. He looks paler than I remember, his features thinner. I try to tell myself that if I met him now I wouldn’t look twice, but it’s a lie.

‘Lukas,’ I gasp. My muscle memory kicks in once again; instinctively I shoot as far back in my seat as I can, move as far away from him as I can get without opening the door and running. I wonder if that is what I should be doing. Running.

‘What d’you want?’

‘Oh, sweetheart. Don’t be like that…’ His voice sounds thick, not like him at all.

‘Where’s Anna?’ I have visions of her upstairs, pacing. I wonder if she knows he’s with me; it’s possible he’s told her he’s just popped out for a walk, to get some air.