S. Watson - Second Life

I smiled, sadly. ‘I’m sure it’ll be fine. You’ll call me?’

He said he would, but now the phone is ringing and it’s not him.

‘Anna?’

She’s hesitant. When she does speak she sounds distant, upset.

‘How’re you?’

‘Fine,’ I say. I want her to tell me what she’s decided. For two days I’ve been convincing myself that she’s reconsidered, or hasn’t believed me at all. I’ve imagined her talking to Lukas, telling him that I’d caught up with her at the station, recounting what I’d said.

I daren’t imagine what his next move would be then.

‘How are you feeling?’

She doesn’t answer. ‘I’ve been thinking. Ryan’s away for another week. He’s staying in London. I need a week after he gets back.’

I’m not sure what she means.

‘A week?’

‘I need to finish it with him. But I need to make him think it has nothing to do with you at all. I’ve already told him I haven’t seen you since the other night at the hotel, that you haven’t been in touch. I told him I thought you were a freak, and that I didn’t want anything else to do with you. When he comes back I’ll just have to be busy, I’ll pretend I’ve got a lot on at work or something. I can manage it for a week, I think.’

‘And then?’

‘Then I’ll end it.’

She sounds defiant. Absolutely certain.

‘I’ll get the pictures – the ones he’s got of you – and delete them from his computer. I’ll find a way, I have a key to his flat, it shouldn’t be too difficult. Then, even if he does suspect, it’ll be too late to do anything about it.’

I close my eyes. I’m so grateful, so relieved. It might work. It has to work.

‘You’ll be all right?’

She sighs. ‘Not really. But I suppose I kind of knew, really. There was always something about him, I just couldn’t put my finger on what it was. He’d always be travelling, at short notice. I should’ve known.’

I’m not sure I believe her. It sounds like justification after the fact.

She carries on. ‘Maybe when all this is over we can get together and go out for a drink. Not lose our friendship because of it.’

‘I want that, too,’ I say. ‘Will we stay in touch? Over the next couple of weeks, I mean?’

‘It wouldn’t be good if Ryan finds out we’re speaking.’

‘No.’

‘I’ll try and call you, when I can.’

‘Okay.’

‘You’ll have to trust me,’ she says.

We talk for a minute or so more, then she says goodbye. Before we end the call we agree to reconnect on Find Friends. Afterwards I sit for a moment as relief floods me, relief and fear, then I call Hugh. I’m not sure why. I want to hear his voice. I want to show that I support him, that I haven’t forgotten what he’s going through today. His secretary answers; he’s still in his meeting.

‘Will you ask him to call me when he gets out?’

She says she will. Almost on a whim I ask if I can speak to Maria. I want to know that Paddy’s okay, that he’s recovered.

I think of the steps. I’ve made my moral inventory now; without even being conscious of it, I’m working on making amends.

‘She’s not in today,’ she says. I ask if she’s on holiday. ‘No, some problem at home.’ She lowers her voice. ‘She sounded very upset.’

I put the phone down. I’m uneasy. Hugh has always said that Maria can be relied upon; she’s never sick, never late. I can’t imagine what might be going on. An illness? Paddy, or her parents, perhaps? They’re not elderly, but that rules nothing out, I should know that as much as anyone.

I almost call her at home but then decide against it. I have plenty going on as it is, and what could I say to her? We’re not friends, not really. I haven’t seen her since we visited Paddy, weeks ago. Hugh hasn’t invited them round, or maybe he has and they haven’t come. I wonder if that was Paddy’s decision, and if so what excuses he may have given his wife.

I spend the afternoon working. Connor arrives home and goes upstairs. Doing his homework, he says, though I’m not sure I believe him. I suspect he usually spends hours online – with his friends, Dylan, his girlfriend – and even now, every time I go up, to check if he wants a drink, to try to persuade him down for dinner, to make some sort of a connection, he seems to make a point of being cool towards me. He’s still angry over the grounding, I guess; even though it’s only for a week, it seems to be taking a long time to wear off.

Maybe it’s something else. He’s still upset that the arrest of the man who killed Kate hasn’t brought him the relief he’d hoped. He’s looking elsewhere, now. ‘Do you know who my real dad is?’ he said the other day, and when I said no, he said, ‘Would you tell me, if you did?’ Of course you wouldn’t, he seemed to be saying, but I tried to stay calm. ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Yes, of course I would. But I don’t know.’

I want to tell him it won’t change anything. I want to say, Your father – whoever he is, whoever he was – was probably very young. He abandoned your mother, or more likely didn’t even know she was pregnant. ‘We’re your family,’ I said instead, but he just looked at me, as if that was no longer enough.

It’s upsetting, but I tell myself it’s normal, he’s a teenager. He’s just growing up, away from me. Before I know it he’ll be sitting exams, then leaving home. It’ll just be me and his father, then, and who knows if he’ll even come back to see us? All children go through a phase of hating their parents, but they say adopted children can find it all too easy to break away. Sometimes the severance is permanent.

I’m not sure I could cope with that. I’m not sure it wouldn’t kill me.

I’m in the kitchen when Hugh gets home. He kisses me, then goes straight to the fridge and gets himself a drink. He looks angry. I ask him how it went.

‘They’re making them an offer. Out-of-court settlement.’

‘Do they think the family will take it?’

I wait while he empties his glass and pours another. ‘Hope so. If it goes to court I’m fucked.’

‘What?’

‘I’m in the wrong. It’s unequivocal, to them at least. I made a mistake. If it goes to court we’ll lose, and they’ll have to make some kind of example of me.’

‘Oh, darling…’

‘Next week I have to go on a course.’ He smiles, bitterly. ‘Record keeping. I have to cancel surgery to go and learn how to write a set of bloody notes.’

I sit opposite him. I can see how injured he is. It seems so unfair; after all, no one is dead. It’s not as if he made a mistake during surgery.

I try to look hopeful. ‘I’m sure everything will be okay.’

He sighs. ‘One way or the other. And bloody Maria didn’t turn up today.’

‘I know.’

‘You know?’

‘I called. They said she wasn’t in. What’s going on?’

He takes out his phone and makes a call. ‘No idea. But I hope she’s intending to come in tomorrow.’ He puts the phone to his ear. After a few rings it’s answered, a faint hello. Maria’s voice. ‘Maria? Listen…’ He glances at me, then stands up. ‘How’re things?’

I don’t hear her reply. He’s turned away and is walking out of the room, his attention completely focussed on his colleague. I go back to preparing the meal. Hugh, Connor, Anna. I just hope everything will be all right.

Two days later Paddy calls. It’s the first time I’ve heard his voice in weeks, and he sounds different, somehow. I wonder if something’s happened to Maria, but he says no, no she’s fine. ‘I just thought you might want to meet up. Lunch, or something?’

Is that what all this is about? Does he want to make another attempt at seduction?