Clare Mackintosh - I Let You Go

I hadn’t realised you were making any sort of income from your teaching. I had suggested you run pottery classes because it seemed a more sensible use of your time than making figurines that you sold for a pittance. I would have expected you to have offered a contribution towards my mortgage before agreeing to go into some sort of business partnership. After all, you had been living rent-free all this time.

‘It sounds great in principle, darling, but what happens when someone moves away? Who picks up the extra rent?’ I could see you hadn’t thought it through.

‘I need somewhere to work, Ian. Teaching’s all well and good, but it’s not what I want to do for ever. My sculptures are starting to sell, and if I could make them faster, and do more commissions, I think I could build a decent business.’

‘How many sculptors and artists actually do that, though?’ I said. ‘I mean, you have to be realistic about it – it might never be more than a hobby that brings you in a bit of pocket money.’

You didn’t like hearing the truth.

‘But by working as a cooperative we can all help each other. Avril’s mosaics would fit well with the sort of stuff I make, and Grant does the most incredible oil paintings. It would be great to involve some of my uni friends too, but I haven’t heard from anyone for ages.’

‘It’s fraught with problems,’ I said.

‘Maybe. I’ll give it some more thought.’

I could see you had already made up your mind. I would lose you to this new dream. ‘Listen,’ I said, my voice belying the anxiety I felt, ‘I’ve been thinking for a while about moving house.’

‘Have you?’ You looked dubious.

I nodded. ‘We’ll find a place with enough outside space, and I’ll build you a studio in the garden.’

‘My own studio?’

‘Complete with kiln. You can make as much mess as you like.’

‘You’d do that for me?’ A broad smile spread across your face.

‘I’d do anything for you, Jennifer, you know that.’

It was true. I would have done anything to have kept you.

While you were in the shower the phone rang.

‘Is Jenna there? It’s Sarah.’

‘Hi, Sarah,’ I said. ‘I’m afraid she’s out with friends at the moment. Did she not call you back the last time you rang? I passed on your message.’

There was a pause.

‘No.’

‘Ah. Well, I’ll tell her you called.’

While you were still upstairs, I went through your handbag. There was nothing out of the ordinary; your receipts were all for places you had told me you had been. I felt the bubble of tension inside me dissipate. Out of habit I checked the notes section of your purse, and although it was empty I felt a thickness under my fingers. I looked more carefully and saw there was a slit in the lining, into which had been slipped a small fold of notes. I pocketed it. If it was housekeeping, tucked away for safe-keeping, you would ask if I had seen it. If not, then I would know you were keeping secrets from me. Stealing my money.

You never mentioned it.

When you left me, I didn’t even notice you had gone. I waited for you to come home, and it was only when I eventually went to bed that I realised your toothbrush had disappeared. I looked for the suitcases, and found nothing missing but a small bag. Did he offer to buy you what you needed? Did he tell you he’d give you anything you wanted? And what did you offer in return? You disgust me. But I let you go. I told myself I was better off without you, and that as long as you didn’t go running to the police with accusations of what they’d no doubt call abuse , I would let you run off to wherever you were going. I could have come after you, but I didn’t want to. Do you understand that? I didn’t want you. And I would have left you alone, were it not for a tiny piece in today’s Bristol Post . They didn’t print your name, but did you think I wouldn’t know it was you?

I imagined the police asking about your life; your relationships. I saw them testing you; putting words in your mouth. I saw you crying and telling them everything. I knew you’d break down and it wouldn’t be long before they came knocking at my door, asking questions about matters that are no concern of theirs. Calling me a bully; an abuser; a wife-beater. I was none of those things: I never gave you anything you didn’t ask for.

Guess where I went today. Go on, take a guess. No? I went to Oxford to pay a visit to your sister. I reckoned if anyone knew where you were now, it would be her. The house hasn’t changed much in the last five years. Still the perfectly clipped bay trees either side of the front door; still the same irritating chiming door bell.

Eve’s smile faded pretty quickly when she saw me.

‘Ian,’ she said flatly. ‘What a surprise.’

‘Long time, no see,’ I said. She never had had the balls to tell me outright what she thought of me. ‘You’re letting all the warmth out,’ I said, stepping forward on to the black-and-white tiles of the hall. Eve had no choice but to step aside, and I let my arm brush against her breasts as I passed her and made my way into the sitting room. She scurried after me, trying to show me she was still mistress of her own house. It was pathetic.

I sat in Jeff’s chair, knowing she would hate it, and Eve sat opposite. I could see her fighting with herself, wanting to ask me what I was doing there.

‘Jeff not here?’ I asked. I caught a flash of something in Eve’s eyes. She was frightened of me, I realised, and the thought was peculiarly arousing. Not for the first time I wondered what Lady Eve would be like in bed; if she would be as buttoned-up as you.

‘He’s taken the children into town.’

She shifted in her chair and I let the silence hang between us until she couldn’t bear it any longer.

‘Why are you here?’

‘I was just passing,’ I said, looking around the big sitting room. She’s had it redecorated since we were last there – you’d like it. They’ve gone for those bland, chalky colours you wanted in our kitchen. ‘It’s been a long time, Eve.’

Eve gave a tiny nod of acknowledgement, but didn’t reply.

‘I’m looking for Jennifer,’ I said.

‘What do you mean? Don’t tell me she finally left you?’ She spat the words with more passion than I had ever seen her muster.

I let the dig pass. ‘We split up.’

‘Is she okay? Where is she living?’

She has the gall to be worried about you. After everything she said. Hypocritical bitch.

‘You mean she didn’t come running to you?’

‘I don’t know where she is.’

‘Oh really?’ I said, not believing her for a second. ‘But you two were so close – you must have some idea.’ A muscle began to twitch in the corner of my eye, and I rubbed it to make it stop.

‘We haven’t spoken in five years, Ian.’ She stood up. ‘I think you should go now.’

‘Are you telling me you haven’t heard from her in all that time?’ I stretched out my legs and leaned back in my chair. I would decide when to leave.

‘No,’ Eve said. I saw her eyes flick briefly to the mantelpiece. ‘Now I’d like you to go.’

The fireplace was a characterless affair, with a polished gas fire and fake coals. On top of the white-painted surround were a handful of cards and invitations, propped up either side of a carriage clock.

I knew at once what she hadn’t meant me to see. You should have thought a little more carefully, Jennifer, before sending something so obvious. There it was, incongruous amongst the gilt-edged invitations: a photograph of a beach taken from the top of a cliff. On the sand were letters spelling out Lady Eve .

I stood up, allowing Eve to usher me towards the front door. I bent down and kissed her cheek, feeling her recoil from me and fighting the urge to slam her against the wall for lying to me.