Behind the Lie Page 7

  ‘Oh, come on. What’s wrong? Can’t you get it up for the third time?’ Lauren giggled and traced her wet finger around her nipple.

  Simon turned away and buttoned his shirt. If he didn’t go now, he’d succumb. ‘Oh, I can get it up, believe me. But I must get back before my wife notices I’m missing. It’s almost four-thirty.’

  ‘But we’re having such fun.’ Lauren was behind him now; her arms encircled his chest, the heat of her body pressing against his back.

  He broke her grip and moved to the door. ‘Look, you know I’m only here for sex. I love my wife and the excuse that I’m not sleeping well and have been for a walk to clear my head, or that I’ve had a late night with old friends, is wearing thin.’

  Lauren sighed and went back to bed. ‘She’ll believe anything you tell her if she knows what’s good for her. I would if I was her… living in that apartment, wanting for nothing…’

  ‘Well you’re not her, are you?’ Simon snapped. How dare she talk about his wife. He dug in his jacket for his wallet. A pity Lauren didn’t know about the trauma Holly had suffered over the loss of their son. She might be a bit more sensitive then. But if she did know, she might not be so accommodating either. ‘Here, this should cover the room and champagne.’ He tossed a wad of notes on the bed. Simon made his voice gentle; he couldn’t do without his weekly Lauren fix. ‘There’s a bit extra for you, babe. Treat yourself to something nice.’

  Lauren’s pout became a wide grin as she counted the money. ‘Oh, thanks, sweetheart. See you on Thursday?’

  He blew her a kiss and opened the door, his eyes lingering over her full breasts. ‘Oh, you can bet on it.’

  *

  Behind the wheel of his car, Simon wondered how much longer he could keep doing this and getting away with it. Since he’d accepted Mark’s offer, the weight of debt had disappeared, but the guilt hadn’t. The only thing that kept him going was his work, the occasional flutter – his lesson had been learned – and the time he spent with Lauren. He’d been most surprised three weeks ago when she’d thrown herself at him, given that night when he’d crashed big time, but she had and he’d not turned her away. Why should he? Holly wouldn’t let him anywhere near her still. Of course she’d had a terrible loss; he had too, though she’d scared him at times when she’d retreated into herself. But he’d persevered, looked after her, encouraged her, and just lately she’d become much more rational. He’d even go so far as to say that he thought she seemed to be coming to terms with the loss of Ruan. These past few weeks she had been pleasant and cheerful with him, but still any attempt at intimacy was rebuffed. Of course he’d asked her about it and she’d said she wasn’t yet ready. How long did she think he could wait?

  So far, Simon had sneaked out between the hours of one, after Iona’s feed, and three-ish, as he knew Iona was scheduled for another feed at around four-thirty. She had fallen into a predictable pattern lately, but he knew that might change at any time. Tonight he’d ignored the curfew – he just couldn’t resist one more session with Lauren. He pulled into the underground car park beneath the apartments and checked his watch. Five o’clock. Damn it. Holly would surely have missed him by now.

  In the lift, he checked his appearance in the mirror – no tell-tale signs of lipstick or a stray chocolate hair on his collar. Perfume? Possibly. Simon watched his forehead knit into a furrow. Well, it couldn’t be helped. He had needs, was only human. Then guilt punched him hard in the chest. What was he thinking? After everything that had happened he should wait for as long as it took – should be content with anything she had to give him; he actually didn’t deserve anything at all… apart from her contempt. How could he cheat on her like this? His lovely wife. He should be patient, true and loving, shouldn’t he? He loved her so much – she’d be in pieces if she found out. Why did he keep doing such a fucking awful thing? His reflection raised an eyebrow and an unwelcome thought entered his head. Because you are a narcissist, Simon. Perhaps with a few added sociopathic tendencies? That’s what his dad had said once. His dad who couldn’t give a fuck about him.

  Outside the bedroom door Simon ruffled his hair and belted his dressing gown loosely. Perhaps he could say he’d been asleep on the sofa because Iona was crying? Holly had all the necessary stuff for feeds and changing in the offshoot nursery, so wouldn’t have gone through to the kitchen. But what if she’d looked for him, having woken to find him gone? She’d know he’d not been on the sofa, wouldn’t she?

  Simon couldn’t believe his luck when he slipped into the quiet bedroom. Iona was in a deep sleep and so was Holly. Perhaps Iona hadn’t woken yet? Under the duvet he snuggled up to Holly’s back and then wrinkled his nose. Ugh, her hair smelled of baby sick. Simon rolled over and caught a much more pleasant note of Lauren on his forearm, accompanied by an image of her writhing on top of him as he rocked her to climax. He wasn’t sure he could wait until Thursday. A way to be with her every night for a few nights dawned and he hated himself for thinking of it. Still, it wouldn’t be a hardship for Holly, would it? She’d enjoy herself and so would he. Simon cursed himself for being so weak and resolved to end it with Lauren soon. That thought made him feel better. He gently caressed his wife’s shoulder and immediately fell asleep.

  Chapter Ten

  I secure Iona into the taxi’s car seat and climb in beside her. As we speed away from Newquay Airport along the country roads I realise that my heart isn’t lifted in the way it normally is when I’m back in Cornwall. In fact my heart has refused to be lifted since I came to a dead end a few days ago with Neville. I just can’t figure out a way to make him tell me anything more, and I certainly can’t ask Simon for help.

  There is no doubt whatever in my mind that he’s seeing someone now. The other night, just before dawn, he sneaked into our room like a thief, stinking of sex and perfume. I pretended to be fast asleep, because I really couldn’t care less. At least it took the pressure off me. That kind of brought me up with a start, but then what did I expect? How can I love him after what he’s done? Playing around with someone else when we’ve just lost our baby? I remember that a friend of a friend’s husband was having an affair while she was pregnant, but I never expected it of Simon. Just shows how much you really know a person, doesn’t it? And if I’m honest, I don’t think I ever really loved him. Well, not in the way I loved… He threw me a lifeline and I grabbed it. If I hadn’t, I think I’d be dead now. Should I be grateful for that at least?

  Through the taxi window I see a line of horses and riders wending their way along the side of the river Gannel. Brown, black and white flanks rising and falling – undulating, flowing, just like the water as if they’re attached to a carousel. My heart tries to lift itself a little. Soon be home. This visit had been Simon’s idea. I knew it was for his benefit so he could see his woman, even as he presented me with the flight boarding printout – a big ‘look how kind I am’ grin on his guilty face.

  Mum is coming over in an hour and then Demi will pop by this evening. I hope she’ll have some idea of what to do next when I tell her about my meeting with Neville. At the moment I have no clue, and I can see a bank of depression sitting just offshore, waiting to roll in. I can’t let it though. If I do, I’ll never find my boy and perhaps even lose Iona. At all costs, Simon must remain clueless about what I have found out, such as it is, and taking a nosedive regarding my mental health wouldn’t really help. They take babies away from women who can’t cope, don’t they?

  *

  Mum actually cheered me up this afternoon. I wasn’t expecting it and I’m grateful. I think it was because she has no knowledge of the missing grandson situation and so was able to just be my mum. We talked about how much Iona had grown, that we missed each other, the local crab we had for lunch, her voluntary work at the library, the wider family. It was so… normal. I have missed normal.

  At first I had to put on an act, but after a while I realised that I wasn’t acting, I was being me. Then I felt guilty becaus
e I was behaving as if Ruan wasn’t somewhere in the world, just waiting for me to find him. So when Mum went to change Iona’s nappy, I walked out onto the balcony and told the ocean that I’d not forgotten him and that I was coming soon. I felt better then, even though a nasty little voice in my head tried to spoil it by muttering that ‘soon’ might be a tad optimistic.

  Demi is wearing a frowny face and a smart dress. I can’t quite get my head around it, having only seen her in casual surfer-type stuff – apart from at my wedding, of course. The dress is red, short and she’s plaited her hair to the side in a sophisticated way. Then I realise I am looking into her eyes on a level, which is odd as I’m five-nine and she’s five-three. I glance down. Oh my word – stilettos?

  ‘Are you asking me in or what?’ she says, rubbing her bare arms. There’s a fresh evening breeze offshore and her tanned skin is wearing goose pimples.

  ‘Sorry, yes, come in.’ I step to the side and she gives me a quick hug and hurries into the kitchen. Well, hobbles, as she’s clearly not used to heels. I follow her in, trying to keep a straight face. ‘Cuppa, or something stronger?’

  ‘Er, a glass of white if you have it. And…’ Her face turns as red as the dress. ‘Sorry, I can’t stay long as me and Alex are off to a wedding reception. I forgot when I said I’d come over. Hope you don’t mind… he’s picking me up in an hour.’

  I make my face say I don’t mind, while my heart plummets. All hopes of two heads are better than one and finding a way forward has just flown out the window. And Demi wouldn’t have forgotten. Or, if she had, she’d have phoned me and rearranged. No. She obviously just wants a quick visit and off. ‘Oh, right. No, of course not. I did wonder what the dress was about.’

  Demi’s face falls. ‘I look like a tart, don’t I?’

  ‘Of course not. You look stunning!’

  After Demi has cooed over Iona sleeping in her Moses basket for a while, we make ourselves comfy on the big leather sofa, curled up like bookends. She tells me all about how well she and Alex are getting on and I tell her about Mum’s visit, and then into the awkward silence lumbers the biggest elephant in the room I have ever seen. I’m not going to be the one to mention it though. No, she can have that pleasure.

  Demi makes a little sound in her throat that’s halfway between a cough and a hiccup, and then out of a tight mouth spills, ‘So, how’s Simon and… everything?’

  The mild irritation that has been building immediately blooms into anger and I know that my cheeks have flushed. I refuse to give it free rein though and take a deep breath to calm my galloping heart rate. ‘If by “everything”, you mean that someone wrote a letter to tell me my son is alive, but that I have no idea where he is or how to get him back?’

  ‘Look, Holly…’ Demi pauses, avoids my eyes and takes a sip of wine. ‘Don’t take this the wrong way…’ As soon as she says this, I immediately know it’s something I will take the wrong way. Why do people even begin sentences like that? She looks straight at me. ‘Of course you want to believe that Ruan is still alive, but you really can’t be certain of that. You have no proof and…’

  ‘Ah, but I do,’ I say, gratified to see her eyes grow round.

  ‘You do? Did you speak to Simon?’

  ‘God, no. I tracked down the man that delivered the letter to me. His name’s Neville and he’s a cleaner at the clinic.’

  ‘Simon’s clinic?’

  ‘No, the man in the moon’s.’

  ‘No need to be sarky. How did you manage that?’

  I can see incredulity in her face and realise that sarcasm and flippancy have no place here if she is to believe me. She already thinks I’m on the edge; perhaps she might think I wrote the letter myself. I explain everything that happened and then take a big swallow of wine, because Demi’s expression hasn’t changed. ‘So, there’s the proof,’ I say and hold my breath.

  ‘So, this nurse… Was she the one who assisted when Jonathan delivered your babies?’

  This is promising. I exhale. ‘There were lots of staff there – nurses, male and female, besides other members of the team. Though yes, I’ve considered that, but of course I don’t know. All Neville said was that she was an agency nurse who only worked there for a few weeks.’

  ‘Hmm. Well, there has to be a good chance she was one of those who assisted, if she wrote the letter. She’d know everything that happened if she was actually there at the time.’

  ‘I thought you said it was most likely that a spurned lover wrote the letter, made it all up to get revenge on him? To hurt us, me? And that Ruan did in fact die. The lover imagined that I would run to him with the letter, he’d guess it was from her, and he’d have to confess to the fact that he’d had an affair. Something like that, eh?’ I can’t help having a dig.

  Demi nods and smoothes her dress. ‘Yes, and I haven’t changed my opinion.’

  I stare at her. What the hell is she talking about? ‘I’m not sure I get you. Neville told me all…’

  ‘This Neville would say anything to get money, it seems. But what I mean is, one of the nurses who assisted could be the spurned lover, have you thought of that?’ There’s an edge of triumph in her voice which I don’t like.

  ‘Yes, fleetingly. But I just know that Ruan is alive, Demi. You might think that’s irrational, but a mother knows.’ As I say those last four words I see a look of disbelief flit across her eyes and wish I hadn’t said them. I must admit, it does sound like a line from a bad soap opera.

  She chooses not to comment on that and instead says, ‘Can you remember what any of them looked like?’

  ‘When Jonathan delivered my babies, you mean?’

  ‘No, when the man in the moon did.’ Demi smiled then and some of the tension thick between us thins out a bit.

  ‘Touché.’ I allow a little smile back. ‘No, not really. I was in such a distressed state, as you can imagine, having been told that one of my babies might struggle, was smaller than his sister… worst-case scenario, might not make it. I didn’t take an awful lot of notice. There was one nurse who seemed to be rushing around quite a bit. At one point Simon went over and said something to her, I think… but she wore a surgical mask and her hair was covered with one of those paper hat things too.’

  ‘But did she seem old, young, what? Was she of an age that would fit with having an affair with Simon?’

  I have already thought about this scenario but dismissed it, as I know the letter is the truth. My boy is alive and living with new parents. I decide not to say that to Demi again, however. I close my eyes and pretend to consider the nurse in my mind’s eye.

  ‘I only have her eyes to go on, but if I had to guess, I’d say mid to late thirties. Forties at a push. I heard her voice briefly. Nothing there to really help – no accent to speak of.’

  ‘Well, Simon’s thirty-four, and even if she is in her early forties, you can’t rule it out,’ Demi says and folds her arms as if she’s presented me with a fait accompli. ‘You need to come right out and ask Simon if he was seeing her.’

  I put my glass down and lean forward, pinch the bridge of my nose between my fingers. Here goes. ‘I know beyond doubt that Simon is having an affair right now. If it is this nurse, why would she want revenge if she’s still seeing him? Unless, of course, he’s dumped her and moved on to pastures new. Doubt it though. That would be a bit quick. He’s had to contend with my grief, borderline depression, the loss of his son, and to come to terms with being a new dad in the interim, don’t forget. So my guess is he’s not been seeing this woman he sneaks out to see, whoever she is, for very long.’

  I daren’t tell her that I was suspicious that Simon was seeing someone a few weeks before he told me my boy was smaller than his sister. Those times he kept disappearing for ‘walks’ in the early hours. That would fit with Demi’s theory, wouldn’t it? Could he possibly have been seeing the nurse, dumped her, and now have a new woman on the go, like I’d just said to Demi? Maybe, but more likely that
he’d rekindled the affair with the nurse. Demi’s hand on mine startles me out of my thoughts.

  ‘An affair… what, right now?’ Demi says. Her face is incredulous and sympathetic all at the same time and I can’t look at her.

  I jump up, go to the kitchen for a refill and tell myself to put the nurse idea right out of my mind, because if I go down that route it means Demi is right and Ruan is actually…

  She follows me. I can’t bear to look at her bewildered expression. She holds out her glass, and shakes her head as if she can’t take my words in. ‘But that’s terrible. Are you sure he’s seeing someone right at the moment?’

  ‘Yes.’ I slosh a good measure into her glass. ‘And don’t worry; I don’t really care about him having an affair. All I care about is finding the nurse who wrote that bloody letter and getting her to tell me why she did it. What she knows about my missing boy.’ My voice is shaky and I realise I’m on the edge of tears. I take two big swallows of wine to calm myself.

  Demi gives me a brief hug then steps back and takes a drink too. ‘Tell me what went on the day you lost Ruan. How did it all happen?’

  I close my eyes and try to remember again exactly what Simon told me. That day has been going round and round in my head since I got the letter. I try to remember anything that might give me a clue, but so far I can’t. I release a deep breath.

  ‘Okay, he said that when Jonathan had delivered Ruan, he was taken out for checks straight away. Jonathan was called away on an emergency, so his assistant had to do my stitches. Simon told me not to worry, that it would all be fine – though he hadn’t seen Ruan either, as he’d been holding my hand the whole time. We cuddled our daughter a while but then a male nurse came in and whispered in his ear. Simon asked if I’d be okay without him for a few minutes and left. When he came back he broke the news that we’d lost Ruan… Later he told me our boy had died a few minutes after the nurse had taken him out. There was nothing they could have done.’