Behind the Lie Read online

  ‘Oh God, Holly, I don’t know what to say… poor Simon must have been devastated, him being a doctor and not having the chance to try and save him.’

  I swallow and try to remember exactly what Simon said about that. ‘Yes, he was. But he told me that, in a way, he was glad he wasn’t there when they were trying to save Ruan, because if he’d been involved and he’d died anyway, he would have blamed himself. He’d gone to the room where our baby son was, and he’d taken the photos. He was in bits, didn’t know how he was going to tell me, of course, but he had to…’

  Demi is silent for a while, keeps shaking her head; then she says, ‘Oh, my poor Hols. I’m so sorry. I can hardly imagine what that must have done to you both. And I’m so sorry Simon’s playing away too. But now you’ve told me all this, I think the likelihood of someone at the practice… because it had to be someone there, didn’t it, someone high up… going to the trouble of …’ She raises her hands to the ceiling. ‘Of what? Showing your husband someone else’s dead child, saying it was his, and then in fact secretly giving Ruan away to other parents… is virtually nil. It makes no sense! It’s one of the most ludicrous ideas I have ever heard.’ She bites her lower lip and then draws a deep breath. ‘I think you need to accept the fact that your baby boy…’

  It’s the most ludicrous thing that I have ever heard too, even more so since I listened to myself recounting that day out loud, but I have to stop her words. ‘Don’t say it, Demi. I don’t want to hear…’

  She holds up her palm to me and plows on. ‘That he’s dead and that your husband’s ex-mistress wrote that let…’

  ‘No!’ I can’t bear it, won’t hear it. ‘No, he isn’t dead and I will bloody prove it. I thought I could at least count on you to believe me, Demi, if nobody else.’ I stop when she puts her hand to her mouth, her eyes awash.

  ‘I wish I could, love. But I’m worried about you, don’t you see? You’ve been through hell and it’s only natural you want to think that…’ She takes a step forward but I turn away, walk quickly back to the living room. She follows me and says in an infuriatingly sympathetic tone, ‘Look, I think you might be on the edge of a breakdown. Not surprising, really – I would be if I were you and…’

  ‘Oh, you sound just like Simon! You’ll be suggesting happy pills next.’

  ‘They might help for a while. There’s no shame in it. God knows you need something after all this, and now you find out he’s having another affair too. Though you say you don’t care about that, I think you do. You need to let me help you, love. Believe me, I know what I’m talking about.’

  As I watch her face and listen to her waffling on in a soothing tone as if she’s talking me down from a high building again, just like she did on the phone that day, I suddenly realise that she thinks I’ve lost it. She doesn’t trust anything I’ve said. She might not even believe Neville exists; and like I thought earlier, she might even believe I wrote the letter myself. I have brought the letter to show her, but what’s the point? She’d just say it was the spurned lover again. I won’t believe that. I can’t. My boy is alive, I can feel it. Then the worst-case scenario smacks me in the head. What if she rings Simon, tells him she thinks I’m ready for the big house? That I need medical help? When you think about it logically, like Demi says, the lengths someone would have had to go to get my boy and cover it all up is insane. Shit… SHIT! He’ll believe her. They’ll take Iona away. My heart thuds in my ears, there’s lightness in my head. I need to take a few deep breaths, calm myself before sense deserts me… Okay, that’s better. Now to make a big U-turn and I have to make it bloody convincing.

  I put my arms around Demi and cry on her shoulder. Not all of it is an act.

  ‘Oh, Demi, I don’t know what to think any more. I know it sounds like a crazy idea that Ruan is still alive, because that would mean someone at Simon’s practice is some kind of deranged monster who stole our baby… and of course it makes no sense. But I so want to believe my boy isn’t gone for ever.’

  Demi smoothes my hair and rocks me to and fro. ‘Of course you do, sweetheart, of course you do.’ There’s a break in her voice and I feel a bit guilty, but only a bit. She has to believe this act now. Everything depends on it.

  ‘Perhaps your theory is right. If I’m honest, it’s the only one that’s feasible really.’ I sob louder and her embrace tightens.

  ‘I’m afraid it is, love. And I wish Simon were here now because I’d slap that smug, self-satisfied smile he always wears right off his face! How could he cheat on you? How?’

  She rocks me a bit more and then I say, ‘Maybe the best thing is for me to confront him, challenge him about the affair like you say.’

  ‘Yes, and I’ll come with you for back-up. You’re in no fit state with everything you’ve been through. In fact, I’ll bloody speak to him for you right now…’

  ‘No, Dem. Thank you, but it has to come from me…’ I pull away and give her a beseeching look.

  She dabs at my tears with a tissue, concentration furrowing her brow. ‘Okay, but you’re in a vulnerable position right now. If you don’t speak to him soon, I will.’

  ‘Yes, but I need time to think. Promise me you won’t say anything to Simon. You’re my oldest and dearest friend; you have to trust me.’

  It’s because you are my dearest and oldest friend that I’ll go along with you, but not for ever. I wouldn’t be acting responsibly, or a true friend, if I kept quiet indefinitely. Not with… well, not with the state you’re in.’

  I was right, she does thing I’m bonkers. ‘I understand, Demi, but give me a few weeks at least?’

  ‘Of course, okay. You must promise to keep in touch though, keep me posted on any developments?’

  ‘I will, I promise.’

  Demi opens her mouth and then closes it again. I can see she’s struggling with her thoughts. A moment later she says. ‘Look, as I said – I know what I’m talking about. I was on antidepressants for a while too… after I had an abortion.’

  My mouth opens too, drops open actually. ‘What? When?’ She wipes away tears and then it all comes out in a rush. She tells me it happened when she was in India. A stupid, drunken, one-night stand with a student she never saw again. She’d not realised she was pregnant for some time as she’d still kept having her periods, but when she got back to the UK she’d recognised other symptoms and did a pregnancy test.

  ‘Believe me, Hols, it was the hardest decision of my life,’ she says and takes another drink. ‘I wanted to confide in you at the time but I couldn’t bring myself to. I had a termination… but then I picked up an infection somehow. I was quite ill for a while and, once I’d recovered, they told me I’d most likely be unable to conceive. That’s why I went off to Greece after that. I couldn’t cope with my life. I wanted escapism.’

  I have no words so I just hold her while she cries. My God. No wonder she’s so keen on monitoring my mental health. She’s been there too. And to think she might never know the joy of holding a child in her arms. Maybe that’s why she was so emotional the day she came to the beach house and saw I was pregnant, poor love.

  After a while, she goes to the bathroom to retouch her make-up and I have to keep focused. Yes, my dearest friend has had an awful time and knows just as much about being depressed as I do, knows what she’s talking about… but, I have to keep focused. Somehow I know Ruan is alive, that the letter is the truth, but I have to convince her I’m letting that idea go. There is no way she can suspect I will keep on looking for him, because she’ll confront Simon about the affair, the shit will hit the fan, I will lose the chance of finding Ruan, which will send me properly nuts… he’ll section me and that will be the end of everything.

  We agree to change the subject while she waits for Alex to collect her, but the atmosphere is strained, false. For the first time in my life, I want rid of her. I am watching the clock, counting the minutes until she leaves. When she’s gone, I pour another drink and stand out on the balcon
y to watch the waves. This is when the real tears come and keep coming. I can no longer rely on my best friend, and I can’t tell Mum because she would freak out, go to pieces and probably ring Simon. So I’m stuck with no way forward. I button up my woolly cardigan against the fresh wind, but it doesn’t help. The cold comes from within.

  I’m desperate, frightened and, right at this moment, have never felt so completely alone.

  Chapter Eleven

  Three days of being back in London and acting as if nothing is wrong is almost more than I can bear. Apparently it is more than Simon can bear too, as he informed me yesterday he’s off to Germany for a conference and is now in the bedroom packing a case. It might be true, but I think it’s an excuse to see his woman. Last night he came to bed early and snuggled up behind me. The feel of his hands on my skin made me feel physically ill, imagining them touching his woman in the same way. Once again I rejected his advances. He was lucky he didn’t receive a vicious kick to the balls.

  ‘Have you seen my toiletry bag?’ Simon is in the doorway, wearing only boxer shorts. I think there’s a faded love bite on his chest.

  I turn back to the changing mat and look into my daughter’s beautiful eyes. Thank God she looks nothing like her daddy. ‘Not if it isn’t in the third drawer down, next to the shower.’

  ‘You moved it… used to be in the first one. Trying to trick me, eh?’ He laughs.

  I don’t reply. It’s always been in the third one. This normal everyday banter is killing me inside. I just want him gone. And whatever the outcome of this whole bloody mess, he soon will be. I want as far away from him as I can get. Then the weak part of me argues that it’s my fault. The cocaine, drink, antidepressants day in, day out, not eating properly… It’s my fault. My fault my baby was small, struggled to grow, my fault he’s gone, my fault that Simon is turning to someone else for comfort after losing his son. Then I shake my head. Stop it, Holly, stop it right now. Your baby is not dead, not dead, NOT DEAD!

  Twenty minutes later he’s ready to go. I’m playing with Iona and she’s showing signs of a real smile. Not the kind that comes with wind; a genuine, proper smile. But then she would be at nearly two months old. That thought brings with it an image of another smiling baby somewhere in the world and the pain of that reaches in, grabs my heart and squeezes it. Hard. Two months old. Ruan is two months old and I have never seen him smile. Never even seen his face, held him…

  ‘Hey, baby, baby. Don’t cry,’ Simon coos, kneeling by me on floor and pulling me to him.

  I recoil. ‘What are you on about? I’m not crying!’ Then I see the shock and hurt in his face at my furious response and at the same time feel the wetness on my cheeks. He’s right. I am crying after all… Be normal. Stay normal.

  ‘I’m sorry for shouting, love. It’s just that I haven’t been back from Cornwall long and now you’re going away.’ Then I grit my teeth as he holds me close again.

  ‘Sweetheart, if you want me to stay I’ll ring and cancel. You’re my priority, you know that.’

  ‘No. It’s just me being daft. You must go, but when you come back I’ll work harder to make this work.’ I give him a look from under my lashes. ‘I know we haven’t been as close as you would like. It’s just taking some time…’

  ‘My darling, you take all the time you need.’

  Yeah, because you’re getting all the sex you need from your whore. I sniff and try to move away, but he hugs me tighter. ‘I’m fine now, love,’ I say. ‘Off you go; you’ll be late for your plane.’

  ‘If you’re sure, my darling.’ Simon kisses my hair. I make a note to wash it as soon as he leaves.

  ‘I’m sure.’

  He kisses both Iona and me, then he’s gone. I gently but firmly wipe his kiss from her cheek with a wet wipe and then scrub it over my mouth. The thought of where his lips have been recently makes me want to heave.

  *

  It’s late afternoon and Simon’s just phoned to say he arrived safely. I bet he has. Whether he’s actually in Germany with this woman or London, it matters little. Actually, it would be better if he’s in Germany because over the last few hours I have come to the conclusion that the only way I can go forward is to go to the clinic and try to speak to Neville again. That could be very dangerous though, because if Simon isn’t in Germany for the next three days he could spot me, and then where would we be? He’d be caught out and what would my excuse be for being there?

  I make a cup of tea, check on Iona, who’s sleeping peacefully, and look out over the Thames. It’s always full of busy boats, sailing past shops, pavement cafes – people going here and there, having a life. Mine has stopped. Paused. Will stay paused until my boy is home. Neville is the key to that, and if he won’t talk I’ll make him. I’ll blackmail him if need be. How, I don’t know, but I need to do something. Get control and make something happen!

  The doorbell is ringing and my heart leaps. What if Neville has had second thoughts? I set down my mug, run to the door, press my eye to the spy-hole and almost cry out in shock. No. No, I can’t do this now. I can’t do this. Ever.

  I lean my forehead against the wood. How the hell has he found me?

  ‘Holly? Holly, can you hear me?’

  Of course I can, but I wish you far away. Maybe the mad woman that Demi thinks I have become is a reality. A mind searching for comfort amongst all the chaos? Does that make sense? Just my imagination creating a safety valve? If I check the spy-hole again he’ll be gone. Please let him be gone. No. He is still there. This is unbearable on top of everything else. He rings the bell again. My heart is racing. I need to make him go away. Now.

  With an effort, I make my voice as calm as I can and say through the door, ‘What the hell are you doing here, Jowan?’

  ‘Holly, thank God. Let me in.’

  ‘No. I don’t think that’s a good idea.’

  ‘Please, Holly. I need to talk to you.’

  ‘No. Go away, there’s nothing I have to say to you.’

  ‘I’m staying here until you open the door. I’ll keep ringing on the bell too.’

  Damn it. ‘My husband will be back soon… I don’t think he’ll be too happy to find you here.’

  ‘No, he won’t, because he’s in Germany.’

  How the hell…?

  ‘Holly, I’m going to ring the bell again now and keep ringing it until…’

  ‘Five minutes. That’s all.’ My fingers are shaking so much they can hardly manage the Yale lock. I open the door a crack and feel an unexpected rush of relief as I look into Jowan’s concerned face. I need to control myself. I must. ‘Why are you here?’

  ‘I know all about what that bastard you married did, is doing, and I’m here to help you.’ Jowan’s eyes flash and he clenches his jaw. Then he takes a step forward and before I have gathered my wits he’s inside the apartment.

  ‘Jowan! How dare you just barge in here and…’

  He reaches round me and gently closes the door behind us. The familiar closeness of him and the fresh smell of his hair, his skin, is almost too much to bear. I want to feel his arms around me, rest my head on his shoulder, hold him tight and thank him for being here. At last I’m not all alone in this horrific nightmare. I don’t though. I fold my arms and walk through to the living room. Over my shoulder I say, ‘You’d better come in, but I’m bloody furious that you think you can just turn up out of the blue like this.’

  ‘I had to come after I found out about what happened.’

  I gesture to the sofa and sit down across the room in an armchair. I only just make it because my legs feel peculiarly unsteady. The whole situation feels like it’s happening to somebody else. He puts his head on one side and his blond curly fringe falls into his eyes. He pushes his hair back and tries a smile. My mouth wants to copy his but I can’t allow that. Then a mixture of curiosity and anger drives my questions.

  ‘Right. How the hell did you find my address and who told you what you think you kn
ow about what Simon did?’

  ‘A cuppa wouldn’t go amiss first. It’s a big trek from Cornwall.’ Jowan grins, sinks back on the sofa and stretches out his long legs.

  ‘Jowan, I’m in no mood for this. Just tell me.’

  He finds a serious face from somewhere and sits forward again, resting his elbows on his knees. ‘Okay. Yesterday I bumped into Demi’s new bloke, Alex, in town and we went for a bite to eat and a pint. We got talking about how I first came to know Demi and you and I told him all about the old days and how much I regret leaving you.’

  ‘This isn’t going to wash with me. I have no time for reminiscing and apologies or sweet words; I told you that the last time I saw you.’ There’s a catch in my voice, but from anger rather than tears.

  He holds his hands up. ‘Hey, I’m just telling you what happened. So then he tells me how worried Demi is about you and makes me promise to keep what he’s about to tell me to myself.’ Jowan twists his mouth to the side and his eyes fix on mine then flit away as if he’s unwilling to say more. He blows heavily down his nose. ‘I could hardly believe what Alex told me.’

  I watch him twiddling a braided leather strap round and round his wrist and shaking his head for a few moments until I can’t stand it any longer. I’m the one in bloody torment, not him. ‘For God’s sake, just tell me!’

  His head jerks up and he stops twiddling. ‘Sorry, it’s just so hard to swallow… That a man, a father, could do that to his wife when she has recently suffered such a terrible tragedy.’

  Jowan’s expression is questioning, anxious. Well, he can sod off. I’m not helping him out here. I want to find out the detail of what he knows. I swallow hard. ‘Do what, exactly?’

  ‘Have an affair with someone. Some fucking nut job by the sound of it, if indeed they wrote the letter. How could they tell you that your baby is in fact alive and that he’s been given away to new parents?’ But Hols, I also know you think that somehow it isn’t the jealous ex-lover. You think your boy is really alive… Well, if you believe it then so do I.’ Jowan puts his hand over his mouth as if he’s trying to check his emotions, stop more words.