A Perfect Home (31 page)

‘I had a big order today.'

‘I bought black paint to do the gate on the drive this weekend,' interrupted William.

‘You know that gorgeous shop in London I've wanted to sell my work to for ages?'

‘Have the children been swinging on the gate? It's very difficult to close – not that you ever bother to close it, anyone could walk right in and steal something.'

The sense of excitement leached out of Claire; she couldn't be bothered to tell him about the order now. She decided to wear her new underwear for the first time. She took the lacy bra and knickers from the back of her drawer and put them on; they felt luxuriously silky against her skin. William didn't seem to notice them.

She stepped into her new dress, smoothing down the green silk over her waist and hips. After she had put on her gold high heels, she stood in front of the mirror to see her reflection. She wished she still had the button necklace; it would have looked just right with the neckline of the dress.

‘How do I look?' she asked, turning to face William.

‘Fine,' he said picking up a
Screw Fix
catalogue from the bedside table and starting to read it.

‘Just
fine
?'

‘Very nice.'

‘Do you think I look thirty-six?' Claire asked, looking back in the mirror at the fine lines around her eyes.

‘Yes,' said William absent-mindedly.

‘Do you think I'd look better if I went out with a paper bag over my head and wearing an old sack?'

‘Mmm,' he said, engrossed in the magazine. ‘There's a power drill here reduced to half price. It's much better than the one I've got.'

‘You'd better get ready to go soon.'

‘I'm not expected to come with you, am I?' William looked disgruntled. ‘I thought it was just the coven on its own tonight?'

‘No. I mean get ready to take the children to the fireworks party; they've been ready for hours.'

‘Oh Hell! I'd completely forgotten. Do you think they really want to go?'

Emily burst into their room. ‘Sally's here to pick you up. She's got a big present for you.'

Claire picked up her handbag.

‘You will look after the children won't you?' she asked William. ‘Don't let Ben have sparklers and watch the soup, it's always piping hot, and you'll need to take charge of baked potatoes till they've cooled down.'

‘OK,' he said, going back to the catalogue.

‘Don't let any of them go anywhere near the bonfire.'

‘Mmm.'

She kissed the top of his bent head. ‘You'd better leave in five minutes; it's always a nightmare with the parking. I'll take a key. I don't know what time I'll be back.'

Claire left him on the bed.

‘Tell Oliver to turn the telly off and get Ben ready to leave, will you, sweetheart?' she said to Emily as she ran down the stairs. ‘Find everybody's wellington boots and then tell Daddy to get his coat on.'

‘Wow, look at you,' said Sally, standing by the front door, holding a large glittery pink box. ‘You look fantastic.'

‘Thank you,' said Claire. ‘You look beautiful too. Nice hair!' She took the box in her hands and shook it speculatively.

Sally started undoing the ribbon. ‘Come on, I can't stand people who are into delayed gratification. Just open it now.'

Inside was a beautiful red leather handbag that Claire had been admiring in the gallery where Sally still worked on Saturdays.

‘You've mentioned how much you like it every time you come in,' said Sally. ‘I thought you must be trying to give me a hint.'

‘No,' laughed Claire. ‘I never dreamt you'd get it for me. It cost a fortune.'

‘Let's just say Anna hasn't paid me for the last few Saturdays. I just wanted to give you something for all the support you've given me since Gareth and I split up. You've been wonderful.' Sally moved forward to give Claire a hug.

‘Don't make me cry,' Claire said, hugging her back. ‘My mascara will smudge and I'll look like one of the living dead. Come on. Let's go out and have some fun.'

‘Aren't you taking your new handbag?'

‘Do you think it will go with my outfit?' asked Claire, looking down at her green dress and gold shoes. ‘If I add red I might look a bit like a Christmas decoration.'

‘You'll look like a lovely decoration – according to
Idyllic Homes –
it's nearly December after all. Come on, hurry up. I can hear a margarita calling to me from the bar.'

‘It's a good job we're getting a taxi home,' said Claire laughing, as she started to transfer her things from her old bag to her new one.

Sally grabbed Claire's handbag from her and quickly tipped the contents into the red one. ‘There, you're ready. Let's go.'

‘Bye,' shouted Claire as she closed the front door behind her. The two women teetered down the gravel drive.

‘Climb in, Madame,' said Sally, opening her car door and bowing like a chauffeur. ‘I've managed to get most of the crushed Wotsits and half-sucked Haribo sweets off the seats.'

‘You really know how to spoil a girl,' said Claire, getting in. She felt excited as Sally drove away, looking forward to a rare night out with her friends.

On the way to the restaurant she told Sally about her big order. Sally squealed with excitement, nearly crashing into a stone wall as she tried to give Claire a hug.

‘Fantastic! This makes having your house photographed for Christmas in a heat wave and nearly leaving your husband for the photographer almost worth it!'

‘It's such a lot of work. I'm worried I won't do it in the time.'

‘I'll ask my Nana Needles, maybe she'd be able to do a bit of the sewing for you.'

‘That's a great idea, if she'd give me a hand I'm sure I could do it.'

Fireworks were already exploding into the night sky as they approached the town and Claire felt as though they'd been laid on just for her.

In the hotel bar the sound of unleashed mothers filled the air – laughing and talking excitedly, unwinding from the pressures of children, jobs, and ill-tempered husbands. Everyone was dressed up and looking glamorous, out of the usual jeans and jumpers and office suits. Sequins and satin and lip gloss flashed and shimmered in the subdued lighting of the room.

They were escorted to a large table, in a corner away from the other diners. This proved to be a sensible decision on the part of the restaurant manager, as the noise level from their group rose steadily throughout the evening. The food was delicious – three courses and then a surprise birthday cake with sparkling candles.

‘We wanted to get you a tower of fairy cakes from Patisserie Tremond,' said Sally as she sliced up the chocolate sponge. ‘But it's closed down.'

‘For good?'

‘Yup, Trevor ran off with the man who has his fish van in the car park on a Friday and Edmond's moved to Spain to nurse his broken heart.'

‘What a shame,' said Claire. ‘It'll be a blessing for me,' laughed Sally, licking her chocolaty fingers. ‘Imagine what it's been like being on a diet and knowing that all those huge meringues and pecan slices were waiting for me just down the road while I'd be trying to sort out displays and sell things in the gallery! I used to be drooling all over the hand-made jewellery and majolica dishes at the thought of all those delicious cakes.'

‘It's such a lovely building,' said another mother. ‘I've heard it's like a Tardis inside, a warren of little rooms and rickety stairs.'

Someone else told a funny story about an Abba night they'd been to in Trevor and Edmond's flat above the patisserie, and that led to singing and the singing led to the restaurant manager asking them to quieten down.

As Claire talked and laughed and ate and drank she thought of Stefan – a constant presence in her mind, a precious secret from them all. Why had he suddenly got back in touch? What did the birthday postcard mean? Would she get an answer to her text? She longed to tell him about her big order; she knew he'd be so pleased for her. She longed to see Stefan again, so much it almost hurt. She had to force herself not to look at her phone throughout the meal.

In the ladies toilet, Claire applied a new coat of lipstick in the mirror. If she had a text from Stefan it would make it the most wonderful birthday ever – there was just time to have a quick look at her phone while she was on her own. As she started to rummage in the depths of her new handbag Sally emerged, swaying, from a cubicle.

‘Surely a gorgeous girl like you doesn't need any more make-up on.' She pulled Claire's arm. ‘Come on, let's see if that grumpy manager will turn the music up and let us have a dance.'

Chapter Twenty-seven

‘Oak floorboards, quarry tiles, and slate flagstones create a naturally rustic feel around the house.'

When the taxi drew up outside the house it was shrouded in darkness. Sally had already got out in the village, accompanied by Josh, who had somehow materialised in the restaurant at the end of the evening. The taxi waited while Claire scrunched across the frosty gravel on the drive and unlocked the front door. As she opened it, she turned and waved, and the taxi pulled away.

The hall was inky dark. Claire fumbled for the light switch on the wall and turned it on. As the hallway lit up she jumped.

William was sitting on the stairs in front of her.

‘What are you doing? You gave me a fright,' she said, putting down her handbag. ‘How were the fireworks?' He stared directly at her but didn't speak. She noticed an empty whisky tumbler at his feet and then she saw the mobile phone in his hand. Her phone.

‘Did you forget something?' William's words slurred slightly. He was drunk. She stepped forward to take the phone, but he snatched it back.

‘
Finders keepers
we used to say at school,' he said and laughed. ‘I found it on the floor. I was just locking up to go to bed when I heard it making a noise. I couldn't work out where it was at first but then I looked down and there it was, underneath the console table.'

She remembered Sally emptying the contents of her bag into her new red one – her phone must have fallen on the floor in the rush.

Claire looked at him silently. She could hardly bear to hear what was coming next.

‘I thought it might be important,' William continued. ‘I thought it might be you trying to get through, maybe the taxi hadn't come, and maybe you needed a lift home. But no, it was a text. From someone else.'

Claire felt frozen to the spot.

‘I was curious. Who would send you a text at ten o'clock on a Friday night? A special offer from your provider? Your mother needing to be rescued from that man she's run off with?' He stood up and slowly swayed towards her. ‘No, those would be far too mundane, too hum-drum, too boring for my lovely wife. Do you want to see what it said?' Claire shook her head mutely. ‘Do you want to see it, Claire?' He thrust the phone in front of her face, too close to read it properly. The words
miss
and
want
and
must
were all she managed to make out.

‘And I've seen all the other texts he sent,' said William. He didn't take his eyes from Claire. She hadn't deleted any of them; they went all the way back to the summer, all the way back to the beginning.

‘Oh, God,' she said, stepping back, sinking down against the wall. She covered her face with her hands.

‘What's going on?' William sounded unnervingly calm, almost as if he was talking to a child who'd scribbled on the furniture or thrown their food across the table.

‘Who is he?' She heard the crack in his voice.

‘I can't tell you,' she said, looking up. Their eyes met.

‘I would very much like you to tell me, Claire.' She could tell he was trying very hard to keep control. ‘S! It just says S on your contacts list and S at the end of the texts.' His voice rose. ‘S for what? Is it a Steve, Sean, Simon? I can't think. I can't think of anyone we know whose name begins with S. What about Sally? Is it Sally?'

Claire laughed in disbelief, though inside all she felt was fear.

‘Don't laugh at me!' William's voice was loud now.

‘I'm sorry. It's not Sally.' She took a deep breath. ‘The texts are from Stefan. The man who photographed the house for the magazine.'

William sat down again. ‘The photographer,' he said, running his hands through his hair. ‘The bloody photographer who photographed my house for an article that doesn't even mention me? I should have known. I should have worked that out!'

‘It's not how it seems,' said Claire quietly.

‘I bet it's not. I'm sure it's much worse.' It was William's turn to laugh now. ‘You've been committing adultery with a man who photographed your lovely bloody life, the life I made for you. How many years of hard work, all hours of the day and night working on this place for you? And this is how you repay me?' He stood up. ‘Well, thank you very bloody much.'

Claire put her hands to her face and shook her head. ‘I'm sorry, William. I haven't even seen him since the summer.'

‘I don't believe you,' he said, shaking the phone at her. He was shouting now. ‘It sounds like you've been having some seedy little affair with a second-rate photographer behind my back for months.' He threw the phone down on the floor and its plastic casing flew apart. ‘Making a fool of me. Humiliating me. Contaminating everything we've ever had with your sordid, disgusting behaviour.' He got up and stamped hard onto the pieces of her phone, grinding them with his foot and kicking the debris across the floor.

Taking a step towards her he leant forward, his face inches from her own.

‘Did you ever think about the children?' She could smell the whisky on his breath. ‘Did you ever think about our poor children when you were doing God-knows-what with him?' He leant in closer and hissed slowly in her ear. ‘Did you ever think of me and what I've done for you? You selfish bitch.'