Forget Me Not (22 page)

Mark explains about the provenance of the stones, the cut and the colour. The carats. I reach for the platinum studs. I knew straight away these were the ones I would have. I lean forward so I can see my reflection in the oval standing mirror on the desk and I slip the earrings into my pierced ears. I make sure they’re fastened tight, I tuck my hair behind my ears and then I turn to Ben, so he can admire them.

‘Perfect,’ he says. He reaches out to brush my cheek softly with the back of his hand. I notice he doesn’t smile.

‘You’re sure?’ I say.

He nods. ‘Mark, could we have the room for a few minutes?’ he says.

‘Of course.’ Mark leaves, closing the door behind him. The diamonds remain, strewn in front of us on their soft velvet tray.

Ben turns his green leather chair slightly, so it faces mine. I can see he’s preoccupied, concerned about something other than jewellery.

‘Are you worried about tonight?’ I say.

He nods.

‘Everything is going to be perfect. The caterers arrive at six. They’re bringing extra tables and chairs and they’re going to set up in the basement. We’ll roll back all the sliding doors and open out all of the basement rooms into one large space. It’s a bit early but I’ve chosen a Halloween theme, because the kids will love it. I’ve ordered Halloween crackers, Halloween witches’ pumpkin soup and ghost cupcakes. I’ve bought dressing-up costumes for all of the kids. And a photographer’s coming after dinner so we can send everyone pictures and videos afterwards. It’s going to be spectacular.’

‘You’re incredible,’ he says. ‘Thank you.’

‘So why do you look so unhappy?’

He reaches for my hands. ‘Well, it’s only a small matter of securing the multi-million-pound deal that’s going to ensure my company stays afloat. But more importantly, it will mean I can cut back on the travelling. I can be home more to give you a hand with Lexi. I know you’ve practically been a single parent, the hours I’ve worked, the amount of time I’m away from home.’

‘The investors adore you,’ I say. ‘And tonight you’ll charm their wives and children and it will all work out.’

‘Promise?’

‘Yes, I do.’

He leans forward to kiss my lips, but there’s a telltale crease in his forehead that I know means trouble. People always have an ulterior motive for buying excessively expensive gifts. Even my adoring husband.

‘It’s not Christmas and it’s not my birthday,’ I say, ‘so why are you buying me jewellery from Kestrel’s?’

He squeezes my hand. ‘I wanted you to have a gift,’ he says, ‘not a birthday present, or a Christmas present – but a gift purely because I love you. And I want you to remember I said that.’

‘Now you’re making me nervous.’

‘I wanted to say thank you,’ he says. ‘I have everything I’ve ever wanted, you and Lexi. I want to make sure you know how much I appreciate you.’

Ben closes his eyes and presses my fingers to his lips. The sight of his gold wedding ring reassures me. He grows more attractive year after year; as he becomes more successful, so he relaxes into his own skin. People love him. I love him, more than I’d anticipated.

‘Are you happy?’ he says.

‘Yes.’

‘Our daughter is eight years old,’ he says. ‘She’s not a baby any more.’

‘I know how old our daughter is.’

‘She …’ He hesitates. ‘She’s smart and sensitive.’

I pull my hands away from his.
She’s told him something.

As long as I remember, I have always, always felt cold. Except when I’m with Ben, then it’s as though I have a warm blanket tucked around me. I’m safe. But not today. Today I sense we are on dangerous ground.

‘Viv, she says you put medicine in her milk, because she’s overweight. She said you warned her to not to tell me.’

The temperature has dropped in here. I feel myself shivering.

‘Is this true, Viv?’

‘Yes. It’s true.’

‘Why would you do that to her?’

I draw my legs up on to the chair underneath me, I curl up, my arms folded.

‘You don’t understand, Ben. You have no idea what it’s like to struggle with your weight every single day of your life.’

‘Alexandra is eight years old. She’s a separate person from you, Viv. You don’t need to worry about her, she’s perfect. You shouldn’t be putting these ideas into her head. You’re setting her up to be unhappy.’

‘She’s not perfect, Ben. You see only what you want to see when it comes to your family. She’s ostracized by the other children. She’s being bullied. I’m in the head teacher’s office at least once a month. She has
no
friends. I managed to scrape together those four kids at her birthday party because I know their mothers and they took pity on me.’

‘I phoned our GP,’ he says. ‘She has no record of prescribing any weight-loss medication for our daughter.’

‘I consulted someone else. A specialist in paediatric obesity.’

I jump as he slams his hand against the desk. ‘
She’s not obese!
’

I shrink further into the chair. I don’t dare say anything. I don’t like the way he looks at me. Like I’m shallow, or crazy, or not to be trusted with his precious daughter who can do no wrong.

He’s shouting now, and the fury in his voice terrifies me. ‘You shopped around until you found some arsehole who’d prescribe whatever you wanted them to if you paid them enough, didn’t you?’

‘Ben that’s not true. He’s a qualified doctor and it’s a low dose. These days you don’t even need a doctor, I could have bought anything I wanted over the internet. But I’d never do that.’

Ben looks away as he tries to calm himself down. When he speaks again, his voice is more measured.

‘Mrs Murad phoned me a couple of weeks ago,’ he says. ‘She was worried you’d developed some distorted ideas about Lexi’s weight. She told me you’d asked about medicating Lexi, and she was concerned, because Lexi is still so young. She was worried enough to break confidentiality. So I talked to Lexi. At first she refused to tell me anything, but I kept asking. A few days ago, she opened up.’

‘You don’t trust me. You think I’m a bad mother.’

‘That’s not true. But I’m devastated that you would ask my daughter to keep secrets from me.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I say. I lean forward, putting my feet down onto the floor, and I try to take hold of his hand. He pulls away.

‘Viv, I know you’re doing your best. We all know how traumatic the last ten years have been, all the doctors, all the failures, our lost baby. Mrs Murad worries about you and so do I. She’s been your doctor for such a long time and she thinks you need psychiatric help. She says she’s told you this herself, but she didn’t think you were listening. I have to make sure you get the help you need.’

‘Why here, Ben? Why are we having this conversation here? Are you trying to bribe me or threaten me? I can’t tell.’

I start to loosen the clasp of one of the earrings, but Ben reaches out and takes hold of my wrist.

‘Let go,’ I say.

He won’t. He takes hold of my other hand, too. We stay, frozen, staring at each other. There are tears in his eyes.

‘I have no idea what we’re doing here,’ he says. ‘I’ve been agonizing over this for days and I didn’t know how to raise it with you.’

‘What am I, Ben, some kind of witch you’re afraid of?’ Now I’m shouting. I imagine Mark and his father, eyeglasses on, raising their heads to listen to us argue.

‘I know how sensitive you are,’ he says, ‘how you beat yourself up about not being a good enough mother. I wanted to take you somewhere you had to listen to me, somewhere neutral, somewhere you couldn’t walk out before I’d finished. I wanted to show you how much I love you, to reassure you. It was a terrible, idiotic idea. But it doesn’t really matter where we have this conversation. We have to talk about this.’

I look into his eyes and I see something has changed. Something is broken.

‘I’ve been to see a psychiatrist,’ he says, ‘and I want us to go back and see him together.’

‘You went to see someone behind my back? You spoke about me, without my permission?’

I try to rip my hands away from his, but he won’t let go.

‘If you don’t let go of me,’ I say, ‘I will start screaming.’

Ben loosens his grip on my wrists. I pull away from him and grip the armrests. My eyes fill with tears, but mine are tears of rage.

‘What did you tell him? He could ruin us.’

‘No, Viv. You’re being paranoid. Everything I talk to him about is confidential. He wants to help us.’

‘Like Mrs Murad kept our conversations confidential?’

I’m in some kind of nightmare. The noise in my head grows louder and louder. I can’t hear what he’s saying.

‘Ben, this psychiatrist could report me to social services.’

He looks shocked. He hasn’t thought this through. ‘Why? Viv, what have you done? What have you been giving her?’

Ben puts his head in his hands.

‘We have a daughter,’ he says, ‘and she comes first. That’s the way it is, Vivien. We’re parents. We don’t matter as much any more.’

‘Fuck you, Ben.’

Mark is at the door, looking startled. He turns and makes a swift exit.

Ben sits back in his chair. His body is slumped, as though I’d punched him in the stomach.

‘As soon as I get out of this place,’ I say, ‘I’m phoning the caterer. Every single thing for tonight will be cancelled. And don’t you dare come home tonight. Don’t you dare. You can go to a hotel and have a good long think about your cosy little chat with your new psychiatrist friend.’

I stand up. My rage gives me strength. I straighten my jacket and run my fingers through my hair. I adjust my posture, so my shoulders are back and my spine is straight.

‘Don’t come anywhere near us until I’ve calmed down. Or you’ll be sorry. Do you understand?’

He nods, looking past me, not at me.

I walk, gracefully, like the ballet dancer I once was, through the front room of the jewellery shop. Mark and his father are behind their desks, pretending to look at their laptops. When I reach the door, Mark springs to his feet to unlock it for me.

I step outside, onto the pavement. I ignore Isaac as he gets out of the car. By the time he’s come round to open the passenger door, I’ve already flagged down a passing cab. The driver is old and decrepit-looking, and I get a bad feeling about it, but I climb in anyway. As the taxi pulls away from the pavement, I remember I’m still wearing the diamond studs. But I’m not going back. Ben is going to have to pay.

I didn’t come to the house tonight intending to take Lexi away with me, but now it seems the only thing I can do for her. I hold her hand firmly in mine as we climb the stairs to the entrance hall.

I don’t know if Cleo is still inside the house, or what she might be doing. I need to move fast, before she tries to stop me.

The cupboard next to the front door is packed solid with coats. I stare for a moment at Vivien’s shiny black goatskin before choosing a waterproof for Lexi, one with a fur-lined hood. She allows me to put it on her without protest. I kneel down and fumble with the clasp, my hands are not as steady as they usually are, but I manage, zipping it right up to the top. I grab the smallest pair of Wellingtons. She holds on to my shoulder while I help her to push her feet into the rubber boots. I grab my own coat from the hall table.

Then I take hold of Lexi’s hand again and I stop for a moment to smile down at her, to reassure her. Her strained face looks so small underneath her mussed up halo of hair. I can see in her eyes she is afraid.

‘Everything is going to be all right,’ I say. ‘I’m going to take you home with me, just for tonight.’

I open the front door. The rain is coming down hard and I feel a flicker of foreboding. I am taking this child away from her warm bed and out into a dark, wet night. Ben is going to be furious. But this house is toxic and I won’t leave Lexi again. I am the only one who can help her.

I press the buzzer that releases the front gate. Then I shut the door, grasping the slippery hexagonal handle with both hands.

Lexi pushes her hair away from her face and tips her head up to the sky. She opens her mouth to taste the rain. I cannot say if she is frightened or glad to be taken away from Blackthorn Road, but she is holding my hand and that’s enough, for now.

We walk slowly down the stairs. I don’t want her to slip and lose her footing on the wet marble. I push open the iron gate and lead her through. We’re the only people out walking on Blackthorn Road. With a small child at my side, and the rain making it difficult to see, the journey to the end of the street seems to last forever.

I imagine the neighbours, peering out from every window we pass, watching me leading the child away. I adjust the hood of Lexi’s coat, pulling it up to cover her hair. I’d rather not risk a cab, it might seem suspicious, a young child in pyjama bottoms under her coat, out so late at night. Alexandra might ask for her mother again, she might struggle or protest or ask to go home.

I imagine Cleo’s footsteps behind us, masked by the sound of the rain.

As we cross the road, a group of four teenage boys is coming towards us. Hoodies conceal their faces, their elbows jut out, their hands are hidden in their pockets. I don’t make eye contact; I grip Lexi’s hand tighter. I am defenceless. I shouldn’t have her out so late at night. I think about Ben and I imagine his reaction when he finds out I have taken his daughter. Lexi is his most prized possession. She is all he has left.

When we reach the Underground, a handful of commuters spill out of the station, their heads hunched over mobile phones. No one notices us. I don’t look behind me because I am convinced I’ll see Cleo, in her raincoat, determined to take Lexi away from me. I decide to hail a taxi after all.

The noise and the lights from the station seem to rouse Lexi, and she stops walking.

‘I want to go home,’ she says.

I try to pull her forwards, gently, but she resists. When I won’t let go of her hand, she arches her body into a C-shape, leaning away and pulling in the opposite direction. A woman in a miniskirt with sky-high heels passes us, her eyes flicker between us from underneath her umbrella. She totters by. No one wants to get involved; people prefer not to see these things.