Life as I Know It (15 page)

The quantities I needed for six people had me flummoxed. I’d decided to make the breaded chicken for myself and for Grant, since I didn’t know what he’d want or what time he was coming in, and I didn’t want to have to cook twice.

Starting dubiously with a pile of dirty potatoes, I washed and peeled a good quantity, assuming two or three per person, cut them, and filled the pan to the brim. As soon as the water came back to the boil, it bubbled up and over the edge of the pan, and
although I turned the heat down, Lauren’s cooker ran on electricity and didn’t respond right away. Brownish-yellow goo streaked down the outside of the pan, pooled on the stove, and charred to a stinking black mess.

“Yuck, what’s burning?” Toby asked as he came into the kitchen for a drink.

“Your dinner,” I told him sourly as I tried to wipe around the edge of the pan with paper towel, which grew hotter and stickier as more starchy water cascaded down in little bursts.

“I don’t mean that, I mean that.” Toby was pointing to the oven, where a thin wisp of dark gray smoke was belching from the grill pan.

“Oh no!” Searching through the drawers, I eventually found a pair of oven gloves and whipped the smoldering remains of the shriveled chicken strips out from under the grill and deposited them in the sink. Standing against the counter with the oven gloves dangling from one hand, I wiped the other over my perspiring face and blew out my cheeks as I surveyed the ruined meal.

Toby looked at the blackened food, gave me a sideways look, and slunk from the kitchen, just as Sophie and Nicole hurried in from feeding the animals.

“What’s that smell?” Sophie asked as she came around the corner.

“I’ve burnt the chicken,” I told her shortly.

She rolled her eyes with a “you are so useless” look and took off, while Nicole stood and chewed her lip thoughtfully.

“We could have fish sticks,” she suggested.

“What, with potatoes and broccoli?”

“I said we should have fries!” Sophie called from the playroom.

“The nanny used to make us fish sticks with mashed potato,” Nicole confirmed, ignoring her sister. She went to the freezer and took out a large bag. “Me, Sophie, and the boys have four each,” she said kindly, as if speaking to a child.

I took the fish sticks, reckoning that if the children had four each, Grant would probably want six. With four for me, that was twenty-six fish sticks—six months’ supply for me at home, since I didn’t eat them very often. Tipping them onto a baking tray, I put them under the oven grill while I turned to scrape off the burnt chicken and scrub out the blackened grill pan. The potatoes had settled down now and were simmering in the pan, so I dropped the broccoli into the second pan and scurried off to find plates and cutlery.

By the time the fish sticks were done, I had mashed the potato and dished it up onto six plates alongside hunks of broccoli.

Nicole crept back into the kitchen and eyed the enormous piles of gray mash and overcooked broccoli on each plate, dwarfing the fish sticks.

“It’s too much, isn’t it?” I asked her anxiously.

“Never mind, Mummy,” she said. “Trudy the nanny made horrible food, too.”

At six o’clock the bedtime routine started all over again, and I didn’t surface for air until nearly seven-thirty. I had just settled at Lauren’s desk with her handbag in front of me, with the intention of practicing her signature and memorizing her pin numbers, when the bedroom door opened.

Looking up I saw Grant framed in the doorway.

“Hello,” I said neutrally. “I wasn’t sure what time you were coming home, so I’ve saved some dinner for you.”

“I’m not hungry,” he said, his voice slurred. “I need you, Lauren, I want you back.”

“Grant, I’m busy,” I said, my voice rising in alarm. “And I told you last night, we’ve got to take time to get to know each other all over again.”

“You don’t want me anymore,” he said, eyeing me forlornly.

“It’s not a case of not wanting you, I just don’t know you. And this isn’t helping.”

“But you’re my wife.” He advanced on me, pulling me toward him and nestling his face in my neck. “You’ve got to love me.”

“You’ve been drinking,” I said, turning my face away as he tried to plant a slobbery kiss on my lips. “Stop it, Grant, I’m saying no.”

For a second he pinned me up against the desk, the wooden edge digging painfully into the back of my thighs. I stood rigid before him, feeling the hardness of him pressing against me, and I reached behind me for anything I could find to ward him off. My hand brushed against a glass paperweight and I grabbed it, but he saw it before I could swing it at him and knocked it out of my hand.

“Bloody hell, Lauren,” he grunted as he stared at the heavy weight now lying on the thickly carpeted floor. “You weren’t really going to hit me with that, were you?” He pulled away from me, his face white. He crumpled to his knees at my feet and held his head in his hands.

“Grant,” I rasped, my voice husky and breathless from fright and heavy with emotion. “I think for the time being we should definitely sleep in different rooms. I don’t mind going to the guest room if you’d rather stay here.”

“I knew you didn’t love me anymore,” he groaned. “I’ve known it for months.” He looked up at me with red-rimmed eyes. “There’s someone else, isn’t there?”

“If there is, I know nothing about it,” I told him. “You have to believe me when I tell you I’ve forgotten everything I ever knew.”

“Truly?”

“Really truly.”

He seemed to calm slightly and staggered unsteadily to his feet.

“I’ll sleep in the guest room. My things are there anyway.”

“Come on, I’ll help you,” I said, relieved that the fight had gone out of him. I put his arm round my good shoulder and supported him as he swayed out onto the landing.

When we reached the guest bedroom, he dropped heavily onto the bed. I stared down at his crumpled form. My hands were shaking uncontrollably, but I slipped his shoes off his feet, pulled the duvet over him, and crept out again, quietly closing the door behind me.

Once back on the landing I held on to the wall and took several deep, steadying breaths. What the hell, I asked myself self-pityingly, had I gotten myself into?

“Is Daddy all right, Mummy?” asked a small voice.

I looked down to see Sophie watching me from her bedroom door, her long chestnut hair falling over the shoulders of her pale blue pajamas, eyes wide. I nodded.

“He wasn’t feeling too well, but I’ve put him to bed and he’ll be fine in the morning.”

“Why is he in the guest bedroom?”

“He felt sick and didn’t want to disturb me. Come on,” I said, taking her hand. “Back to bed, young lady.”

I bent to tuck her in, and as I did so she wound an arm up around my neck.

“I’m sorry I was mean to you, Mummy,” she said. “I’m so happy you bought me my rabbit. I’m glad you’re not dead. I’m really glad you’re here.”

I kissed her and gently brushed a wisp of her silky hair from her forehead, feeling ridiculously pleased that she seemed to have accepted me, for the moment at least.

“I’m glad I’m here, too,” I said.

As I dimmed the light and walked back down the landing to Lauren’s bedroom, I smiled to myself.

Maybe, just maybe—well, some of the time at least, I thought—I was glad to be here.

It occurred to me while I was lying curled up in bed with Frankie the next morning that I was about to live through Wednesday again. I closed my eyes and ran through all sorts of illegal scams in my head, like finding out the lottery numbers as Lauren and filling in the winning ticket the next day as Jessica. Or maybe I should find out which horses came in first at the races and put my savings on the winners. The trouble was, I thought with a grimace, not only was I basically an honest person, which is why even spending Grant’s money while being Lauren was causing me pangs of guilt, but I was worried that until I understood more clearly what was happening to me, I couldn’t risk changing fate in any way. If I cheated my way into millions, I thought, as I sipped at my morning cup of tea, maybe that dishonesty would come back to haunt me in ways I couldn’t imagine, and I might never be free of this predicament.

I lay there listening to the sounds of my neighbors getting ready for work. One or two car engines started up and faded into the distance. Front doors slammed. I stared at the ceiling and
pondered why the flat seemed so quiet this morning. I wasn’t sure if it was because I was usually only here at this time on weekends, or whether I was actually missing the children.

The phone rang, startling me. I looked at it suspiciously, then put out a hand and picked it up.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Jessica, it’s Clara. How are you doing?”

“I’m lounging in bed wondering why it’s so quiet,” I confessed with a rueful smile. “I wish I was at work.”

“Mr. Armitage came in early this morning. He said he might pop around to see you at lunchtime. I thought I’d warn you.”

“In case I had Dan here?” I asked with a giggle. “I should be so lucky.”

“You never know,” Clara said. “You seem smitten with him. Love at first sight can happen, you know.”

“It’s early days yet, but you’re right, Clara. I’m ever hopeful.”

“Got to go,” Clara said, dropping her voice to a whisper. “Boss has just come in.”

“Bye, Clara. Thanks for the warning.”

I replaced the handset and slipped out of bed. I wasn’t ill, of course, and felt rather guilty that everyone was so worried about me collapsing in the middle of the day when I knew I had merely skipped over to Lauren’s place for a while. Hard work though the Richardson family had been, I really didn’t require a day in bed to recover from them.

I decided to stop feeling sorry for myself and enjoy my day off. The summer had continued into a glorious autumn, though the temperature had plummeted dramatically. I walked Frankie for an hour, scuffing through the first fallen leaves, and stopped off at the local mini market for some groceries. I then went home and cleaned the flat, loaded the washing machine, and
settled down with a book I’d been meaning to read since last Christmas.

I’d only gotten past the second page when the doorbell rang. I glanced at the clock. It was after one o’clock. Stephen, of course, stopping by on his lunch break.

Throwing the book onto the coffee table, I went to the front door, running my fingers through my hair to tidy it. Frankie was barking wildly. Opening the door, I found it wasn’t Stephen, but Dan standing there.

“Oh! Hello.”

“Hi there. Not interrupting anything, am I?”

“No, of course not. Come in.”

I held Frankie’s collar to stop her jumping up and stood back to let him pass, noticing the softness of his leather jacket, the cut of his cargo pants, the faint scent of his aftershave. It was as if all my senses were on red alert.

“What are you doing here?”

“I was passing by, thought I’d see how you’re doing.”

We stood looking at each other awkwardly. I wondered if the intense feelings he aroused in me were visible on my face. The thought made me blush.

Closing the door, I let go of Frankie and she leapt up at Dan as if he were her long-lost friend.

“Frankie, get down!” I ordered, using the dog as an excuse to cover my nervousness.

I stooped to grab her collar again just as Dan bent to pat her head, and I unwittingly found my face a fraction from his, his hair almost touching my lips as we straightened and stared hungrily into each other’s eyes. We were standing so close I could feel his breath on my face. Mesmerized, I simply stood there, unable to break away.

His lips were suddenly upon mine, and I melted into him, returning the kiss with an intensity that took my breath away. It was as though I’d waited for this moment all my life. Nothing else mattered except him and me.

And then the doorbell rang again, and I froze in Dan’s arms.

“Are you expecting someone?” Dan whispered into my hair.

“My boss,” I said, pulling away from him, my cheeks burning. “My friend Clara rang earlier to say he might pop over.”

Dan held me at arm’s length, regarding me steadily as the doorbell rang again.

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No, I’d like you to stay.”

I went to the door with Frankie leaping around my legs and found Stephen standing on the doorstep clutching a bunch of roses.

“How are you feeling?” He leaned toward me and kissed me chastely on the cheek.

Before I could think of what to say he had pushed past me into the living room. He stopped dead when he saw Dan standing there.

“Oh, I didn’t realize you already had company.”

“This is Dan,” I said hoarsely. My breath was tight in my throat and I didn’t know if it was because my heart was still pounding from the kiss, or because my ex-lover was about to meet the man I hoped might become my new one.

“Dan took me to the hospital on Saturday after the accident. Dan, this is Stephen Armitage, my boss.”

Dan stuck out his hand, but Stephen hesitated, and for an awful moment I thought he might refuse to return the gesture. Fortunately it seemed his good manners won the day, and he shook hands briefly, his expression carefully blank.

“Er, do sit down,” I said to both men. “I’ll go and put the kettle on.”

Escaping into the kitchen with Frankie at my heels, I had just begun filling the kettle with water when I felt a hand slide around my waist. Twisting, I found Stephen standing closely behind me.

“How are you feeling, Jessica?” he whispered in my ear. “I’ve been worried about you.”

“Stephen! What do you think you’re doing?”

Pulling away from him, I plugged the kettle in and pushed the button down with a click.

Stephen took a step closer.

Frankie began to growl.

“I’ve missed you,” he murmured, ignoring the dog. “When I heard you’d been in the hospital I realized how much you meant to me. I’ve been stupid, Jess. I want you back.”

“It’s too late,” I told him. “I’m a different person now.”

I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up at the unintended connotation of my words. Suppressing a shiver, I composed my expression into what I hoped was a mixture of firm intention and sympathy.