Out of My Depth (27 page)

‘Very what?’

Tamsin took a deep breath. ‘Very happy. In fact she doesn’t seem at all happy. She seems to be thoroughly miserable. Always half drunk, always on the offensive. Sorry to say this, Patrick. I don’t want to pry, but what’s going on with her?’

His shoulders slumped. ‘Oh, God, Tamsin.’ He reminded himself that he had to be loyal. He should not confide in Tamsin. But who in the world could he confide in? ‘I wish I knew,’ he admitted, and as he said it he felt his world crumble. He had never shared his fears about Amanda before. ‘I don’t think I’ve been the greatest husband to her,’ he admitted. He saw Tamsin’s face. ‘Oh, Christ, not like that. I’ve never played away or what-have-you. I’ve just, I suppose, always known that she was a bit miz, and I am, it seems, not the right person to perk her up, because if I was she would be happy by now, but instead she seems to get worse all the time. She seems to blame me, and I think she’s probably right.’

Tamsin started to say something, and then stopped. ‘Has she . . . I mean, I can’t say I know Amanda any more. But at school, when I used to know her, she would drink, because we were all experimenting with alcohol at every opportunity. I don’t think it was called binge drinking back then, but that was what we did on Fridays and Saturdays. We were all in it together — there was nothing unusual about Amanda’s drinking. Her eating, though. Now, that was a different matter.’ She looked at Patrick questioningly. ‘It was really screwed,’ she added.

He laughed, slightly in horror at Tamsin’s broaching of the forbidden topic. ‘Oh, good Lord, yes.’ He said it as quietly as he could, just in case. ‘I would never, ever mention food to her. She would be one hundred per cent guaranteed to blow up in my face and I’d only succeed in making things worse. She’s hung up about that, and yes, you just alluded to her drinking, and yes, I am very well aware that she has a problem with alcohol and I am also aware that by ignoring it — or possibly encouraging it I do nothing but exacerbate it.’

‘Do you encourage it?’

‘Mmm. I think I legitimise it. I take her a G&T when I can see that she’s gasping for one. I drink with her, most days. I freely admit that I like a drink when I get home from work. But most evenings I could be happy with that, with my one tipple on getting home, unless it’s a special occasion. Except that Amanda just keeps pouring. We’re constantly having cases delivered from the various wine websites she’s signed up to. She’s always got a red and a white on the go, and she has this idea that you shouldn’t leave any wine in the bottle, that if you open one you may as well finish it. She says that it goes off by the next day. And it’s not the first bottle she’s insisting on finishing. More like the third.’

‘You know that’s bollocks.’

‘I do. And I should tell her that. I should just say “bollocks” like you did. But I can’t. When I met her, she was a drinker, and that was one of the things I liked about her. You know, everyone drinks at uni, like you just said they did at school. I thought she was the coolest girl I’d ever met, because she’d drink lager and match me pint for pint. All the lads adored her. But then it just carried on. Got worse, rather.’

And the food?’ Tamsin asked gently.

Patrick shook his head. He felt disloyal even thinking about this. ‘I daren’t go there. If I so much as hinted at all about her eating, it would mean I was saying she was fat and I didn’t find her attractive any more. Amanda would be furious and my life wouldn’t be worth living.’ He drew in a sharp breath, imagining it.

‘But she is fat.’

Patrick shook his head and knitted his eyebrows together. ‘Shhhh!’ he said furiously. ‘We should stop this conversation right now!’

Tamsin was undaunted. Amanda’s always had a strange relationship with food,’ she said, ignoring Patrick’s interjection. ‘At school she’d drink on Friday and Saturday nights, like I said, but she’d never touch a drop the rest of the week because of the calories in it. But food was a major stumbling block for her and Suzii.’ She smiled. ‘It’s funny, thinking about it. They’ve swapped roles. Susie was the larger one who was always giving in to temptation. Amanda kept herself stick thin. She was a rake. Bones jutting out everywhere. She’d go for days without eating, and then . . . Well, I shouldn’t say much more, really. It’s not fair on her.’

‘No it’s not,’ Patrick agreed hastily.

‘I wonder what happened,’ Tamsin said suddenly. ‘Something happened to her. She stopped sleeping. She started drinking insanely. Do you know what it was?’ Patrick thought there was a faraway look in Tamsin’s eyes, as if she were trying to work something out.

‘What do you mean?’ he asked.

‘Sometime before she met you? I don’t know what.’ She suddenly looked depressed. ‘Anything?’

‘I have no idea what you mean,’ Patrick told her, and he really didn’t. ‘And the thing with all of this is,’ he added, ‘that I haven’t the strength for any of it.’ He looked at Tamsin, trying to gauge how much she despised him. ‘I’m not cut out for it. I can’t stand up to her. Can you imagine? Imagine if I confronted her with her drinking problem, with her . . .’ He paused, unable to articulate the word alcoholism, still feeling that the word was too strong, that it applied to other people. ‘Well. She would fight me tooth and nail.’

Tamsin sighed. She put a hand on his arm. ‘If you like, I could say something. She already hates me so I’ve nothing to lose. Because I don’t think she’s going to have an epiphany of her own accord any time soon.’

Are you serious?’

She laughed. ‘Patrick, I’m not scared of Amanda. And you shouldn’t be scared of her either. I just want to know where my funny, sweet, passionate friend went.’

Patrick shrugged. ‘You see, she has friends,’ he said. ‘Kind of. She has these women she does school stuff with, a few other mothers who live in the streets around us. But she doesn’t have that sort of relationship with them. I’m sure they gossip about her drinking, but they certainly wouldn’t have said anything to her face. It’s not like that, in the circles we move in. Everybody’s sweet as pie on the surface, and nobody would put themselves out to help someone like Amanda. Her mother drifts around in her own little world most of the time, and Amanda’s dad has never been a communicator. He’s like me, I suppose.’ He paused and ran a hand over his bald head, which was aching in a nagging, low-key way. ‘Depressing thought. There’s no chance of any input there. I’m the one with the responsibility and I have failed.’ He looked around, at the thirsty garden. The sun was directly overhead and he knew his head was starting to burn. He needed more codeine. ‘We shouldn’t be having this conversation,’ he said, quickly.

‘We should! We have to,’ Tamsin said urgently. She stared at him with her liquid brown eyes. ‘It bothers me to see her like this. I had no idea. Susie said Amanda had a husband and two kids and lived in London, and I imagined everything being rosy. Not sure why. Take away the money and she’d be a down-and-out. Does she pack the kids off to all their activities because she can’t deal with them?’

But Patrick was regretting his openness. ‘Oh, you have no idea how competitive it all is, when it comes to the children. Amanda deals with them very well. It’s her territory and she does a superb job. But if you want to talk to her, good luck.’ He felt Tamsin’s scrutiny. Before she could say any more, Susie stood on the terrace and clapped her hands.

‘Everybody!’ she called. ‘Lunch is ready! Come and get it!’

Tamsin inclined her head. ‘Shall we?’

‘I’ll say.’

I made sure my guests had full plates of food before I disappeared inside. Amanda had run away, and I wasn’t sure what she was angry about this time. I was annoyed by her tantrum, so I didn’t go upstairs to invite her down for lunch. She would smell it. She was an adult.

I felt myself jigging around, so nervous that I did not know what to do with myself. I was jittery and ill at ease as I watched them fill their plates. I put the free-standing parasol up on the terrace, so it shaded the lunch table completely.

‘Sit down,’ Izzy said, with a friendly smile. ‘Come on, Susie. Come and relax. Let us enjoy your company.’

I grinned at her. Izzy was, now, the only person I was pleased to have back in my life. ‘I will. I’ve just got a phone call to make first.’

‘To the stalker lady?’

‘That’s the one.’

‘What stalker lady?’ Tamsin asked, as she sat down between Patrick and Sam. ‘You’ve got a lady stalker?’

‘No,’ I told her. Long story. And really nothing to do with me, as Izzy has pointed out. Back in a minute. Hey, Patrick, where are your children?’

‘Last seen playing in the garden.’ He pointed to the far corner, beyond my studio. ‘They were going to climb some trees, I think. Full up from the pastries they ate this morning.’ He looked at me and I saw a dawning realisation that he and his family were not being considerate guests.

‘Tell you what,’ he said, quickly. ‘How about if I make them each a sandwich now, for them to have later? To save them annoying you.’

I was eager to get my phone call over. ‘Wrap them in foil and put them in the fridge.’ I started heading for my shed.

‘Susie,’ asked Sam, chewing on a piece of chicken. ‘Have you got any ketchup?’

‘In the fridge.’

‘I’ll get it,’ said Izzy, standing up. I looked at her gratefully, then turned and went into my studio, to use the phone in there.

I stared at three photos of the paintings I had done of her. I had been pleased with each of them. They looked vibrant and happy. I almost wanted to step into their sun-soaked, tranquil worlds. I also wanted to tear them into shreds and burn them slowly in the flame of a candle. I thought I would probably put them in the bottom drawer and try to forget about them.

‘You can see, can’t you?’ I said to her. ‘This is a very bizarre situation for me. I don’t know what’s going on, or why, and . . .’ I steeled myself, wishing I was better at confrontation. ‘And I don’t want to play any part in it. Quite honestly.’

Her voice was tight. ‘Yes, I realise that this is your position. Your husband made that very plain, not nearly as politely as you have.’

‘He’s not my husband.’

‘Not you as well.’ We both laughed, even though it wasn’t funny.

‘He’s my boyfriend,’ I explained. ‘And I’m sorry if he was rude. I was in the middle of dinner with my oldest friends, and you know . . . school reunions aren’t always straightforward.’

‘Did he tell you I was ringing because I was scared? I don’t know this man. But I think I know who he is. And I’m scared of him and what he could do to me.’

‘But he commissioned paintings of you! It’s hardly a knife to your throat. Sounds more like he’s trying to woo you, and admittedly not doing a very good job of it.’

‘Or else that he’s letting me know that he has money to get these very expensive artworks made for me, and that he has the advantage over me in oh-so-many ways.’

I was intrigued. I stood by the window and looked out at the garden. I thought Freya and Jake were supposed to be playing there, but there was no sign of them. ‘So, who do you think he is?’

She sighed. ‘My friend’s ex-husband.’

‘Is his name Neil Barron?’

‘Sean Barron, actually. Though he seems to have changed it since they split up, for some reason. I’ve heard that he’s calling himself Neil some of the time.’

‘If this is true,’ I said cautiously, ‘why would he be doing this to you? What’s your connection to him? Why’s he set his sights on you?’

‘Oh, he hasn’t set his sights on me. He’s threatening me.’’

‘Because . . . ?’

She laughed slightly. ‘Because he hates me. Because I saw him out with some young girl and of course I told my friend. You do, don’t you? For her it was the last straw, and she kicked him out. He blamed me for the whole thing.’

I wasn’t sure how plausible this was. ‘But why would he? I mean, I can imagine that he’d be pissed off with you for telling his wife, though equally if he’s out with a girl and he meets his wife’s friend he must have known he was rumbled. In any case, it’s between him and his wife. Why on earth would he be spending tens of thousands of pounds of portraits of you? It doesn’t make sense.’ I thought about it. ‘You see, if that scenario you’d just told me was true, but if you were his wife, rather than his wife’s friend, then it all fits together perfectly.’’

‘Susie,’ she said, sounding defeated. ‘Things rarely fit together perfectly. He turned all his anger on me, and he’s a very angry man. He’s threatened me in various ways. He’s got money. He’s plausible. You know.’

‘I don’t know,’ I told her. I worried that she might be telling the truth. ‘I don’t know,’ I said again.

‘Of course you don’t,’ she said, and hung up.

I waited a moment, then picked the receiver up and left it off the hook. If either of them tried to ring me, I would not speak to them.

I sat down at the lunch table, but I wasn’t hungry. Sam had nearly cleared his plate, and he was playing with what remained of his food. I presumed Roman was upstairs, since his car was parked in the drive. I was annoyed that he was shutting himself away in his attic. These were my friends-this whole godawful weekend was my project — but I was always extra nice to his friends, even when I didn’t like them.

Sam picked up a piece of ham from his plate and dropped it on the floor.