The Good Neighbour (24 page)

‘You all right, lovie?’ Cath’s voice came from far away.

‘Yes,’ Minette said vaguely. Then, ‘How did you get this?’

‘You’re a smart cookie,’ Cath said, filling Minette’s glass again – Minette didn’t remember finishing it. ‘You’ve got a degree, and everything! You can figure it out.’

‘I can’t.’ Minette knew she should be able to work it out but she couldn’t. She felt utterly exposed. Cath had seen this photo, this private moment: her head flung back in ecstasy, legs spread wide apart, her cunt on display. Minette’s eyes filled with tears. She knew that younger people, the generation below hers, sent each other photos of their genitals, their tits and arses, like it was nothing. Maybe if she was more like that this wouldn’t be such a horrible shock. She had never even seen herself like this, so to think that someone else had … ‘Please tell me how you got this.’

‘Let’s work it out together,’ Cath said, her voice quiet and calm. ‘Do you recognise the room?’

Wildly, Minette scanned the photo for clues. There was a bedside table she didn’t recognise; the sheets could have been any sheets. She looked up, a thought occurring to her. ‘Have you photo-shopped our faces onto other bodies?’

Cath laughed. ‘You are so sweet. You maybe don’t know Liam’s gorgeous body too well, looks like you had your eyes shut, but I would have thought you would recognise your own. Whose little birthmark is this, just here?’

Minette watched as Cath’s finger alighted on a small mark on the woman’s hipbone. ‘Yes,’ she said. It was her body. Her breasts, her arms, her legs. The bedside table stopped being unfamiliar.

‘How did you take it? Were you here all the time?’

‘Gracious, Minette, I have a life! I’m doing a triathlon next weekend. I’ve got two sick kids. I don’t have time to hang around taking pictures of my neighbours.’

‘A camera on an automatic timer?’

‘See? I said you was clever. Davey helped set it up, he’s great with technology, that one. Reckon he might be a computer programmer or something like that when he’s older.’

Minette knew it was probably futile, but she ripped the picture into shreds, let them fall to the floor.

‘Didn’t like that one, huh? Fair enough, you looked a bit fat in it. What about some of these?’ Cath opened the folder and held it up in the air. Photos cascaded down onto the table. Some colour, others black and white. Photos of Minette sucking Liam. Him holding her breasts. Her straddling him, him straddling her, him fucking her from behind. Hundreds of them, all different, some clearly taken only seconds apart.

‘Just pointed the camera at the bed, and off it went. You two should make one of them sex-tapes.’

Minette was too stunned to feel anything, other than sheer disbelief. She felt so full of disbelief, it crowded out every other emotion. ‘Why?’

‘Why a sex-tape? Well, you both look good, especially Liam. I think it would be popular.’

‘Why did you take them?’

‘Oh, I have my reasons. Didn’t think I’d ever show them to
you
, to be honest. Didn’t imagine I’d be using them so soon.’

‘How will you use them?’

Cath began to put the photos into a neat pile. ‘That one’s nice, isn’t it? So many people prefer digital photos these days, but I think there’s nothing better than an actual physical picture that you can hold in your hands. I don’t want to have to show them to Abe or Josie. I should think they’ll be a bit upset. Her specially, what with the pregnancy and all.’

Minette was beginning to understand. The fog was clearing. If she kept quiet about Cath’s secrets, about Davey and Lola, Cath would keep quiet about the pictures. It seemed, now, as if all the craziness and excitement of the affair with Liam had just been leading up to this point. This horrible, tawdry point.

‘It’s a shame not to show them around, really, because they’re such nice pictures. You could put some of them in those frames Abe nicked from a skip.’

‘And what if I say that Liam and I are going to run off together, and I don’t care?’ Minette made an attempt to brazen it out.

‘Well, then, you’ve nothing to worry about. Though will he, if his wife is pregnant? I think he’s pretty keen to have a baby, bless him. He’s just about to start his course, too. I’d be amazed if he wanted to rock the boat now.’

Josie, so long just a shadow, someone she deliberately didn’t think about, now appeared in Minette’s mind in sharp focus. Josie was Liam’s
wife
. They were going to have a baby. Seeing these photos would ruin her life. Minette couldn’t quite believe that she had been so careless, so cruel, about another person’s feelings. She had never behaved like that in her life before.

Cath spoke into the silence. ‘And if you and Abe split, will he be reasonable about custody of Tilly and that sort of thing, if he sees these? I just don’t know for sure. I guess he’s had his suspicions about Liam for a while, hasn’t he? From the moment you put that bench outside so you had an excuse to hang out with any bored out-of-work Tom, Harry, or should I say
Dick
, passing by.’

Minette was too stunned to respond. Cath went on, ‘We reckoned as how Liam was your animus, didn’t we?’ She held up another photo and said, ‘He does look particularly good in this one. I forgot to tell you the rest of what Jung said about that. Let’s see if I can remember. Ooh, it was a long time ago I did psychology. Yes, he said, “You have an image of a man, of
the
man. Then you see that man, and you fall in love.” Sound familiar? And afterwards, says Jung, “you may discover that it was a hell of a mistake.” Wise words, don’t you think?’

Minette looked at her watch. Christ, it was eight fifty-five; Abe would be coming round any minute to check she was all right. He’d see the photos, strewn over the table … She stumbled to her feet. ‘I’m going.’

‘Sure. Thanks for the wine. See you soon. Oh, and if you don’t want to do the triathlon no worries, totally understand. I’ll just add the money you’ve raised to my overall total. Joint effort.’

Somehow Minette was outside. She was sweating, and cold at the same time. She couldn’t get her key in the lock because she was drunk, and because her hand was trembling. She let out a whispered prayer – ‘please god come on just let me please let me get inside please I’ll do anything’ – till at last the door opened. She stepped inside quietly, and stood in the hall.

Abe called from the kitchen, ‘That you, Dougie? I mean, Minette, sorry. You’ve been ages. You OK?’

She had to get herself together, put on one hell of an act for him. She couldn’t think straight, yet she knew one thing for certain: she would die if Abe saw those photos. Who would she be, in his eyes, if he saw them? No longer Minette, his best friend, love of his life, mother of his child. But Minette, a whore. She hadn’t felt like a whore till she saw the pictures. And that’s what Abe would see. It would change the way he felt about her; there would be no coming back from it. She had to avoid that happening at all costs. Think, Minette, for fuck’s sake, think. She would tell him Cath had convinced her all was fine. Just for now, to buy some time, while she worked out what to do. She’d tell Abe that something had gone wrong with the app. That Andy was unreliable. A wife-beater after all. She’d ring Andy tomorrow and say she couldn’t help him any further.

She took out her lenses, and cupped them in her palm. It would be easier to lie if she couldn’t see Abe properly. Then she pushed open the kitchen door.

‘WHAT’S SHE DOING?’
Cath asked Davey. He was looking out of the round window while she painted the tiles in the bathroom across the hall. The Miltons had chosen hideous salmon pink tiles, with a grey fleck that looked like dirt. Cath was painting them white. They looked miles better.

‘Nothing. Still sitting on the bench. She’s showing Tilly a book.’

‘God, some people have nothing better to do on a Sunday but lounge about.’

‘Oh, she looked.’ Davey ducked down from the window.

‘Did she see you?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘You oughta stop now, anyway. You’ll get tired, you’re not supposed to stand for long, remember.’

Davey sat on the floor outside the bathroom. ‘Stinks.’

‘Yeah, it’s smelly paint. I’m done now. You can help me collect the last bits of sponsor money. There’s about eight houses where they’re never home in the week.’

Cath cleared up and checked in on Lola. She was watching TV, a half-empty packet of Bakewell tarts in front of her.

‘How many of those have you had, Lolly?’

‘Dunno,’ Lola said, another one on its way to her mouth.

‘Make that the last one, lovie, OK? Listen, Davey and me are going out for ten minutes. Do you want to come?’

She shook her head. ‘Want to see the end of this.’

‘OK. We won’t be long. I’ll lock the front door, all right?’

‘All right,’ Lola said, her eyes never moving from the screen. She probably hadn’t heard a word.

‘I’m really tired, Mum,’ Davey said.

‘You can’t be! You haven’t done anything today,’ Cath said, laughing.

‘I think it was standing up at the window.’

‘Come on, fresh air will do you good.’ Cath gathered up her file. ‘I need you with me when I’m collecting sponsors.’ She ushered Davey out, locking the mortice so that Lola was safe inside.

Kirsten was first on her list. ‘Hey!’ she said when she opened her door to Cath and Davey. ‘How are you guys? Must be nearly triathlon day.’

‘Yep, one week today.’

‘I’ve got a 10K in a few weeks and I don’t feel ready at all.’

‘Me neither,’ Cath laughed. ‘It’ll be all right on the night, though.’ She took out her list. ‘We’re just collecting the money now, if that’s OK. It’s always such a bore doing it afterwards, you know …’

‘Oh! Sure.’ Kirsten grabbed her purse. ‘What did I put down?’

‘You were really kind, you put £100.’

‘Wow, I
was
feeling generous. Listen, I only have £50 in cash, I’ll do the rest in a cheque, shall I?’

‘Can you make it out to me?’ Cath said. ‘I’m going to collect all the money and give one big cheque to Duchenne, they prefer that.’

‘Course. Here you go.’

‘Wonderful. While I’m here, can I sponsor you for your 10K?’

‘Thanks!’ Kirsten handed Cath the form. ‘Where’s your sister, Davey?’

‘She’s at home.’

‘What, on her own?’

‘Yes,’ Davey said.

Cath laughed. ‘He’s such a messer. No, she’s with the sitter. She was too tired to come out but Davey doesn’t mind giving me a hand, do you lovie?’ Cath ruffled Davey’s hair.

They said goodbye and Cath consulted her list. ‘OK, let’s try Martin now. Davey, for god’s sake, what was all that? What happened to the golden rule?’

‘I don’t feel very well,’ Davey said.

‘Ah, c’mon, lovie, we’ve only just started.’

‘I really am tired, please can we go home.’

‘We’ll just do a few more.’ Cath pushed him past the scruffy student house to number 41. She hoped Martin would answer, but unfortunately it was Sarah, his unfriendly wife, who looked suspiciously at Cath. She leaned on her old-fashioned flowery stick, an unattractive accessory for a young-ish woman. There were far cooler sticks you could get now. The Duchenne kids who didn’t yet need wheelchairs had some great ones: fluorescent ones, ones with skull handles, or ones covered in rhinestones.

‘Lovely to see you,’ Cath said, and explained about the sponsor money.

‘What, in advance? You haven’t even done the race yet, have you?’

‘No, but the charity likes it …’

‘Bit dodgy if you ask me.’

‘It speeds up their admin, anyway, how is everything with you guys? How’s Callum, haven’t seen him out on his skateboard lately.’

Sarah was not easy to deflect. ‘Well, I don’t even know how much Martin sponsored you, so you’ll have to come back later.’

Cath looked at her form and said, ‘He pledged £80.’

‘He what? That’s ridiculous. He must have been drunk. We’ll give you a tenner.
After
you’ve done the race.’ She started to close the door, then looked down at Davey and said, ‘Oughtn’t you get that kid home? He’s wrecked.’

Cath saw to her amazement that Davey was fast asleep in the wheelchair, out cold. ‘Oh!’

Sarah shook her head, and shut the door.

Poor Davey. Cath was furious with herself. He was genuinely unwell and she had forced him to come out. You are a terrible mother, a monster, she told herself as she pushed him quickly back home.

She told Lola, still gazing at the telly, cakes all gone, to turn down the volume. She had to wake Davey gently to get him into his bed.

‘How do you feel, lovie?’

‘Head hurts. Tired.’

Cath drew the curtains. ‘You do look very pale. Nothing worse than a sick headache. Do you want a cuddle?’

‘OK.’

Cath lay on top of the covers and put her arm round Davey. His small soft hand curled loosely round her wrist. His other hand clutched onto his toy bear. Cath closed her eyes. ‘I can’t tell whether I’m touching your arm or the teddy. They’re both so soft.’

‘Waffles.’

‘My mummy had a long fur coat when I was a little girl. Fake fur, she called it, all soft, like your Waffles.’

‘He’s brown.’

‘Yes, her coat was brown too. Pretend mink. I didn’t have my own teddy, but I loved pressing my face against her coat when it was hanging in the cupboard. Mummy didn’t like me touching it, though, she thought I would make it sticky. She was a very busy lady, you know, very important. She worked in a big department store in Eastbourne. She was always rushing, rushing.’

‘Like you.’

‘Me? I’m not like her at all, lovie. I don’t even have a job now. My job is to look after you and Lola.’

‘OK.’

‘So anyway, she’d always be running out in her fur coat. But sometimes, if I wasn’t well, she would stay home. She would put me to bed, like you are now, and close the curtains, and bring me little trays of food.’

‘What food?’ Davey sounded like he was drifting back to sleep. Well, no wonder he was tired. He’d got to bed pretty late last night, disturbed by her row with Minette. She was tired too, after that.

‘Soft boiled egg and soldiers, maybe …’