The Woman He Loved Before (14 page)

Jack doesn’t move until we’ve heard the door click shut behind them. Then, when he is certain we are alone, he raises his gaze to me and our eyes slot together. The smell of burning rubber, the lift of the car, the sound of crunching metal swell around me and I feel all my internal organs contract painfully in response. I force the memories away, but our wary gazes stay linked.

‘I’m sorry,’ Jack says, tiredly. ‘I should have stopped her.’

‘I don’t think anything could have stopped her,’ I reply.

‘She just has this ability to make me feel …’

‘Guilty?’

He nods. ‘Even though I didn’t do it,’ he says. ‘I didn’t kill her.’

‘I know,’ I say. ‘It never occurred to me that you did. I know you couldn’t.’

I want to ask about the rest of it. About what it was in Eve’s past that could possibly have led to them thinking he did, what it was about what she said about Eve that took him from being angry and indignant to being scared and shaken. But I can’t. That is an Eve conversation. And, of all the Eve conversations we are never going to have, this is probably the least likely of them all to happen.

‘Can you get me my painkillers, please?’ I ask him.

‘Of course,’ he says, standing up. ‘Of course.’

Once I am alone in the living room, I close my eyes. It’s easy to get the image I have of her up in my mind, to see that smile, that sparkle in her eyes and that pink dress.

What secrets did you have, Eve? And should I try to find out about them?

libby

‘You know how it is, Sis,’ says Caleb, my brother, throwing his hands wide while his face is the picture of ‘this is bigger than all of us’. He does and says that far more than any adult should. Despite how he behaves, he
is
an adult – with a son. And now, apparently, a dog.

I shake my head. ‘No, I don’t. I can promise you, I really don’t.’

I’m pretty sure most people wouldn’t understand how you could blithely pull up outside someone’s house with a dog and ask them to take care of it for you because in the rush to prepare for a holiday you booked
six months ago
you forgot to make arrangements for the dog. They’re en route to the airport, by the way.

Who does this to two healthy people, let alone one who is recovering from a car crash? Oh yes, that’s right, my brother.

‘Ah but, Sis—’

‘I’ll give you “Sis”,’ I say to him. ‘Why are you taking advantage of our good nature?’

‘I’m not,’ he protests, genuinely horrified that is what I think he is doing. ‘There’s no one around to look after the dog. Benji wouldn’t let me leave him with anyone, and you know how much he trusts you, so what am I supposed to do? Leave the dog on his own?’

‘You could have simply picked up the phone to call and ask me in advance. You do know how to use a phone, don’t you?’

The words have no sooner left my mouth when my brother’s phone starts to ring. He reaches into the back pocket of his jeans and removes it, peering at the screen. ‘I’ve got to take this,’ he says and immediately pushes a button and puts the phone to his ear. ‘Yeah?’ he says, his tone dripping with honey.

He is tall, my younger brother, and good looking, and a charmer on so many levels.

‘Uh-uh,’ he says into the phone, as he paces the floor of my kitchen. I look out of the window into the small patch of garden that this house has. Jack is playing with Benji and the dog, Butch. It’s cute, a brown fluffy ball with black patches and a small, narrow face that looks like it is constantly trying to make sense of what you’re saying while keeping inside all the secrets it is has learnt from its time on Earth. It’s not the dog I object to, it’s the lack of warning – actually, the outright deceit. I have spoken to my brother at least three times in the last few days, and he has not at any point mentioned the dog. I should have known that there was something odd about the fact he only called when Benji was asleep.
Because Benji would have told me.

I look over at Caleb as he uh-uhs into the phone.

Moving stiffly, because it is still difficult to walk with the pulling sensation and with pain sparkling at my nerve endings, I go to him and snatch the mobile out of his hands, put it to my ear. A woman is talking.

‘Love, he’s not worth it,’ I say to her and hang up before slapping the small, silver rectangle back into the palm of his hand.

‘Libby!’ he almost roars. ‘That was my bank manager!’

‘Really? So why’s she calling you on a Saturday? Not enough days in the working week to talk to you?’

His glower is one that would be guilt-inducing had I not known him all my life. He is a laugh, and I do adore him, but he is known for taking the Michael. His glower slides seamlessly and effortlessly into a sulk. Anyone looking at us now would think he
was a teenager being told off by his mother. But he is a father. I often think he forgets that. He loves Benji and is responsible when he has to be, but I think the thought of what he has to do all the time scares him, so he decides to check out and leave it up to our parents or me to sort out. I mean a dog,
really
!

‘Caleb, you’ve not really been fair on us, have you?’ I say. ‘What would you do if I turned around now and said we can’t look after him? That we’re off on holiday ourselves?’

He looks alarmed. ‘You’re not, are you?’ he asks, then doesn’t wait for an answer before saying, ‘Nah, course you’re not. You wouldn’t be going nowhere with your hair like that.’

Automatically, I raise my right hand, run it over the smooth curves and bumps of my scalp, avoiding the scar. He hadn’t seemed to notice when he pulled up and came into the house. Benji’s eyes, however, had widened and he’d said, ‘Wow!’ with a massive smile on his face. ‘You’re soooo cool Auntie Libby.’ Then he’d rushed around to the back seat of the car to get the dog out.

Caleb’s phone starts to ring again, this time the one in his inside jacket pocket. Of course my brother has more than one phone; I’m pretty sure he has more than one name when dealing with the various women ‘friends’ he has. At least with Jack, I always knew that he used his real name with every woman he slept with. Caleb reaches for his phone.

‘If you answer that phone, I will not only chuck it down the toilet, I will pack up your dog and send you all on your merry way. Do you get me?’

He hesitates, not sure if I mean it. He studies my expression for a few seconds, and comes to the conclusion that I mean it.

‘Ah, Sis, you know what it’s like,’ he says again, ignoring his phone to pull out a chair and sit down heavily. ‘Benji’s wanted a dog from time. The boy ain’t got no mother. How can I say no to him?’

‘I don’t care about the dog,’ I say. ‘It’s the not telling me part that I object to. You constantly make decisions that involve me and then expect me to go along with them. How is that fair?’

‘Sorry, Sis,’ he mumbles, as if he means it. On one level he does; on most other levels he is only saying that to get the bollocking over that bit quicker.

‘Jack has to go back to work on Monday, and I can’t look after a dog – I can barely walk across the room, let alone take him out for walks twice a day. How are we supposed to do this without any advance warning?’

‘Sorry, Sis.’

‘You’re not though, are you?’

‘I am!’ he insists, with conviction.

‘Even if I believed that, and it’s a very big “if”, please tell me how I’m supposed to do this? And what about paying for him?’

Caleb has the audacity to look around the room, telling me with his eyes that money is no object to me. He’s not the only one who thinks I hit the big time when I married Jack. Paloma, who is still planning her wedding to Devin, actually started headhunting for replacements within hours of me telling her we were getting married. She had been horrified when I told her I was going to carry on working. Most people thought I’d give up my job and stay at home, when in actual fact I could think of nothing worse if I wasn’t staying home to look after our children. I kept my job and went to London every day like I did before I got married. I still put money towards the mortgage and pay my share of the bills.

‘The world doesn’t owe you anything,’ I say to Caleb. ‘And neither do Jack or I. If Butch is staying for four weeks, you need to pay me.’

‘I’ll sort you out when I get back,’ he says.

I click my fingers in front of his face. ‘Focus! Focus! Remember who you’re talking to,’ I say. ‘I’m not one of the “bank managers” on the phone, I am your sister. I know you, remember? There’s a cashpoint up the road, you can draw some money out there.’

‘I’ve used all my cash limit up for today.’

‘OK, then you’ve clearly got it now.’ I hold out my hand.

‘I’ve used it all on petrol getting down here,’ he says quickly.

‘Do I have to search your pockets?’ I say. ‘Because you know I will.’

‘Ah, Sis, man!’ he says, reaching into his inside pocket and pulling out a wodge of notes. Far more than his daily cashpoint limit, that’s for sure. He peels off a couple of twenties and holds them out to me.

I stare at the purple notes in his right hand, and then at the bundle in his left hand. My hand reaches out and snatches the bundle from him. I take off six notes, as well as the two in his other hand, then give the rest back to him.

‘That’s our holiday money!’ he complains, watching anxiously as I roll up the notes and tuck them down my cleavage. I’ve never done that in my life, but I’m pretty certain my brother will not rummage around my bra to get his cash back – even he has standards. ‘What are we supposed to do now?’

‘I don’t know, but you might have more of a clue if you stop thinking I’m going to spend my life bailing you out.’

For a moment I think he is going to say ‘It’s not fair!’ and throw himself on the floor like he used to do in the supermarket when he was four. I stare at him as I used to then: with wide-eyed awe that someone that small could cause such a fuss. After seeming to seriously consider whether the floor-based tantrum would work or not, he grudgingly shrugs.

‘I’ll go say goodbye to Butch,’ he concedes.

In the garden, Jack is flat on the ground, covered in grass and dirt, while Benji stands on one side, trying to get Butch to hop over Jack to him. ‘Here, Butch,’ he keeps saying, patting his thighs with his hands. Butch meanwhile is very much engrossed with chasing his little brown tail in ever-more fervent circles.

I love Benji’s unfailing optimism, I admire Jack’s enthusiasm for these sorts of things with Benji, and I adore Butch for being so clueless. (And for having probably one of the most inappropriate names of all time.)

‘OK, mate,’ Caleb says to Benji, ‘we need to hit the road. Say bye to Butch and everyone.’

Benji abandons the game, leaps over Jack and scoops Butch in his arms. Butch doesn’t protest and is obviously used to Benji’s hugging. ‘Bye, Butch. Please look after Auntie Libby. She’s well cool.’ He squeezes Butch again. ‘And Uncle Jack’s cool, too.’

Caleb goes to Butch, too, but doesn’t hug him. He rubs the patch of fur between his ears. ‘See ya soon, Butch.’ Then Caleb moves to Jack and slaps his palm into his so they can shake hands in a manly fashion, while Benji throws his arms around me, butting his head in my abdomen and nearly causing me to pass out from the pain. ‘See you soon, Auntie Libby. Butch is nice. He’ll look after you.’

‘Thank you,’ I say to him. ‘You have a nice holiday with your dad.’

Benji then goes to high-five with Jack, while his father comes towards me. Caleb is gentle as he wraps himself around me for a hug. He’s always surprising me with his hugs. Even if I’ve torn a strip off him for being selfish and a bit of an idiot, just before I leave he’ll grab me and hug me and say goodbye.

‘All right, Sis,’ he says to me. ‘Take care of my boy Butch, and take care of yourself.’

‘I will,’ I say. Butch stops chasing his tail and sits on the grass, watching patiently as Benji and Caleb go. I’m actually more surprised than not that he doesn’t raise his paw and wave at them. As they disappear around the side of the house, Butch turns to me and cocks his head to one side. He’s sizing me up, I realise. He’s seeing if I meet his standards. Eventually he seems to resign himself to the fact that, up to scratch or not, he’s with me for now, and does the doggy equivalent of a shrug by shaking himself once, then he wanders towards Jack. Probably to see if Jack is a better option.

‘Well, you aren’t that much of a catch yourself, mate,’ I say to him.

‘Are you starting a row with a dog?’ Jack asks, still reclining on the grass.

‘No,’ I say petulantly.

Jack’s face twists up into a smile that is a half-laugh of incredulity and despair, which he gives me whenever he thinks I’m being unreasonable or outrageous.

I have to look away, my face twisting into a smile too. He’s usually right when he treats me to one of those smiles – I am being unreasonable or outrageous or ridiculous.

‘I’m going for a lie-down,’ I tell him, still trying to fight my smile.

‘OK,’ Jack replies.

I shuffle my way into the house knowing that he is never going to let me live this down.

jack

Never being able to have children with Eve is one of the things that used to haunt me. Many, many things haunted me, but that is the one that left the deepest furrows of pain in my heart.