Valentina: A Hauntingly Intelligent Psychological Thriller (17 page)

The taxi pulls away. You picture it, weaving down the lane, long after you lose sight of it. You imagine it, pulling out onto the South Deeside Road, revving through the gears on its way out to Dyce Airport. Half an hour later, you ask your baby daughter what she thinks Daddy’s doing now.

“
Will he have on the funny yellow safety suit?” you ask her. She’s six months old now, she can sit up but she cannot reply. “Will he be walking across the airfield like a big banana, climbing into the helicopter with the roughnecks? They’ll be huddled together in the big metal fly, won’t they? Taking off like this, they’ll be.” You imitate the sound of the rotor blades:

Chuckachuckachuckachuckachucka. Baby laughs. You do it again. Chuckachuckachuckachucka. She squeals.

“
Again? Chuckachuckachuckachucka.”

Chuckachuckachuckachucka. That’s how the helicopter goes. Chuckachuckachuckachucka. That’s the noise the helicopter makes.

Chuckachuckachuckachucka. It’s enough to drive a lonely person insane.

Time. Mikey away in his great Meccano teapot in the middle of the ocean, Val and me whiling away the months. When it rained we spent afternoons indoors, chatting about everything and nothing, or we went into town together in the jeep, in and out of shops, stopping for coffee, sometimes sharing a chocolate muffin, laughing at ourselves, making faces, calling ourselves pigs. In rare sunshine, we whiled away those afternoons in the garden, lying back on a picnic blanket, drinking dry white wine. Summer cooled into autumn but still, out of habit, we sat out as much as we could. I spent so much time with Valentina, sometimes it seemed like I spent more time with her than I did with Mikey.

“
I wonder if finding a friend in a new place is actually more important than finding a husband,” I said once.

An October afternoon, a picnic blanket afternoon, the two of us lying on the vast lawn behind the cottage. Sweaters and coats on, scarves and hats, for the sake of being outside. White wine sweating in its chiller jacket, kids asleep in their prams
–
hedonistic, but still ...

“
Of course it is,” she replied. “It goes: friend, hairdresser, husband. In that order.”

“
You’re a wicked, wicked woman.” I laughed, hauled myself up on one elbow and rested my cheek on my fist. “Do you keep in touch with anyone back home?”

“
Nah. Drifted around too much. I envy people like you.”

“
Me?”

“
You’ve got Jeanie and Robbie and those guys, and I bet you still have friends from school. And your brothers of course. I don’t even have siblings. You’re lucky.”

I was lucky. I felt it. Always had.

“
I suppose being a yoga teacher’s probably quite lonely,” I said. “Now I think about it.”

“
I love my clients, they’re sweeties. But yeah, not exactly rich pickings on the social front. Speaking of which, we should go out. You know, out out. Get drunk in town.”

“
But Mikey’s away.”

She raised herself up on both elbows. I couldn’t see her eyes for her sunglasses. “Red can babysit. He’s great with kids, I’ll say that for him. You can bring Isla over to my place and Red can look after the two of them. Isla could sleep over. What do you say? It’ll do you good to cut loose for a change.”

“
I’m not sure.”

“
Come on, Shona, shake a leg. How long is it since you’ve had a night out?”

“
Nine or ten months, I guess. Maybe a year?”

“
Bor-ing.” She wagged her finger and tutted. “That’s what you’ll become if you don’t watch out.”

I winced. Couldn’t bear for her to think I was boring. But to leave Isla with someone I didn’t know? Someone who smoked dope?

“
Maybe in a month or two.” I got up, wandered over to the pond. A flash of golden armour
–
the biggest of the carp
–
the one Mikey and I had christened The Knight. Valentina had lain back down on the rug. She had crossed her arms over her chest and become so still that when she spoke I almost cried out with shock.

“
I could lie here all day,” she said.

In the cobalt sky, high up, a bird soared over us, its wings wide, cloak-like. A kestrel, an eagle, a falcon maybe. In the garden, no sound, none at all. To speak was to break like a vandal into a haven. Above, the bird folded itself into an arrow and darted down into the trees. For some shrew or vole this was not a good day.

“
Are things better at home?” I asked her.

She frowned. “Up and down, I guess. I’ve not had to tell him off in a couple of days.”

She made him sound like a child. I stayed at the pond’s edge, pushed the lily pad with my toe. I had never, I realised, invited her and Red for dinner after all. The intention had been lost in the spinning wheel of our new life, I suppose, in the joy of having Mikey to myself for two whole weeks. I guess, seeing him only half the time, I couldn’t bear to share him
–
but if I let that continue too long, we’d become a couple of bearded hermits.

“
Why don’t you and Red come over one night when Mikey’s next back?” I said. “Nothing fancy, mind.”

“
Sure,” she said. “That’d be lovely.”

The carp again, rolling down into the depths. There was black too in his scales, beneath the gold. We would have to find someone who could adopt the fish, I thought, when we got around to making the pond into a sandpit. Isla had started to crawl in the last week. So had Zac. The two of them were growing so close, following each other about like brother and sister, copying each other. I would tell Mikey to buy sand when he got back. We should fill the pond before something bad happened.

Time. I gripped my way through those two weeks blocks without him like a mountain climber on a steep cliff face. One hand hole, one foot hole, shift up, rest, shift up. Isla became better company. Watching her grow and change was a pleasure in itself. Mikey and I decided that I would look for work once she had turned one. I was her only point of stability, he said, and I agreed. I got used to my stay-at-home role, got better at filling the hours, made small tasks last. One hand hole, one foot hole, shift up, rest.

The kitchen roof sprung a leak. I brought my tool kit from the garage and fixed it. Loose slate, nothing to it. I re-puttied the living room window which had been rattling since we moved here. To stop the cold air blowing in from outside, I bought and fitted an insulation strip to the bottom of the front door. These things I told Mikey on the phone, glowed when he praised my handiness.

I joined a playgroup, though I had difficulty connecting with anyone there. There were, apparently, grownup women who positively relished the singing of baby songs, who apparently could not wait to talk about their child’s development, vegetable eating, digestive system. And if I’m honest, once I’d met Valentina, other women paled in comparison.

I went to the supermarket every day while he was away: relief from loneliness and boredom. Or existential despair for sale in coloured rows
–
depending on my mood. In the trolley, Isla thought she was on a ride at the fair, bless her. I pushed her and let go, pretended to panic as she rolled away. I ran after her, grabbed the handlebar at the last moment, making her jolt and giggle. I loved to make her laugh like that, her head flopping back then forward again as laughter made her weak. I’d spent a lifetime learning to make small thrills count. Of course, I wasn’t poor any more but making simple pleasures out of nothing in this way was lodged in the very atoms of me. I went to town alone, called in at Markies. And who should I see there but Valentina. No mistaking that hair. You could have spotted it from a hundred miles away
–
or, in my case, from the end of the dairy aisle.

“
Val,” I called after her. “Hey, Val!”

It was the look she gave me when she turned around. They say people look like they’ve seen a ghost. Well, she looked like that. Like I myself had died and had come back from behind the yoghurts to haunt her.

“
Shona.” She pushed the trolley towards me, seeming to recover, digging in her back pocket, pulling out her phone. She was wearing tight black trousers, a silk blouse and some black high-heeled ankle boots. She looked a lot less hippyish than normal
–
not like herself at all.

She stopped her trolley bumper to bumper with mine. “I thought you shopped in the big Sainsbury’s?”

“
I do normally but
–
call me crazy
–
I fancied a change. Aren’t you teaching today?”

“
Lunch break.” She checked her phone, frowned. “Sorry, Red’s asking ... hold on a second.” Her thumb twitched over the screen.

“
Is he here?” I looked over her shoulder to see if I could spot him. “I’d love to meet him.”

“
Somewhere. I need him to pick up some peas, hold on.” Her thumb pressed down again. “That’s it.” She looked up, her shoulders dropped an inch. “I’m making pea risotto.”

“
Yum,” I said. “I might copy you.”

We smiled at one another, neither finding anything to say. I’m no hippy but there was something in the air between us, something she would have described maybe as bad energy. I felt it as if it were a solid thing, something dense.

“
Is everything all right?” I asked her.

“
Sure, why not?”

“
You look very smart.”

She pinched up her blouse. “Oh this? Yeah. Corporate gig. Have to look the part before I strip off to the leotard and say ta-dah! Stiffies all round!”

I smiled, nodded, looked at the floor.

“
Where’s Red?” I asked after a moment. “I could say hello.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Actually we’re tight for time, babe. But the four of us are getting together for dinner soon, right?”

I winced with embarrassment. Mikey had been home and gone again since that conversation and still I hadn’t organised the dinner.

“
Yeah,” I said. “I’ll ask Mikey tonight when he calls, see what day is good. That way we’ll get it on the calendar.”

She looked in my trolley, at the six yoghurts rattling around in the bottom. “Petit Filou, eh?”

“
Aye. No Petit Filou chez nous! Pity flew out the window. I need a petit f’lu jab
–
good grief, I’m gonna stop now.” I laughed, felt myself blush.

She was smiling. Her canine caught on her bottom lip in the way it did, making her look almost coy. “Listen, we’re still on for Friday morning swim, right?”

“
Of course. Swimming baths at nine thirty.” And now we were exchanging information we both knew.

“
Don’t forget your costume.” She laughed, looked behind her and back again to me. “I love the way you Brits say baths instead of pool.” Her phone beeped. She checked it and made to turn away. “Red’s got the peas. See you Friday, babe. Better wax our legs, eh?”

“
Aye, and the rest. See you.”

I watched her go, didn’t move until she’d disappeared into another aisle.

At the checkout, I looked for her to wave goodbye but couldn’t spot her. I made my way out with shopping in one hand and Isla on the opposite hip. Outside, the rain was coming down in sheets. I found my keys, pulled my coat over the two of us and ran over to the car park
.
I threw the shopping in the boot, heaved Isla into her seat. As I tried to clip her in, my coat slipped from my shoulder. In seconds, the rain soaked my sweater. My hair flattened against my face but I no longer cared. I was as wet as West Coast Willy, as my dad used to say, and there was a certain pleasure in giving in to elements beyond my control.

I was about to make my way round to my side of the car when I saw, pulling out of the exit to the car park, Valentina’s old Toyota. The passenger side was nearest me. Naturally, I think, I strained to get a look at Red. I was only curious. I must have been about ten metres away and I couldn’t see well for the rain but from a distance I was pretty sure I could see that the man in the passenger seat had dark hair because he was talking to Valentina, his face turned towards her, the back of his head, then, towards me. Valentina had told me he was called Red on account of his red hair. I had seen a photo of him
–
there was no way his hair could look dark, not even from a distance, not even if he had got wet.

My guts flipped over. I climbed into the jeep and started the engine. Put the blower on high to clear the windscreen. I felt rushed, panicky. Guilty. I had spied on my friend and, as spies deserve, had discovered something I didn’t like, something I had no right to know. She hadn’t met my eye just now in the supermarket, had made conversation in the strangest way. It had been as if she were mimicking herself, but not getting it right. And now I knew why. Whoever it was she was with, I was pretty sure it wasn’t Red.

I jumped into the car and started the engine. Valentina was already pulling out, heading for the roundabout. I tried to back out and keep sight of her car at the same time but it was so hard with the rain streaming down the windows. I almost crashed getting out of the car park, caught sight of the Toyota heading towards the lights. But I was three cars back already. At the lights she turned left as they changed from amber, leaving me stranded on the red behind a queue of traffic. I sat as high as I could, straining to see. But it was useless. Why was she heading left when she lived on Union Grove? Was she going to his place, with food and wine, to spend the afternoon there? The thought was too horrible. I was building it up into more than it was. I slammed my hand on the steering wheel and cursed. Whatever the explanation, I had lost her.

THIRTEEN

As planned, I met Valentina at Aberdeen City Baths that Friday. As planned, we took the kids swimming. We splashed about, we smiled at our children, eyes bright and pinked with chlorine, we laughed about the woman whose swimming costume had gone see-through at the back. We went for coffee. Chatted about this and that. Said goodbye.