Текст книги "Second Life"

Автор книги: S. J. Watson

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Текущая страница: 16 (всего у книги 24 страниц)

Chapter Twenty-Five

I’m in the living room when Anna arrives. She’s alone. Ryan had plans, she’d said, but will pick her up later. I call upstairs to Hugh and go to the door. Our guest is standing outside, holding a bottle of wine and a bunch of flowers. ‘I’m early!’ she says as I usher her in. ‘Sorry!’ I tell her it’s fine and take the coat she’s wearing, a red rainproof that’s slightly damp.

‘Is it raining?’

‘A little. Just drizzle. What a lovely house!’

We go through to the living room. Her conference is going well, she says, though there’s a lot to think about, and yes, her hotel room is fine. As she speaks she goes over to the picture of Kate on the mantelpiece and picks it up, looking at it for a moment before putting it back. She looks as though she’s about to say something – we’ve spoken about the fact that they’ve found the man who murdered her, perhaps she wants to say something else – but then Hugh comes downstairs to say hello. They embrace warmly, as if they’ve known each other for years.

‘Oh, I brought you these!’ she says, handing over a bag. Hugh opens it: a box of macaroons, delicately wrapped. ‘Great!’ he says, then they both sit. I excuse myself to check on the food, happy that they’re chatting. For a moment it feels as if I’m auditioning Anna as my new best friend and I feel first anxious about Adrienne, then guilty. Our friendship has been through a rocky patch and we’re only just getting back on track.

Yet it’s only natural that Anna and I would be friends, too. We’ve both lost Kate; the bond is recent but immensely powerful.

‘Where’s Connor?’ she says when I go back in. ‘I can’t wait to meet him again!’

‘He’s out with friends.’ I sit down on the sofa opposite Hugh, next to Anna. ‘His friend Dylan, I think. He’ll be back soon …’

I’ve told him he has to be. Maybe Hugh’s right. I need to be firmer.

I shrug. You know what they’re like, I’m saying, and she smiles, even though I guess she doesn’t.

‘Do you want children?’ says Hugh, and she laughs.

‘No! Not yet, anyway. I’ve only just got engaged!’

‘You have brothers? Sisters?’

‘Just a step-brother,’ she says. ‘Seth. He lives in Leeds. He does something to do with computers. I’m never really sure.’

‘Is that where your parents live?’

She sighs. ‘No. My parents are dead.’ I remember Anna telling me about her parents, back in Paris, while we were sitting on her couch, having a drink. Her mother suffered with depression. She tried to kill herself. She’d survived, but required full-time care for the years she remained alive. Her father’s drinking got worse, and after just less than a decade they died within six months of each other and she and her brother were left alone.

Hugh coughs. ‘I’m sorry to hear that. You get on with your step-brother, though?’

‘Brilliantly. We always have. He’s everything to me. I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to him.’

I try not to react, but she must see my face fall.

‘Oh, God, Julia, I wasn’t … I didn’t mean to … I’m sorry …’

‘It’s fine,’ I say. It’s the second time in only a few days that she’s referred clumsily, if obliquely, to Kate’s death. I wonder if she’s already over it, has almost forgotten it. I don’t for a moment think it’s deliberate.

‘Let’s go and eat?’

It’s a good dinner. I’ve made a chicken pie and it’s turned out well. Connor arrives not long after I serve the soup and sits with us. He seems to bond with Anna particularly well. She asks him about school, about his football; she even gets out her phone at one point and he helps her with something with which she’s been struggling. When we’ve finished the main course she helps me to carry the plates through into the kitchen, and when we’re out of earshot says, ‘He’s such a lovely lad.’

‘You think?’

‘Yes!’ She puts the plates down. ‘You should be very proud. Both of you!’

I smile. ‘Thank you.’ Her approval feels important, somehow. Significant. She says she’s going upstairs to use the bathroom. I direct her, then ask Hugh to give me a hand with the coffee.

He comes through. ‘How’re things?’

‘Good.’ I’ve made a pudding – a lemon syllabub – but now I’m wondering whether I should also put out the macaroons. I ask Hugh.

‘Both, I think. Is Anna driving home?’

I know he’s thinking about the dessert wine he has in the fridge. He’s become awkward about alcohol since I had to lie and say I’d had a drink with Adrienne; he won’t mention it, even though we still have it in the house. But he knows better than to try and manage my behaviour by pretending drink doesn’t exist.

‘No. Her boyfriend’s coming to pick her up.’ There’s a tingle of resentment. Hugh’s thinking of putting more wine out, but I can’t have any. I acknowledge it, then let it go. He gets the packet of coffee beans out of the cupboard and scoops some out. ‘How did you say she and Kate met?’

I tell him. ‘They were friends at school. They lost touch for a while, then reconnected.’

Dimly, it occurs to me that I’m thinking about Kate, talking about her, and it’s not painful. It’s because Anna’s here, I think. It’s getting easier, as long as it’s Kate’s life I’m thinking about, rather than her death.

I take the syllabub out of the fridge. Hugh finishes making the coffee and I call through to Connor and ask if he’ll fetch some dishes. He comes in almost straight away and the three of us carry the things through into the dining room, where we arrange them on the table. The family unity pleases me; part of me is disappointed that Anna isn’t here to see it. I call upstairs and ask if she’s all right. She shouts down, she’s okay, she’ll just be a minute, and when she appears she puts her phone on the table with a sheepish grin.

‘Sorry. Ryan called.’ She looks suddenly, radiantly, happy. ‘He’s on his way.’

‘He should come for dinner,’ says Hugh. ‘How long is he staying for?’

‘Not sure. Until next week some time.’

‘And when do you go back?’ says Hugh.

‘Saturday.’ She turns to me. ‘That reminds me. Do you fancy lunch on Saturday? Before I get my train?’

I tell her that would be lovely.

‘Okay, if you’re sure?’

I tell her I am. ‘You must invite Ryan in for a drink, too,’ I say.

‘Oh, no,’ she begins. ‘I wouldn’t dream—’

‘Nonsense!’ says Hugh. ‘He must come in!’ He turns to me, and I say, ‘Of course!’

Anna looks relieved. I pour her coffee. Connor asks if he can be excused and goes back to his room. We talk some more, sip our drinks, but the evening is winding down. After another fifteen minutes of chat we hear a car pull up outside. A door slams, there’s the pip-pip of the alarm, and a moment later footsteps up the path and the doorbell rings. I look over to Anna, who says, ‘He’s early!’ She looks electrified, like a little girl waiting for the postman to bring her birthday cards, and I feel a curious excitement, too; I’m looking forward to meeting this person, this man who has given Anna such transparent, uncomplicated happiness. Who has helped her grieve for Kate and move on.

I stand up. ‘I’ll go and let him in.’ I walk through, into the hallway. I rearrange my hair, smooth down the front of my shirt, open the door.

It’s Lukas.

I take a step back. It’s as if I’ve been punched; the feeling is physical and intense, my skin burns with a hit of adrenalin as instant as if someone had just plunged a needle into me. I can’t take my eyes off him. My body is reacting, my muscles tensed to fight or run. It’s the memory of his attack, burned into my body. As I look he cocks his head, just slightly, and smiles.

‘You must be Julia.’ He’s speaking clearly, his voice sounds loud, loud enough to be heard in the other room.

My mind is racing. All the panic and pain is coming back, wave after wave. Ride it out, I tell myself. Ride it out. But I can’t. For a moment I think it’s a game, another sick game. It’s as if he knows I only just deleted my profile, resolved never to ring him again. It’s as if he’s teaching me that I don’t get to decide when I let him go.

I feel as if I’m falling, the room behind me tips and spins.

‘What are you doing here?’ I say, under my breath, but he doesn’t reply. I realize I’m gripping the door frame. Shaking.

The smile hasn’t left his face. ‘Well, aren’t you going to let me in?’

I look away, look down, at the floor. Hugh, I think, in the other room. Anna, who’s expecting Ryan.

Connor, upstairs.

I look back up, so that we’re staring into each other’s eyes. ‘What the fuck are you doing here?’ I hiss.

He doesn’t answer, just stands there, smiling. I open my mouth to speak, to ask him again, for the third time, but then he glances over my shoulder and everything changes. It’s as if a switch has been thrown; his face breaks, he beams widely, starts chattering. He takes my hand in his, shakes it, as if he’s meeting me for the first time.

‘What—’ I begin, but then a moment later I realize Anna is right behind me. ‘Darling!’ she’s saying, and I think she’s talking to me, but then she reaches the doorway and goes to Lukas. He turns towards her, and then he has his arms around her and they’re kissing. It takes only a moment, but it seems to last for ever, and when they’ve finished she turns to me.

‘Julia,’ she beams. ‘Meet Ryan.’

Another wave crashes. A flush rises in my cheeks; I’m too hot. The hallway recedes; the sound of the music Connor’s playing upstairs seems somehow diminished and deafening at the same time, as if I’m hearing it at top volume yet through a fug. I feel as if I’m fainting. I reach out – for the door handle, for anything – but miss.

‘Honey?’ says Anna. ‘Are you all right?’

I try to compose myself. ‘Yes. I just … I don’t know. I feel a bit unwell …’

‘You look a bit flushed—’ says Lukas, but I interrupt him. ‘I’m fine. Honestly …’ And then a moment later the dynamic in the room shifts again. Hugh has appeared and I watch as he steps forward, saying hello. He’s grinning, shaking Lukas’s hand and saying, ‘You must be Ryan?’ He looks delighted to see him, to welcome him into our home. ‘Good to meet you,’ he says, and ‘How’re you?’ They look like two guys together, two old friends. My stomach clenches. My husband and my lover. Together.

‘Good,’ says Lukas. ‘Good. I’m a bit worried about Julia, though.’

Hugh turns to me. ‘Are you all right, darling?’

‘Yes,’ I say, even though I’m not. The room has stopped spinning but still I shake with an anxiety so intense I worry I’ll not be able to control it.

‘I don’t know what came over me.’

‘Well,’ says Hugh, ‘come in at least, Ryan. Come in.’

Lukas thanks him. We go through to the living room, an awkward entourage. Hugh invites Lukas to sit on the sofa, Anna sits next to him, takes his hand. Hugh offers him a drink, but he shakes his head, says he’s driving. I watch it all through a gauzy screen of fear, as if it’s happening elsewhere, to other people, this scene of polite normality that no longer has anything to do with me. Wordlessly, I accept the drink Hugh gives me: a glass of water.

‘Have this. You’ll feel better.’

‘Are you sure you’re okay?’ says Anna.

I sip and nod and say yes, then Lukas turns to me.

‘It’s so great to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.’

I smile thinly. ‘You, too.’ I watch as he thanks me, then takes Anna’s hand and squeezes it. ‘Anna has told you our news?’ He strokes her hand, looking into her eyes with an expression I recognize, one of love, of pure adoration.

‘Yes. Yes, it’s wonderful!’

‘It is!’ says Hugh. He’s turned on the charm, is trying hard to impress. ‘You’re sure you won’t have a drink? Just one?’

Lukas says nothing for a moment, then nods his head. ‘Okay, then. Why not? One won’t take me over the limit. Just a short. You’re sure you don’t mind me dropping in on you like this?’

‘Not at all,’ says Hugh. He goes over to the drinks cabinet and gets out the bottles of whisky, vodka and gin. ‘What’ll it be?’ Lukas chooses a single malt, something I’ve never seen him drink before.

Hugh prepares the drink. Lukas turns to me. ‘Anna tells me you’re a photographer?’ His face is open, his head tilted, as if he’s genuinely interested. I look from him to Anna, back again. I can’t work out what he’s doing, whether I should say something, tell her now. I’m in shock, I suppose, though there’s a kind of weird detachment. I need to figure it out. All this time, while I thought I was having an affair, he was already seeing my sister’s best friend. I’ve been utterly betrayed. I was the affair.

But they met before Kate was killed, I think, so why did he choose me? It can’t be coincidence. If it were, he’d have been shocked when I opened the door to him tonight. ‘Julia!’ he’d have said. ‘What are you doing here? Where’s Anna?’ And then I guess I’d have told him how I knew his fiancée and we’d have agreed to keep quiet, to say nothing. He’d be trying to get out of here as soon as he could, not accepting a drink from Hugh, not settling in for a long chat, not asking questions he already knows the answers to.

I realize everyone is looking at me expectantly. The room is quiet, the air heavy and too warm. I’ve been asked a question and need to respond. ‘Yes. Yes. That’s right.’

I look from him to Hugh. One word, that’s all it would take. Is that what he wants? To break me and Hugh up, to detonate the bomb that I’ve placed underneath my family?

‘Sounds really interesting.’ He leans forward. He really does look like someone who is fascinated. Absorbed. He asks me what kind of photos I take, and even though the pain and anxiety is almost physical, even though he’s seen my pictures, even though we’ve lain naked on a bed together looking at my work, I tell him.

He nods, then after a moment he speaks again. ‘By the way, I was so sorry to hear about your sister.’

You bastard, I think. You’re fucking enjoying this.

I nod. I smile, but my eyes are narrowed. ‘Thanks,’ I say. I have to remind myself he didn’t kill Kate, though right now I could hardly hate him more if he had.

He looks at me, straight in the eye. ‘I never met her. I’m so sorry about her … passing on.’

Anger hits me, then. I can’t help it, even though the last thing I want is for him to see how he’s upsetting me. ‘She didn’t pass on. She was murdered.’ You know that, I’m thinking. I look for a sign of remorse, of sadness, even of mischief, but there’s none. I even think I might want him to laugh – then I can just hate him without being scared of him – but he does nothing. Nothing at all. Even his eyes betray no sign that we’ve ever met before; right now, he looks like his own twin brother.

The room is frozen. I’m aware I’ve raised my voice. I look defiant. I’m daring him to say something. Hugh looks from me to him, then back to me. The moment stretches; the only sound comes from Connor’s room upstairs.

The tension thickens, then breaks. Lukas shakes his head. ‘Oh, God, I’ve offended you. I’m so, so sorry. I never know what to say in these situations …’

I ignore him. I’m aware of Hugh, twitching, willing me to say something, but I don’t. I hold Lukas’s gaze. Anna looks from him over to me. She’s expectant, and after a moment I relent. ‘It’s okay. No one ever knows what to say. There’s nothing to say.’

He shrugs. He’s staring at me. Hugh and Anna are in the room, watching. They can see it, I think. Surely. Is he crazy? Does he want them to see what’s going on?

Or maybe he doesn’t care. We’re locked in combat, the power is flying wildly from one to the other. We’re both blind to our partners, they’re unimportant, relegated to the status of bystanders. We’re potassium in water, acid on skin. We could burn each other, wreck everything and hardly notice, hardly care.

I open my mouth to say something – I still don’t know what – but then Hugh speaks. ‘Remind me what you do again, Ryan?’ He’s trying to diffuse the tension, and for a moment Lukas doesn’t move. ‘Ryan works in the arts,’ says Anna, then Lukas turns to take her hand.

‘I have my own company. In digital production.’

Not what he’s told me.

Hugh nods. ‘Based in Paris?’

‘Yes. I’ve been there for almost five years now. I do a fair bit of travel, though.’

I look at my hands, folded into my lap. With each of his answers it hits again; it was me he was lying to all along, not Anna. Not his fiancée, the woman he’s been seeing several times a week. I look up. I can’t stop thinking about that last time, in the hotel room as David arrived. I can still feel his hands on me.

And now he’s back for more. I can’t bear it. Before I know what I’m doing I’ve stood up. But what can I do? What can I say? Anna is about to marry this man, and clearly knows nothing of what’s been going on. I open my mouth, close it again. My mind reels.

And then, suddenly, I feel myself collapse inwards. It’s as if I’m disappearing, reducing to nothing. ‘Julia!’ says Hugh. ‘Are you all right?’

‘Yes. Excuse me,’ I manage, and then I’m heading upstairs, into the bathroom.

When I return Anna asks me if I’m okay. ‘Yes. Fine.’ Lukas is draining his glass, putting it on the coffee table.

‘We should head off!’ he’s saying. He turns to me. ‘We thought we’d go to Soho. Maybe a jazz bar. Ronnie Scott’s. D’you know it?’ They both turn to me. ‘You should come.’

I say no. I’m numb. I just want all of this to stop.

‘You go if you like,’ says Hugh. ‘I’m far too tired …’

I feel a wave of guilt as I picture the two of them there. What have I done to my friend? What might still happen?

‘No. It’s late. I should turn in, too …’

‘Oh, come on,’ says Anna. ‘It’ll be fun!’

‘I really don’t mind, darling,’ says Hugh.

‘No!’ I speak a little too harshly, then turn back to Anna and soften my voice. ‘Honestly. You go ahead.’

They stand and we all move into the hallway. Anna turns to me, smiles. ‘Well …’ she says. She holds out her hands, I step forward, into her embrace, while Hugh and Lukas shake hands. ‘It’s all been too quick!’ says Anna. She can tell something is wrong. ‘Promise me you’ll come and see me soon. Bring Connor! Promise me! And I have to let you know about the wedding, as soon as we start to plan. You will come, won’t you?’

I look over to Lukas. He’s smiling, waiting for my answer.

‘Of course I will. I’m seeing you on Saturday, anyway. But I’ll call before then. Soon. Later. Okay?’ She releases me. I want to hold on to her, to tell her to be careful, to warn her, but I don’t want to frighten her. In any case, Lukas is stepping forward.

‘Well. It was great to meet you. I’m sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to upset you.’ For the briefest moment I think he’s talking about the attack, but then I realize he’s talking about Kate.

‘I’m not upset.’ I hold out my hand. The last thing I want is for him to touch me, but it wouldn’t be right for me to avoid him so obviously. ‘You, too.’ He takes my hand and pulls me towards him; I realize he means to embrace me, as if we’ve bonded, as if we’re now best friends. I don’t want to feel him, feel his body, and I resist. But he’s powerful. He hugs me tight, then kisses me. First one cheek, then the other. I can feel the muscles of his chest; despite everything I can’t help the barest fluttering of desire. He holds me for a moment, and I freeze. I’m hollow, scooped out. I’m aware that Anna and Hugh are saying their own goodbye, laughing about something, oblivious to what’s going on.

He whispers into my ear. ‘Tell her and I’ll kill you.’ I feel cold, paralysed, but then a moment later he lets go. He smiles at me once more, then takes Anna’s hand and squeezes my arm.

‘It’s been so great to meet you!’ he says, and then they both turn away and, with another flurry of smiles and waves, Hugh and I are on our own.

Chapter Twenty-Six

I close the door. I hear Lukas and Anna’s footsteps as they walk down the path to the street, and then I hear them laugh. They sound so happy, so at peace with a life that they are living together. I can almost believe Ryan really is who he says he is, that the last half-hour has been imagined. I can almost convince myself that my affair with Lukas is a thing of the past, that Anna’s engagement has just begun and these two things are totally unrelated.

But they aren’t. His final words still ring in my ears.

I turn to Hugh. He’s standing behind me, where he’d said goodbye to our guests. He hasn’t moved. ‘What on earth has got into you?’ He’s speaking quietly, so that only I can hear, but his tone is one of fury.

I can’t let him know. I can’t have him suspecting. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’ I go into the living room.

He follows me. ‘What was that all about?’

I pick up a plate, a glass.

‘What?’

‘I know it’s annoying when people say “passed on”, but these euphemisms are pretty common, you know. I hear them all the time. He meant well.’

I can’t even begin to tell him the truth.

‘I’m just … I just get sick of it. You know? She hasn’t passed on, she hasn’t gone to a better place. She was murdered. That guy hit her over the head, with God knows what, until her skull caved in and she bled to death on the ground in an alleyway in … in … fucking Paris.’

He takes a step towards me. I can see he’s trying to calm down now, to be placatory. ‘Darling, I know you’re angry, but that was no reason to take it out on our guest. And think of Connor—’

‘Hugh. For God’s sake!’

I’m shaking, he can see how upset I am; I don’t want him even to suspect what it’s about. I don’t want him to connect it with my behaviour in the hallway when Lukas arrived.

I take a deep breath, close my eyes. I try to take myself out of my anger.

‘Look, I’m sorry.’

He smiles, but it’s a sad smile.

‘You’re not all right, Julia.’ I know where this is going.

‘Don’t start, Hugh!’ I turn to face him, trembling with rage, my heart hammering as though it’s about to explode.

‘I just—’ he begins and I turn round, slam out of the living room, storm up the stairs. I know Connor will be able to hear, but right now I don’t care; I no longer even have the capacity to consider my son.

I get to the bedroom and close the door. I stand still, paralysed. I don’t know what to do. I hear him follow me, stand at the top of the stairs.

I have to warn Anna. Even if it destroys our friendship. I have no choice.

‘Julia?’

‘I’m fine!’ I shout. ‘Just give me a minute. Please.’

I think again of what he said. I’ll kill you. I feel the bruises on my back, my arms, my thighs; they begin to pulse again, as if they were still fresh. I remember what he did to me in that hotel room, how he made me feel. I feel used; used and then discarded.

But kill me? He can’t have meant it.

I hear Hugh retreat. I try to calm down. I tell myself that Kate’s killer is in custody but, over and over, the thought keeps coming back. He did it. They’ve made a mistake. They’ve got the wrong guy.

My mind will not be still, will not be rational. This is what he’s done to me. This is how low he’s brought me. I’m rejecting all sense.

My heart hammers. I remember logging on to Facebook, navigating to his page. I’d scrolled back to the photos of him in Australia, in Sydney, in front of Uluru. The dates tallied. I clicked on his friends, the ones he was with, and saw they’d posted more pictures from that holiday. One of him on a beach, another in which he’s surfing, a third of him snorkelling off a boat. The evidence had been there.

If he had anything at all to do with Kate’s death, then half of his friends must’ve been in on it.

I feel my breathing go back to normal. He’s not a killer, just a nasty piece of work. Scaring me because he knew my sister had been killed. Maybe it’s his revenge, for ending it, for running out on him. How he must hate me.

There must be a way to warn my friend. I pick my phone up from the bedside table and scroll quickly through to Anna’s name. Without hesitating, I press call; I don’t think as it rings out, but then it goes to voicemail. It’s as if she’s silenced it, and I wonder what they’re doing. Maybe they’ve skipped Ronnie Scott’s, or wherever they’ve gone instead, and are on their way back to the hotel.

I picture them. She’ll be under him, kissing him as he enters her, running her fingers down the muscles of his back.

Or maybe she’ll be cowering, in terror, a bruise already forming.

A wave of nausea hits me and I swallow it down. I have to believe he loves her. I have to. Their relationship is genuine; he’s just someone who saw a photo of me – perhaps the one that Anna took when I was over in Paris – and decided he wanted me.

I imagine the conversation. Anna telling him she met me, showing him the snap. ‘She’s really nice,’ she says, and he agrees. And then he comes for me, and I was only too willing to let him have me.

That must be it. He won’t attack her.

But then my own memory surfaces again. The carpet beneath me in the hotel room, the burns on my wrists. I know what he’s capable of. I have to warn her. She has to know before they’re even married that he’s prepared to do something like that.

I pick up my phone once more. This time I leave a message. ‘Call me.’ I try to control my voice, make it sound like I’m not nervous, not scared. ‘It’s urgent,’ I add. ‘There’s something I need to talk to you about.’ I lower my voice, even though Hugh is still downstairs and can’t possibly hear me. ‘It’s about that guy I was seeing. It’s about Lukas.’ I wince when I say his name. ‘Please call me.’

I put the phone back down. I get my computer out of my bag and with shaking hands navigate to the trashcan. The file I deleted the other day is still there, the messages I’d saved. I open a few, as if to check I’m right. He said he lived in Cambridge. No mention of a girlfriend, much less a fiancée.

I decide I should print one out, just in case I need it to persuade Anna, but the printer’s upstairs, in Hugh’s office. I pick up my machine and go up, flicking on the light as I do, barely even registering the paperwork that’s begun to litter the floor since Hugh has had the complaint hanging over him. I select a message and print it out. On paper, it’s solid, irrefutable. ‘There’s no one else I want but you,’ it says. ‘We were made for each other.’

Even so, all it proves is that I’ve been messaging someone called Lukas, and she knows that in any case. I wish I had a photo, one of the two of us, but I don’t. I’ve deleted any I took, too scared that Hugh might find them.

I fold the page anyway and put it in my bag, then check my phone. She hasn’t called, and I know what I have to do. I go back downstairs. Hugh’s in the kitchen, loading the dishwasher.

‘I’m just going out.’

‘Where on earth to?’

I try to sound calm, breezy, even though I feel the opposite. ‘I thought I’d go and meet Anna and Ryan, after all. In the jazz bar.’

‘You’re sure?’

‘Yes. I feel awful, about over-reacting. I want to apologize. Anyway, it might be fun. And Anna’s right. I don’t see her very often.’

He looks puzzled, bemused. For an awful moment I worry he’ll suggest coming with me, but then I remember Connor. ‘I won’t be late. Would you make sure Connor goes to bed?’

‘Of course.’ He picks up another plate.

‘He has school tomorrow.’

‘I know. You go. Enjoy yourself. Will you take the car?’

I know why he’s asking. He wants to make sure I won’t slip up and have a drink. He needn’t worry; I won’t go to Ronnie Scott’s. I can’t risk a confrontation in a noisy club, full of strangers. Instead I’m going to wait outside Anna’s hotel.

‘I will,’ I say. ‘And leave this, will you? I’ll tidy the rest of the dinner things in the morning.’

He nods. ‘Okay.’

I head straight to the hotel. When I arrive I park the car and call Anna again: still no answer; once again it goes straight to voicemail. I slam the steering wheel. I’m going to have to go in.

The lobby is large, impressive, but I barely notice it. I go into the bar and find a deep leather sofa, near the door. Through the glass partition I can see the main entrance. I won’t miss them.

A waiter comes over to ask if I’d like a drink. ‘Mineral water,’ I say, and he nods, as if that’s what he’d been expecting all along. He goes back to the bar and delivers my order with a whisper, a glance over his shoulder towards where I sit.

My drink arrives with a bowl of pretzels. The waiter hesitates for a moment, blocking my view of the entrance, then bends towards me. ‘Waiting for someone?’ he says as he wipes the table before setting my drink down and tidying the snacks and napkins. He’s trying to sound casual, but his question has an edge of disapproval. ‘Yes,’ I say. My voice cracks with nerves. ‘Yes, I am,’ I say more forcefully.

‘Very good.’ I don’t think he believes me. ‘A guest?’

‘Yes. She’s staying here.’ He doesn’t move on. ‘She’s just got engaged. In fact, could I get a bottle of champagne? A surprise, for when she arrives? Two glasses?’

He nods, then stands up. ‘Very good.’ He turns to leave. When I look back into the lobby I see Anna. She must have arrived while I was talking to the waiter. She looks different somehow, sadder and more serious than when she’d left my house an hour or so ago, and it takes me a moment to recognize her. I begin to stand, but she’s already heading into the lift. I could shout out, but the door between us is closed and she’d never hear me. Nevertheless, my heart lifts – for a moment I’m in luck: she’s alone – but then it plummets. I see Lukas just a few steps behind her. I freeze, then watch as he waits to let a couple go ahead of him. By the time I’ve started moving again I can see that I’m going to be too late.

‘Shit.’ The lift doors are about to close, but then Anna sees me, over her fiancé’s shoulder. She stares for a moment, she looks shocked, but before I can even smile the lift doors have closed and she’s out of sight.

I head out of the bar and into the lobby. I run over to the lift, but it’s already ascending. I watch, cursing silently, as it stops on the third, fifth and sixth floors; I have no way of knowing which is theirs, much less what room they’re in. When it begins to come back down again I turn and head back to my seat, scrabbling for my phone, imagining their conversation.

‘I’m sure I saw Julia in the lobby,’ she’ll have said. ‘I wonder what she’s doing here?’

‘No,’ he’ll say. ‘It wasn’t her.’

They’ll get to the room. ‘Come here …’ he’ll say, and he’ll kiss her, undress her, the way he had with me. She’ll feel herself give in to him. Their hands, their mouths, will find each other. His prick will already be stiffening when she begins to undo his trousers.