Текст книги "Second Life"

Автор книги: S. J. Watson

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Текущая страница: 17 (всего у книги 24 страниц)

I push the thought away. I have to stay focussed. My phone is already buzzing when I find it, and I answer it quickly. It’s Anna.

‘Is that you? Downstairs?’

She sounds happy, relaxed, if surprised. I can hear Lukas in the background. It sounds like he’s pouring drinks.

‘Yes.’

‘I thought I saw you when I came in. Is everything all right?’

‘Yes.’ I realize there’s no point in pretending. ‘Actually, no. Listen, I have to see you. I’ve been trying to ring you. I left a message. I’ll explain. Can you come down?’

She sounds hesitant. Intrigued.

‘Why don’t you come up here?’

‘No. No, you come down. Please?’

I think of the printout I’ve brought with me. I don’t want to show it to her, but I might have to. Will she believe me? Surely she’ll have to, but still I’d rather not have to do that to her.

‘Is Hugh with you?’ she says.

‘He’s at home. Please come down. Please let me explain.’

I hear her cover the mouthpiece of her phone, confer with Lukas. It’s obvious what he’ll say. ‘Anna!’ I say. ‘Anna …’

After a few moments she answers. ‘We’ll be down in a couple of minutes.’

‘No!’ I try to control my voice, but still I must sound desperate, panicked. ‘No. It’s better … could you come alone? Please?’

She hesitates. ‘Give me five minutes.’

Even though it’s late, she’s changed into a pair of trousers, a sweater, trainers. The bar is less busy now; the few people there are finishing their nightcaps before heading upstairs. The bottle of champagne on the table in front of me looks out of place. ‘Julia!’ she says, once we’ve kissed. ‘Is everything all right? You sound so worried!’ She lowers her voice. ‘Is everything okay with Hugh?’

‘Yes.’ I look over her shoulder; there’s no one there, just the waiter, collecting glasses, checking the new arrival. We sit.

‘Good. I was worried something had happened. Or, you know, Hugh had found out about that guy.’

She mouths the last two words silently, as if she thinks there are spies everywhere, eager to report back. ‘No, not that,’ I say. ‘Nothing like that.’

‘Good!’ She raises her glass. I nod. Mine is still empty.

‘What is it?’

‘Have you listened to the message I left on your phone?’ She shakes her head.

I can’t speak. I don’t want to tell her. I don’t want to destroy her happiness, even if it is founded on lies. But then I think of all the things Lukas did to me, the things I asked for, and the things I didn’t. I can’t fail her the way, deep down, I know I failed my sister. I can’t let her down, just to save myself from a difficult conversation.

‘It’s about Ryan.’

‘Ryan?’

‘Listen.’ I take her hand. I tell myself it’s what Kate would have done. ‘I don’t want you to think I’m … y’know … jealous …’

‘Jealous? You’re not making any sense!’

‘Of you and Ryan, I mean.’

‘Why would you be jealous? Julia, what’s this about?’

I hesitate. I’m searching for the right words, but they seem just out of reach.

‘It’s just—’

‘What?’

‘Do you know if you can trust him?’

‘Of course! Why?’

‘It’s just, you haven’t known him that long, and—’

It sounds petty, lame, and already I know I’ve said the wrong thing. I see Anna’s expression change to one of anger.

‘I’ve known him long enough,’ she says. ‘What’s this about, Julia? I wouldn’t expect this from you, of all people!’

I take a deep breath. I begin to speak. ‘I don’t think he’s who he says he is,’ I say. I close my eyes. ‘Sorry—’

‘What?’ She sounds shocked. ‘What on earth are you saying? What d’you mean?’

I tread carefully. I need her to work it out for herself. I need her to realize that the man she calls Ryan is lying about where he goes every week.

‘What does he do? On Tuesdays?’

‘He goes to work …’

‘In Paris?’

‘It varies. He travels a lot.’

‘London?’

‘Sometimes … What’s this about, Julia?’

‘The thing is,’ I say, but then I stop. The atmosphere in the room has shifted, the door to the bar, swung open, has admitted a current of cool air. Over Anna’s shoulder I see Lukas, scanning the room, looking for us. He looks utterly calm.

‘Shit!’

‘What?’ She looks over her shoulder. ‘Oh, hi!’ She calls him across the few tables that separate them, and when he notices her he waves.

I grab her hand. ‘Listen.’ I talk quickly, I have to get it out before he gets here. ‘You can’t trust him, he isn’t who he says he is. He’s seeing someone else. You have to believe me—’

‘Julia!’ She’s shaking her head. I feel a rising urgency; any moment it might tip into panic.

‘Just leave him!’ I’ve spoken too loudly. The waiter has noticed and no doubt Lukas as well.

She pulls her hand away and stands up. She looks at me with disbelief. Disbelief and anger.

‘I’m sorry—’ I begin, but a moment later Lukas arrives.

‘What’s up?’ Anna’s face relaxes. She turns to kiss him, then looks back to me.

‘Julia was just leaving.’ She smiles. ‘Weren’t you?’

‘No. Listen to me …’

Lukas steps forward, puts himself between me and Anna. As if it’s me who’s dangerous. He looks angry, protective towards his future wife.

‘What’s this about?’

Anna turns to face me. ‘I know what this is about.’ She sounds upset but determined. ‘You’re jealous. Just because you and Hugh are falling apart and we’re just coming together. Or is it about the money?’

‘The money?’ I have no idea what she’s talking about.

‘You know we’re going to sort our wills out on Friday—’

‘What?’ My mind whirrs. I don’t know anything about that. I cast my mind back, try to remember our last conversation.

‘Anna, no. No, it’s not that at all. That money is yours. Kate left it to you. I want you to have it.’

I think back to the conversation we’d had in Paris, all those months ago. I’d told her as much then.

‘Listen,’ says Lukas. He puts his hand on my arm and I flinch. ‘I don’t know what’s going on here, but you two need to calm down.’

Anna is angry now. The bar staff have noticed; a man is coming over. ‘Miss,’ he’s saying, to me, and then, ‘Is everything all right here?’

‘Fine,’ says Lukas. ‘It’s fine. Nothing we can’t handle.’ He begins to steer Anna towards the door. She’s looking at me with an expression of disbelief, shaking her head as if she can’t believe the person I’ve become. I wonder what else she’s thinking, maybe that Kate was right all along, I’m a jealous bitch who betrayed her, stole her child and wouldn’t give him back. ‘I think you’d better leave,’ says Lukas firmly, turning to me, and at the same time I feel a hand on my arm. It’s the barman, turning me around, escorting me in the opposite direction.

‘He’s Lukas!’ I shout as they reach the door, but she’s looking away and my voice is swallowed by the cavernous bar. The other patrons look at me – they think I’m drunk, a troublemaker, a jealous ex – but I’m not sure Anna heard me. It’s only when I break free of the waiter’s grip on my arm and turn round to say it again that I see I’m too late.

She’s gone.

I pay and leave. There’s nothing else to do, and I can’t stay, not after the commotion I’ve caused. When I reach the car I open the window then light a cigarette from the packet I’ve started to keep in the glove compartment. I think of Hugh – he doesn’t approve of smoking in the car – and wish I could be with him right now.

I screwed it up. I don’t know what I could have done differently, but I screwed it up.

I exhale, sit back in the leather seat. I’ve parked on a side-street just off Portland Place and can see the doorway to the hotel framed in the wing mirror. Even though it must be after midnight now, people are still coming and going.

I wonder if Anna was right. Maybe it really is all about my sister’s money, though not in the way she imagines. I imagine Lukas, hearing about Kate’s death, moving in on me but then finding out my sister had left all the cash to her best friend.

But no, that makes no sense; he was definitely seeing Anna first, before Kate died. I’m back to square one.

Again the same thought forms, the one that’s been haunting me. It grows, I can’t shake it, can’t hold it down. It’s because I know he lives in Paris, now. It rises to the surface, inexorable, unstoppable.

It was him.

But it can’t be. There’s Kate’s earring; they’ve made an arrest. Plus, we know the police checked everyone out, all Kate’s online contacts. They’re satisfied. It can’t have been him.

So why did he target me, then? Or am I not a target at all – was it just sheer chance?

I finish my cigarette then toss it on to the pavement, through the half-open window. Straight away I feel the urge to light another; I fight it, but it seems pointless, futile. I have to calm my mind. I have to sort it out. I lift my bag off the passenger seat and begin to rummage inside it.

It happens quickly. I don’t see him come out of the hotel, don’t hear him approach, I’m barely aware of him opening the door. I look up and he’s there; I’ve gone from alone to not-alone in an instant. My heart leaps with sudden terror.

‘What the—?’ I begin, but he turns to me.

‘Surprise!’ His exclamation is dry and humourless. His face is inches from mine; he smells of aftershave, the one I’m used to. The fragrance of wood – sandalwood, I think – mixed with something else, something medicinal. He looks paler than I remember, his features thinner. I try to tell myself that if I met him now I wouldn’t look twice, but it’s a lie.

‘Lukas,’ I gasp. My muscle memory kicks in once again; instinctively I shoot as far back in my seat as I can, move as far away from him as I can get without opening the door and running. I wonder if that is what I should be doing. Running.

‘What d’you want?’

‘Oh, sweetheart. Don’t be like that …’ His voice sounds thick, not like him at all.

‘Where’s Anna?’ I have visions of her upstairs, pacing. I wonder if she knows he’s with me; it’s possible he’s told her he’s just popped out for a walk, to get some air.

He smiles. It’s bitter, resentful. ‘Relax. I don’t know what you think is going on, but let me tell you, you’re wrong on every count.’ He pauses. ‘Anna’s upstairs,’ he says. ‘I left her in the shower.’ He grins. I wonder if I’m supposed to find his comment suggestive, sexual. Titillating. Is this the game he’s playing? The three of us, upstairs, naked.

‘She knows I’m here. She sent me. She’s sorry about losing her temper. She wants you to come up and have a drink with us. Sort things out.’ He shrugs. ‘So how about it?’

I want to believe him, but I don’t. How can I? Anna thinks I’ve met him for the first time tonight.

‘Who are you? Tell me what you want.’ He ignores me.

‘No? Didn’t think so.’ He turns. ‘Look. Anna’s a big girl. She can look after herself. I don’t know why you want to come and interfere.’

‘Interfere?’

‘Warning her away? Telling her I’m not who she thinks I am? Maybe I’m exactly who she thinks I am, just not who you thought I was.’ He looks thoughtful. ‘Maybe it’s you who doesn’t know anything about me. Not her.’ He leans towards me. ‘Anna trusts me, you know? She tells me everything …’

I think of the printout I have in my bag. I should’ve given it to her when I had the chance.

‘Maybe, for now—’ I begin, but he moves abruptly. He grabs my arm, twisting it as he does so. It’s sudden, and brutal. I cry out, a scream of shock and pain, and then I’m silenced.

‘You know,’ he hisses, still holding my arm, still digging in his fingers, ‘I don’t like little tarts like you who come between me and my fun. So, this is what’s going to happen …’ He twists my arm further. I struggle, but he holds me. He’s using only one hand yet still it seems easy for him. It feels as if he could snap my arm with hardly any effort at all, as if that’s exactly what he’d like to do. I gasp once more; again I remember his hands on me, how once they’d caressed the very skin that now screams with pain. ‘You’re going to get the fuck out of my life,’ he says. ‘You’re going to leave Anna alone, and you’re not going to interfere. Get it?’

I gather all my strength. I turn to him; finally I manage to wrench my arm from his. ‘Or what? I saw you, you know. Earlier. Getting into the lift. You didn’t look that in love to me. I don’t know what you’re doing, but she doesn’t deserve it. She’s done nothing to you. She really thinks you love her.’

I feel his resolve waver, just slightly. I’ve hit a nerve. But then he speaks. ‘It makes no difference to me what you think you saw.’ His smile is sickly, thin. ‘And you are going to leave us alone.’

He seems so certain. Dread fills me.

‘Or what?’

‘Or I might just make my private archive a little bit more public …’

I don’t understand what he’s saying, yet I feel myself tense. It’s as if my body has already worked it out while my mind lags behind.

‘Your what—?’

‘Yes,’ he says. ‘I’ve got some very interesting photos in my collection. Videos, too. Want to see?’

I feel myself falling. He seems so totally confident. I’m no one, nothing. He could destroy me, without even having to try.

I shake my head. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and scrolls through some screens. ‘Ah. This is a good one.’

He selects a photograph, and the glow from the screen briefly illuminates the dark interior of the car, then he angles the screen so that I can see the picture. It’s a woman, taken from the waist up. She’s naked.

It takes me a moment to realize it’s me.

I gasp. ‘This is …’ I begin, but the words catch in my mouth and I can’t get them out.

‘This is from that first time …’ he says. ‘The first time you turned your camera on. D’you remember?’

I do. I’d been in my studio, the door locked. I’d angled my camera, stood up. I felt stupid, at first, but then I’d become swept up in it until there was just me, and him, and the rest of the world had faded to nothing.

The betrayal seems absolute. I can’t look at it any more, but neither do I want to look at him.

‘You took it … you kept it?’

‘I like having an archive.’ He shrugs, as if it’s nothing. ‘For when I’m bored, you know?’

‘How dare you!’ Fury is rising in my chest, but something else, too. A new fear, cold and hard and piercing. If he has this, I think, then he’ll have more.

He begins to scroll through his phone. ‘I have plenty of others,’ he’s saying. ‘This, for example? Or this?’

He shows me image after image. A rerun of the past few months, the edited highlights. Almost every time I’d stripped for him, because he was bored, or horny, and I missed him and wanted to please him. With each picture I sink lower, until I feel I’m drowning. The water is closing over me, invading me, until I can’t breathe.

‘Oh, and this.’ This one is different, taken in the hotel after we’d had sex. In it I’m standing up, smiling at the camera; he’s caught me as I was dressing. I remember the day he took it. I’d been flattered at the time; he wanted a memento, some reminder of the day.

I’d been glad, yet I remember I’d asked him to delete it. ‘I just feel uncomfortable,’ I’d said. He told me I was beautiful, that he wanted a picture. ‘Please, Lukas,’ I said. ‘Delete it?’

Clearly, he hadn’t. Now, as I look at it, I’m horrified. It’s like one version of me looking at another. Julia, looking at Jayne. I’d thought I could keep them separate, in boxes, locked away, but I was wrong. Things have a habit of escaping.

Another wave of despair hits. None of it was real. From the beginning it was based on a lie, an illusion of love.

‘Anyway, you get the general idea.’

‘You bastard …’ I whisper. Even this word feels wholly inadequate, after what he’s taken from me.

‘Oh, come on now. These pictures are great! You should know. It’d be very selfish of me not to share …’ His hand goes to his pocket again. When he takes it out he’s holding a memory stick. He holds it up. ‘Here’s your copy, for example.’ I stare at it but refuse to take it from him. ‘No? You might as well have it. There are plenty more …’ He smiles, then puts it between us on the dashboard.

‘But you’re in half of these photographs. Why would you share them?’

‘I’m in some of them, yes. But not all. And, in any case, I don’t have a child. I’m not married to a surgeon. I think I’d just about get away with it.’ He smiles. ‘Just think …’ He shakes his head, tutting. ‘Imagine what the press would say. The Mail? TOP SURGEON’S WIFE IN SEX SCANDAL? It might even go viral. Don’t you think?’

I don’t reply. He’s right. The future collapses in slow motion. On top of the complaint against Hugh, it would be too much. I see the scandal, our friends turning away from us. Maria, Carla – all of his colleagues. I imagine myself walking down the street, feeling people’s eyes burning into me, not knowing what they’d seen, what gossip they’d believed.

He’s won, I think, and there’s nothing I can do. He has Anna, he will get his hands on my sister’s money, and then he’ll abuse and mistreat Anna the way he has me.

He hasn’t finished, though. ‘There’s Hugh’s boss at the hospital, too. All his colleagues. Can’t be good for business. For his reputation. There’s Connor’s school, all those parents. I can’t imagine it’d be too difficult to get hold of their email addresses. Oh,’ he says, as if something’s just occurred to him, ‘I just remembered. There’s all those porn websites I can upload these to. “Hot amateur.”’ He looks at me, watching for my reaction. ‘“Older woman fucks young stud.”’

It happens suddenly, comes from nowhere. I slap him, as hard as I can. It’s as if all the energy I’ve been clamping down has erupted. I want to kick and scream and fight.

Yet his only response is to laugh quietly, almost under his breath, and I realize he’s pleased.

He looks at me. His eyes are expressionless. I wonder if he’s capable of experiencing pain.

‘So, as I was saying, you’re going to stay away from me and Anna.’

I feel myself begin to cry. I tell myself I won’t let the tears come, I won’t give him the satisfaction, but they burn behind my eyes.

Yet at the same time I’m almost relieved. When everything’s gone, there’s no more pain, nothing else to lose.

Staying away from him and Anna – it might be difficult, but it can be done.

‘Plus,’ he says, ‘why not have a think about how much these pictures might be worth to you. I mean, I know your sister left a bit of money to Anna, but I understand there’s a lot more that’s gone to your son …’

‘You bastard,’ I say again.

He turns to open the door. The temperature in the car seems to drop as he moves away from me and the rest of the world rushes in. ‘I ought to be going,’ he says. ‘Anna will be wondering where we are. Plus, I guess you’ve got a lot to think about. I’ll tell her you were still upset, you had to get home to Connor. Something.’

I want to give up, to let him go, but then I think again of Kate and I know what I have to do. I’m strong enough; this year has taught me that, if nothing else. I’m stronger than I think.

‘Wait.’

He pulls the catch, but doesn’t step out. He turns to me, instead. ‘What?’

‘Anna trusts me.’ Now I’ve made my decision, my voice is strong, defiant. ‘She’ll never believe you. Not if I tell her what you’re doing.’

He closes the car door.

‘Tell her whatever you like. The truth is, Anna is beginning to think you’re a bit crazy. Sick. She thinks your sister’s death might have sent you off the rails. That perfect life you had … and now …’ His hand goes to his pocket. ‘She thinks you’re a little bit unpredictable. A tiny bit jealous, perhaps. Which of course you are, though she doesn’t know why.’

I think back to the time I spent with Anna in Paris, to all the conversations we’ve had over the months. He’s wrong.

‘You’re lying. Whatever—?’

‘Makes her think that? I guess this doesn’t help …’ He holds his hand up, between us. He’s holding something; it must’ve been in his pocket. It takes me a moment to realize it’s a knife.

I’m overcome with panic. I try to back away but the car is cramped and there’s nowhere for me to go. It happens in an instant. He grabs my hand with both of his, so that he’s holding me tight. The knife is exposed, sticking out towards me, in his hand though it looks as if it’s in mine. I struggle to free myself, thinking he’s trying to stab me, and he begins swinging my hand, left, right, back again. It’s as if we’re struggling, as if he’s trying to get the knife off me, even though he’s the one holding it. I hear a voice, shouting, and at first I think it’s coming from outside the car, but then I realize it’s me and I see it all. It’s as if I’m watching from the street, peering into the car. It looks as though I’m trying to stab him as he tries to hold me off with both hands. He relaxes for a moment, and just as I think he’s about to drop the knife he does it. With sudden ferocity he pulls both hands towards his face and the knife he’s holding catches against the skin of his cheek. ‘Fuck!’ he says, and then a moment later there’s a dull gush of blood.

‘You silly bitch.’ He smiles. He shoves my hands away as if I repulse him and drops the knife. It falls into my lap and I see it’s just a kitchen knife, one I’d use for preparing vegetables, and was never going to do much damage. Yet still it’s sharp, it’s cut him, the blood is beginning to run down his cheek.

‘You tried to stab me!’ He scrabbles, as if he’s trying to get away from me, then he’s stumbling, out of the car. I’m speechless, dumb. There are a couple outside the car, a man and a woman. They peer in, trying to see what’s going on. My mouth opens and closes, pathetic. I can see the wound on his cheek is a scratch more than anything, but still the blood pours. It’s over his mouth now, running off his chin, dripping on his white shirt.

I think of Anna’s reaction when he gets upstairs. There’ll be blood everywhere by then, it’ll look like a frenzied attack. It’ll look like he’s had a lucky escape and she’ll believe whatever he tells her. That I’m jealous, crazy. That I’m trying to split them up out of spite, because I have no one of my own.

‘Still think she’s going to trust you?’ he says, then a moment later he’s gone and I’m alone – even though there are cars and people, I’m alone – and all I can hear is the beating of my heart and a dog, way in the distance, howling into the dark.