NOTTING HILL, LONDON
Amy took one last look around the sumptuously furnished sitting room, her well-trained eye searching for any signs of dust or clutter. She straightened a cushion and swept her hand over the plush sofa for the second time in five minutes. As she bent over to pick up a stray white thread from the charcoal upholstery, she caught sight of herself in the huge, gilt mirror hanging above the marble fireplace.
Who was that woman staring back at her? She was thirty-one years old but looked and felt at least forty-five. She was just so very tired. Tired of being continually examined and cross-examined by Nick. Tired of being a corporate wife and tired of being a mother. Most of all, she realized, as she stared at her reflection, she was tired of being lonely, even though she was very rarely actually alone in the house. Yes, there were the nannies, a housekeeper and a gardener, but she imagined that they probably despised her. A spoilt little rich girl with everything she could possibly want, yet who was still as miserable as sin.
There was no girls’ weekend away this year. None of them could muster up the enthusiasm after what had happened. Amy had more than a sneaking suspicion that Nick wouldn’t have let her go anyway, even if they had wanted to. So they were meeting for dinner at Amy’s house instead. It had been a battle but Nick had finally, grudgingly agreed to it. He hadn’t specifically asked if Melissa was coming but she knew he assumed they still didn’t speak.
Amy used to so love cooking and entertaining. It was her passion. But even that no longer excited her. Nick said she used too much salt, too much sugar, too many spices. Until finally she lost all confidence in her abilities and he hired a cook – a beautiful, vibrant, sexy Latino girl called Benedetta, who seemed to delight him with her culinary prowess just as Amy once had. He was probably screwing her. She couldn’t even summon up the energy to be upset about it. She honestly didn’t care.
Thinking about Nick having sex with someone else caused an ache between her legs but it wasn’t an ache of longing. It was a physical ache, as her body remembered his rough hands forcing her legs apart and slamming into her last night after he arrived home late from a dinner with God knows whom. He was drunk and high on coke and Amy had learnt long ago that resistance was futile when he was in that state. He was stronger than her and trying to fight him off only resulted in more bruises. It was easier to acquiesce and hope it didn’t last too long.
As always, the morning after almost made it worthwhile. Almost. He was tender, loving and attentive, just as he had been in the beginning. Every time, Amy found herself believing that this was the real Nick. This was the man she had fallen in love with. He never apologized – that would involve talking about it and they never, ever discussed what was happening. But he would bring her coffee in bed and kiss her slightly swollen lips with what she knew was genuine love. On these mornings, she really did think she was happy again. For a while. Until the next time.
In a way it was lucky that it had happened last night, so that he was in a good mood today. Otherwise, she knew she was in danger of him deciding not to let her host the girls after all. He hated her seeing them, claiming they were a bad influence on her. She could see why he might think that, after what happened when she returned from Northern Ireland last year…
Amy walked through the arrivals hall, pulling her little case behind her and carrying the weight of dread on her shoulders. She had persuaded the others to wait at the baggage carousel with Sophie, while she hurried ahead. Nick had insisted on meeting her at Heathrow, despite her protestations that she was happy to get the train and she was nervous that he would make a scene in front of them.
As she spotted him, she allowed herself to relax a little. He was smiling and handsome, clutching a bouquet of white roses. Maybe it would be OK after all. Maybe she had imagined it. As she reached him, his eyes flickered over her shoulder. ‘On your own? Where are the others?’ His smile remained fixed in place.
‘They’re still waiting at the baggage carousel. I thought I’d come on ahead.’
‘Wanted to avoid me meeting them, eh?’ Nick’s dark brown eyes glinted slightly as he spoke.
Amy tried to laugh. ‘Of course not! Shall we go?’
Nick glanced once more over her shoulder. ‘Yes, OK. I got these for you, by the way.’ He thrust the roses towards her, just slightly too hard, so that they crushed into her chest and the head of one of them dropped off. They both watched it fall to the floor and roll towards Amy’s foot. She looked up and caught his expression, as he took her arm forcefully and pulled her along with him. She knew then that she hadn’t imagined it. This was going to be bad.
‘So, I bet you spent the entire weekend slagging me off and whining about how badly I treat you…’ Nick began, once they were in the car.
Amy watched him nervously out of the corner of her eye, her heart hammering. His jaw was set and his face wore a mask of anger. She could feel the boiling hot fury coming off him in waves and for the first time, she was scared.
‘Nick, don’t be ridiculous. We didn’t even discuss you.’
It wasn’t true, of course. Only that morning, Sophie, Emily and Melissa had sat Amy down and told her outright that they were worried about her. ‘Is everything OK at home?’ Sophie had prodded. ‘Is Nick treating you well?’
When Amy didn’t reply, Emily had jumped in. ‘You can tell us, Amy. We’re here for you and you know you can trust us.’
Automatically, Amy’s eyes flickered towards Melissa, who reddened but held her gaze. ‘Amy, I am deeply ashamed that I flirted with Nick and kissed him, but I swear that’s all it was and would never, ever do anything to hurt you again. Emily’s right, you can trust us. All of us.’
Amy imagined for a fleeting minute how wonderful it would feel to talk about it. To unburden herself about what she was going through. But trying to put it into words was like trying to catch smoke in a bucket. It was too indefinable and kept drifting away. What would she say? That she felt trapped because he loved her too much? That she wished he’d let her choose her own clothes, jewellery and shoes because otherwise she felt like she was losing her identity? How spoilt and ungrateful that would make her sound. So, in reply to the three concerned faces around her, she said simply, ‘I’m fine. Honestly.’
There was a short, awkward pause before Sophie tried again. ‘What about your mum, Amy? Could you talk to her? If we’re worried, I’m pretty sure she’s worried too.’
‘Talk to her about what?’ Amy tried to laugh it off but even as she spoke, it occurred to her how distanced from her mum she had become over the past year. Nick had made it clear that she wasn’t welcome at the house, ever since Amy’s mum had taken her shopping after Megan was born and bought her some new clothes and make-up that he didn’t like. ‘You look like a cheap whore,’ he said when she showed off the leather skirt, top and boots they had bought from Zara. Amy had almost jumped in shock, having expected him instead to compliment her on getting her slim figure back so quickly after the baby. Although the clothes weren’t designer, she knew she didn’t look cheap or tarty either. But she never wore them. And because she didn’t want her mum to know, she stopped inviting her over.
She still met with her mum, although much less frequently, when she would take Megan over to her parents’ house in Surrey. But for reasons she didn’t quite understand herself, she never mentioned the visits to Nick.
‘I don’t believe that for a second,’ Nick said, jolting Amy back to the present. ‘I bet you had a great time going through all my faults. Moaning about me. Bit rich considering Melissa was the one doing all the chasing, by the way. At least she wasn’t there. I’m glad you all finally saw her for what she was.’
Amy swallowed but didn’t say anything.
‘Though actually, I don’t think it’s good for you to see any of those girls,’ Nick continued. ‘Every time you come back, you’re different. It’s about time you called an end to these weekends altogether.’
Amy’s heart dropped. Her weekends with the girls kept her sane. She couldn’t imagine what she would do if they suddenly stopped. They were the only real friends she had. Everyone else was a work associate or old school friend of Nick’s. No one else really knew her or even liked her for that matter. She couldn’t allow him to take that away from her. She clenched her fists and mustered her courage. ‘I like seeing them, Nick. They’re my friends.’ Her voice wobbled as she spoke and she wondered if she might cry.
‘I like seeing them, Nick. They’re my friends!’ Nick mimicked. ‘Jesus, Amy, how old are you? You’re pathetic, you know that, don’t you?’
Amy blinked hard and looked straight ahead, willing the tears that were burning the backs of her eyes not to fall. At every set of traffic lights, she thought about opening the car door and jumping out. But she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Megan was at home waiting for her and she needed to see her little girl. To hold her and kiss her. She couldn’t just run away. And anyway, she tried to tell herself, maybe it would be OK. Maybe it was just an almighty sulk that would pass after a night’s sleep. Nick would never hurt her. She was almost sure of it.
As they pulled up in the drive, Nick switched off the engine and sighed heavily. Then, without looking at her, he got out of the car and lifted her case and the flowers from the boot. Amy hovered, unsure whether he wanted her to go into the house before him, or after. ‘Well, what are you waiting for?’ he snapped, answering her question.
As she made her way up the steps, it occurred to her that this must be how it felt to climb a gallows, knowing what was waiting for you at the top. With a shaking hand and a dry mouth, she put her key in the lock and opened the front door. Ahead of her, beyond the hall, the kitchen light was on and she could see the shadow of a figure moving about. Of course, Megan’s nanny, Suki, was here. Relief flooded through her, making her feel weak-kneed. As if on autopilot, she headed for the kitchen, aware that Nick was close enough behind her to almost feel his breath on her neck.
‘Hi, Suki,’ she managed in a strangled voice, as she rounded the corner.
Suki was busy unloading the dishwasher and looked up at her with a smile that didn’t reach her pale blue eyes. ‘Oh, hi, Amy. How was Ireland?’
‘Good.’ Amy put her keys on the table and took off her jacket, watching Suki with a feeling of unease. Somehow she knew that Suki had spent the whole weekend with Nick. That she had probably slept in her bed, playing happy families while Amy was out of the picture. Yet there wasn’t a trace of guilt about her. A part of her almost admired her brazenness. ‘How’s Megan been?’
‘She’s been just fine, hasn’t she, Suki?’ Nick’s voice came from behind her, startling her, even though she knew he was there.
‘She certainly has.’ A tiny smile flickered across Suki’s face as she spoke. ‘She’s slept like a log.’ She closed the dishwasher and stood up to face Amy. ‘Anyway, I’ll be off, now you’re home. You’ll want some time alone together.’ Amy didn’t like the way she said the word together, as if she was mocking her. Which of course she was.
‘No, don’t rush off!’ Despite her misgivings, Amy was suddenly desperate for Suki to stay. Anything to put off being alone again with Nick.
‘Anyone would think you weren’t pleased to be home, Amy.’ Nick wrapped his arm around Amy’s shoulders and gave her a squeeze. Amy swallowed, knowing they were playing a game at her expense, yet she had no idea of the rules.
Suki smiled. ‘I’ll see you guys tomorrow, OK?’ She directed her words only to Nick. Amy stood helplessly as Suki picked up her bag and let herself out of the front door, closing it with what sounded to Amy like a sickening thud.
The silence that followed was thick and heavy with tension. Amy’s heart began to pound. Nick’s arm around her shoulders tightened and seemed to increase in weight. ‘So,’ he said, his lightness of tone at odds with the atmosphere and all the more sinister for it.
‘Nick, I—’ she began, but he was too quick for her. In one movement his hand was on her throat and he had slammed her head against the wall. Amy’s eyes watered instantaneously and her legs buckled, which only served to tighten Nick’s grip on her throat as he held her upright. Amy began to panic as her airway closed. She could feel her eyes bulging and then, as suddenly as it started, he released her, watching contemptuously as she slid to the floor.
For a second there was a shocked silence, before Amy began to cough and sob simultaneously. He could have killed her. He really could have actually ended her life there and then. He had chosen not to but had proved beyond doubt that he was easily capable of it.
Gulping for air, suddenly aware how precious breathing was, Amy put one hand to her throat and the other instinctively to her belly. Nick’s contemptuous expression instantly melted into one of anguish and he slumped down beside her. ‘Oh God, I’m sorry, baby.’
Amy looked at him nervously. He had never apologized to her before. That must mean it was really bad. But he wasn’t looking at her face, he was looking at her stomach. He was talking to the baby. ‘I’m sorry,’ he repeated, scrambling to his feet and putting his hand out briskly to Amy. She considered refusing to take it, thinking it might give her back a tiny bit of control. But she couldn’t. She was too scared. So instead she allowed him to pull her to her feet, her legs shaking and unsteady beneath her. Her neck hurt and it was as if there was a giant, jagged lump in her throat when she tried to swallow. Her eyes met his for a second before she dropped them again. He looked confused and disappointed, as if somehow she had failed him.
With a shuffling walk, she headed out of the kitchen and into the hall. Nick didn’t move at first but when she reached the bottom of the stairs, he dashed over to her. ‘Here, let me help you,’ he said, taking her arm and gently guiding her up the stairs. Several times he kissed the top of her head. In their bedroom, he sat her on the edge of the bed and took off her boots. ‘Lie down, sweetheart,’ he said. She watched him warily, noticing that he kept glancing towards her throat. She wondered with a slightly morbid fascination what she would see when she finally looked in the mirror. ‘Megan…’ she tried to say, but her voice was too croaky to get any words out.
‘Shhh…’ He put a finger gently to her lips. ‘She’s fine. She’s asleep. You’ll see her in the morning.’
Amy nodded obediently, too tired and too sore to argue. Nick pulled the duvet over her and tucked her in. ‘Just try to get some sleep. You’ll feel fine by the morning.’ He stood up and ran a hand through his hair, biting his lip nervously, as if he didn’t know what to do next. She liked this side of Nick: the caring, solicitous, loving husband, taking care of his pregnant wife. It was almost worth what had preceded it. And maybe it was a one-off. He was obviously under a lot of stress and had just let it get the better of him. He clearly regretted it already.
He bent down to kiss her tenderly on the lips. ‘I love you,’ he said, a small sob escaping as he spoke.
‘I love you so very much.’ ‘I love you too,’ Amy said, attempting a smile, as her eyelids drooped. And at that moment, she really meant it.
The next morning, she woke with a start. Although it was light, she could tell it was still early by the dullness of the daylight seeping over the top of the curtains. Gingerly, she sat up, grimacing at the pain and stiffness in her neck. She looked towards Nick’s side of the bed in the dim light. It was empty. She wondered distractedly where he had slept.
Padding to the bathroom, still dressed from the night before, she felt old beyond her years. In the en-suite, she switched on the light, illuminating the bulbs around the large mirror above the sink. The reflection that stared back at her caused her to gasp in shock. The pale skin on her neck was slashed with an angry red weal and under her chin, the bruising was already turning blue. Around her eyes, her make-up had smudged, giving her the haunted look of someone dressed up as a Halloween ghoul.
Robotically, she reached for a make-up wipe and began to remove the dark streaks from beneath her eyes. When all traces of mascara and eyeliner had gone, she rubbed moisturizer over her face and tentatively tried to dab some onto her neck but the skin was too raw and she winced in pain. She would be wearing scarves for several days to come. As the tears began to trickle in a steady flow down her cheeks, she slumped onto the toilet seat and put her head in her hands. Looking down, something caught her eye and she became aware that a dark red patch was rapidly spreading down her legs.
A year later, there had been more ‘incidents’ – more than she wanted to remember. But there were also periods of genuine happiness in between. She still loved him, despite what he did, and it almost seemed like a small price to pay for the happy times. It was after one of these incidents when he was in a solicitous, loving mood that she had persuaded him to let her have the girls over for dinner. ‘I won’t go away for the weekend again,’ she said, hopeful that this would feel like a concession to him. She didn’t need to tell him that none of the others wanted to go away either.
‘Sure,’ Nick had smiled, stroking her face and kissing her forehead. ‘But can I ask one thing? Don’t talk about me. It does my head in to think about you picking over my faults and slagging me off…’
‘I won’t!’ she assured him, desperate to secure this tiny victory. ‘I’ll change the subject as soon as they mention you.’
‘Oh, so they do talk about me then?’ Nick’s mouth wore a wryly amused smile but there was a hard glint in his eye.
‘No… not really,’ she stammered, the lie tripping up her words. ‘Just general stuff, like how you’re enjoying fatherhood. Nothing deep.’
Nick held her eye for a few seconds. ‘Well, make sure you keep it that way and don’t be concocting any of your fantasy stories about what an ogre I am. Do you understand?’
Amy nodded rapidly, not caring what he was insinuating. She had absolutely no desire to talk about what was happening between her and Nick. She just desperately needed to see her friends. To feel reassured that she hadn’t lost herself completely. That there was still some of the old Amy left inside her.