I stayed with Jack for two weeks after I was better. Not because I really had any excuse to, but because the little van, with its friendly human and canine occupants, had started to feel like home. I was stagnant, but I was safe.
Rule One was turning out to be a bit of a bugger though. There was clearly some mystery about Jack, something he didn’t want to share, and my curiosity was piqued. Because it wasn’t just the pyjamas he’d lent me. He had a whole stash of women’s clothes in the van.
‘Help yourself,’ he’d said when he’d given me a cardboard box filled with assorted tops, jeans, dresses and scarves. ‘Been meaning to drop them off at the charity shop for ages. You might as well get some use out of them, since they’re your size.’
I extracted a flowing top and a scarf and held them up in front of me. ‘Bit floatier than my usual style. Whose are they?’
He shrugged. ‘Yours, now.’
‘But who did they belong to before?’
‘Someone who’s got no use for them. Just take what you want and I’ll drop the rest off at Oxfam.’ He gazed absently out of the window at the shimmering mass of Derwentwater in the distance. ‘Should’ve done it years ago really.’
All signs seemed to point to some ex who was out of his life, and who he was perhaps still pining for. Still, he respected my wish not to talk about my personal stuff, so the least I could do was mind my own business too.
Living without TV was an experience. I read a lot of books in those few weeks. I learned a lot about my temporary roommate too – about his fatalism, his humour, his commitment to living one day at a time. And about how to care for a heavily pregnant dog.
I think board game night was my favourite new telly substitute. Jack liked Scrabble best, mainly because he always won. Embarrassing, given I was a professional editor. He was a terrible loser as well, and if you didn’t watch him, an opportunistic cheat. I’d never expected to find such a strong competitive streak in someone as laid-back as he was.
‘Come on, you, get on with it,’ I said during our second game. Jack had been staring at his letters for nearly five minutes.
‘Hmm.’ He frowned at the tile rack. ‘All right. Here then.’
I squinted at the random jumble of letters he’d assembled on the board.
‘That’s not a word. That’s not even a sound.’
‘It’s a Gaelic word.’
‘Yeah? What’s it mean?’
‘Old Irish blessing. I swear. Ask anyone from the old country.’
‘Meaning?’
‘Er… may the Force be with you?’
I pointed wordlessly at the tiles. He sighed and picked them up again.
‘Anti-Irish prejudice, that’s what it is.’
But he managed to find a second wind from somewhere. Four goes and a triple word score later, he’d only managed to bloody win. Again.
I folded my arms. ‘Not fair. You should get points knocked off for attempted cheating. And I’m still not convinced the Irish spelling of liquorice has got an S in it.’
He tilted his nose up and sniffed the air. ‘Mmm. What is that intoxicating aroma?’
‘Stinky dog?’ I said, glancing at Sandy. After a week absorbing the dirt and smells of the muddy campsite, she was badly in need of a bath.
‘No, there’s something else. I think it’s—’ He sniffed again. ‘Yes, yes it is. The sweet smell of victory.’
‘You’re a funny man.’
‘Mmmmm,’ he said, sniffing again. ‘Go on, grab yourself a lungful. Such stuff as winners are made of. Not that you’d know.’
‘Sorry, all I can smell is testosterone.’
‘What does testosterone smell like?’
‘Almonds,’ I said with a smile. ‘Come on, you daft sod, deal the tiles. Best of three.’
It felt like I got to know him better during those few weeks than I’d known Ethan in the ten years we’d been a couple.
Eventually though, I felt like I’d trespassed on his Irish hospitality long enough. I knew I was hiding, and the time had come to work out what my next step needed to be.
‘Okay, so I can’t go home, that’s a given,’ I said to Jack as we sat round the camping table out in the awning one warm evening, making a plan.
‘Couldn’t you though? What about your nan?’
Rule One had gone out of the window to some extent since I’d opened up to him about my mum, and he was pretty knowledgeable about the people in my life now.
‘She’s in sheltered housing. I wouldn’t be allowed to stay there. Anyway, I wouldn’t want her worrying about me.’
‘Laurel?’
‘No. I don’t want to be anywhere near Ethan. I want a completely new start.’
‘So you need to rent somewhere.’
‘And there we hit on problem one.’ I scribbled it down on the notepad in front of me. ‘I’m skint. Not a pot to do the proverbial in.’
‘You know I’ll give you money if you need it.’
‘And you know I won’t take it. I won’t take a penny I can’t pay back.’
‘You can pay it back when you’re working.’
I shook my head. ‘Could take me ages to get a job. I can’t take your money, Jack.’
‘If I said please?’
‘Not even if you begged.’
‘You’ve got that independence thing going on. Okay, I can respect that,’ he said, smiling. ‘Have you really got no money of your own though?’
‘Yeah, I’ve got some. It’s sitting in Ethan’s bank account, where I can’t get at it.’
‘Why?’
I flushed. ‘It was his idea. Years ago, when we first moved in together. I was only young and I didn’t have a current account, so he said I could share his. Just till I was over eighteen and we could put it in both our names. Then we just… never got round to it, somehow.’
‘So he kept your own money from you?’
Jack looked shocked, and I couldn’t quite suppress a feeling of humiliation and shame. I stifled an urge to defend Ethan from something I knew was entirely indefensible.
‘No, I had a bank card,’ I said. ‘In his name, obviously. I left it behind in my handbag when I ran off, along with other useful things like my mobile.’
‘Could you get it?’
‘What’s the point? He’d only have it stopped. That’s the first thing he’d do, try to force me home again.’ I shuddered. ‘And I can’t see him. Not yet.’
‘You can’t hide forever, Kitty.’
‘Please, Jack. I really can’t.’
‘Okay, if you’re not ready I won’t push,’ he said gently. ‘Have you really got nothing at all in your own name?’
‘Not that I can access immediately. Some savings in an ISA, but I have to give six months’ notice to withdraw. And I’d need my passport to prove my identity.’
‘Which is…?’
‘At home – I mean, at Ethan’s. Everything that proves who I am is at Ethan’s or Mum’s. Currently I’m Jane Doe, of no fixed abode. As a legal person, I don’t exist.’
‘Well, let’s park that for now. Next problem?’
‘Nowhere to live,’ I said, scribbling it down.
‘Haven’t you got any other close family?’
‘Just my dad’s sister, Aunty Julia.’ I frowned. ‘And she’s not to be trusted.’
‘Any friends who could put you up for a while?’
‘Couple of old university pals I could try.’
‘Okay, that’s an option to explore. So, problem three: work.’
‘Mmm. Not so many jobs in publishing, especially something as niche as travel guides.’
‘Who says you have to do that though? This is a new start, remember.’
‘So… what, career change?’
He shrugged. ‘If you like. What do you enjoy? What’re you good at?’
I paused to think about it. ‘Well, I’ve always liked writing,’ I said at last. ‘I’ve written the odd feature for local mags, unpaid. Doubt I could make a living from it though. I’ll have to take what I can get, at least until there’s an opening to fit my experience.’
‘Hmm. Perhaps.’ He looked thoughtful for a moment.
I scanned down my list of problems. ‘It’s the first one that’s the real kicker, isn’t it? I’ve got nothing that can prove my identity. And until I have, I can’t get my ISA money.’
Jack fell silent, staring down at his fingers spread on the table.
‘When does Ethan go out?’ he said at last.
I frowned. ‘What?’
‘Just wondered if you fancied a spot of light larceny this Thursday.’
***
‘Jack, I don’t think I can do this,’ I muttered, casting an apprehensive look down the too-familiar cul-de-sac. We’d parked at the end – parking right outside the door, where anyone could get a good look at the van and report back on it to Ethan, felt too risky.
Jack had spent hours talking me into this, and being so close to home after the events of the month before was sending my heart rate into overdrive.
‘What choice have you got?’ he said. ‘You need that passport.’
‘But what if he’s there?’
‘What if he is? He can’t hurt you. He’d have to go through me.’
‘I can’t see him, Jack.’ The panic trembled in my voice. ‘You promised I wouldn’t have to see him.’
He took my hand and stroked it soothingly. ‘It’s okay, Kit. He’ll be at work for hours yet, you said so yourself. It’s a ten-minute job, then we’ll be on the road again.’
‘Far away?’
‘As far as Timbuktu if that’s what you want.’
I sucked in a deep breath, exhaled slowly, then pushed open the door of the camper. ‘Right. Okay. Let’s get it over with.’
The house looked the same as the last time I’d seen it, except that the chrysanthemums were coming into bloom and the lawn was fresh-mown. It seemed almost absurd, finding everything just as I’d left it.
Mrs Bartholomew, our elderly neighbour, was in her front garden deadheading roses.
‘Oh! Kitty!’ she said when she spotted me. ‘Well, you’re back early.’
‘Hello, Mrs Bartholomew. Um, am I?’
‘Is the course over already? Oh, or do they give you half-term like at school? We weren’t expecting you back until next month.’
I blinked. ‘Sorry – weren’t expecting me back from where?’
‘Well, from the editing course. Ethan said you’d be away at least two months. Such a shame, straight after your wedding, but I suppose it was too good an opportunity to pass up.’ She shook her head. ‘The world of work’s certainly very different than it was in my day.’
‘Sounds pretty different than it was in mine,’ I muttered. ‘Oh, er, this is Jack. He’s my… cousin.’
‘Hiya.’ Jack smiled his charming smile for her. I was sure I saw Mrs Bartholomew blush under her huge-brimmed sun hat.
When they’d finished exchanging pleasantries, all the time with me struggling to keep my anxiety from spilling out, we went round the back and I rummaged under the azalea pot where Ethan always stashed the spare key.
Jack was smirking as he followed me in.
‘He didn’t really tell the neighbours you were on a two-month residential editing course?’
‘Apparently.’ I couldn’t help smiling too. It was pretty funny, in a grim sort of way. ‘I suppose telling everyone I’m off learning the art of the possessive apostrophe is a bit less humiliating than admitting your new wife walked out on you right after the wedding.’
‘So where do we find this passport then?’
‘Bureau in the study. Come on. I want to get out of here as quickly as possible.’
Jack tiptoed after me as I made my way through the living room and up the stairs. Even though Ethan wasn’t there, it felt like our new hobby of house burglary should be conducted in stealth mode.
‘This was your home?’ Jack whispered.
‘Yeah.’
‘It’s a bit bare, isn’t it?’
I glanced around at the white walls, unsullied with anything as vulgar as a picture, and the naked boards of the floor.
‘It’s minimalist. Ethan likes that.’
‘Seems pretty sterile to me.’
I pushed open the study door. ‘It’ll be in here. Bottom drawer.’
But when I knelt and opened the drawer where the passports were usually kept, there was nothing but a pile of old bank statements. I felt a stab of panic.
‘It’s not here, Jack!’
‘What?’
‘My passport. It always lives here. Oh God! He’s not hidden it, has he? Taken it to work? I bet he knew I’d be back for it and he… bastard!’
I started rifling frantically through the drawer, chucking the bank statements here, there and everywhere as I tried to find the passport. If I couldn’t get my hands on it, the only other way I could prove my identity was with my birth certificate, and I had no idea where that was. At Mum’s somewhere, probably, and I sure as hell wasn’t going there for it. It’d taken my last shred of courage to risk coming here.
‘Kitty…’
‘It’s not here, Jack! What the hell’s he done with it? I can’t go without it.’
‘Kitty!’
I stopped rifling to look up at him. He was holding one of the bank statements, frowning at it.
‘What?’ I said. ‘Why do you look like that?’
‘Have you seen these? Did he ever let you see them?’
‘Bank statements? Well, no.’ I yanked open the drawer above the one I’d been searching and let out a sigh of relief when I spotted the little red passport nestling there. ‘Oh, thank God, it’s here. He’s been reorganising, that’s all.’ I scooped it up like an old friend and tucked it into my jeans back pocket. ‘Hey, wonder if we can find my bank card while we’re here? If he hasn’t already had it stopped, I might be able to make one big withdrawal before he gets wise and cancels it.’
‘You won’t be able to.’
I frowned. ‘What?’
‘Kit, these statements—’
He stopped, and my heart did too. Because there was a sound coming from downstairs. The sound of a key, turning in the lock. I jumped to my feet.
‘I thought you said he was at work!’ Jack hissed.
‘He is – I mean, he should be! Oh shit! What do we do, Jack?’
‘It’s too late. You’ll have to confront him.’
‘I told you I can’t!’ A panicked sob bubbled out of me. ‘We have to get out.’
‘You can do it. I’ll be here with you.’ He reached for my hand. ‘You’re stronger than you think you are, Kitty.’
‘No, please! You don’t know what he can do to me. Maybe we can hide until he—’
But the deep voice that sailed up the stairs made it quite clear that wasn’t an option.
‘Kitty! Where are you? I know you’re here.’
I felt like a cornered animal. My eyes darted around the little room, but there was no way out except the door. The door that any second now, if the footsteps on the stairs were anything to go by, would be filled by Ethan’s lean frame.
‘You don’t have to be afraid of him any more,’ Jack whispered, and he squeezed my shoulder.
A second later… there was Ethan. Instinctively, I took a step backwards.
‘Kitty, darling! You’re really here.’
I don’t know what I’d expected. Anger. Blame. But Ethan actually laughed with delight as he threw himself at me for a hug. ‘Mrs Bartholomew said you’d come home, but I wouldn’t believe it until I’d seen you,’ he said. ‘Oh my God, baby, I’ve missed you so much. So much. Don’t ever, ever scare me like that again, you hear?’
I blinked helplessly at Jack as Ethan continued to embrace me.
‘It’s okay now,’ he said in a soothing voice, obviously under the impression I needed a bit of soothing. ‘Everything’s okay now, Kitty. We can make it okay.’
‘Ethan, please,’ I whispered. ‘Let me go.’
‘Yes, sorry. Sorry. I just had to feel you, make sure you were real.’ He released me from the hug, but he kept hold of my shoulders, regarding me with undisguised joy. ‘You’ve really come back to me. Thank God.’
Jack, lounging against the wall observing it all, cleared his throat. Ethan turned to look at him, as if he was noticing him for the first time.
‘Kitty, who the hell is this?’
‘A friend,’ Jack said.
Ethan’s eyes narrowed. For the first time, I think it dawned on him that my being there might not mean what he thought it meant.
‘I’m not staying,’ I mumbled, staring at the floor. I couldn’t bring myself to meet his eyes. ‘I just came…’
But the words stopped in my throat. There was something about his presence that, even now, even after what he’d done, still cowed me. I felt like a naughty little girl. I felt guilty for the obvious hurt in his eyes. I felt… exactly the way he’d trained me to feel when I’d upset him.
‘Of course you’re staying,’ he said firmly. ‘Look, I don’t know what happened to make you run off like that, Kitty. Nearly giving me a heart attack with worry—’ He took a deep breath to calm himself. ‘Well, never mind that, we can talk about it another time. For now, let’s just concentrate on the fact you’re home safe.’
He put his arms around me again. I didn’t push him away. I didn’t hug him. I just stood, stiff and silent, wondering if I was going to be sick, and hating myself for letting him affect me like this, still. Why did he have that power over me, even now I knew the kind of man he was? I was so used to pleasing him, putting all my wants and needs aside for his, that it was a real fight with myself to break the habit.
Jack was frowning at me. ‘Tell him, Kit. Tell him you’re coming with me.’
I opened my mouth, but the words struggled to form into sounds.
Ethan glared at Jack. ‘Who asked you anything? Who the hell are you anyway?’
‘I told you. A friend of Kitty’s.’
Ethan held me back to look into my eyes, his lip curling in disgust. ‘Jesus. Tell me you’re not sleeping with this guy.’
All I could do was shake my head.
‘Some might say that’s none of your business,’ Jack said. I noticed he was no longer lounging and had drawn himself up to his full height.
‘None of my business? This is my wife, mate! What the fuck do you think you’re playing at, messing about with married women? Get the hell out of my house, before I get the police involved.’
‘It’s Kitty’s house too. And I’m not going anywhere without her say-so.’
‘I’m not your wife,’ I finally managed to gasp. ‘Not in any real sense. I left you, Ethan. Me and you – there is no me and you. Not any more.’ Jack gave me an approving nod.
‘Why are you talking like this, Kitty? What did I do?’
‘You know what you did. At the reception. At the… the trees. I saw.’
Ethan frowned. ‘Saw what?’
‘You. What you…’ But I couldn’t bring myself to say it.
He laughed. ‘Oh, this is ridiculous. I don’t know what you imagined you saw, but…’ He softened his voice to a croon. ‘You’re not well, darling. You need a bit of TLC, that’s all. And then we’ll get everything sorted out, take a delayed honeymoon, whatever you want.’
‘And how were you planning to pay for that, Ethan?’ Jack asked brightly.
Ethan blinked at him. ‘Sorry, what?’
He yanked the bank statement he’d been looking at earlier out of his pocket and held it out. ‘Kitty, take a look at this.’
‘Give me that.’ Ethan tried to snatch it off him but Jack held it high above his head.
‘You know there’s a law against reading people’s confidential documents?’ Ethan demanded. ‘I could have you in court, whoever you are.’
‘Is there a law against Kitty reading it? Because from what I hear, a good chunk of what’s in this account is hers, regardless of your name being on the front.’ He barged Ethan out of the way and pushed the statement into my hand.
I stared at it in shock. ‘Six grand overdrawn! What the hell is this, Ethan?’
His cheeks had flushed crimson now. ‘That’s my business.’
‘Your business? It’s my fucking money!’ My fear of him was entirely swallowed up in a sudden, white-hot ball of anger. ‘You told me we had thousands put away. Where is it?’
‘I invested it. Stocks and shares.’ He took my hand in his. ‘For both our sakes, Kitty. You know you were always stupid with money.’
I snatched my hand away. ‘How would you know? You never let me manage my own money.’ I stared at the statement again. ‘All our savings, and six grand besides! How could you lose all that?’
‘Just a couple of duff investments,’ he said, staring at the floor. ‘I was still learning how it all worked then. Now I’ve got the hang of it, if we apply for the money in your ISA—’
I actually laughed. ‘You think you’re getting your hands on my dad’s money? Oh, no. Not a chance.’
‘You selfish—’ He looked angry now. ‘Of course. I should’ve known you’d find a way to make this all my fault, when for a year you’ve been bleeding me fucking dry, demanding the big white wedding from hell plus all the trimmings. How much was that dress, eh?’
‘Me? You were the one who planned the whole thing!’
‘Because I thought it was what you wanted. Isn’t that every girl’s dream? God, I’ve nearly bankrupted myself trying to make you happy,’ he snapped. ‘You can be an ungrateful bitch, you know that, Kitty?’
I shook my head. ‘Christ. Did I really love you?’
It almost felt like a dream now, those feelings, that life. When it came to Ethan, my eyes had been well and truly opened.
‘Right. That’s enough.’ Jack held out his hand to me. ‘Come on, Kit.’
‘Where the hell do you think you’re going?’ Ethan demanded as I took Jack’s hand and turned to go.
‘Anywhere that isn’t here. Anywhere that doesn’t have you in it,’ I said. ‘Bye, Ethan. Oh, and in case it wasn’t clear the last time, I’m leaving you. Expect to hear from a lawyer at some point.’
‘Kitty, please!’ He made his eyes wide. ‘What about me? What will I do about all this debt? We’re six grand overdrawn here.’
‘No, Ethan, you’re six grand overdrawn.’ I smiled brightly. ‘See, I don’t actually have a bank account.’
I let Jack lead me back down the stairs and out of the front door.
‘Wait!’ I heard Ethan shout. I glanced over my shoulder and saw him running after us. ‘Kitty! Don’t you dare walk away from me!’
‘Come on.’ Jack took my arm and we burst into a sprint. I think he could sense I was too drained for another confrontation, and Ethan sounded dangerous.
‘You’re my wife, Kitty!’ he shouted after us, drawing a shocked stare from Mrs Bartholomew in her garden. ‘You’re my fucking wife! Hear me? Mine! Get back here, now.’
‘Drive,’ I said to Jack as soon as we were back in the camper. Ethan chased us down the road until we eventually sped out of sight, leaving him an angry speck in the distance.
‘You okay?’ Jack asked once we were back on the road. I was panting heavily, and I could see in the mirror that the blood had drained from my face.
‘No. Not really.’ I summoned a wobbly grin. ‘But God, that felt good.’