‘Is that you?’ Chris shouted from the kitchen, over the noise of a whistling kettle.
He was standing by the kitchen sink, pouring steaming water into a mug with KING PIN written on it. Hayley didn’t notice she’d been holding her breath until she saw that, thankfully, he’d dressed since their morning encounter. His faded jeans looked trendy although his grey T-shirt was slightly too tight across his middle. It looked like he hadn’t shaved for a good few days, and Hayley immediately recognised the scent of his Paco Rabanne aftershave he always wore.
‘Where did you run off to?’ he said. ‘I thought you cancelled your lessons two months ago.’
‘What?’
‘Your French lessons with that bloke, Fred, or whatever. The one who fancies you.’
‘Who? Frédéric? He doesn’t fancy me but –’ She started wondering who Frédéric was and how she knew his name, but then noticed Chris staring at her.
‘So?’ he said.
‘So what?’
‘Where did you go?’ He continued to stare at her as he stirred his tea. The grinding sound of metal spoon against porcelain cup made Hayley’s teeth ache.
She cleared her throat. ‘Uh, I went out for a bit.’ She wondered how they were going to have any kind of conversation. They hadn’t seen each other for two decades. Not according to her anyway. How could she spend the day with him? But if she told him what was going on he’d slap a straightjacket on her.
‘Ellen called,’ he said with his eyes still on her. ‘She said you left almost two hours ago. Where have you been?’
Without missing a beat she said, ‘For a walk in the park.’
Chris put his mug down with a loud clunk. ‘Who did you meet? Anybody I know?’
His jealous streak hadn’t changed much.
Think, Hayley. Think …
‘Oh alright,’ she said brightly, grateful she’d always had a good memory for dates. ‘I went to arrange some things for your birthday. Don’t ask or it’ll spoil the surprise.’ She hoped he didn’t have a built-in bullshit detector.
‘Oh.’ He smiled and his face looked completely different – calm and kind, attractive. Time had perhaps rendered his face slightly less chiselled, but he was no doubt still turning heads. ‘Okay,’ he continued, ‘I just wondered where you were. Ellen said you fainted or something. You don’t need me to stay do you? Only, I’ve got plans.’
She waved her hand around, trying to stop herself from punching the air. ‘I’m fine. A bit tired.’
‘Good. I’m going out to play footie with the lads then straight to the club. What are you doing?’
Hayley didn’t have the faintest idea. ‘Oh, uh …’ She scratched her forehead. ‘I thought I’d get some work done?’
He scrunched up his face. ‘Since when do secretaries work on a Saturday? Charles had better be paying you.’
‘Secretary? Charles?’
‘I prefer him to his dad,’ Chris said, ignoring her confusion. ‘Ronald kept putting ideas in your head.’
‘Hmmm …’ Hayley’s mind went into overdrive.
Alright. Let’s see what I can get out of you.
‘Last night I dreamt about the day you proposed,’ Hayley said.
‘Really?’ Chris turned his back and pulled a loaf of bread from the cupboard.
‘Yes.’ She watched as he took the butter out of the fridge and spread it thickly on a chunk of bread he ripped off. She remembered how he used to like her – or anyone for that matter – stroking his ego. ‘It reminded me how much I love it when you tell the story.’
Ugh, that was gushy. Bat your eyelashes and twiddle your hair, why don’t you?
‘Do you?’ he said.
‘Yes. Go on,’ she said. ‘Tell me.’
Chris took a big bite of the bread and rolled his eyes.
She smiled. ‘Please?’
I’m going to make myself sick.
He clicked his tongue. ‘Oh, okay. We were in your bedroom. You wanted to go out. I didn’t want you to because I had to work.’ He paused. ‘I was a bit jealous back then.’ He chewed and then swallowed loudly.
No kidding. Then what? Tell me what happened next, you bastard, I need to know.
‘Only a little bit.’ She smiled at him. ‘Go on.’
He rolled his eyes again and shook his head. ‘I asked you to marry me, you jumped off your bed, squealed ‘yes, yes, yes’, and almost knocked me over.’
What felt like a fragment of a memory fluttered through Hayley’s brain. The look on his face when she said yes. The sinking feeling in her chest that she pushed away, not wanting to spoil the moment.
He turned away and filled a glass with water from the tap.
I said yes straight away. Oh fuck. What an idiot!
‘I said yes. You didn’t break my door,’ she muttered to herself.
‘Eh?’ he said and took a sip of water. ‘What door?’
‘Nothing.’ Trying very hard to make a statement rather than ask a question she added, ‘And then I left university.’
Chris’ brow furrowed. ‘Why are you bringing this up? It was your idea. You said you wanted to help with the mortgage when Mum died.’
She died? That’s why I quit university?
His face softened again as he broke into a grin, then he chuckled. ‘Remember the look on your mum and dad’s faces when we told them, eh?’
She could very well imagine it – probably horror rather than delight at seeing her drop out of law school so she could help pay her fiancé’s mortgage.
‘I wonder what would have happened if I’d finished my law degree?’
‘What’s with you today?’ He shook his head. ‘I would have had to sell my house.’
‘Yes, but –’
‘Jesus, Hayley, ever since Ronald died you moan non-stop.’
‘Well –’
‘Seriously, every day I have to listen to you complain about Charles.’ He laughed. ‘But he is a flashy fucker. All Rolex watches, Armani suits and hot chicks. Lucky bastard. Bet you that’s the life.’ He reached over to give her a slap on the bum but Hayley deftly slid out of reach.
Suddenly she wondered if she’d ever had kids with this man and tried to stop herself from screaming. ‘So …’ She cleared her throat in an attempt to buy time and calm her nerves. ‘I spoke with Jackie the other day.’
‘Yeah?’
‘Yes. She and Ray had a bit of a pregnancy scare.’
‘Jesus, she isn’t, is she?’
She watched him closely. ‘No,’ she shook her head. ‘She isn’t.’
‘God, can you imagine?’ he said and snorted. ‘Kids. Ugh.’
‘Well … you used to say you wanted some.’
‘Pfff, yeah when I was a teenager.’ He looked at her sharply. ‘Shit! Are you trying to tell me you’re in the fat club?’
‘Fat club? What? No!’
‘Thank fuck for that.’ Chris stuffed the rest of the bread into his mouth, dropping crumbs everywhere. ‘We’re getting too old for that kind of shit.’
She needed to get him out of the house before she burst into tears. Or strangled him. Or both. ‘You’re working tonight?’
‘Yeah, at Crowbar. Spikey reckons I should have more gigs soon. I’ll be out all night.’
‘That’s good.’
Good that you’ll be out.
‘When are you leaving?’ she said as she tucked her hair behind her ear, not yet used to how short it felt.
‘Now. You clear up or I’ll be late for the lads. The washing needs doing too. I don’t have any boxers left. And the dishwasher finished ages ago.’
‘I’ll do it. No problem,’ she said automatically, then opened her mouth to protest and tell him he should clear up his own mess. But she needed to have a good snoop around. ‘Okay. So you’ll be back late?’ She crossed all of her fingers behind her back.
Please say yes.
‘Not until early morning.’
Oh thank god.
He winked at her. ‘Maybe I’ll slip you a length. It’s been a while.’
Hayley tried not to shudder. She couldn’t imagine anything worse. ‘I’m on my period.’
‘Again?’
She shrugged. ‘Must be the hormones. Like you said, we’re getting old.’ She heard him mutter, ‘Yuk,’ under his breath as he stepped out of the kitchen.
When he left the house she felt like she’d been holding her breath for hours. Trying to keep a lid on her emotions, she explored the living room. It looked cosy enough, with a caramel-coloured sofa and matching armchair and a small pine dining table set by the window. There was a picture of her parents, and one of her and Chris on the mantel piece. Two large framed black and white posters, one of the Eiffel Tower and another of the Empire State Building, decorated the walls. Trembling, she sank down on the sofa, buried her head in a cushion and finally let the tears go.
Sobbing, Hayley pulled out the mobile phone and punched in Rick’s number, but once again the automated voice repeated it was out of service.
He’s real. I know he is. But I don’t even have a picture of him, or of the kids.
She let the phone slip out of her fingers and its thud on the floor startled her.
Don’t sit here and wallow. You’re wasting time. Find a solution. Find a way home.
She needed to search the house for clues and then leave. How could she stay knowing that Chris would be coming home with triple X-rated intentions?
I wished myself here, maybe I can wish myself back home.
She took a deep breath, closed her eyes and tilted her face upwards. ‘I wish I were at home. I wish I were at home. I wish I were at home.’
She waited five seconds and opened one eye, then closed it and tried again. No luck. The third time she clicked her heels together and repeated the words again. But the Wizard of Oz and her Fairy Godmother must have been on a tea break – or down the pub.
Hayley climbed the carpeted stairs to what used to be Chris’ mother’s bedroom and looked around. There was a Pac-Man arcade game in one corner and a pin-ball machine in another, along with a flat-screen TV, a Wii and an X-Box, and two bookcases stuffed with DVDs and video games. At the back of the room she spotted a desk with a couple of binders. Eagerly she snatched up the one marked ‘Monthly Finances’.
Alright, Chris, let’s find out what our life is really like.
Flicking through the neatly filed contents – obviously her organisational handiwork – Hayley realised they were in trouble. Their income wasn’t anywhere near enough to cover the bills. She searched for something, anything indicating savings or a small nest egg. Instead she found a credit card statement in her name with hardly any expenditure and four in Chris’ name that were all maxed out. It was a miracle they still had the house.
As she turned the pages she came across a letter addressed to Chris from Turnbull Electric. He’d been fired over a year ago for stealing company property, and, as far as Hayley could tell, he hadn’t had a job since.
It seemed she worked as much as she could while he did a gig here and there as a DJ, hardly bringing in any money but happily spending hers – and then some. She swallowed. They were broke. There was no way they could have helped her parents out. Hayley felt sick. Deciding she’d seen enough, she went to the bedroom where she’d woken up and started going through the wardrobe. Chris’ clothes took up almost three quarters of the space and a lot of them were designer labels. In contrast, hers were from H&M and George. The wardrobe didn’t yield anything more so she moved on to the chest of drawers.
As she rifled through the third drawer she found a crisp, white envelope with the familiar Simpson & Partners logo, tucked away between two pairs of tights. Hayley opened it and unfolded the papers she found inside. A hand-written note was stapled to the first page. Dated two months ago, it read:
Dear Hayley,
Here are the divorce application papers we discussed. Please let me know when you’re ready and I will assign a person from the team to carry this work out pro-bono. You have more than sufficient grounds to file for divorce citing unreasonable behaviour. Count on us to help you get through this.
Best, Tony
Hayley clutched the envelope to her chest.
What if I’d said yes when Chris proposed?
She held the answer in her hands. Letting out a deep, primal scream, she jumped up and banged her fists against the wall before pulling over the chest of drawers, sending it crashing to the floor along with the photo frames and a leather jewellery box.
‘This can’t be happening,’ she shouted as she stamped her feet. ‘This can’t be fucking happening. I want to go home. Let me go home, do you hear me?’
When she finally stopped crying the sky had turned soft shades of pink, like sun-kissed peaches and swirls of candy floss. Hayley lay on the bed and stared out of the window, her eyes puffy and aching, and her brain telling her to sleep.
She folded the duvet over herself like a cocoon. Safe, warm, protected. At least for now.
Just a little rest. It’ll clear my head.
There had to be a way back to her real life. There had to be some way out of this … Hayley searched for the right word … glimpse. Rick, Millie and Danny were all real, weren’t they? She tried to picture their faces, but the harder she fought, the more she felt them fade and slip away, becoming all but faint ghosts of her imagination.
As she gave in to exhaustion and closed her eyes, she started to plan. In a few hours she’d go to her parents. Tell her mum she needed to move back home for a while.
Then she’d find Rick Cooper, her husband. Exactly what she’d say to him when she found him, she really wasn’t sure. After all, he’d probably never even heard of her.