Hayley stood perfectly still in Chris’ kitchen, unable to move despite her instincts telling her to get the hell out of there. The steady tick-tock from the clock on the kitchen wall was deafening.
What the … how …? Did I meet Chris somewhere and go home with him?
She shook her head. That wasn’t something she’d do. Maybe she’d spotted Chris on her way home, asked the taxi driver to give him a ride and ended up at his place? She tried forcing her memory but nothing came.
It doesn’t make sense.
Nothing made sense. Cold sweat trickled down her back and the dressing gown stuck to her body, making her shiver, so she pulled it away from her skin.
I need to get back to Rick and the kids. Oh shit.
She’d never cheated on Rick, never even kissed another man since they’d met. Yes, they were having problems, but cheat on him? She hadn’t seen, let alone spoken to Chris in almost twenty years but now she’d woken up in bed with him. Images of his bobbing penis flashed through her mind and she shook her head again in an attempt to get them out of her brain.
What did I do? Why can’t I remember? Did I go to a club? Or a bar?
She dismissed the theory as quickly as it had entered her muddled brain. She’d been at Ellen and Mark’s. They’d had drinks. She’d gone straight home.
Unless … unless I went on somewhere afterwards and someone spiked my drink?
She reached for the counter to steady herself.
What am I going to tell Rick? He must be frantic. Do the kids know I’m not home?
Hayley’s eyes darted around the kitchen for her mobile and when she couldn’t find it, she grabbed the phone on the kitchen counter and punched in her home number.
Before she heard it ring on the other end, she slammed the phone down.
No! We have caller ID.
Taking in big gulps of air, she closed her eyes and breathed out through her nose.
Think, Hayley, think.
She ran to the bathroom by the front door. Her head pounded, and as she sat on the toilet her stomach twisted itself into knots the size of tennis balls.
How could I let this happen?
She washed her hands and splashed cold water on her face. It slowed her breathing down, but only until she looked in the mirror.
‘Argh! What the hell?’
Her hair was cut in a cropped bob, much shorter than it had been the night before.
Why can’t I remember Ellen cutting it?
She smoothed it down with her damp hands and swallowed. Of course it would grow back eventually, but Rick was in for a surprise. He loved her long hair.
Will he think I did it to spite him? How many lies am I going to have to spin?
Rick would assume she’d spent the night at Ellen and Mark’s. After all, she had said, ‘Don’t wait up.’
Maybe he hasn’t phoned Ellen yet. Hang on, that’s it! Phone Ellen.
Hayley rushed back to the kitchen, snatched up the phone and dialled Ellen’s number.
‘Hello?’ a male voice said.
‘Mark?’ Hayley whispered into the phone.
‘Hayley,’ Mark said. ‘Trust you to be the first to call for the gossip. How are you?’
Hayley ignored Mark’s cheeriness. ‘Is Ellen there?’
‘Sorry, no. She went to pick up Morgan.’
‘Pick her up?’ Hayley frowned. ‘On a Saturday morning?’
‘Oh, she wanted to go last night.’ He chuckled.
‘What?’ Hayley said, then pressed on. ‘Fine. Will they be back soon?’
‘Any minute now. Shall I ask her to call you?’
‘Don’t bother. I’m coming over.’
‘Okay, see you. Say hi to Chris.’ Mark hung up.
Hayley still had the phone to her ear.
How did he …? Oh Christ, who else knows?
Shaking, Hayley realised she had two choices: leave and rush around Ealing in a sweaty dressing gown or go back upstairs to hunt for her things. While the first option meant she wouldn’t have to confront Chris, she couldn’t bring herself to leave the house so scantily dressed. She crept back upstairs, bracing herself for the inevitable confrontation. She needn’t have worried; he was lying on his back, fast asleep and snoring with his arms stretched out. The room smelled of a fresh fart.
She wrinkled her nose and looked around for her clothes. She spotted a pair of jeans, knickers, bra and a shirt lying on the floor next to ‘her’ side of the bed. They weren’t hers but she didn’t care – she would have donned a Ronald McDonald suit if it meant getting out of there.
With the exception of the knickers – going commando would have to suffice – she pulled the clothes on. They fit perfectly. While she searched for her shoes, an old and faded bag next to the chest of drawers caught her eye, and she recognised it instantly. It had been her favourite bag in the late ‘80s – blue denim, crescent-shaped, bright yellow stitching, big buckle – very trendy at the time. In fact, she’d seen one like it in a magazine less than a week ago, and had moaned at how old it made her feel.
It can’t be mine, surely?
Feeling like an amateur burglar, she carefully opened the bag and peered inside. Hayley A. was marked on the liner in thick, black felt-tip pen. She’d written it the day she’d bought the bag.
I thought I’d thrown it out. Did Chris keep it? That’s really creepy.
She stuck a hand in the bag and then pulled it back as if she’d been bitten.
Hang on … did he give it to his wife? Oh shit! He’s probably married with kids too.
As she rummaged around the bag she found keys, a small purse and a mobile phone, lipstick and lip balm. Next, she opened the purse and pulled out a two ten pound notes. She was about to see what else was in it when Chris spoke.
‘Where are you going?’
Hayley dropped the purse on the floor as she spun round. ‘I-I … I’m leaving.’
‘Don’t go,’ Chris said and winked at her. ‘I’ve got something for you …’ He started lifting the sheets away from his lower body.
‘Got to go,’ Hayley squealed as she sprinted out of the room and down the stairs, grabbing a blue jacket and slipping her feet into a pair of trainers by the front door.
‘Pick up some milk at the Spar, yeah?’ Chris yelled.
‘They’re closed for renovations,’ Hayley shouted back.
What?
She shook her head and slammed the door as Chris called out, ‘Don’t forget your keys this time.’
Halfway down the garden path she realised she still held the blue denim bag and the money in her hands.
Well he can sod off, I’m not going back in. Ever. And it’s not really stealing.
In theory, at least, the bag belonged to her and she could have the contents and money couriered to Chris’ house along with the clothes and the trainers. She pulled the jacket on, thankful that the rain had finally stopped and the sun was out, and broke into a light jog. Birds were chirping, no doubt equally grateful for the more clement weather, but Hayley ignored them. She was in no mood for their overstated merriment.
Unsure if she was imagining them or not, Hayley thought she felt the judgmental stares of the people she rushed past. Each time she caught sight of her dishevelled reflection in a shop window, she put her head down a bit further and ran a little faster, practically legging it for what should have been a twenty-five minute walk from Chris’ house to Ellen and Mark’s. The only time she slowed down was when she passed the Spar on the corner. The sign in the window read ‘We’re renovating to serve you better. Please excuse any inconvenience.’
How the hell did I know that? It was a post office last time I was here.
She kept on running.
When Ellen opened the front door, Hayley rushed forward into her arms and stuck to her like a bug to a windscreen. ‘Oh my god I’m so glad you’re home.’
Ellen laughed and hugged her back. ‘Yikes, easy tiger. I know I haven’t seen you for a week but this is ridiculous.’
‘What?’ Hayley said as she looked around. ‘Where’s Mark?’ She couldn’t face having a heart-to-heart with him there.
‘He popped out with Morgan. You okay?’
‘No. No I’m not, I …’ Big fat tears started rolling down Hayley’s cheeks.
‘Oh dear. Things not great with Chris then?’
‘What? You knew? How did this happen? I know we had a few drinks last night but I didn’t think I was that pissed. Oh god.’ Hayley pressed her hands over her eyes for a second, then looked at Ellen. ‘When did you get a spray tan? No, never mind. Do you know where I went after I left?’
‘Left where?’
‘Here,’ Hayley said, her voice louder than she’d intended.
‘You were here last night?’ Ellen asked. ‘When? Greece was fabulous by the way. You were right. We needed a holiday. The weather, the food, the sex.’ She winked at Hayley. ‘Heaven.’
‘What holiday?’
‘Ours. Bloody hell, you must have got really hammered last night.’
‘Yes. With you. After my argument with Rick, remember? I got a taxi home but I woke up with Chris.’
‘Who’s Rick? What are you …?’
The front door opened and Mark came in, followed by a glossy-coated black Labrador with a chunky red collar covered in silver rivets. The dog bounded over to Hayley, barked and wagged its tail while its paws slipped across the floor, making a clip-clipping noise.
Mark kissed Ellen and hugged Hayley. ‘I think she’s pissed off at us for sending her to the kennels. Aren’t you, you daft dog?’ The dog barked again. Mark bent over and the dog immediately fell to the floor, belly side up in a tickle-me-now gesture, moaning quietly.
‘Where’s Morgan?’ said Hayley, as she looked around. ‘And since when do you have a dog?’
Ellen and Mark exchange glances. ‘That’s Morgan.’ Ellen pointed at the Labrador, who was busy gnawing on a spit covered slipper with the Star Wars logo.
Mark frowned. ‘Hayley, are you feeling okay? You’re acting weird.’
A shiver travelled down her spine and she took a step back.
Something’s wrong. Really wrong.
‘Guys, come on,’ she said. ‘Did you get the dog today? Why would you call it the same name as your daughter? That’s weird.’
Ellen moved towards her and gently took her hands. ‘You gave us a puppy for Christmas. Six years ago. We called her Morgan.’ Her slow and deliberate tone made Hayley feel like a child. ‘We don’t have a daughter. Are you okay? Why don’t you sit down?’
Hayley snatched her hands away and took another couple of steps back, shaking her head and her right hand at them at the same time. Their expressions didn’t change – they were still looking at her with frowns and narrowed eyes.
‘What? Hilarious, ha ha ha. I never gave you a puppy and if you don’t have a daughter, then what do you call this?’
She stomped over to Morgan’s bedroom and flung the door open, drawing her breath sharply as she looked inside. A desk with a computer screen, a pile of papers and a pen holder were where Morgan’s bed had been. A slightly chewed, brown wicker dog basket with a green plastic hedgehog lay to the left of the desk. The bookcases weren’t filled with Little Miss or Angelina Ballerina books. Instead there were novels and some quirky bird ornaments. Hayley noticed Mark’s guitar in the corner.
How the hell?
The empty floor had none of Morgan’s squishy cuddly toys. Soft grey paint, not girly pink, covered the walls. The pretty pastel curtains were now dark green and there weren’t any pictures of Ellen, Mark and Morgan. Instead a framed photograph of Stonehenge and another of the London Eye at night hung on the wall.
No Morgan. Then what about Millie and Danny?
It was incomprehensible, simply too much to take in. The room started spinning, faster and faster, like a psychedelic merry-go-round on speed. As her legs gave way beneath her, Hayley thought she saw Ellen and Mark rush towards her, arms outstretched, trying to catch her as she slid silently to the floor.