The Stranger Within (21 page)

He considers this for a moment then finally turns to face me. “You’re right, Callie, sorry. It’s just the thought of you being with…you know…it drives me nuts.”

I lean in to kiss him then because it is what he needs. He has been here for me every time I’ve needed him so I need to be here for him too. I let his hands wander and eventually I lose myself, forgetting we are in a car, parked up a side street around the corner from my dad’s flat.

Only when someone walks past the misted windows do we stop in our tracks. I hurriedly straighten my clothes. “Shit, Rhys, we need to be more careful.”

Checking the rear-view mirror, for a fleeting moment I am sure the figure heading down the road and turning the corner is Max.

No
, I tell myself.
It’s dark outside; you didn’t get a proper look.

But later, after we’ve returned to Wimbledon and I’ve dropped Rhys at the bottom of his road, I am convinced that it was.

Chapter Twenty-One

Now

Without looking up I can feel DC Barnes’ hard stare on me. Perhaps she could forgive the kiss, but now she knows I have slept with Rhys it is a different matter. But it’s okay. I fully deserve her judgement because what I did was wrong.

              “But if you’d just been caught in the park by your ex, why would you go on to do anything in the car?” she asks. “Isn’t that asking for trouble? Asking to be caught? Maybe that’s what you wanted?”

              I hang my head, my whole body wracked with shame. “We didn’t have sex in the car. We just…we got lost in the moment.” I straighten. “Look, I know this doesn’t make sense, but I’d grown fond of Rhys very quickly. He made me forget who I was. He made carrying on bearable.”

              “But why all the risks?” DS Connolly asks, his voice so kind I almost forget who I’m talking to. He could be a friend or a counsellor rather than a detective who has arrested me for murder. “Your neighbours’ house, the car, his house. That I don’t understand.”

              “Well, that’s clear enough now,” I reply. “It’s part of the disease, isn’t it? Reckless behaviour?” I have learnt this too late. “It was a way to hide from myself, from the person I had become.”

              Silence fills the room.

“Look, I’m not defending my actions,” I continue. “Far from it. I’ll take all the punishment I’ve got coming to me. But the truth is, I was becoming detached from everything. And that’s a dangerous position to be in.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

After the close call, it would be logical to slow things down with Rhys, to be more careful and keep ourselves hidden. Bumping into Max last week, in a deserted park in north London, of all places, means nowhere is safe.

But instead of learning from the incident, I start to take more risks. It’s not the excitement of getting caught, I am not interested in that. It is only that I am blindly walking through my life without thought to consequences. To anyone else it would seem I’m acting only out of selfishness, but this isn’t true. My head is a fuzzy blur and I am living moment to moment.

Rhys comes to the house in the afternoons, skipping lessons when we are sure James is on a shoot somewhere out of London. He sneaks around the back of the house, avoiding Mrs Simmons’ gaze.

              “I’ve spoken to Dillon,” he says on one of these afternoons. It is a rare early summer’s day and the heat is sweltering so we sit in the kitchen with the door wide open, hidden from the neighbours’ view. Even in my vest top and shorts, the sweat is pouring from my body and Rhys tugs at the neck of his school shirt, unable to get comfortable. Outside, Jazzy lazes on the grass, rolling around and swiping at butterflies. I have never seen him so confident in the garden; it’s as if he knows the boys aren’t here so it is safe to come out.

              “Okay. Tell me.” He has been here for over an hour without bringing up Dillon, so I know the news can’t be positive.

              “Callie, I don’t think I can change his mind. He said…oh, it doesn’t matter, he just wouldn’t listen to me. And I couldn’t push too much or he’d get suspicious.” He says this too casually, as if Dillon finding out about us wouldn’t be such a big deal.              “What exactly did he say?”

              Rhys looks away from me, towards the garden. “Are you sure you want to know? It’s kind of hurtful.” He lifts his can of Red Bull to his lips, tilting his head back and taking a long sip.

              “More hurtful than anything else he’s said or done? Not sure that’s possible. Just tell me. I can handle it.” I am putting on a show of bravado but my insides feel loose like jelly. No matter what I am doing with Rhys, the boys’ hatred still hurts.

              Rhys scrunches his empty can and clears his throat. “He reckons you’re not good enough for his dad. But it’s bullshit, Callie. I never met his mum but there’s no way she was even half as amazing as you are.” He reaches for my hand. “Anyway, isn’t it pointless to worry about all this now?” He picks up his can before he remembers it’s empty. I would offer him another but only bought three and that was the last one. It’s not as if I can keep a stash of Red Bull in the cupboards; everyone knows Rhys is the only one who drinks the stuff. “When we tell everyone, Dillon’s not exactly going to be your biggest fan anyway, is he?”

              It takes me a moment to digest Rhys’ statement.
Tell everyone
. This is the last thing I have planned to do. The past couple of weeks I have been ignoring what I am doing, living every moment with Rhys as if the next day won’t exist. But the bubble in which I’ve been encapsulated has just burst.

              Lifting my feet from the chair they’re resting on, I turn to face Rhys. “Listen, we can’t tell anyone, Rhys. Ever. Can you imagine what would happen?”

              He frowns. “But I’m eighteen soon. I thought we could wait until then and it wouldn’t be too bad. I know you want to be with me, Callie, but we can’t keep this a secret forever. And why should we? I’m proud to be with you and I want to show you off to the world.”

              His idealism, although touching, frightens me. I have never stopped to consider that I might be Rhys’ first love. That first love that grips you so tightly, never truly lets go and leaves an indelible trace, even years later. Even if that person is out of sight. Even if, like Lauren, they are no longer here.

              I have to be careful what I say.

“Rhys, I really like you, but my life is such a mess at the moment. I just can’t do anything to make things…even worse.”

              “But…so…” He trails off. Clearly he hasn’t expected me to say this. “But you don’t love Dillon’s dad, do you? You can’t, otherwise you wouldn’t be with me.” He seems pleased to have reached this conclusion, as if there is no other explanation.

              Seeing the serious expression on his face, it occurs to me that Rhys wants me to address things I don’t want to think about, like what we are doing, or at least what
I
am doing. But I can’t. My involvement with him is heinous enough, but if it is all for nothing, if my intention is not to leave James to be with him instead, then what does that make me?

              But there is no way I can explain all this to Rhys. How can I expect him to understand that I do
love my husband, but have somehow managed to keep our affair separate from that? I have stuffed Rhys into a neat compartment, not letting any edges hang over, so he can’t overlap or spill out onto my marriage. I wonder if this is also what James has done with Tabitha. Why else has he not left me when he has had every opportunity?

              So I lie. I take Rhys’ hand and assure him that I just need more time to sort things out. He visibly relaxes when I say this but now I am the one who is on edge. Something has changed this afternoon. This is getting out of control.

In the late afternoon I have a tutorial in central London. It lasts two hours and gives me breathing space, albeit temporarily. Somehow I manage to focus on what our course tutor says, but seeing how focused the other students are is a stark reminder that I have let my studies slip.

             
Going home on the packed District line, I grab one of the only empty seats and for the first time force myself to consider the future. I love James, but I can’t see how things can ever change, even if he stopped seeing Tabitha. It is too late for me to confront him; I would just be a hypocrite because I am doing far worse. My relationship with the boys is beyond hope, and how could I ever have a life with Rhys? We would be outcasts, our relationship frowned upon by everyone. No, I need to have the conversation I’ve been putting off with James. It is time we sorted out our problems.

              But when I get home, all my intentions fizzle out when I realise Tabitha is here, in our house. I hear her before I see her: that deep, throaty laugh echoing from the kitchen, followed by a chuckle from James. My first thought is that I have caught them together, and James has forgotten the time of my tutorial. But the boys will be home and I know he wouldn’t stoop so low. She must be here about work.

              I smooth down my hair, still surprised by how short it is, and open the kitchen door, unprepared for the scene that greets me. Tabitha and James sit at the table with the boys, the four plates in front of them piled high with fish and chips. They all look up as I enter but James is the only one who speaks.

“Callie, hi. I thought you’d be later than this. Tabby just popped round to go over some work stuff. Have you eaten?” Tabby. When did he start calling her that?

              No food has passed my lips since lunchtime, but I nod. Even if I told the truth, it doesn’t look as if there is enough food for all of us.

“Nice to see you again,” Tabitha says, her voice warmer towards me than it’s ever been. She is mocking me, letting me know she has won.

              “I’ll just make a cup of tea,” I say, rushing past them to the kettle. I can feel Tabitha’s eyes on me and wonder why she still hasn’t told James I confronted her at the shop that day.

              While I wait for the kettle to boil, I grow increasingly anxious. Tabitha is here in this house, flaunting their affair as if she has nothing to be ashamed of. Even when I think of what I have done here with Rhys, as recently as this afternoon, it does little to stop me hating her. If it weren’t for her I would never have looked at Rhys. I would never have needed him to help me escape.

There is always an excuse, isn’t there?

              And then things get worse. Behind me, Dillon turns to Tabitha and tells her how nice it is to see her again, fawning over her as if she is a celebrity. Even though I know this is for my benefit, it is too much to bear.

              “I’ll have this outside,” I announce, holding up my mug. I don’t wait for an answer, but hurry outside to the shed. And someone I can depend on.

              For over an hour I sit on the dirty shed floor with Jazzy curled up on my lap. I stroke his fur, much softer now, and let the rumble of his purr comfort me. When someone appears in the doorway, Jazzy springs up and cowers in a corner at the back.

              James stands there, shaking his head. “Callie? What are you doing here?” He notices Jazzy. “So this is the cat the boys were talking about. He’s cute.” Of course the boys have told him about Jazzy; why would they miss an opportunity to stick a potential nail in my coffin?

              “I don’t let him in the house,” I say. “He sleeps out here.”

              “Callie, it’s fine. I’m surprised they didn’t want him. They always used to hound Lauren to get them a pet.” To my surprise, he joins me on the floor, brushing away some of the dirt before he sits down. “Tabitha’s gone,” he says. “We need to talk, don’t we?”

              So the moment is here. James is going to tell me he’s leaving me for Tabitha, that he never meant for it to happen, but somewhere along the way they have fallen in love. He will probably spare my feelings by omitting that she will make a much better stepmother than I have. A better wife.

              He takes my hand and it startles me; we’ve hardly touched in weeks. His skin feels so different from Rhys’. Not better or worse, just different. And being this close to him feels odd now. It is funny how you can get used to someone new in such a short space of time.

“Callie, there’s something I need to tell you. I should have said it a while ago but things have been so…strained for us.”

              I nod, tears forming in my eyes. I don’t try to wipe them away; I will not hide from the truth anymore. James squeezes my hand. “Tabitha just told me you went to see her. That you found a text from her?”

              “Yeah.” It is all I can manage to say.

              “Why didn’t you talk to me?”

              This is a good question, and now that it’s out there I feel foolish for not doing it. “I don’t know. Things were just bad, with the boys and…everything. I suppose I didn’t want to deal with that as well.” I can no longer look at him because he’s about to say something that can never be undone, so I turn to watch Jazzy instead. He seems more relaxed now and has nestled into his bed.

              James keeps hold of my hand. “I know I should have told you this before, but Tabitha and I…we, well, we…” He pauses. “Before I met you we kind of had a thing.”