The Most Difficult Thing

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Anna (#ulink_a8543664-b7e8-5a7f-8459-8109033cecf1)

David had already left by the time I woke up. Drawn outside by the light spilling in through every crevice of the house, the sound of the birds perched on the feeder outside the kitchen window, I took my cup onto the patio.

Following the curve of the garden, I walked towards the ornate iron bench which stood next to the door leading out onto the Heath, settling to feel the morning sun brushing against my face, the occasional call of a dog walker, the gurgle of a toddler, rising over the wall.

This is where I was still sitting, nursing a cup of cold coffee, when David appeared through the French doors half an hour later. It was a Saturday morning and the promise of spring danced between puffs of light cloud.

He wore a look of appreciation as he approached, the sun lighting him from behind. With the halo effect of the light around his head, I had a flash of memory: that first afternoon drinking together on the beach at Brighton. It was the same look, one that I could now recognise as adoration, which he wore then. Without the affectations of his university brand – the Camden Market-style jewellery traded in for a simple leather watch; the hooded jumper replaced with a casual light blue shirt – he looked younger, somehow, like a boy who had raided his father’s wardrobe.

He was about to say something, I could tell, but he paused briefly, as if enjoying the spectacle of this moment together in the garden of the house he grew up in too much to interrupt. When he finally pulled up a chair, he pressed his lips on mine.

I smiled, pulling myself slightly away from him, meeting his eyes.

‘I was thinking, we should get a gardener,’ I said, once he had settled himself, leaning back against the bench, his legs splayed.

I had been working up to the suggestion over the past few days, still unsure whether it was within my remit to request such a thing. This was still very much his family home but, beautiful as it was, it had begun to feel frayed, the toll of David’s once steady stream of parties having worn into the edges.

He shrugged. ‘Sure.’ The glint in his eyes remained intact.

I nodded, pleased at his easy reaction, looking away for a moment before feeling my attention drawn back to him.

‘What?’

‘Nothing.’

He was staring, the smile pinched at either side of his mouth.

‘What, David?’ I tried not to sound impatient, pushing playfully at his arm. ‘What do you want?’

‘I bought croissants,’ he said, reaching down towards a shopping bag. ‘And juice.’

I arranged myself in my chair, ‘Excellent, thank you.’

‘And …’ he paused before reaching into his pocket, drawing out an envelope. There was a loaded silence and then he started to speak. ‘These past months with you … I know, I know, but humour me, please … These past few months with you have been the best of my life. I know it sounds horribly cheesy but it’s true. And …’

He made the sound of a drum-roll, then placed the envelope between my fingers.

Trying to read his face, I opened it and pulled out two tickets, feeling my heartbeat rise.

He watched me as I raised one hand to my mouth, the other hand clutching the plane tickets. ‘Oh my God, David, I can’t, this is too much …’

‘It’s not.’

He held my knee in his hand, squeezing harder with every second that passed.

‘I know sometimes maybe you feel I’m pushing things too fast, but I really mean it when I say that you are the most extraordinary girl …’ He corrected himself, ‘You are the most extraordinary woman I’ve ever met. And I know how hard you’ve been working, and, well, it’s a selfish act. I want you there, I want you to meet my family. My dad.’

He watched me, my teeth biting down onto my lip so that I could taste the blood inside my mouth.

‘Sorry, that sounded intense. I just mean I want to spend time with you, away from here. I want you to be part of my life. Properly.’

I swallowed, looking up at him, pausing just long enough to see his desire grow a little more.

‘I don’t know what to say.’

‘Say you’ll come?’ He moved closer.

Greece. I felt my stomach flip.

Placing my hand on the side of my chair to steady myself, I breathed in.

‘I’ll come.’

‘He’s invited me to Greece.’

I blurted it out as soon as I had stepped inside Harry’s front door, the reality of what was happening jolting through me in fretful waves.

It was only the third time I had been at the flat since I moved in with David, feigning overnight stays with friends; claims I had been waiting for him to question, and which he never did – trusting me implicitly from the very start.

Harry was still standing with one hand on the front door, but after a moment a smile crept across his face and he pushed it closed.

‘Really?’

He moved towards me and for once I moved away, unsure of what I needed, unable to stand still long enough to accept his touch.

He was gentle with me, careful not to push, always gauging his impact on me perfectly.

‘And Clive, he’ll be there too?’

‘Of course.’

‘You’re brilliant.’

This time I stayed put as he placed his hands on my hips, pressing his palms against the gentle roll of the bone.

‘What did you say when he asked you?’

‘What do you think?’

He nodded, absorbing my words. I felt his eyes weighing me up, the balance of power between us shifting imperceptibly.

‘And you are OK with this?’ He spoke quietly, but his words were weighted.

‘Yes.’ My voice was less steady now, less convinced. I felt my body shake, my face turning to the table where his cigarettes lay.

Harry followed my gaze and leaned over to pick up the packet, pulling one out and pressing it into my hand.

‘Are you sure? Because you don’t seem sure.’

‘Harry, for fuck’s sake, I’m sure.’

I stooped to accept his lighter before looking up sharply. His lack of faith had provoked me. What did he think I had been doing these past months?

Sensing my unease, he clamped his right hand softly around the base of my neck, my flesh tingling at his touch. Closing my eyes, I felt the words fall from my mouth, ‘I’ve missed you.’

CHAPTER 12 (#ulink_f31ea7d4-cf3d-5e8a-8b10-b6c135bd9b79)

Anna (#ulink_f31ea7d4-cf3d-5e8a-8b10-b6c135bd9b79)

The airport that first time was an assault on my senses. Keeping close to David, I followed the endless lines, past armed police officers, parents with toddlers on leashes, women with fixed smiles seizing bottles of perfume; the cacophony of beeps and hums taunting me as I scanned the customs hall for cues as to how to behave.

It had not occurred to me to leave my second phone in my suitcase, and it was not the kind of question I had thought to ask when Harry was talking me though the plan, mistaking my continuous probing for direction in best practice, rather than a plea for basic information. Short of admitting I had never been abroad before, how could I explain to someone to whom international travel was second nature that other than knowing to take my passport, I had no idea what to expect?

While I had never directly lied to Harry about my past, there was plenty I hadn’t mentioned. Our relationship, I was sure, relied on him believing me to possess a degree of sophistication that the full truth would instantly belie.

At security, I mirrored David’s movements, laying my possessions out in a plastic tray, feeling the customs officer’s eyes on me as she beckoned me through a metal arch that shot out a cry as I passed through.

Beckoning me forward, the woman pressed her hand against my body, her palms running up and down my thighs as perspiration stung the top of my lip.

‘Could you empty your pockets for me, please?’

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.

David, a metre or so away, was repacking the contents of his rucksack. My hands shaking, I reached hesitantly into the lining of my jacket.

The woman raised an eyebrow, as if to ask, two phones?

‘One’s for work.’ I spoke quickly, my eyes moving to David, who was making his way towards me now.

‘Everything OK?’

Working hard to hold his attention with my eyes, to distract him from my fingers, I arranged my face into a smile, the blood pounding in my chest.

When the customs officer spoke again, I missed her words.

‘Sorry?’

‘I said, you’ll have to run them through the X-ray. Go back through.’

She was becoming exasperated, as were the family behind us, the toddler’s screams growing louder with each second that passed.

Giving David a smile, I followed the woman’s pointed finger back through the metal archway, moving as fast as was reasonable towards the stack of plastic trays, placing the phones side by side in the rectangular cradle. As I scanned my mind for possible explanations I could use to reassure David, all I could focus on was the sound of the child’s voice rising in shrill peaks behind me; the wail of the metal detectors going off one after another across the hall, rising and falling like an air-raid siren.

I could of course repeat that it was a work phone, but he would be instantly suspicious as to why I hadn’t mentioned it before. All of this, everything, relied on me giving him no reason to doubt anything I said. Ever. The moment he started to question me, even for something seemingly innocuous, would be the moment everything would start to unravel.

Besides, I wondered, could I lie to his face without giving myself away? It seems laughable now that I had credited myself with having so much integrity.

David’s eyes stayed on mine as he continued walking towards me, trance-like, and I held them there, willing him with every inch of my body not to look away. If his gaze so much as slipped towards the glistening line of tiny crystals of sweat that had formed above my lips, the spell would be broken.

As I opened my mouth to speak – to tell the only lie my mind could fathom – there was a sound like a gunshot and every eye in the room swooped towards me. Instantly, the room fell quiet. A second later, there was a wail from the child behind us and it was then that I understood the source of the noise: a bottle of milk the boy’s parents had been using in an attempt at placation being thrown and hitting the ground with the force of a missile.