Behind Closed Doors: A Novel

On the way home in the car from seeing Millie, I mention to Jack that I’m going to have to phone Diane sometime before Friday to tell her that I can’t make lunch with her and Esther.

‘On the contrary, I think you should go,’ he says. Because he’s said the same thing many times before I know it doesn’t mean anything. ‘After all, you’ve already cancelled twice.’ Even those words aren’t enough to get my hopes up. But on Friday morning, when he tells me to put on my prettiest dress, I can’t help wondering if the moment I’ve been waiting for has finally come. My mind races so far ahead that I have to remind myself firmly of all the other times I’ve ended up disappointed. Even when I get into the car beside Jack, I still don’t let myself believe that it might happen. But when we drive all the way into town I can’t help but believe it, and I begin to plot feverishly, terrified that I’ll let the moment slip through my fingers. It’s only when Jack parks the car in the road outside the restaurant and gets out that I realise how deluded I’ve been.

Diane and Esther are already seated. Diane waves and I make my way over, a smile hiding my bitter disappointment, conscious of Jack’s hand on my back.

‘I’m so glad you could make it,’ she says, giving me a quick hug. ‘Jack, how nice of you to come and say hello. Is it your lunch hour?’

‘I worked from home this morning,’ he says. ‘And, as I don’t have to be in the office until later this afternoon, I was hoping you’d let me gatecrash your lunch—in exchange for me treating you, of course.’

‘In that case, you can join us with pleasure,’ she laughs. ‘I’m sure it won’t be any trouble to add an extra place, especially as it’s a table for four.’

‘Except that we won’t be able to talk about you now,’ Esther jokes. As Jack purloins a chair from another table, it occurs to me that had she wanted to say anything more damaging, she wouldn’t have been able to. Not that it really matters any more.

‘I’m sure you’ve got far more interesting things to talk about than me,’ Jack smiles, placing me opposite Esther and signalling to the waitress to bring another place setting.

‘And Grace would only have nice things to say about you anyway, so it wouldn’t be much fun,’ Diane sighs.

‘Oh, I’m sure she’d be able to find a few little imperfections.’ Esther looks at me challengingly. ‘Wouldn’t you, Grace?’

‘I doubt it,’ I say. ‘As you can see, Jack is pretty perfect.’

‘Oh come on, he can’t be that perfect! There must be something!’

I furrow my brow, making a show of giving it some thought, then shake my head regretfully. ‘No, sorry, I really can’t think of anything—unless buying me too many flowers counts. Sometimes it’s hard to find enough vases to put them in.’

Beside me, Diane groans. ‘That is not a fault, Grace.’ She turns to Jack. ‘I don’t suppose you could give Adam a few tips on how to spoil one’s wife, could you?’

‘Don’t forget that Grace and Jack are practically newly-weds compared to all of us,’ Esther points out. ‘And they don’t have children yet. Gallantry tends to fly out of the window once familiarity and babies install themselves in a relationship.’ She pauses a moment. ‘Did you live together for long before you got married?’

‘We didn’t have time to live together,’ Jack explains. ‘We got married less than six months after we met.’

Esther raises her eyebrows. ‘Gosh, that was quick!’

‘Once I knew Grace was the one for me, there didn’t seem to be any point in hanging around,’ he says, taking my hand.

Esther looks over at me, a smile playing at the corner of her mouth. ‘And you didn’t find any skeletons in the closet once you were married?’

‘Not a single one.’ I take the menu the waitress holds out to me and open it eagerly, not only because I want to stop Esther’s interrogation of my relationship with Jack but also because I’m hungry. I scan the dishes on offer and see that their fillet steak comes with mushrooms, onions and French fries. Perfect.

‘Is anybody having anything remotely fattening?’ Diane asks hopefully.

Esther shakes her head. ‘Sorry. I’m going for a salad.’

‘I’m having the fillet steak,’ I tell her. ‘With fries. And I’ll probably have the chocolate fudge cake for dessert,’ I add, knowing that is what she wants to hear.

‘In that case, I’ll join Esther in a salad and you in the fudge cake,’ she says happily.

‘Would anybody like wine?’ Jack asks, ever the perfect host.

‘No, thank you,’ says Diane, and, regretfully, I resign myself to an alcohol-free lunch because Jack never drinks during the day.

‘I’d love some,’ says Esther. ‘But only if you and Grace have some too.’

‘I won’t,’ says Jack. ‘I have a lot to do this afternoon.’

‘I will,’ I tell Esther. ‘Would you prefer red or white?’

The conversation, while we’re waiting to be served, turns to the local musical festival, which takes place every July and draws people from miles around. We agree that where we all live, we’re near enough to be able to attend the festival easily yet far enough away to not be disturbed by the thousands of people that descend on the town. Although Diane and Adam always go to the festival, Jack and I have never been and we’re soon drawn into Diane’s plans for all of us to go together. In talking about music, we learn that Esther plays the piano and Rufus the guitar and when I admit to not being at all musical, Esther asks me if I like reading and I tell her I do, although I do very little. We talk about the sort of books we like, and Esther mentions a new bestseller that has just come out and asks if we’ve read it. It turns out that none of us have.

‘Would you like me to lend it to you?’ she asks, as the waitress puts our meals on the table.

‘Yes, please.’ I’m so touched that she has offered to lend her book to me rather than to Diane that I forget.

‘I’ll drop it round this afternoon,’ she offers. ‘I don’t teach on Fridays.’

Now I remember. ‘You might have to leave it in the letter box. If I’m in the garden, which I probably will be, I won’t hear the bell.’

‘I’d love to see your garden sometime,’ she enthuses. ‘Especially after what Jack said about you having green fingers.’

‘There’s no need for you to drive over,’ says Jack, neatly sidestepping the massive hint she’s just dropped. ‘Grace can buy the book for herself.’

‘It’s really no problem.’ Esther eyes her salad appreciatively. ‘Gosh, this looks lovely.’

‘In fact, we’ll go and buy a copy as soon as we’ve finished here. Smith’s is just around the corner.’

‘Is it just on Fridays that you don’t work?’ I ask, wanting to change the subject.

‘No, I don’t work Tuesdays either. One of the other teachers and I job-share.’

‘I’d love to be able to do that,’ says Diane wistfully. ‘It’s hard working full-time when you’ve got children. But I’d hate to give up working altogether, which is the only alternative because my firm haven’t heard of job-sharing yet.’

Esther looks over at me. ‘I can’t believe you don’t miss working. I mean, you had a pretty exciting job before you got married.’

I busy myself cutting a piece of steak, because it’s hard being reminded of the life I used to have. ‘Not at all—I have plenty to keep me occupied.’

‘So what are your other hobbies, apart from painting, gardening and reading?’

‘Oh, a bit of this and a bit of that,’ I say, realising how lame it sounds.

‘What Grace hasn’t told you is that she makes a lot of her own clothes,’ Jack intervenes. ‘Just the other day, she made herself a lovely dress.’

‘Really?’ Esther looks at me with interest.

Used to thinking on my feet, I don’t bat an eyelid. ‘It was just a dress to wear around the house,’ I explain. ‘Nothing fancy. I don’t make clothes to wear out in the evening or anything too complicated.’

‘I didn’t know you were good with a needle.’ Diane’s eyes gleam. ‘I’d love to be able to sew.’

‘Me too,’ says Esther. ‘Perhaps you could teach me, Grace.’

‘Maybe we could start a sewing circle with you as our teacher,’ Diane suggests.

‘I’m really not that good,’ I protest, ‘which is why I’ve never mentioned it before. I’m too worried people will ask to see something I’ve made.’

‘Well, if you sew anything like you cook, I’m sure the dress you made is beautiful!’

‘You’ll have to show it to us sometime,’ Esther says.

‘I will,’ I promise. ‘But only if you don’t ask me to make you one.’

The constant need to field her remarks makes me feel so tense that I consider skipping dessert, something I wouldn’t normally do. But if I don’t have one, Diane won’t, and because Esther has just professed herself too full to eat another thing, it means that the meal can be rounded up quickly. I weigh the pros and cons but in the end the lure of chocolate fudge cake is too strong. I take another sip of wine, hoping to stave off more of Esther’s questioning, wishing she would turn her attention to Diane for a while.

As if reading my mind, she asks Diane about her son. His eating habits is one of Diane’s favourite topics of conversation, so I get a few minutes’ reprieve while the conversation revolves around how best to get children to eat vegetables they don’t like. Jack listens attentively, as if the subject is of real interest to him and my mind turns to Millie, worrying how she will take it if I’m not able to go and see her over the weekend, because it’s getting harder and harder to explain my absences to her. Once, it would never have occurred to me to wish her to be any different to how she has always been. Now, I’m constantly wishing that she didn’t have Down’s, that she wasn’t dependent on me, that she could live her own life instead of having to share mine.

Called abruptly back to the present by Diane ordering my dessert for me, I tell Esther, when she asks what I was dreaming about, that I was thinking about Millie. Diane asks if we’ve seen her recently so I tell her that we saw her the previous Sunday and that Jack took us out for a lovely lunch. I wait for someone to ask if we’ll be going to see her again this weekend, but nobody does, so I am none the wiser.

‘She must be looking forward to coming to live with you,’ Esther says, as the desserts arrive.

‘Yes, she is,’ I agree.

Jack smiles. ‘We’re looking forward to it too.’

‘What does she think of the house?’

I reach for my glass. ‘Actually, she hasn’t seen it yet.’

‘But didn’t you move in a year ago?’

‘Yes, but we want everything to be perfect before she sees it,’ Jack explains.

‘It looked pretty perfect to me when I saw it,’ she remarks.

‘Her room isn’t quite finished yet, but I’m having so much fun doing it up, aren’t I, darling?’ To my horror, I feel tears welling up inside me and bow my head quickly, conscious of Esther’s eyes on me.

‘What colour will it be?’ asks Diane.

‘Red,’ says Jack. ‘It’s her favourite colour.’ He nods at my chocolate fudge cake. ‘Eat up, darling.’

I pick up my spoon, wondering how I’m going to be able to do as he says.

‘It looks delicious,’ says Esther. ‘I don’t suppose you want to share it with me, do you?’

I hesitate, feigning reluctance, wondering why I’m bothering because I won’t have fooled Jack. ‘Help yourself,’ I say, offering her my fork.

‘Thank you.’ She spears a piece of the cake. ‘Did you and Jack come in separate cars?’

‘No, we came together.’

‘Then I’ll drop you back, if you like.’

‘It’s fine, I intend taking Grace home before going into the office,’ Jack says.

‘Isn’t that a bit of a detour?’ she frowns. ‘You can get straight on the motorway to London from here. I’ll take her home, Jack, it’s really no problem.’

‘That’s very kind of you, but there are some documents that I need to pick up before seeing one of my clients later this afternoon.’ He pauses. ‘It’s a shame I didn’t bring them with me, because I would have let you take Grace home with pleasure.’

‘Another time, then.’ Esther turns to me. ‘Grace, perhaps we can exchange telephone numbers? I’d like to have you all around to dinner, but I need to check with Rufus to see when he’s free. He has a trip to Berlin coming up and I’m not sure when it is.’

‘Of course.’ I give her our home number and she taps it into her mobile.

‘And your mobile?’

‘I don’t have one.’

She does a double take. ‘You don’t have a mobile?’

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because I don’t see the need for one.’

‘But everybody over the age of ten and under the age of eighty has one!’

‘Well, not me,’ I say, amused—despite myself—at her reaction.

‘I know, it’s incredible, isn’t it?’ says Diane. ‘I’ve tried to persuade her to buy one but she isn’t interested.’

‘But how on earth does anybody get hold of you when you’re out and about?’ wonders Esther.

I shrug. ‘They don’t.’

‘Which is quite a good thing,’ says Diane dryly. ‘I can’t go shopping without Adam or one of the children phoning to ask me to get them something, or to find out when I’ll be back. The number of times I’ve been standing at the checkout in Tesco trying to load all my shopping into bags while trying to sort out something at home doesn’t bear thinking about.’

‘But what if you have a problem?’ asks Esther, still trying to get her head round it.

‘People managed perfectly well before without mobiles,’ I point out.

‘Yes, back in the Dark Ages.’ She turns to Jack. ‘Jack, buy your wife a mobile, for God’s sake!’

Jack opens his hands in a gesture of defeat. ‘I’d be only too happy to. But I know that if I did, she wouldn’t use it.’

‘I can’t believe that—not once she realises how practical they are.’

‘Jack’s right, I wouldn’t,’ I confirm.

‘Please tell me you have a computer.’

‘Yes, of course I do.’

‘Then could I have your email address?’

‘Sure. It’s [email protected].’

‘Isn’t that Jack’s address?’

‘It’s mine too.’

She raises her head and looks at me quizzically from across the table. ‘Don’t you have your own address?’

‘What for? Jack and I don’t have any secrets from each other. And if people email me, it’s usually to invite us for dinner, or something else that concerns Jack too, so it’s easier if he sees the messages as well.’

‘Especially as Grace often forgets to tell me things,’ Jack says, smiling indulgently at me.

Esther looks thoughtfully at the two of us. ‘You really are a joined-at-the-hip couple, aren’t you? Well, as you haven’t got a mobile, I suppose you’ll have to resort to pen and paper to take my numbers down. Have you got a pen?’

I know that I don’t. ‘I’m not sure,’ I say, intending to make a show of looking for one. I reach for my bag, which I had slung over the back of my chair, but she gets there first and hands it to me.

‘Goodness, it feels empty!’

‘I travel light,’ I tell her, opening my bag and peering inside. ‘No, sorry, I don’t have one.’

‘It’s all right, I’ll get them.’ Jack takes out his mobile. ‘I already have your home number, Esther, from Rufus, so if you just give me your mobile?’

As she reels it off, I try desperately to commit it to memory, but I get lost somewhere near the end. I close my eyes and try to retrieve the last few numbers but it’s impossible.

‘Thanks, Esther,’ says Jack. I open my eyes and find Esther looking at me curiously from across the table. ‘I’ll write it down for Grace when we get home.’

‘Wait a minute—is it 721 or 712 in the middle?’ Esther furrows her brow. ‘I can never remember which it is. The end is easy enough—9146—it’s the bit before I have a problem with. Could you just check, Diane?’

Diane gets out her phone and locates Esther’s number. ‘It’s 712,’ she says.

‘Oh yes—07517129146. Did you get that, Jack?’

‘Yes, it’s fine. Right, anyone for coffee?’

But we don’t bother, because Diane has to get back to work and Esther doesn’t want any. Jack asks for the bill and Diane and Esther disappear off to the toilet. I would like to go too, but I don’t bother following them. The bill paid, Jack and I take leave of the others and walk towards the car park.

‘Well, did you enjoy that, my perfect little wife?’ Jack asks, opening the car door for me.

I recognise one of his million-dollar questions. ‘Not really.’

‘Not even the dessert you were so looking forward to?’

I swallow hard. ‘Not as much as I thought I would.’

‘It’s lucky Esther was able to help you out then, wasn’t it?’

‘I would have eaten it anyway,’ I tell him.

‘And deprived me of so much pleasure?’

A tremor goes through my body. ‘Absolutely.’

He raises his eyebrows. ‘Do I detect a renewal of your fighting spirit? I’m so glad. To tell the truth, I’ve been getting quite bored.’ He gives me an amused glance. ‘Bring it on, Grace—I’m waiting for you.’