8
Emma
On Tuesday evening as soon as I pull into my drive, Tomas scurries towards my front door. I park the car and step out.
He looks pale and worried. ‘Is everything all right?’ I ask.
‘I’ve got toothache. It’s killing me. I was hoping you could take a quick look.’
Not what I wanted after a long day at work, but how can I refuse to help?
‘Come in then, I’ll find my equipment.’
I open the front door. He follows me into the house, through the hallway into the kitchen. I reach for the spare dental tools I keep in the dresser, in case of an emergency. I pull out my bag, unzip it and take out my sterilised tools: a probe and a mirror stick.
‘Let’s get you comfy in the sitting room.’
He follows me through.
‘Please sit in the leather chair.’ He does as I ask. ‘Open wide,’ I instruct, leaning over him. I examine each tooth carefully and sigh inside. Poor man. His mouth is in such a mess.
‘The gum by your lower right molars is red and inflamed. It looks like a pretty painful infection. I’ll write you a private prescription for some antibiotics.’ I find my prescription pad in the drawer by the telephone and prescribe metronidazole. ‘No alcohol while you take these tablets. I’m giving you a five-day course. But if you don’t see a substantial improvement in a few days’ time, come and see me in the surgery.’
His soft brown eyes melt into mine. ‘I’m terribly grateful, thanks.’
9
Alastair
Heather’s voice grumbles down the intercom. ‘Who is it?’
‘Alastair. I need to speak to you.’
‘Come on up.’
The intercom buzzes and I push the door to open it. Up the staircase to the fourth floor. To Shelly’s flat. Shelly. My least favourite friend of Heather’s. Bridesmaid at our wedding. Shallow. Artificial. Always looking to find a rich husband, rating boyfriends’ attraction by the value of the car that they drive. Well, she hasn’t found one yet, otherwise she wouldn’t be living in this dump of a flat. Lord only knows why Heather has decided to live here with her, when I have given her half of everything I have, even though I have custody of our son.
Flat 4B. I knock on the door and Heather opens it. She is wearing a navy Juicy Couture tracksuit which clings to her heavy thighs. Her hair needs brushing.
‘I suppose you’d better come in,’ she says with a snarl.
I wince. Her breath smells acidic and I know she’s been drinking. I follow her into a small, dark sitting room, with a brown faux-leather sofa and a russet carpet. She picks up a bottle of beer and takes a swig.
‘Can I get you anything? Coke? Dope? Beer?’ she asks with a sneer.
‘No thanks.’
‘Only joking about the drugs.’
Does she really expect me to believe that, when her life is in such disarray and she has no money? We sit on the plastic sofa. She turns to me. ‘To what do I owe this pleasure?’ she asks.
‘Where’s Shelly?’
She shrugs. ‘What’s that got to do with anything?’
‘I just want to know whether we’re alone. Whether this conversation is private.’
She pushes her hair back from her forehead. ‘Shelly’s out.’
‘Good.’ I take a deep breath. ‘I need you to stop texting me asking for money. There’s no way you’re getting any more money out of me.’
She raises her eyebrows. ‘No way? And how do you figure that?’
‘I’ve done nothing wrong – I’ve paid my dues.’
She puts her head back and laughs. ‘Do you think your precious Emma will believe that?’
I breathe calmly. In. Out. ‘Of course she’ll believe me. She knows I’ve always done everything I can to look after both you and Stephen.’
A wry smile. ‘All truth is relative.’
‘So you’re a relativist now, are you?’
‘At least I’m not a bullshitter. I bet you don’t even understand what relativism is.’
‘I didn’t come here to discuss philosophy – I came to tell you I’m not reading any more of your texts. And, I don’t have any spare cash.’
‘The collapse of our relationship has ruined my life, Alastair. You deserve to pay up more than you already have.’
I shake my head. ‘I don’t know where you’ve got that from, Heather. You’re just being irrational.’
‘Don’t you dare call me irrational after the way you’ve treated me,’ she almost spits.
‘But it was you who left me.’
Anger burning inside me, I stand up and leave. As I walk away my heart bleeds for the way she has treated me. The way she has abandoned Stephen. I need to protect him. To give him all my love. My love stretches without bounds to Emma. To Stephen. To my mother. But Heather? I shudder inside. How did I ever let her pull me in?
10
Emma
After slinging my Mercedes across my parking slot, I stop for a few minutes to admire the gardens that surround my dental practice. The perfectly manicured lawn caressed by cascading willow. Snowdrops dangling their delicate teardrop heads. First crocuses trumpeting bold colour across the grass.
However well my life is going, however much your company gives me a high over the weekend, Alastair, pulling into work on a Monday morning always fills me with a sense of peace. The surgery is the one place in the world where I have total control. I bought this practice when my relationship with Colin ended, four years ago. It gave me purpose; kept my life moving forwards after my loss.
I say good morning to my receptionist as I walk past. Andrea Smith. Auburn hair. Handpicked. Intelligent. Bursting with helpful ideas and common sense. Attractive, but not attractive enough to put me in the shadow. I smile at her. She smiles back hesitantly. Her smile for me is always hesitant. She knows if she smiles too hard I will criticise her teeth. I criticise everyone’s teeth from the Queen to Victoria Beckham. Dentists prefer looking at mouths of perfection.
I walk through the waiting room – no patients yet – stopping for a minute to admire the new leather sofas. The fish tank; neon tetra, danios, guppies and platies. The piles of perfectly arranged glossies. Into my consulting room where Tania is waiting for me, removing instruments from the steriliser, laying them neatly on a tray.
‘Good weekend?’ she asks.
I nod. ‘And you?’
‘Not bad.’
Tania. My dental and aesthetic assistant. A plump girl of twenty-two, with mousy hair, a mousy face and mud-coloured eyes. So young she still has spots. Young. Sweet. Gentle. Her mousiness disappears when she smiles. Perfect teeth. The Hollywood kind.
The internal telephone rings. I pick up.
‘Hello again, Andrea.’
‘Hi Emma.’ A pause. ‘Just to say you have an emergency patient coming in first thing. Tomas Covington. Pain in his back teeth.’
Tania looks up from laying out the instruments. She flashes her film-star smile. The internal phone rings again in warning, and Tomas is here. Entering my consulting room. City suit. Suave. Sophisticated. White shirt. Red tie. Hair smoothed back. Closely shaved.
‘Hello, Tomas. Sorry to hear you’re in pain again.’
He winces a little. ‘It seems to be getting worse. I’ve been taking co-codamol.’
‘Sit in the chair and I’ll take a look.’
He slides into my chair. I have to adjust it as he is so tall. I put a bib around his neck and his eyes catch mine. Warm brown eyes, dappled with pain.
‘Which tooth hurts?’
He pats the rear part of his lower right jawbone. ‘This whole area.’
‘Open wide.’
He puts his head back and obeys. I press my probe on his lower right rear tooth. He jerks in distress.
‘The root of your back molar is infected. I’ll drill a root canal through your tooth, remove the infected debris and deaden the nerve now. The pain will stop. But your tooth will die so you’ll need a crown.’
‘Work your magic. Do what you must.’
I inject his gum with anaesthetic. When his mouth is numb I drill through his tooth and deaden the nerve. I apply a dressing coated in antibiotic to kill the infection.
When I have finished, he rinses his mouth out with the glass of pink antiseptic I hand him. He slips out of his chair and stands looking at me gratefully.
‘The pain is gone. Thank you so much.’
‘It’s not over yet. You need to come back in a few weeks’ time for your crown to be fitted.’
‘Thank you so much, Emma.’ He turns to leave. As he reaches the doorway he looks back. ‘Why don’t you and Alastair come to our place on Saturday evening and have a drink with us? I’m sure Jade would like to thank you, too.’
‘That’s very kind, but surely it’s our turn?’ I pause. ‘I insist you come to mine.’
11
Jade
I’m standing beneath the willow tree, watching you. Looking through the surgery window. You are looking into her eyes. She is lovely, isn’t she – in a predictable skinny blonde way? As soon as I saw her, I knew she was your type. Lots of men’s type. Men are like lemmings; they all follow the same thing. No individual taste.
Memories
My earliest memory was before the violence started. A time when I felt free. Running along a beach, holding my mother’s hand. Sun on my back. Sand between my toes. Where was my father then? Was he back at the holiday cottage working? Waiting for us to come back?
The memory flashes across my mind and fades. I can’t hold it or place it. It never stays for long.
12
Emma
Following my invitation at the surgery, Tomas, Jade and Alastair are at mine for drinks and nibbles. We are all standing around the fireplace making small talk. Alastair is looking suave. Pink shirt. White jeans. Tomas’ kindly brown eyes shimmer towards his wife. Jade hovers next to him wearing a baggy dress with small flowers on the fabric. A modern replica of Laura Ashley that doesn’t quite work. The dull brown flattens her complexion. She is quite pretty really, but she doesn’t know how to dress.
I disappear into the kitchen to take my M&S canapés out of the oven. When I reappear, carrying hot mini quiches and luxury sausage rolls, Tomas and Jade are sitting next to one another, on the sofa opposite the fireplace. Alastair has settled in the winged chair by the TV. Silence floats awkwardly as I walk across the room, laden with protein and carbohydrate.
Jade watches Tomas like a hawk as he leans towards me and takes a sausage roll. I move the plate in her direction. She stiffens and shakes her head.
‘No, thanks. I’m watching my figure.’
‘You have a lovely figure,’ Tomas says, patting her thigh.
She turns her head towards him. ‘Do you expect me to believe you?’
‘As I meant it, I do, yes.’
She shrugs her shoulders. ‘Men never mean what they say.’
Alastair looks as if he is about to object. I glare across at him and grimace to silence him. The word ‘clusterfuck’ resonates in my head.
13
Alastair
Tomas and Clusterfuck are here in your house, Emma, invading my weekend privacy. I cannot warm to the Clusterfuck. Even her scratchy voice annoys me.
My favourite way to spend Saturday night is snuggled on the sofa with you, drinking red wine and watching Netflix. Inhaling the scent of your perfume, your body heat, your sweet, sweet breath. But tonight I sit eating sausage rolls and drinking Champagne watching the Clusterfuck guard Tomas like a mother hen. I look at her and see feathers and beaks and dowdiness. You stand next to her holding a plate of canapés, and shine. I want your guests to go home. I need my Saturday fix of you, alone. Tell them, Emma. Put down the tray of canapés and tell them to go.
‘Are you all right?’ the Clusterfuck rasps, looking across at me and frowning. ‘Are we so boring? You look as if you’re in a total daydream. On another planet.’
Her voice scrapes across my mind.
‘Sorry. I was thinking about work.’
‘Swabs and latex. So much more interesting than us?’
‘No, no. Not at all,’ I mutter. I look at her and smile. A wide forced smile. The Clusterfuck is so annoying that smiling at her has to be forced.
She leans forwards and rests her elbows on her knees. ‘Was it an interesting case, taking your attention?’
‘You know we’re not allowed to talk about individual cases.’
‘Not allowed to, but people do.’
I sigh inside. Why is she pushing this? ‘They’ll lose their jobs if they get caught.’
She pouts her lips. The conversation is getting worse. ‘So, you’re a man who toes the line, are you?’
Trying to flirt now. Flirting that doesn’t work. ‘As much as I need to. As much as anyone else.’
I look across at Emma dressed in blue silk clinging to all the right places. And suddenly, from nowhere, I’m back on the day my ex-wife Heather left. Off to a nightclub in Brighton with her best friend Shelly. Both looking cheesy in matching onesies. Black onesies with orange flowers on. Whatever made them pick those? She rang me, from the nightclub, to tell me our marriage was over. I could hear a man’s voice in the background. Drum and bass music pounded down the line. I could hear the shrill tones of Shelly’s laugh.
Life has moved on. I have a much more attractive partner now. Emma, you are pure class.
14
Jade
Sitting in your drawing room looking across at you Emma, oh jewel of middle-class suburbia. Stereotypically beautiful. Multitoned highlights. Gym-enhanced figure. Long legs. Designer clothing.
If I spend more time with you, will some of your effervescence rub off on me? Shoulder to shoulder. Face to face. Let me get to know you. Teach me your tricks.
I stand up. ‘I need the bathroom, where is it?’ I ask.
‘There’s one off the hallway,’ you answer nonchalantly, keeping your gaze fixed on my husband.
I sidle away unnoticed and irrelevant, but I do not visit the bathroom. I go upstairs and open door after door until I find the master bedroom. Girly and frilly with gold bedding. So girly and frilly it makes me feel sick.
15
Emma
It’s Sunday evening. Jade is standing on my doorstep, smiling at me.
‘Hi,’ she says.
‘Hi,’ I repeat.
‘It was so lovely having you in for drinks. But I’d like some girl time without the men.’ There is a pause. ‘We can talk about them, then.’ She laughs, a small jittery laugh.
I grit my teeth. I like being with men, not talking about them. And we had drinks together only last night. This is claustrophobic. Too friendly, too soon.
‘Would you like to come over for coffee one morning?’ she continues.
I put my head on one side and smile at her. ‘But … but … I work full time.’
‘What if I pop into the surgery tomorrow and take you out for lunch?’
‘Well … I usually have a quick sandwich and do paperwork at lunch.’
‘There’s a sandwich bar a few minutes away. I promise to only keep you twenty minutes.’ She pauses. ‘Pretty please.’
Pretty please? Insipid playground talk harking back to the seventies. I feel like putting my fingers down my throat to let her know the phrase makes me want to vomit.
But she flashes another steely smile at me and I find myself saying yes.
16
Alastair
I’m sitting in my lab taking swabs from a crowbar suspected of being used to smash a garage window by a car thief. It was found on the ground at the crime scene. So many swabs. So many changes of pairs of gloves. Twenty-nine of each so far. I’ll be so glad when I’ve finished. Maybe Jade has a point: you require patience beyond compare to do this job. No one warns you when you apply. TV glamorising our work in crime dramas has a lot to answer for. Swabs finally complete, I place them on the collection tray, and step out of my lab into the changing area.
As I open my locker, pleased to be changing back into my normal clothes, my iPhone buzzes. A text. I grab it. Heather.
I’m going to warn Emma about you.
Leave me alone you creep, I reply.
Don’t say that to me. I’m the mother of your child.
I know she won’t do anything. She has threatened me like this before and nothing has come of it. I take off my scrubs and hang them up. As I pull on my jeans, I shudder inside remembering the girl I first met at school. Sixteen years old, so different from the woman she has become. What happened to the girl I met? The shiny girl with swinging chestnut hair? The girl who swept me along with her bold attitude? She says our relationship breakdown is my fault and bandies about words like ‘coercive control’. But anyone with any sense must realise we just met too young and grew apart. It wasn’t my fault she started to sleep around and smoke dope.
17
Emma
It’s Monday lunchtime and Jade is here, stepping into my consulting room, wearing a stripy trouser suit. Her short hair is shorter than ever, too short to be fashionable. She must have had it cut this morning by a butcher not a hairdresser.
I put the tools I have just finished using into a tray for Tania to sterilise in the autoclave later, grab my coat and walk towards her. ‘I’ve not got long.’
She shrugs. ‘You told me and I’m not bothered. I’m used to being fitted in.’
‘What do you mean?’ I ask.
A grimace. ‘Well, you know. Busy husband and all that.’
We walk through my waiting room, nodding at Andrea as we pass. Outside. Into a sharp, cold day, breath condensing in the air in front of us.
‘How long have you been feeling abandoned?’
‘Ever since I met him.’ Her voice is bitter.
In the sandwich bar, a solid wall of heat pushes against us. The hiss and steam of the coffee machine drowns our conversation. We raise our voices above the background noise to order two cappuccinos and two club sandwiches. Then we sidle towards a table at the back of the shop, as far away from the cacophony as possible.
We wait for our lunch to arrive, huddled at a small wobbly table, knees touching.
‘Tell me about your relationship with Alastair,’ Jade asks.
‘We’ve only just met. On Tinder, a few months ago. We’re busy in the week with our careers, so we just hook up at weekends.’
‘Tomas and I met on Tinder too. I’m not sure Tinder is all it’s cracked up to be.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I think it encourages promiscuity.’ She sighs. ‘Do you feel tempted to use it to roam?’
I shake my head. ‘No. And I don’t think roaming is a good idea. I’m starting a new relationship. I want to make it work.’
‘I know Tomas visited you on the twentieth and twenty-fifty of February.’ Jade gives me a slow, stretched smile. ‘How convenient to have such troublesome teeth, when you have a beautiful dentist.’ She leans across the table so that her breath touches my face. I lean back.
‘I’m flattered that you think I’m beautiful, Jade, but I can assure you, there is nothing between Tomas and me. He needs a crown. It’s my job to help.’
The sandwiches and coffee arrive. Suddenly not hungry, I look down at the food. Not wanting to put up with any more of Jade’s company, I make a show of looking at my watch, and stand up.
‘Sorry, I didn’t realise what the time was. I need to get back to work.’
18
Jade
I know you’ve slept with my husband. I can tell from the way you narrow your eyes when you talk about him. You feel guilty, don’t you? Too guilty to stay and eat lunch with me.
Memories
My earliest memory of the violence is when I was six years old. The day after my birthday. Walking down the stairs to look for my mother, when I woke up in the morning. A sunny morning, sun streaming through the landing window. Usually I called for her and she came to me. Held me in her arms for a hug. But that morning, I called and she didn’t come, so I went to look for her.
I heard her scream.
I crept down the stairs. She was in the lounge, shouting at someone. The door was open. I hid behind it and peered through the gap. My mother was on the floor and my father was kicking her. Her legs, her arms, her back. She was curled up trying to shield her face.
I ran back upstairs and hid in the wardrobe in the spare room. Body and mind trembling.
19
Jade
‘How’s it going, Jade?’ my psychiatrist, Siobhan, asks, leaning back in her chair, flicking her glossy red hair.
‘Not good. I’m sure Tomas is at it again. With a dentist this time.’
‘Have you discussed this with him?’ She pauses. ‘Do you want to come and see me together?’
I sigh. ‘I have asked him. And, as usual, he denies it.’
Siobhan shakes her head and frowns. I watch her tapered nails tapping together.
‘We’ve been through this, so many times. You know he loves you. You know you perceive this situation incorrectly because of your paranoia. I know it’s difficult for you because of your illness, but you need to trust him.’
I shake my head. ‘I can’t. I just can’t.’ I take a deep breath. ‘And you’re not helping. You’re making me feel bullied and bulldozed into accepting things. Things no woman should have to accept.’
I want to be alone. To scream and cry. To stand on a mountaintop and holler.
Siobhan’s eyes widen in sympathy. ‘I think you need another course of CBT. And I’m going to up your dose of Valium.’ There is a pause. ‘But please, come and see me with Tomas. You always seem so much better after the therapy sessions he is involved in. Try and accept it, Jade. He supports you so much.’
20
Emma
The internal telephone chirrups into my consulting room. I pick up.
‘Your next patient is here. Tomas Covington,’ Andrea announces.
‘Send him in,’ I instruct.
A few minutes later he is stepping towards me. ‘Hello, Emma. Thanks for fitting me in.’
‘My pleasure. Let me take your coat and briefcase.’ I put them on the chair in the corner. ‘Do sit down, make yourself comfy.’
‘Isn’t that a contradiction in terms, when I’m about to have my tooth ground to a stub to anchor a crown?’
‘It should be fine when the anaesthetic kicks in.’ I pause. ‘How has your mouth been?’
‘The pain has gone. I love you for that.’
‘I know you’re only joking, but I don’t think Jade would appreciate what you just said.’
His face crumples. ‘No. I’m sorry; you’re right.’
‘It’s just that whenever I see her it’s clear she’s very suspicious of us both.’ There is a pause. ‘She implied that you only needed dental work so that you could see me. So, I’m feeling sensitive.’
He raises his eyebrows. ‘She must be joking. Who’d want root canal treatment, however hot the dentist?’
‘Exactly. Even if the dentist was Brad Pitt or Leonardo DiCaprio, I’d rather have my teeth intact.’ I shake my head. ‘OK, OK. Come on, sit in the chair, try and relax. I’m taking the mould for your crown today and will then fit the temporary one. You’ll need to come back to have the permanent one fitted in a few weeks, when it’s ready.’
