The perfect home, p.10
The Perfect Home, page 10
All in all, she couldn’t find much to have a problem with.
‘Well, we’ll leave you to it then. It’s nearly time for curfew though, mind. And stay away from the woods, I really didn’t like that noise.’
Poppy rolled her eyes. ‘Whatever. See you, then.’
Sandy was still staring at Micky. ‘Come home now, Micky.’
Micky nodded and stood up to leave. ‘See ya,’ he said to Poppy and Bethany.
Sandy and Micky walked off with barely a backward glance. With one last look at Poppy and Bethany, Lily followed Avril out of the boathouse and pulled the door to.
‘Well, that was awkward,’ she whispered. ‘Do you think Sandy is okay?’
Avril spoke so quietly that Lily barely heard her. ‘Why did you want to check on the kids?’
‘It was just meant to be a laugh. It was only that noise that set me on edge.’
‘Were you worried about Poppy being alone with Bethany?’
Lily did not want to lie to her friend. But she couldn’t tell the truth either, she couldn’t admit what she had very briefly feared. ‘Why would it be anything to do with Bethany?’
‘Because of what I told you,’ Avril’s voice was shaking. ‘You don’t trust her.’
‘Of course I trust her.’
‘You don’t. I knew at the barbecue when you said you were going to check on them.’
Lily’s guilt made her defensive. ‘It was you who was upstairs checking on them.’
‘Bethany is a good girl. A good girl.’ Avril was almost in tears now.
Horrified that their perfect evening was descending into an argument and desperate to fix it, Lily said, ‘Bethany is a lovely girl. If anything, it’s Poppy I don’t trust. If anyone is going to lead that lot astray, it’s my daughter. Please don’t get the wrong end of the stick.’
Avril’s face crumpled. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.’
Lily took Avril’s hand. ‘We’re a bit sloshed, that’s all. Those cocktails were potent.’
Avril smiled. ‘Sloshed. I haven’t heard that word in a while. Forget I said anything.’
‘It’s already forgotten. But I see what you mean about the noises. It probably is animals but I’m going to speak to security about it first thing.’
‘It scared the bloody life out of me.’
‘I’m sure it’s foxes,’ Lily said, to reassure herself as much as Avril.
‘It does make you think, though. Those woods are huge. Anything could be out there.’
‘Stop it, Avril, I’ll never sleep again.’
‘Sorry. I’m drunk and paranoid. Anyway, all’s well that ends well. Shall we go home?’
They parted ways with hugs and kisses, the best of friends again. But as Lily walked across the road, she felt uneasy. Did Avril really believe her when she said she hadn’t doubted Bethany? And what had upset Sandy so much that she had rushed Micky away without even saying goodbye? The noises had frightened Lily too, but Sandy’s reaction had been different.
Sandy was terrified. And if she was, then maybe Lily should be too. After all, her daughter was hanging out with Micky. If Sandy knew something, Lily needed to know as well.
Lily glanced over her shoulder as she let herself into the house, craving the warm comfort of being inside. Maybe she should have insisted that Poppy come straight home too. She was trying so hard to be liberal but now she was nervy and restless. She hoped that Eric would be up so that they could talk about it. He would calm her down and make her see sense again. But the house was dark so he must have already gone to bed.
Lily poured herself a glass of water and sat down on the sofa to wait for Poppy. She felt deflated. It had been a stupid idea to go and spy on the kids, and in suggesting it, she’d ruined an otherwise perfect evening. She’d upset Avril, frightened Sandy, and scared herself too.
The house was warm and cosy and as she snuggled into the sofa, a wave of exhaustion came over her, the alcohol sedating her despite the tense events that had unexpectedly unfolded. She awoke with a start to find her daughter watching her.
‘Mother, you’re such a floozy.’
‘Hi, darling.’ Lily sat up, rubbing her eyes. ‘Did you have a good time?’
‘Yeah, until the parental invasion.’
‘Sorry about that. It was innocent, I assure you.’
‘Yeah, yeah.’
‘Did you stay at the boathouse all evening?’
‘Yep.’
‘You didn’t go into the woods?’
‘Nope.’
‘And did you see anyone else at all?’
‘No, Mother. Why are you acting so weird?’
‘Never mind. We’d better go to bed.’
Lily clambered up from the sofa and followed her daughter upstairs. ‘Goodnight,’ she whispered softly and got a handwave from Poppy in response.
She opened the bedroom door quietly so she wouldn’t disturb Eric but when her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she realised that the bed was empty. She already knew the drill. Eric would sneak in at some point during the early hours and slip into bed next to her and she would pretend to be asleep. In the morning, he would clutch his head and explain that his pals from the golf club had invited him over at short notice to sample an expensive bottle of wine, or a rare whisky, and they’d got carried away. She would cluck sympathetically and then go downstairs to make him a coffee. She would cry silently while she picked out his favourite mug, turned the coffee machine on and got the milk from the fridge. Then she’d wipe her eyes and go back upstairs to Eric with a smile on her face, and he would put his arm around her and tell her that he was cancelling golf to spend the entire day with his amazing wife and daughter. And the worst thing was that she would feel grateful to him for it.
They had been living the lie for so long that Lily no longer knew what was true any more. She hadn’t wanted to know because it would shatter the narrative that she had painstakingly created. To the rest of the world, they were the dream couple and she had clung to that image because she liked it. She needed it. So she turned a blind eye and told herself that she had so much to be grateful for. She had a beautiful husband, a beautiful daughter and a beautiful home. Her life was perfect.
But she’d had a strange evening, and she didn’t want to be alone. She felt like a small child again, afraid of what lurked under the bed. She wanted her husband to put his arms around her and make her feel safe. Instead, his absence was a cruel reminder that she could not rely on him to be there when she needed him. And, as she stood in the darkness, staring at the empty bed where Eric should be, her life felt anything but perfect.
11
Avril was glowing. She’d borrowed some of Stuart’s earplugs and was sleeping soundly again. The weekly tennis lessons and long walks had made her look, and feel, better than she had in years. She walked with a new air of confidence, no longer afraid of whispers and stares. And she was making more of an effort with Stuart too because she knew she was just as much to blame for how distant they had become.
She was starting to remember how they used to be. When she first met Stuart, she had thought he was a geek. By the end of the evening, she had discovered that he was a brilliant and hilarious geek with beautiful eyes, a kind smile and a sense of humour which was almost in perfect sync with her own. She’d been thrilled when he shyly asked for her phone number and even more so when they naturally transitioned from dating into a relationship. It had been easy, without any drama or heartache, and their friends, delighted for them both, had said that they were the perfect match.
Stuart had always been able to make her laugh but over time, as they settled into married life, and the stresses and strains of family life took over, it seemed to happen less and less. She began to see Stuart as boring and old before his time. His unflappable steadiness, which she had once admired, became a negative trait as she craved excitement, a break from the mundanity of everyday life. They had responded differently to approaching their forties and Stuart’s eagerness to embrace middle-age wasn’t aligned with her desire to challenge it. He was the Honda and she was the Mini Cooper, neither willing to meet in the middle.
Still, they had muddled along, and Avril had never seriously questioned their marriage because she knew it was stereotypical of many couples. Who had time for passion and unpredictability when there was always a child who couldn’t sleep or a work deadline that couldn’t wait? Stuart was a good man and she had not regretted marrying him. She had assumed that they’d sort it out eventually, when they had more time and headspace, and she had simply added it to her already very long to-do list, along with finding a better football club for Tom, repainting the house, and calling her mother more often.
But their failure to address it had been their undoing when Bethany had got into trouble at school and the divide between them became an inaccessible chasm. While Avril had spiralled into a frenetic whirlwind of fear and anxiety, needing a strong and reassuring response from her husband, Stuart had chosen denial and refusal.
‘She didn’t do it,’ he’d said. ‘So there’s nothing to talk about.’
But there was so much more to talk about and, feeling alone and unsupported, Avril’s resentment towards Stuart began to fester. The magnetic force which had once pulled them together began to repel them until the aspects of his character that she had once found endearing – his unflappability, his ability to switch off from reality – became ugly.
She could see him more clearly again now, the man she had fallen in love with, like grey clouds lifting and exposing the blue sky underneath. It was little things. The way he brought her a cup of tea in bed every morning. How he stood and watched Tom play football every weekend, come rain or shine, without a single word of complaint. How he was the only one who could bring even a hint of a smile to Bethany’s face. How he told Avril she was beautiful, even when she didn’t feel it.
He was trying, she knew he was. And now she had to try too. Last night she’d cooked his favourite meal and they’d eaten at the table rather than in front of the television as they usually did. She’d asked him about his day, and he’d told her a story about something that happened at work, making her snort with laughter. Then Tom had walked in and helped himself to the leftovers and a few minutes after that, Bethany had appeared and sat down at the table. Avril’s heart had nearly exploded at the sight of them all together, being a family. They were reconnecting and it seemed too good to be true. But it was true, and it was heaven.
Westford Park had changed her. And it had changed Bethany too.
But there had been bumps in the road. After the incident at the boathouse, Avril had arrived home a nervous wreck. She had been worried that Bethany would accuse her of not trusting her again. She had fretted that Lily didn’t like Bethany. She had worried about Sandy and what had caused her to get into such a state. And when Stuart, who had waited up for her, asked her what was wrong, she had clammed up and refused to talk to him. It felt like they had stepped back in time and Avril feared that the damage was irreparable.
But then Bethany had arrived home in a good mood and said that she’d had a fun evening. The next day Lily had called round with a huge pair of sunglasses on and some takeout coffees from the clubhouse and declared herself to be disgustingly hungover, and no more had been said about the previous evening’s almost row. Lily said she had spoken to security about the noise, and they had said it was probably wildlife but that they’d step up patrols to put her mind at ease. And life had carried on as though the incident had never happened until it soon became a distant, if unpleasant, memory.
The previous weekend Bethany had stayed over at Poppy’s house and Avril had been nervous, remembering how morose Bethany used to be after her sleepovers with the girls from her old school. She had been unable to sleep, worrying about what was happening across the road and occasionally getting out of bed and looking at the darkened windows of the house opposite. But Bethany had come home in the morning with bright pink fingernails, a new top that Poppy had lent her and a smile. She’d told Avril about the midnight feast they’d had, and the pancakes that Lily had made them for breakfast. She’d gushed over Poppy’s extensive wardrobe and all her coordinated outfits.
And, caught up in the moment, Avril had asked, ‘Do you fancy going shopping today? I could buy you some new clothes.’
She had waited for Bethany to shake her head. To disappear up to her room and shut herself away from her family and the world. But instead, her daughter had said, ‘Yes.’
Yes. That one small word was music to Avril’s ears. Even when Bethany had asked if she could invite Poppy along, Avril’s enthusiasm hadn’t waned. So, it wouldn’t be just the two of them but this was even better because Bethany finally had a friend to invite.
The three of them had piled into the Mini and headed to the shopping centre and Poppy had persuaded Bethany to buy some very un-Bethany outfits, including a new minidress. Bethany had smiled shyly as she looked at herself in the mirror and Avril had thought that she no longer looked like a ghost, she looked like a fifteen-year-old girl having fun.
She wondered if Bethany’s sudden interest in clothes was because of Poppy’s influence or because she had a crush. Perhaps Micky, or a boy from school. Or a girl. She didn’t care who it was, all she cared about was that Bethany was happy. She had taken them for burgers afterwards and the two girls had gossiped while Avril watched on, beaming from ear to ear.
When she had dropped Poppy home, she had gone inside to have a cup of tea with Lily. They met regularly now outside of the tennis lessons, often popping round to each other’s house for a drink or some lunch on Avril’s days off and their friendship was growing stronger every day. Avril now realised that she had been wrong to think that Lily didn’t trust Bethany. It was her own paranoia getting the better of her. The problem was that all the people who she had considered friends in her old life had abandoned her when she needed them the most and that had made her insecure. But Lily wasn’t like that and nor was Sandy.
It’s because they don’t know what happened. Avril couldn’t prevent the intrusive thoughts, but she was getting better at pushing them away. And she was getting better at trusting Bethany again too. Now she could hardly believe that she had ever doubted her daughter, even for a second. It was those horrible, malicious girls’ fault at her old school; they had victimised poor Bethany for their own pleasure. Stuart had been right to not even entertain the idea of Bethany doing anything wrong and she finally realised that. She saw her family again for what they were, and it was just like coming home.
It was December and Westford Park was sparkling. A huge tree had appeared in the clubhouse, adorned with lights, and Avril had dug their old artificial tree out of the loft and had a nostalgic hour looking through the baubles and remembering Bethany and Tom as young children, picking the most garish of decorations. She had hung on to every single one of them, wrapping them up carefully in tissue at the end of each festive season. Her parents were visiting for a few days over Christmas and it would be the first time that they’d had guests since they moved. Avril couldn’t wait to show them around the development.
It was all so normal, with a sprinkling of Westford Park magic. Because there was something magical about the place, something so special that every morning when Avril woke up, she thanked her lucky stars that they lived there.
When she arrived at the Friday morning tennis lesson and saw Lily and Sandy waiting for her, she was in good spirits despite the cold, damp weather. But her happy mood quickly vanished when she looked at the tennis court and stopped dead. At first, she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing, her brain trying to make sense of it, her body rigid in shock. The usually pristine tennis court had been completely desecrated. The net had been slashed in several places, and there were deep red stains splashed all over the floor. It was like a crime scene from a grisly police drama.
Evil. That was how it looked, Avril thought, as she stared at it in horror.
‘What the hell happened?’ she asked, aghast.
‘We don’t know,’ Lily said, staring morosely at the ruined floor of the court. ‘The police are on their way.’
‘Was…’ Avril could barely say the words aloud. ‘Was someone hurt?’
Lily looked at her curiously. ‘It’s paint, Avril. It’s been vandalised.’
Avril blinked and, as the ominous red splashes slowly came into focus, she realised Lily was right. It was paint, she thought with relief. But who would do such a thing?
‘I don’t understand,’ she said feebly.
‘Juan thinks it was probably a gang of youths,’ Lily explained.
‘But how did they get into Westford Park?’
‘Maybe they didn’t get in. Maybe they live here.’
‘You don’t think…?’ Avril looked at her, horrified. ‘Not our kids?’
‘Of course not,’ Lily scoffed. ‘But there are other teenagers here now.’
Avril glanced at Sandy, who hadn’t spoken. The colour had drained from her face and her tennis racquet was hanging limply by her side. ‘Are you okay, Sandy?’
‘I don’t think it’s youths,’ she said quietly.
‘What’s that?’ Lily asked distractedly.
‘I don’t think it’s youths,’ Sandy repeated, her voice shaking.
Avril and Lily both stared at her. ‘What are you talking about?’ Lily asked.
‘It’s a message for me. He wants me to know that he’s found me.’
For a moment, Avril had no idea who Sandy was talking about but then the penny dropped.
‘You think this is your ex?’ she asked.
‘Yes. Grant. Micky’s father.’ Sandy’s legs buckled and she began to sink to the floor. Avril and Lily lunged forward to support her.
‘Come on,’ Lily said to Avril. ‘Let’s get her home.’
