Still Me
Page 42
‘I think you may have frightened the life out of that poor man,’ I said. ‘You looked like you slightly wanted to hit him.’
‘That’s because I slightly did.’
‘You are an idiot, Sam Fielding.’ I reached up and kissed him, and when he kissed me back he was smiling again. His chin was thick with stubble where he hadn’t bothered to shave.
This time he was tender. Partly because we now believed the walls were thin and he wasn’t really meant to be there. But I think we were both careful of each other after the unexpected events of the evening. Every time he touched me it was with a kind of reverence. He told me he loved me, his voice low and soft, and he looked straight into my eyes when he said it. The words reverberated through me like little earthquakes.
I love you.
I love you.
I love you too.
We had set the alarm for a quarter to five, and I woke cursing, dragged from sleep by the shrill sound. Beside me Sam groaned and pulled a pillow over his head. I had to push him awake.
I propelled him, grumbling, into the bathroom, turned on the shower, and padded to the kitchen to make us both coffee. When I came back I heard the thunk of the water being turned off. I sat on the side of the bed, sipped my coffee and wondered whose smart idea it had been to drink strong cocktails on a Sunday evening. The bathroom door opened just as I flopped back down.
‘Can I blame you for the cocktails? I need someone to blame.’ My head was thumping. I raised and lowered it gently. ‘What even was in those things?’ I placed my fingertips against my temples. ‘They must have been double measures. I don’t normally feel this grim. Oh, man. We should have just gone to 30 Rock.’
He didn’t say anything. I turned my head so that I could see him. He was standing in the doorway of the bathroom. ‘You want to talk to me about this?’
‘About what?’ I pushed myself upright. He was wearing a towel around his waist and holding a small white rectangular box. For a brief moment I thought he was trying to give me jewellery, and I almost laughed. But when he held the box towards me he wasn’t smiling.
I took it from him. And stared, disbelieving, at a pregnancy test. The box was opened, and the white plastic wand was loose inside. I checked it, some distant part of me noting that there were no blue lines, then looked up at him, temporarily lost for words.
He sat down heavily on the side of the bed. ‘We used a condom, right? The last time I was over. We used a condom.’
‘Wha– where did you find that?’
‘In your bin. I just went to put my razor in there.’
‘It’s not mine, Sam.’
‘You share this room with someone else?’
‘No.’
‘Then how can you not know whose it is?’
‘I don’t know! But – but it’s not mine! I haven’t had sex with anyone else!’ I realized as I was protesting that the mere act of insisting you hadn’t had sex with someone else made you sound like you were trying to hide the fact that you had had sex with someone else. ‘I know how it looks but I have no idea why that thing is in my bathroom!’
‘Is this why you’re always on at me about Katie? Because you’re actually feeling guilty about seeing someone else? What is it they call it? Transference? Is – is that why you were so … so different the other night?’
The air disappeared from the room. I felt as if I’d been slapped. I stared at him. ‘You really think that? After everything we’ve been through?’
He didn’t say anything.
‘You – you really think I’d cheat on you?’
He was pale, as shocked as I felt. ‘I just think if it looks like a duck and it quacks like a duck then, you know … it’s usually a duck.’
‘I am not a bloody duck … Sam. Sam.’
He turned his head reluctantly.
‘I wouldn’t cheat on you. It’s not mine. You have to believe me.’
His eyes scanned my face.
‘I don’t know how many times I can say it. It’s not mine.’
‘We’ve been together such a short time. And so much of it has been spent apart. I don’t …’
‘You don’t what?’
‘It’s one of those situations, you know? If you told your mates in the pub? They’d give you that look like – mate …’
‘Then don’t talk to your bloody mates in the pub! Listen to me!’
‘I want to, Lou!’
‘Then what the hell is your problem?’
‘He looked just like Will Traynor!’ It burst out of him like it had nowhere else to go. He sat down. He put his head in his hands. And then he said it again, quietly. ‘He looked just like Will Traynor.’
My eyes had filled with tears. I wiped them away with the heel of my hand, knowing that I had probably now smudged yesterday’s mascara all over my cheeks but not really caring. When I spoke my voice was low and severe and didn’t really sound like mine.
‘I’m going to say this one more time. I am not sleeping with anyone else. If you don’t believe me I … Well, I don’t know what you’re doing here.’
He didn’t reply but I felt as if his answer floated silently between us: Neither do I. He stood and walked over to his bag. He pulled some pants from inside and put them on, yanking them up with short, angry movements. ‘I have to go.’
I couldn’t say anything else. I sat on the bed and watched him, feeling simultaneously bereft and furious. I said nothing while he dressed and threw the rest of his belongings into his bag. Then he slung it over his shoulder, walked to the door and turned.
‘Safe trip,’ I said. I couldn’t smile.
‘I’ll call you when I’m home.’
‘Okay.’
He stooped and kissed my cheek. I didn’t look up when he opened the door. He stood there a moment longer and then he left, closing it silently behind him.
Agnes came home at midday. Garry picked her up from the airport and she arrived back oddly subdued, as if she were reluctant to be there. She greeted me from behind sunglasses with a cursory hello, and retreated to her dressing room, where she stayed with the door locked for the next four hours. At teatime she emerged, showered and dressed, and forced a smile when I entered her study bearing the completed mood boards. I talked her through the colours and fabrics, and she nodded distractedly, but I could tell she hadn’t really registered what I had done. I let her drink her tea, then waited until I knew Ilaria had gone downstairs. I closed the study door so that she glanced up at me.
‘Agnes,’ I said quietly. ‘This is a slightly odd question, but did you put a pregnancy test in my bathroom?’
She blinked at me over her teacup. And then she put her cup down on its saucer and pulled a face. ‘Oh. That. Yes, I was going to tell you.’
I felt anger rise up in me like bile. ‘You were going to tell me? You know my boyfriend found it?’
‘Your boyfriend came for the weekend? That’s so nice! Did you have lovely time?’
‘Right up until he found a used pregnancy test in my bathroom.’
‘But you tell him it’s not yours, yes?’
‘I did, Agnes. But, funnily enough, men tend to get a little shirty when they find pregnancy tests in their girlfriends’ bathrooms. Especially girlfriends who live three thousand miles away.’
She waved her hand, as if shooing my concerns away. ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake. If he trusts you he will be fine. You are not cheating on him. He should not be so stupid.’
‘But why? Why would you put a pregnancy test in my bathroom?’
She stopped. She glanced around me, as if to check that the study door really was closed. And suddenly her expression grew serious. ‘Because if I had left it in my bathroom Ilaria would have found it,’ she said flatly. ‘And I cannot have Ilaria seeing this thing.’ She lifted her hands as if I were being spectacularly dim. ‘Leonard was very clear when we marry. No children. This was our deal.’
‘Really? But that’s not … What if you decide you want them?’
She pursed her lips. ‘I won’t.’
‘That’s because I slightly did.’
‘You are an idiot, Sam Fielding.’ I reached up and kissed him, and when he kissed me back he was smiling again. His chin was thick with stubble where he hadn’t bothered to shave.
This time he was tender. Partly because we now believed the walls were thin and he wasn’t really meant to be there. But I think we were both careful of each other after the unexpected events of the evening. Every time he touched me it was with a kind of reverence. He told me he loved me, his voice low and soft, and he looked straight into my eyes when he said it. The words reverberated through me like little earthquakes.
I love you.
I love you.
I love you too.
We had set the alarm for a quarter to five, and I woke cursing, dragged from sleep by the shrill sound. Beside me Sam groaned and pulled a pillow over his head. I had to push him awake.
I propelled him, grumbling, into the bathroom, turned on the shower, and padded to the kitchen to make us both coffee. When I came back I heard the thunk of the water being turned off. I sat on the side of the bed, sipped my coffee and wondered whose smart idea it had been to drink strong cocktails on a Sunday evening. The bathroom door opened just as I flopped back down.
‘Can I blame you for the cocktails? I need someone to blame.’ My head was thumping. I raised and lowered it gently. ‘What even was in those things?’ I placed my fingertips against my temples. ‘They must have been double measures. I don’t normally feel this grim. Oh, man. We should have just gone to 30 Rock.’
He didn’t say anything. I turned my head so that I could see him. He was standing in the doorway of the bathroom. ‘You want to talk to me about this?’
‘About what?’ I pushed myself upright. He was wearing a towel around his waist and holding a small white rectangular box. For a brief moment I thought he was trying to give me jewellery, and I almost laughed. But when he held the box towards me he wasn’t smiling.
I took it from him. And stared, disbelieving, at a pregnancy test. The box was opened, and the white plastic wand was loose inside. I checked it, some distant part of me noting that there were no blue lines, then looked up at him, temporarily lost for words.
He sat down heavily on the side of the bed. ‘We used a condom, right? The last time I was over. We used a condom.’
‘Wha– where did you find that?’
‘In your bin. I just went to put my razor in there.’
‘It’s not mine, Sam.’
‘You share this room with someone else?’
‘No.’
‘Then how can you not know whose it is?’
‘I don’t know! But – but it’s not mine! I haven’t had sex with anyone else!’ I realized as I was protesting that the mere act of insisting you hadn’t had sex with someone else made you sound like you were trying to hide the fact that you had had sex with someone else. ‘I know how it looks but I have no idea why that thing is in my bathroom!’
‘Is this why you’re always on at me about Katie? Because you’re actually feeling guilty about seeing someone else? What is it they call it? Transference? Is – is that why you were so … so different the other night?’
The air disappeared from the room. I felt as if I’d been slapped. I stared at him. ‘You really think that? After everything we’ve been through?’
He didn’t say anything.
‘You – you really think I’d cheat on you?’
He was pale, as shocked as I felt. ‘I just think if it looks like a duck and it quacks like a duck then, you know … it’s usually a duck.’
‘I am not a bloody duck … Sam. Sam.’
He turned his head reluctantly.
‘I wouldn’t cheat on you. It’s not mine. You have to believe me.’
His eyes scanned my face.
‘I don’t know how many times I can say it. It’s not mine.’
‘We’ve been together such a short time. And so much of it has been spent apart. I don’t …’
‘You don’t what?’
‘It’s one of those situations, you know? If you told your mates in the pub? They’d give you that look like – mate …’
‘Then don’t talk to your bloody mates in the pub! Listen to me!’
‘I want to, Lou!’
‘Then what the hell is your problem?’
‘He looked just like Will Traynor!’ It burst out of him like it had nowhere else to go. He sat down. He put his head in his hands. And then he said it again, quietly. ‘He looked just like Will Traynor.’
My eyes had filled with tears. I wiped them away with the heel of my hand, knowing that I had probably now smudged yesterday’s mascara all over my cheeks but not really caring. When I spoke my voice was low and severe and didn’t really sound like mine.
‘I’m going to say this one more time. I am not sleeping with anyone else. If you don’t believe me I … Well, I don’t know what you’re doing here.’
He didn’t reply but I felt as if his answer floated silently between us: Neither do I. He stood and walked over to his bag. He pulled some pants from inside and put them on, yanking them up with short, angry movements. ‘I have to go.’
I couldn’t say anything else. I sat on the bed and watched him, feeling simultaneously bereft and furious. I said nothing while he dressed and threw the rest of his belongings into his bag. Then he slung it over his shoulder, walked to the door and turned.
‘Safe trip,’ I said. I couldn’t smile.
‘I’ll call you when I’m home.’
‘Okay.’
He stooped and kissed my cheek. I didn’t look up when he opened the door. He stood there a moment longer and then he left, closing it silently behind him.
Agnes came home at midday. Garry picked her up from the airport and she arrived back oddly subdued, as if she were reluctant to be there. She greeted me from behind sunglasses with a cursory hello, and retreated to her dressing room, where she stayed with the door locked for the next four hours. At teatime she emerged, showered and dressed, and forced a smile when I entered her study bearing the completed mood boards. I talked her through the colours and fabrics, and she nodded distractedly, but I could tell she hadn’t really registered what I had done. I let her drink her tea, then waited until I knew Ilaria had gone downstairs. I closed the study door so that she glanced up at me.
‘Agnes,’ I said quietly. ‘This is a slightly odd question, but did you put a pregnancy test in my bathroom?’
She blinked at me over her teacup. And then she put her cup down on its saucer and pulled a face. ‘Oh. That. Yes, I was going to tell you.’
I felt anger rise up in me like bile. ‘You were going to tell me? You know my boyfriend found it?’
‘Your boyfriend came for the weekend? That’s so nice! Did you have lovely time?’
‘Right up until he found a used pregnancy test in my bathroom.’
‘But you tell him it’s not yours, yes?’
‘I did, Agnes. But, funnily enough, men tend to get a little shirty when they find pregnancy tests in their girlfriends’ bathrooms. Especially girlfriends who live three thousand miles away.’
She waved her hand, as if shooing my concerns away. ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake. If he trusts you he will be fine. You are not cheating on him. He should not be so stupid.’
‘But why? Why would you put a pregnancy test in my bathroom?’
She stopped. She glanced around me, as if to check that the study door really was closed. And suddenly her expression grew serious. ‘Because if I had left it in my bathroom Ilaria would have found it,’ she said flatly. ‘And I cannot have Ilaria seeing this thing.’ She lifted her hands as if I were being spectacularly dim. ‘Leonard was very clear when we marry. No children. This was our deal.’
‘Really? But that’s not … What if you decide you want them?’
She pursed her lips. ‘I won’t.’
