The Secret Life of Evie Hamilton - Catherine Alliott [56]
I tiptoed furtively to the mirror that faced the end of the bed. Stared. How extraordinary. I looked completely different. Completely. Like, well, like a woman in a magazine! I turned around. Lordy. And my flesh looked so… so forbidden, somehow. So wanton. Too much of it, obviously – I sucked in my tummy – but still… I lay down. Yes, I did. On the bed. Gazed sideways into the mirror. Had to shift around a bit to see, but… yes. Very Playboy. I raised one leg coquettishly in the air, rolled my eyes. Just as I was fondling the bedpost, pouting—
‘Hi!’ Up the stairs.
I leaped off the bed. Christ! He was home. And six in the evening was not the moment. It might have been once, but not now. He'd think it mighty peculiar to find me trussed up in black lace. I threw on a wraparound dress and was just tying it up as he came in.
‘Hello, darling!’ I said overbrightly.
‘Hi.’ He seemed almost not to notice me. He crossed the room and sat down heavily on the side of the bed.
‘Ant? What's wrong?’ My mouth dried. I stared across at the top of his bent head.
‘Nothing.’ Flatly. ‘No, nothing's wrong.’ He picked up the plastic M&S bag. Fiddled with it distractedly. Put it down again. ‘It's just, she – Stacey…’ he paused to let the requisite shock waves rip through me at her name, ‘she emailed me. She's going to come. One Sunday.’
‘Right,’ I breathed. I sat on the bed beside him. All the feverish activity of the last few moments evaporated like so many raindrops on a window. The silence of the empty house closed in on us.
‘She… emailed you?’
‘Yes. We have done that, once or twice. Quicker, obviously.’
‘Obviously.’ Except I didn't know. Didn't know she had his email address. I knew he had hers. My heart quickened.
‘She got mine from the college. Left me a message. I had to answer it.’
‘Of course. Did she say which Sunday?’
‘No. Just… sometime soon.’
He turned to me. Took my hand. His blue eyes behind his glasses were full. Deadly serious. ‘Evie, you know what this means. If she's coming, if this is actually happening, we have to tell Anna.’
Do we? my head shrieked. Why can't we just tell her to sod off? Why couldn't this nightmare just go away?
‘Yes,’ I agreed.
‘And, Evie,’ he swallowed. His eyes skittered past me to the window, then back again. ‘I'd like to do it, if you don't mind. Alone. I'd like to… find my own words. Explain to her in my own way.’
Without me. I felt my chest tighten. Felt panic rising. But, yes, of course he did. And what a relief, in some ways: leave me out of it. It was his mess, he could jolly well extricate himself. Nothing to do with me. But… equally, I was to be excluded. Why? What did he want to say to her that he couldn't say to me? Didn't want me to hear?
‘But, Ant,’ I licked my lips, ‘surely this is all going much too fast? We don't know anything yet. Don't even know if she's yours!’
‘Oh, she's mine,’ he said quietly, but it was a quietness that chilled me. He got off the bed and walked to the window. His hands in his pockets. ‘She's mine all right.’
12
‘How do you know?’ I felt faint with fear. Light-headed. A pulse was beginning to throb in my temple.
‘Evie… I haven't been entirely straight with you.’
His back was to me. I stared at the yoke of his blue and white checked shirt. At the fair hair curling on his collar. Oh God.
‘You mean… it went on much longer?’ I whispered. ‘Not just that once? That one night?’
‘No,’ he turned, looked surprised. ‘No, that was true. It only happened once. But… well. She wasn't quite