turn up.’
‘You don’t understand, George, I’ve had a lifetime of this. Ever since she was little. She can’t be trusted with a thing.’ Amber kneels down and feels under the sofa. ‘Think, Ruby. Think!’
‘Maybe I tidied it up with the toys.’ In truth, Ruby can’t remember what she did with the bloody key, but as George said, it’s obviously in the flat somewhere, so why is Amber making such a monumental fuss? She wasn’t mugged, she didn’t drop it in the street. It’s not lost forever. Nothing bad has happened. Everything’s fine.
Chapter Seven
Six days before
Amber marvels at the strangeness of the weekend as she tidies the bedroom. On the surface, it was a success – even Ruby seemed to notice the glow around them when she and George came home. But emotionally it was utterly exhausting, and when she woke up, she felt very confused.
George went off to work this morning with a spring in his step, despite Mabel keeping them awake half the night. The little terror is having an unscheduled nap now and Amber is going to let her sleep as long as she likes. She needs some time alone to process what happened, to replay the scenes in sequence and understand the twists and turns of the plot.
She hangs up her dress – it will bear another wearing – and puts her underwear in the laundry basket. George has already emptied his overnight bag and typically left his dirty washing in a pile on the floor. She picks up the shirt he wore on Saturday evening – tiny purple and maroon flowers with flashes of ochre – and holds it for a moment, closing her eyes as she remembers.
Their night away got off to a bad start – her fault, not his. She was nervous to the point of fear. George assumed it was because she was worrying about Mabel, but that wasn’t really the case. She knew Ruby would cope; she only kept texting because she couldn’t bear the stress of being alone with George.
She drops the shirt into the laundry basket. She feels ashamed that she called Seth while George was in the shower, but she didn’t know who else to turn to – it was either that or running away. Seth calmed her down, as he always does, while subtly reminding her that her choices are stark. Either she makes herself comfortable with the lies or she confesses and risks losing everything she holds most dear. There are no half-measures or easy alternatives.
After their call, she tried her hardest to behave as normally as possible. She and George had afternoon tea in the conservatory, then took a stroll around the grounds before heading back into the warm. She remembers being reluctant to return to their room, suggesting instead that they go to the guest lounge, where there was a roaring fire. They found a couple of vacant armchairs and sat there for a while, wondering what to say to each other. Most of the other guests were retired couples, content to pore over a crossword or read a book. Amber envied their seeming ease in each other’s company. If they had children, they must be long grown up and off their hands. She wondered whether she and George would still be together when they reached their sixties. It didn’t seem likely, and that made her sad, because when all was said and done, she did still love him.
‘I want to know the football scores,’ said George, rising. ‘Coming?’
She nodded and followed him back to their room. While he watched television, she prepared for their dinner date. Her dress – an emerald-green silky wraparound that showed off her cleavage – was creased and her stockings had a small ladder in them. For some reason, the heels she’d worn every day at work felt too tight, and she wobbled in them like a newborn lamb. She did her evening make-up but was dissatisfied with the result. No amount of concealer could hide the grey circles beneath her eyes. By the time she’d finished, she was tired out, like she’d done a day’s hard labour.
‘You look stunning,’ he said kindly, but she didn’t believe him. He switched the TV off. ‘Shall we go to the bar?’
Amber puts her make-up bag back on the dressing table and shoves her wheelie suitcase to the back of the wardrobe. The memories will not be so safely stowed away. Everything that happened earlier in the day was entirely predictable. It was