Valentina Read online

  She put up no fight at all when I took her to bed. I’d expected her to be fretful, to want me to stay with her while she went off to sleep but she closed her eyes and appeared to be drifting off even as I said good night.

  I pulled the door to and headed back to the bathroom. My eyes and hands stung, my legs and back ached. I ran steaming hot water into what remained of Isla’s bath, peeled off my torn wet jeans, my sweater, and lowered myself inch by inch into the suds. The water soothed me. I lay back, let the heat penetrate my shoulders and neck. Tears ran into my ears. Excess water, that was all. I was too exhausted, too confused to cry.

  Flannel over my eyes, I tried to make myself relax. What was important here, all that was important, was Isla. Isla was all that mattered and in all my paranoid chasing about I had forgotten her. That was unforgivable and, at the thought of her alone in the lane, my cheeks burned with shame. I had got myself into a state – about Mikey and about his silly, obsessive ex-girlfriend – without waiting for an explanation. I had neglected my own daughter and suspected my own partner, and for what? I had treated him as less than the accused in the dock. Even those accused of murder got a fair trial. By not asking for an explanation first, I was treating my partner – and my best friend for that matter – like convicted criminals, and in so doing had surrendered responsibility for my own child. She could have been run over. She could have developed hypothermia. She could have fallen into a ditch, wandered off, got lost in the darkness of the woods. Stop. But still, images of disaster leaked from my subconscious, the flash cards of post-trauma: Isla at the side of the road, traffic roaring, her stepping out; Isla in the mud, her legs bent the wrong way; Isla ...

  I sat bolt upright, panting, nauseous. I took the flannel from my face. On the side of the bath, the hand mirror had frosted with steam. I wiped it and met my own glowing face, a horrid, diseased-looking red, bloodshot eyes, black hair slicked back. I looked like Dracula.

  “Stop it,” I said aloud. “Calm down, Shona. Calm down and think.”

  My shoulders were cold. I lay back once more. What were the facts? The question was becoming a mantra. Not fantasies, not frantic ravings, Shona, only hard, journalistic facts. One: in her bag, Valentina had been carrying a letter addressed to someone I now knew to be Mikey’s ex-girlfriend, Georgia. Two: Georgia lived in Aberdeen. Three: she had a photo of Mikey on her mantelpiece. This was all I knew. This was all I actually knew.

  So to the first: letters didn’t stick to other letters, not that I’d ever heard of. Letters didn’t reach the wrong address, only the wrong person as a result of the right person once having lived at that address. Conclusion: either Georgia had once lived at Valentina’s address or Valentina did in fact know her and was not telling the truth. Which would point to her knowing that Georgia and Mikey had once been together. I had been brought up to think the best of people. Valentina was my friend. She had come to me when I was lonely and vulnerable and brought light and laughter into my life. She had taken me to the station when I needed to make a stand, to the hospital when Isla had got sick.

  OK, so she was cheating on her husband with a man she found dull but she was kind too. She was funny. People were complicated, they bore scars we could only guess at and her love life was not my concern. To me, she had been a good friend who, for whatever reason, had not told the truth and I was determined not to judge her nor suspect her until I had spoken to her. Until I had asked her, directly, for the truth, for her reasons for not telling it.

  I picked up my phone from the side of the bath and scrolled through the contacts until I got to her name. I put the phone back on the side of the bath. Not now, not now. More than a conversation with Valentina, I needed sleep, needed to recover from Isla’s Houdini trick. I was too shaken to call her, especially if the conversation proved difficult. I would call her tomorrow, when I had rested, when my mind was clearer.

  Now to the second: Mikey’s ex-girlfriend, the love-struck geologist. Aberdeen was the centre of the oil industry in the UK. It was likely, inevitable even, that she would settle here in this city. It was entirely possible this city was the only place which could provide work for such a skill set. So she lived here. So what? I had no proof that Mikey even knew that.

  Third. She kept Mikey’s photo on display. If she held a candle for him, that made her a threat. Did it? Did it really? Mikey and I had a child together now. We had a home, which was so much more than somewhere to live; it was the bedrock of our dreams for our life together. One photo on its own was not enough to distrust Mikey. Even if he knew the woman was in town, it was entirely possible he hadn’t wanted to tell me. No one wants news of their partner’s romantic past thrust in their face and I was no exception. He would know that about me. He would never want to upset me – he was too kind.

  I regretted having even attempted to call him. Thank goodness the number had been wrong. I would have sounded so needy, and that was enough to send a guy like him, maybe any guy, running for the hills. Mikey deserved a capable, resilient woman alongside him, not someone who would fall prey to delusions, become a snivelling neurotic the moment events proved difficult to explain. There was always another side, always. He had three days left of his trip. I decided I would not ask him about Georgia when he rang – it was difficult enough to discuss even routine domestic matters when he was in the North Sea, let alone anything emotive. I would not, this time, end up back in my parents’ dark hallway, I would not wake up tomorrow to the horrible knowledge that I had poisoned our relationship with baseless suspicion. I would wait until he got back. He would explain everything and, instead of making myself ridiculous, I would learn the truth like a calm rational woman, a woman still in possession of herself.

  I was about to go to bed, when Jeanie rang again.

  “Shona? Are you OK?”

  “I’m fine,” I said. “I’m going to talk to Val tomorrow. I can’t face it now. There’ll be an explanation, I’m pretty sure.”

  “Right-oh.” She paused.

  I knew she had more to say – I could sense it. “If you’re worried about Mikey, don’t be. I know it’s strange he hasn’t said anything about Georgia, but I don’t even know if he knows she’s in town.”

  “I’d be surprised if he didn’t, Shone.”

  “Oh aye?”

  “I did some more digging.” She sighed heavily. “Thing is, she’s at Maple Energy.”

  “Right.” My stomach turned over. “As in works there?”

  “That’s where Mikey works, isn’t it?”

  “Aye,” I said quietly. “It is.”

  I hung up. It was nine o’clock. I felt more tired than I ever had in my life. I checked the window locks, locked the back door, locked and bolted the front. I made myself some hot milk and honey, added a dram of brandy to help me sleep. On the stairs, my feet fell like rocks. I dug into Mikey’s dressing gown pocket, pulled out my phone and composed a text to Valentina.

  Coffee tomorrow?

  First things first. Let me see what she had to say.

  In Caffè Nero, Valentina was scooping chocolaty foam from a babyccino into Zac’s mouth while trying to read a magazine. It occurred to me that she never, or hardly ever, looked at her child, almost never spoke to him. I felt nauseous at the sight of her and realised I could not delay asking her what I needed to ask. I could not have formed one coherent sentence of small talk anyway.

  I sat down opposite her at the table, put Isla on the floor with Zac. “Hi.”

  “Hi, babe.” She looked right at me. “Aren’t you grabbing a coffee?”

  “No.”

  She cocked her head, her brow furrowed, her intense green eyes still on mine. “Everything OK?

  “Not really.” That was it. That was all I had to do – start. “I need to ask you about that letter. Thing is, last night I got a very interesting call from my friend Jean. She had some information for me – about a Ms. G. Smyth-Banks. Georgia. So, what I want to know is, how come you’ve got a letter to my partner’s ex-girlfr
iend in your bag ...”

  “Shona, I’m sorry,” she said. “I lied to you.”

  “Oh.”

  She shook her head, her red hair cascading down her back. She glanced at me, looked away. “You weren’t meant to see that letter.”

  I sat back in my chair and folded my arms. Beneath them, I could feel my own heart beating. “Clearly not.”

  “It’s not what you think.”

  “They say that on films, Val. Why don’t you tell me the truth then we can get on with our lives, eh?”

  “All right.” She sighed, frowned. “Georgia. That’s the name of the girl who that letter was for.”

  I exhaled heavily. She was telling the truth, quite unprompted.

  “She’s a student of mine,” she went on. “Former student. We became friends. I don’t normally – usually have a rule against that but we got on well and I didn’t see the harm. Anyway, turns out she was totally obsessed with this ex-boyfriend of hers.”

  I almost jumped in and said Mikey but thought better of it. She did not know what I knew. Let’s see if her truth fit mine.

  “Georgie told me he, Michael – she called him Michael, that’s why I call him that – I can’t get out of the habit.” She smiled. I thought I detected nerves.

  “Go on,” I said. “I’m listening.”

  “Georgia told me this Michael guy was moving up with his new partner and their baby. She was very jealous, mad with jealousy in fact.” She took a deep breath. “So. This is difficult. She asked me to check you out, see what you were like.” Again, her eyes flicked up and met mine before darting away.

  “Check me out? What for?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. Listen, she’s a bit – unhinged, I guess you’d say. But we were friends and I said I would. I didn’t know you then, Shone. I didn’t see the harm.” She glanced at me and again looked down. “I was going to call on you, on some pretext. But then I met you at the nursery and when you told me your name and all about the cottage and everything I just knew you were the Shona. It was a coincidence, I guess.”

  “So, hang on, what are you saying? You were planning to spy on me?” My chest burned. “You did spy on me? Is that what you’re saying?”

  She raised her hand, her eyes welled. “Please, Shona. Listen. I did do that. I can’t change that I did that. As I said, I’m sorry. And I didn’t know you then. And that’s all I was going to do. But you were so nice. And you seemed so lost. And I thought, fuck it, you know? I can go back to Georgia and tell her that you’re a great woman, that Michael is very happy and that she should stay away. I thought I could tell her all those things then get her to drop it. And I didn’t see why I should miss out on being friends with you.” She met my eye for longer this time, smiled doubtfully. “I liked you.”

  “You lied to me,” I said, but even as I said it I knew I believed her now. “From the beginning.”

  “I know. Trust me, I know. I should have come clean straight away. But I was still friends with Georgia, I’m not any more, and I thought, oh well, it’ll blow over, you know? It was one lie. One. It didn’t, it doesn’t, have to mean everything. I didn’t think I would ever have to admit to it, I didn’t want to, I was afraid it would spoil what we had. Still have, I hope?” She drained her coffee cup. She looked so miserable that with every second I thawed a little more. “And I didn’t know Michael then either.”

  “His name is Mikey.” My voice had an edge.

  She sat back, shocked. It was not a side of me she’d seen. Few people ever do.

  “Don’t be like that, Shone,” she said. “You know what I mean. And I did tell her to stay away. Told her to look elsewhere and as far as I know she did. We kind of drifted after that. She was nuts.”

  “She has a picture of him on her mantelpiece. She works at the same company. Hardly staying away.”

  “I didn’t know that.” Her voice had taken on a pleading quality. “I don’t see her any more.”

  “None of this explains why you had the letter.”

  “It was a bill. She never paid me for last term and now we’ve lost touch or cooled or whatever you want to call it, she’s stopped coming to yoga and I guess she thought she would get away without paying. That would be just like her. Did I mention she was mean?”

  “So why didn’t you say it was a bill? Are you a compulsive liar or something?”

  She closed her eyes a moment and when she opened them again she looked like she might cry. “A terrible liar, more like. I can’t do it – the lying thing. Some people can but I can’t. I felt guilty by association and I ... panicked, I guess. What I said was ... it was ridiculous. And I knew it was ridiculous. And then you texted about coffee and I thought, right, I’ll tell her everything then, face to face.”

  Neither of us spoke.

  After a moment, I said, “You lied about John too. How am I supposed to believe a word you say?”

  She groaned and covered her face with her hands. “Oh, Shona. Yes I did. I am so sorry. I couldn’t tell you. I’m not seeing John that often any more. And I thought the whole Georgia thing would go away. I thought it had gone away.” She leant forward, took my left hand in both of hers. I let her, even noticing that her nails had been freshly painted: a dark, chocolate brown. “Shona, one thing you’ve got to know is that Michael – sorry, Mikey – has no interest in Georgia. He told her to leave him alone or he would call the police.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “She told me, of course. She was hopping mad about it. Tried to blame it on me!”

  “Is that right?”

  “Yes. I think he threatened her with a restraining order.”

  A group of four mothers, all with papooses, came and sat at the next table, bright with their own chatter, their new baby friendships. I pulled my hand from Valentina’s but not without giving her fingers a squeeze.

  “When did she see him?” I asked. “How exactly did he threaten her?”

  She sat back in her chair, coiled a lock of burnished copper hair around her finger. “I don’t know. I don’t even know how I know he did. I guess they still had each other’s numbers. Maybe she showed me a text once, I’ve forgotten.”

  “Have you ever been to her house?”

  “What? No. Why would I have been to her house?”

  “No reason,” I said. “Just never knew you were backwards about going to your friends’ houses that’s all. Or staying there all day, for that matter. Maybe grabbing some free childcare.” I stood to go. I was already saying things I would regret later.

  “You’re not going? Come on, Shona, you’re making this into more than it is.”

  I picked up Isla. “Actually, I am going. I can’t think straight. I need to be on my own.”

  “But you haven’t even had a coffee.”

  “I can’t manage one.” I fastened Isla into the sling, grabbed my bag. I could not look at Valentina, could not bear the green of her eyes. Even though I knew she was telling the truth, the fact of her, her words, even the pitter-patter of her summery voice, was suffocating me.

  I crossed over to a tacky clothes boutique called JuicyGirl. Inside, miniskirts hung from the plastic hangers, glitzy crop tops, glitter cherry motifs; there were jeans skinny enough for dolls, bodycon dresses, playsuits and, by the till, was a display of coloured glassy jewellery. The shop assistant looked me up and down as I went in, asked if I needed help. What she meant, we both knew, was what the hell are you doing in here, you big scruff? I said I was just browsing but stood in the doorway, looking back at the café. I could see Valentina through the passing crowds, through the window of the café, through the group of women who had sat down next to us. I don’t know what I was expecting now that I had left her like that – was I hoping that she would have thrown herself down, that she would be weeping on the floor? Not really. I suppose I thought she would at least look troubled. And I guess she did. Her brow was furrowed, her mouth set in a tight line. She was cleaning Zac’s face with a baby-wipe, phone in
the crook of her neck. As I watched, she began to talk. To whom, I had no idea.

  So Mikey’s name had been cleared before he even knew it had been muddied. But even so, the next few days waiting for him to come home were among the worst I’d known since the move. I had started this journey alone in this cottage and now here I was, more alone than I had ever been. In essence, there was no change. Except there had been a change. I had found a friend and I had loved her. I wanted to still, but no longer felt safe enough to love her as I had. I believed everything she had told me but still the ground beneath me had cracked, as if after an earthquake. I needed to move forward but I knew, or sensed, that I should tread with caution. In the café, Valentina had confessed – more than that – she had volunteered her confession before I had asked for it. She had told me the truth, something she could only do by admitting to her lie. That had taken courage. And I believed her. She wouldn’t admit to lying only to replace the lie with a half-truth, would she? I wanted to call her and talk it through once more – if only to stop myself endlessly revolving the subject in my own head – but I didn’t call her, I called Jeanie. Jeanie, who picked up on the first ring, who listened to all I had to say.

  “It’s all perfectly feasible,” she said. “The problem is, when someone you’re close with lies to your face, it’s hard to believe what they say even when they do tell the truth. It’s the old cry wolf thing, isn’t it?”

  “It’s possible isn’t it,” I replied, “that she was protecting me? It was her after all who said she’d lied, not me. She came right out with it.”

  “Aye,” she said. “I suppose. Is she still friends with this woman?”

  “She says not. And Mikey doesn’t know anything about Georgia’s friendship with Val because Val was lying to him too, effectively.” In the background, I could hear phones ringing, tapping – Jeanie’s fingers on the keys, possibly. I wished I was back there, with my colleagues, trying to write the truth about the big stuff, not here trying to find out the little truths of my tiny, insignificant life.