Page 59 of The Woman Who Said Yes

‘Should we tell her?’ Sam asks. He looks around and glimpses Eva by the bar, surrounded by friends, the picture of happiness.

‘We can’t,’ Andie says.

‘Not tonight, anyway,’ adds Marnie.

Not ever, Sam reflects as they make their way back to main group. As the evening goes on, he keeps thinking about leaving. He feels far too uncomfortable to even try to socialise now. But somehow he is still here as the room starts to empty out – as are Andie and Marnie, for which he is grateful. They settle into one of the booths. When he looks out into the main space, he sees Eva hugging the bald man goodbye, and then she turns and spots the three of them nestled there. She smiles and waves, and is making her way towards them when something appears to stop her.

Her phone. Sam assumes it’s ringing because she plucks it from her tiny silver bag. As she takes the call, Sam is vaguely aware of Andie and Marnie chattering happily as if they are normal people and not parent and child – in a way that he cannot imagine ever conversing with his son. Is it something he’s done that’s made things so difficult with Theo?

Being a decade ahead of him in the business of parenting, Andie had made it seem like a breeze. As Bibi had started running dance classes on weekends, Sam had often found himself and their toddler son with many hours to fill. It was Andie who suggested they all met up – Sam and Theo and Andie and Marnie and Jake, her kids doting on Theo like a little brother. They went to parks and museums and city farms, and Sam assumed Bibi was fine about this – about all the time he spent with Andie and Marnie and Jake, and how much Theo talked about them. ‘That sounds great, darling,’ she’d say blithely, soaking her feet in a bowl of sudsy water. Whenever the two women happened to meet, Sam sensed Bibi conversing with Andie in a pleasant-but-distant way – ‘Glad you guys had fun!’ – as if she were hired help.

Andie and Marnie are laughing at something now, but Sam’s attention is fixed upon Eva as she stands there in the middle of the room, phone clutched to her ear.

She doesn’t appear to be saying much. It seems like the other person is doing most of the talking. And judging from Eva’s face – her expression switching from happy to, well, shocked is the only word for it – it can only be one person she’s speaking to. And one thing they’re talking about.

Sam’s throat is tight and his heart is thumping hard. The call seems to go on and on, for as long as it takes for Andie and Marnie to finish their drinks. For as long as it took Sam to draw those grapes, it feels like – until finally Eva nods and shuts her eyes momentarily, touching the lids with splayed fingers.

When she opens them again, the call is over and her gaze is focused directly on Sam. He sits up straighter as she crosses the room towards them, as if readying himself for something – although he’s not quite sure what. Only that’s it’s not good. Only that it’ll change things – possibly forever – as she arrives at their booth. ‘Hey, Eves,’ Andie says brightly. ‘Everything all right?’

Sam’s breath seems to stop as Eva looks down at them. Her mouth trembles and he realises with alarm that her eyes are glossy with tears. He is vaguely aware of a young woman taking empty glasses from their table. Then she goes, and it’s just Eva standing there, and Sam knows exactly what’s happened.

‘Not really,’ she says, in a taut voice that he’s never heard before. ‘Not at all, to be honest. Dom just called. What’s been going on?’

33

ANDIE

How can I explain why I photographed that contact on Dom’s phone, and then called the number and wangled the address out of the person and went all the way across London to check it out? What can Sam and I say about all of that, apart from the fact that we only did it because something didn’t feel right? As Eva storms away, and we scramble out of the booth in pursuit – Marnie melts away somewhere, not wanting to get involved – I realise that nothing I can say is going to help. Because it’s on a par with a parent saying, ‘I only read your private diary because I was worried about you.’

Eva has snatched her jacket from the back of a chair. Apart from staff, we are the only ones left here; I didn’t even notice the last people leaving. ‘Eva, please.’ I reach for her arm but she shrugs me off. ‘I know it sounds mad. One thing just led to another and⁠—’

‘What’s so hurtful,’ she cuts in, eyes flashing like her fake jewel, ‘is that you didn’t tell me any of this. You didn’t say anything at all!’

‘What could we say, Eves?’ Sam implores her. ‘Honestly, we just want you to be happy.’

‘Right!’ She snaps. ‘So you went along pretending you were delighted for me, and all the time you were sneaking round, trying to find out stuff about him?’ Her eyes are wet, and a tear trickles down her cheek.

‘We were just worried!’ I reiterate, although it sounds so feeble now.

‘You should have told me,’ she declares.

‘I know,’ I say, my own eyes filling with tears. What were we thinking, going behind her back? I think of when Phil finally told me about Gina Crouch. The worst part was all the lies he’d told me, all the sneaking around. Of course, this is different – but in some ways it’s not. It’s still a pile-up of lies and deceit.

All this stuff’s being going on, and we didn’t tell her. However, Dom has now. He’d promised to come clean about the house – but it turns out that he has also told her about me and Sam turning up, on some kind of snooping mission, at his mum’s. As for lying about his living situation, he’s admitted to Eva that he’d embellished the truth. With the wedding thundering towards them, he’d freaked out, not knowing what to do. Hence all the secrecy on his part. He’s been racked with guilt and panic – poor lamb!

‘He’s just ashamed,’ Eva announces now, ‘of having to live with his mum while all of this is going on.’ His mother is a nightmare, apparently – controlling, irrational, makes his life hell. So there we have it: the full confessional, with Eva being entirely understanding of his difficult situation. I picture Dom waving smugly from his perch there, up on the moral high ground.

Eva’s ring flashes, catching the light. I can hardly bear to look at it. ‘I’m so sorry,’ I murmur. ‘I just want you to know that we did it for the best reasons.’

‘We’d hate to see you getting hurt,’ Sam adds.

She looks at us, pushing back a springy curl that had stuck itself to her wet cheek. ‘I realise that.’ Her voice is softer now, barely a whisper. ‘But the thing is, I am hurt. I really am.’

I nod wordlessly and glimpse Marnie across the room, pulling on her jacket. ‘Sorry,’ I mutter, and flit across to hug her goodbye.

‘You okay, Mum?’ Concern is etched on her finely boned face.

‘I’ll be all right.’ I nod. ‘She’s just upset, understandably…’