Page 69 of The Wife
‘Can you let me in, love? I won’t stay long.’
I open my mouth to make an excuse, but I just can’t do it. I’ve never been any good at saying no or turning people away. I check my face in the mirror and wipe away a long smudge of tears with my fingertips. Then I inhale deeply and go over to the door. My only plan is to say as little as possible and feign tiredness in the hope he leaves quickly.
I glance around the room, checking for – I don’t know what. It somehow feels like the story Toby told me happened just now, not a decade ago. I’m almost expecting to see smashed glass on the floor, or blood, or Dina’s crumpled body. I shudder and shake away the gruesome image in my head.
‘Zoe? You in there?’
‘Coming!’ I call, my voice steadier than it has any right to be.
I walk quickly across the room and fiddle with the door catch, finally turning it and pulling open the door. Dad stands there, a little way down the corridor, gazing at a piece of modern art on the wall. ‘What’s this supposed to be?’ he asks. ‘Looks like a big squiggle. It’s got a price. They want four hundred quid for it!’
‘Hi, Dad.’
‘Didn’t see you at breakfast.’ He finally glances up in my direction and follows me into my room.
‘No, sorry, I had a bit of a lie-in. Didn’t Toby tell you?’
‘I didn’t see him down there. Must have missed him. A lie-in, eh? Too much partying?’
‘Something like that.’
My dad looks around the room. ‘This is nice. Good view out the front.’ He walks over to the window and stands there with his hands tucked behind his back. ‘Haven’t been to this place since your wedding.’
‘I know. Seems like so long ago.’
‘Not that long. Ten years has gone by in the blink of an eye. You all right, love?’ He squints over at me. ‘Looking a tad peaky if you don’t mind me saying. You been crying?’
For a moment I debate whether to go against Toby’s wishes and tell Dad what I found out last night. The urge to break down and confess is so strong that I almost ache with it. But I can’t do or say anything rash. I need to think this through. Once I say something, I can’t unsay it. And this is about my sister, his daughter. It’s not something I can just blurt out, is it?
‘I’m just feeling a bit rough. I think I overdid things yesterday.’ It’s the truth, so why does it feel like a lie? Maybe because it’s a lie by omission.
‘You sure that’s all it is?’ Dad’s eyes narrow and he really looks at me.
The moment ends when a knock at the door makes us break eye contact. I’m sure it must be housekeeping this time, and I’m about to turn them away when Celia’s voice rings through the closed door.
‘Zoe, can I come in?’
My heart sinks at the thought of having to pretend some more. At this rate I may as well have gone down to breakfast.
‘Want me to tell her to go?’ Dad asks.
I briefly consider his offer, before deciding against it. Celia could well be a breath of fresh air. A no-nonsense antidote to the dread and despair into which I find myself sinking. ‘It’s okay, I don’t mind if she comes in.’
Dad gives a brief nod. ‘Well, okay, I’m going for a walk. I’ve got my phone with me. Call if you need anything.’
I’m a little stunned. Dad has never asked if I needed anything. Not since I left home, and even before that he wasn’t the most forthcoming of parents. Maybe he’s sensed my fear and worry. Maybe it’s activated some recessive parenting gene.
‘Okay, Zoe?’ He shakes me out of my musing.
‘Yeah, okay, thanks. Wrap up warm. I’ll see you later.’
He nods, leaves the room and lets Celia in on his way out. They mumble a brief greeting to one another as they pass.
‘Sorry…’ Celia steps hesitantly into the room. ‘Guy’s not leaving on my account, is he?’
‘No, he’s going for a walk.’
‘Good. I hope I’m not intruding. I was just a little worried when you didn’t come down to breakfast. Toby said you weren’t feeling too well. I’ve brought you up some paracetamol and some pastries from the buffet. I know you can order room service, but you might not be bothered to do that if you’re feeling peaky.’
