Page 55 of Behind Closed Doors
Adam turns to me. ‘What do you think, Grace? You must have read the papers.’
‘Me? I think the husband is as guilty as hell,’ I say, wondering what they would say if they knew that I barely know what they’re talking about.
‘Sorry, but I can’t imagine him as a wife-beater,’ says Diane. ‘He just doesn’t look the type.’
‘Jack tells me that they’re the worst kind,’ I say lightly.
Esther’s eyes flicker towards me. ‘It must be exciting having a husband who deals with such high-profile cases,’ she says, holding my gaze.
‘Actually, Jack rarely talks about his work when he comes home and especially not the details of his cases, for reasons of client confidentiality—I’m sure it’s the same for you, Diane.’ I turn to Jack with pretended anxiousness. ‘But to get back to our holiday—wouldn’t it be better to postpone it until Millie can come with us?’
‘Why?’
‘Well, if there’s a risk that your case might not be over in time.’
‘It will be.’
‘But what if it isn’t?’ I insist.
‘Then you’ll go on ahead and I’ll join you.’
I stare at him.
‘We’re not cancelling the holiday, Grace. As everybody has pointed out, you need a rest.’
‘You’d really let me go on ahead without you?’ I say, knowing he would never allow such a thing.
‘Of course.’
Esther looks at him approvingly. ‘That’s very generous of you, Jack.’
‘Not at all. I mean, why would I deprive my beautiful wife of a holiday just because I can’t go?’
‘I’d be more than happy to keep her company until you arrive,’ Diane offers.
‘Sorry to disappoint you, but I have no intention of not being able to make it,’ Jack tells her, getting to his feet. ‘Grace, I need your help in the kitchen, darling.’
I follow him in, stunned at how wrong everything seems to be going.
‘You don’t seem very keen to go to Thailand,’ he says, handing me candles to stick in the cake. ‘Yet you were the one who suggested it.’
‘It’s just that it doesn’t seem such a good idea with your court case coming up.’
‘So you think it would be better for me to cancel it?’
Blessed relief floods through me. ‘Definitely’.
‘Then do you think Millie will be able to move in with us earlier, next week, for example? In fact, she could even stay behind today and I could drive up and collect her things during the week while she settles into her lovely red bedroom. What do you think, Grace? Shall I go out and suggest it? Or shall we go to Thailand next month?’
‘We’ll go to Thailand next month,’ I say stonily.
‘I thought that’s what you would say. Now, where are the matches?’
It’s hard not to give in to the desperation I feel as I sing ‘Happy Birthday’ along with the others and applaud as Millie blows out her candles. I look around at everybody laughing and joking together and struggle to understand how my life has become a living hell that nobody present could even begin to imagine. If I were to suddenly demand their attention and tell them that Millie is in great danger from Jack, that he intends to keep her locked up in a terrifying room until she goes mad with fear, that he is in reality a murderer who has kept me prisoner for the last fifteen months, nobody would believe it. And what would Jack tell them in return? That he only realised once we were married that I had a history of mental illness, that it only became apparent on our honeymoon when I accused him of keeping me a prisoner in front of a lobby full of people, that the hotel manager, our local doctor and the police would be happy to confirm that I am unbalanced. That the last fifteen months have been a terrible strain on him, especially as he has to accompany me everywhere for fear of what I’ll say in public. Even if Millie were to come to my defence and accuse him of pushing her down the stairs, he would look appalled and say that I must have put the idea into her mind. Why would the people gathered here today believe my version over Jack’s when his sounds so much more plausible?
We eat the cake, drink more champagne. Millie and the children resume their games and the rest of us sit around chatting. I have trouble concentrating, but when I hear Janice saying that she’ll enjoy coming to see Millie in our beautiful house, I seize the chance to make it a reality.
‘Why don’t we fix a date now?’ I turn to the others. ‘And maybe we could take Millie and the children to the music festival and have a picnic there—they seem to be getting along well. Doesn’t it start at the beginning of July?’
