I Invited Her In Read online

  Why am I using phrases like ‘best friend’ on this bitch? This woman who has come into my home, seduced my son. I start to sob. I’m as surprised as she is. I’m not a crier. Under pressure I’m a fighter, a screamer but, nonetheless, huge ugly sobs are erupting from deep inside me. Her expression changes; she’s not moved, so much as irritated.

  ‘Look, I’m not trying to be his mother,’ she snaps. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not going to take your place.’ She laughs in a way that’s sickening. As though being his mother is somehow less, somehow embarrassing, compared to what she is to him. I let out a guttural roar. I can’t think about what she is to him. What she does with him, it is all too much.

  ‘You’re not thinking straight, after your break-up,’ I cry desperately.

  ‘On the contrary, I am very clear-sighted and focused.’

  I stare at her, confused. ‘You’re exploiting him. He’s naive.’

  ‘I don’t think so.’ She rolls her eyes into the back of her head, accessing a memory. A dirty one. I hate it. I can’t bear the idea.

  ‘Why him?’ I ask. ‘You could have any man you want.’

  ‘I want Liam.’

  ‘I said man. He’s a boy.’

  ‘No, he isn’t. Just to you. That’s not how the world sees it. And Melanie, as his mother, you must know and appreciate his fabulousness more than most.’ I stare at her, stupefied. She waits and then eventually says, ‘Think of it as a compliment. You know you can’t chose who you fall in love with.’

  In love with him? She’s talking about being in love with him?

  I slump into a chair, put my head in my hands. ‘Abi, you have everything, why did you have to have Liam too?’

  ‘Everything?’ She looks surprised, amused.

  ‘The looks, the figure, the hair, the career, the freedom. For fuck’s sake.’ I shout this. I’m glad I’m finding my voice until she stares at me, cool and calm. I just look idiotic, aggressive, uncontrolled, a loser. I want to go upstairs and see Liam. I want to talk to him but I don’t know what I’d say. Where to start. Plus, I couldn’t stand it if I knocked on his door and he told me to go away. He might. She is Liam’s gatekeeper now. I see that.

  ‘You’ve got it all wrong, Melanie. You’re the one with everything to envy. You’re an adored mother and wife.’

  ‘Don’t patronise me.’

  ‘I’m not.’

  ‘I’m not an especially adored mother right now, I don’t imagine.’

  ‘Liam will come around. He’ll forgive you.’

  Since when has she become the expert? I want to slap her now. What is she doing telling me about my child? My son. Forgive me? For what? I should be the one doing the forgiving. Or not. Shouldn’t I?

  I can’t stay in the room with her for a moment longer. I need Ben.

  33

  Ben

  Ben waited for Mel in a café just five minutes from his office. His face creased with concern. He had already ordered a black Americano for Mel; the most functional, grave coffee on offer. She’d texted him that she’d spoken to Liam’s principal and that they had something very serious to discuss immediately. He’d dropped everything for her. For Liam. Naturally.

  They sometimes did child-handovers in this café, if one of the kids needed taking to a club or a party and another needed to be elsewhere, because neither Ben nor Mel had developed superhuman powers and, try as they might, they couldn’t be in two places at once. Today, Mel charged into the café, frantic and sweating. There were no pleasantries about whether they should get cookies or cupcakes to take home for a treat, no appreciation of the rich smell of coffee beans and no time to chat with the friendly barista. The stuff they usually did. From the look on Mel’s face it seemed that sort of thing belonged to another world, another life. A life that no longer existed. Ben felt dread surge through his body. What could the principal have said to cause her this much panic?

  She sat down opposite him. Suddenly, she seemed lost for words. With a huge sigh, she dredged them up. ‘Liam has been missing school.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ he said, confused. ‘Liam likes school. He has plans. He knows how important this year is.’ Plans that Ben and Mel were proud of. Neither of them could ever really get their heads around how smart their son had turned out: smart, kind, funny. Ben thought it was admirable that his son wanted to go into government and try to change things for the better in this world; he liked his son’s optimism and work ethic. He was not the sort to skive off school. If this was true, there had to be a big reason for it. Bullying, gangs, drugs?

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I know why,’ Mel muttered, darkly.

  ‘Then tell me.’

  It was clearly difficult for her but she admitted to picking up Abi’s phone. To snooping about. Mel looked ashamed, awkward. ‘I can’t quite explain why I thought doing so was OK,’ she mumbled. ‘I guess the boundaries have got blurred for me.’

  He understood more than his wife imagined. He knew Mel thought Abi’s life seemed thrilling and exhilarating, and recently Mel had started to think hers was dreary, a bit humdrum. Abi’s life was full of famous personalities, TV types and sexy dates, Mel’s was packed with picky customers, ironing and sock-pairing. Ben had watched, over these past six weeks, as his wife had tried to cling on to Abi’s coat-tails; obviously, she had wanted to be dragged somewhere fabulous. He’d stood by, confounded, helpless.

  Mel confirmed that he did at least know her well when she admitted, ‘I just wanted to be near her. To be a very tiny part of all that is going on for her. I didn’t want to watch her porn, just to find a photo of her new man.’

  ‘Why am I no longer enough for you?’ Ben asked.

  Mel’s head shot up. She’d been staring into her coffee; now she met his gaze she looked startled, surprised perhaps that he’d read her so clearly, or maybe she thought his question was left field – they were here to talk about Liam’s truancy, after all. But Ben wanted to seize the moment; they had so little time together nowadays, face to face, out of the house, he had to ask. ‘Me, our three kids, our home, our ordinariness, it used to make you happy. You were content.’

  ‘Content,’ she muttered, shaking her head. He couldn’t decide whether she was snarling at the thought of having once been so, or the impossibility of being so ever again. ‘I’d give anything, anything at all to be just normal and ordinary. Anything, to be worrying about what to serve for tea rather than—’ She broke off.

  ‘Rather than what?’

  ‘Rather than be the mother of a boy who is having an affair with a woman more than twice his age.’

  ‘What?’ Ben was lost.

  ‘It was Liam.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘In the video.’ Ben’s face slowly morphed from confusion, to incredulity, to surprise and then, finally – treacherously – it rested on something that looked a little like pride.

  ‘Wow. Go Liam,’ he said, letting out a deep breath. ‘I was not expecting that. When you told me about him bunking out of college, I thought it was going to be something really awful, like an illness, or drugs, or that he’d got mixed up in a gang.’

  Mel threw Ben a look that was clearly intended to strike him down dead. It certainly stopped him in his tracks.

  ‘You have to take this seriously,’ she said.

  ‘Yes, of course, but—’

  ‘If you don’t take this seriously I won’t be able to survive. We won’t be able to survive.’ Ben thought Mel was being a bit overly dramatic, but he was not an idiot. He’d been her best friend, lover, and husband for years; he could see the cold fury in every molecule of her strained expression. Ben immediately adjusted his face again. ‘I’m sorry,’ he muttered. ‘Right, this is serious, of course. I’m just saying it’s not drugs.’

  ‘It’s an abomination!’ she yelled, slamming her fist on to the table. Her cup jumped, the coffee spilt into the saucer, some slopped on her sleeve. Ben reached out and rested his hand on her arm.

  ‘
Mel, calm down. He’s had sex with her. They’re not getting married,’ he pointed out, quietly. He watched his wife, who seemed to be battling with the idea of throwing her coffee cup at the wall.

  ‘Marriage? Marriage?’ She rubbed her chest – it looked like she was struggling to breathe. ‘You know I drove here at quite a speed, just desperate to see you, to hear some calming words of wisdom, to hear you promise that you’d make everything all right and now you are talking marriage.’

  ‘I said, it’s not like they are getting married.’

  ‘Just shut up.’

  She clamped her own mouth closed; he was glad. He knew that in their rare but intense rows she said things she didn’t mean, things she regretted. He felt sorry for her, he tried to comfort her.

  ‘Look, this is a definitely a bit odd. Certainly tricky, not ideal, but it’s not the worst thing in the world.’ He reached across the table and squeezed her arm.

  ‘You are not taking this seriously because you fancy her too,’ Mel accused angrily.

  ‘What? No, I don’t.’ He snatched his hand away, as though her words had burned him.

  ‘Yes, you do,’ she insisted.

  ‘I don’t, but if I did, I had my ch—’ He stopped himself.

  ‘What? You had your what?’ she demanded.

  He shook his head. ‘It’s not important.’

  ‘Yes, it is. You were going to say you had your chance, weren’t you?’

  He looked about, this café was often frequented by his colleagues. It was a relief that he didn’t recognise anyone. He leaned towards her and quietly admitted, ‘There was one evening that I thought she was coming onto me.’

  ‘Why didn’t you say something at the time?’

  ‘I handled it. I wasn’t sure. What if I was wrong and she was just being friendly?’ Anyway, you probably wouldn’t have listened,’ he added grumpily. ‘You’ve admitted that you’ve been in Abi’s thrall.’

  ‘I would have listened,’ Mel insisted.

  ‘Maybe.’ He doubted it. ‘Or maybe you wouldn’t have wanted to know. Maybe you’d have said I was imagining it.’ Mel stared at him but didn’t argue the point. Ben shrugged, he wasn’t interested in this battle. ‘It’s not what’s important now though, is it? All I’m saying is that it is understandable that he’s done this. She’s attractive, she’s living in his home. He’s young and undisciplined.’

  ‘So that makes it all right, does it?’ Mel snapped. Ben knew she was not really angry with him, but he was sat in front of her; neither Abi nor Liam were within firing distance. He patiently tried again.

  ‘What’s the big deal? I can think of worse things than being broken in by Abi.’

  ‘We’re not living in the 1840s wild west, where young men are taken upstairs at the saloon to visit a lady of negotiable affection. We’re not even living in the 1960s when Mrs Robinson was seen as iconic. We’re a couple of decades into the twenty-first century and this is not acceptable.’

  ‘OK, OK.’ Ben really wanted her to stop shouting. The café wasn’t busy but the staff would be able to hear. Quietly, he added, ‘Anyway, I’m joking. We both know that Liam wasn’t a virgin. He’d slept with Tanya. You had no problem with that. You’ve taken mugs of tea into them in the morning.’

  ‘Obviously I had no problem with that. They were a similarly aged couple and in love— Oh my God, poor Tanya.’

  ‘They split up a few weeks ago,’ said Ben calmly.

  ‘What? How do you know that?’

  ‘He told me last night, when we were playing Call of Duty.’

  ‘A few weeks ago?’ It was obvious that she could hardly process it. ‘How many, exactly?’

  He shrugged. ‘Not sure. Didn’t you wonder why she hadn’t been for Sunday lunch?’

  ‘Well, yes, but I’ve been busy, what with my parents picking up that stomach bug, and having to do extra shifts at the shop and entertaining – I hadn’t thought to ask him about it.’ Defensively, Mel added, ‘Didn’t you wonder?’

  ‘No,’ admitted Ben. Mel tutted. His life was easier than hers because he wouldn’t beat himself up for not wondering about his son’s girlfriend’s lunch attendance.

  ‘Why hasn’t he mentioned it before?’ Mel wondered aloud. Ben raised his eyebrows. The answer was obvious. ‘He finished with Tanya for Abigail,’ she surmised, disappointed.

  ‘I imagine there was some overlap.’

  Mel shuddered. ‘Lovely little Tanya. Young, fiery, hopeful. I can see them now, two young people studying together at our kitchen table, heads bowed, hopes high.’

  Ben knew that Mel would be feeling dreadful that her son had finished his first serious relationship and she’d had no idea. If she’d known she would have guided him, comforted Tanya. It was hard to take on board. Naturally, they wanted Liam to be a good guy. It seemed unlikely. They’d always drilled into him the importance of respect and fidelity. Yet, here they were.

  ‘Imagine how Tanya will feel when she hears about Abi,’ groaned Mel. ‘She’ll be crushed.’

  ‘Why should she hear about it?’

  ‘You think we’re going to be able to keep this to ourselves? You think something like this can be kept a secret? This will be choice gossip, it will fly through the corridors and classrooms, tear around the town, linger in the local pub.’

  Ben sighed; he thought Mel was making hard work of it. ‘Maybe for a week or so but then people will talk about something different.’

  ‘I’m astonished at your naivety,’ Mel snapped.

  ‘Isn’t it just sex, just a fling? Not a thing,’ argued Ben. ‘Look, the only important thing here is he’s not going to college. That worries me. But I’d say regarding the Abi issue, it’s best not to make a fuss. Let it play out. If you don’t offer any resistance, Liam won’t feel the need to cling to her, to play the rebel. This smacks to me as some sort of protest.’

  ‘Protest?’

  ‘To get your attention.’

  ‘He has my attention!’ she shouted.

  ‘Mel, he’s growing up, and bunking college is a mistake that we need to guide him through but whatever he decides to do with his sex life is up to him. Do you remember when he had that phase of short, unsatisfactory relationships?’

  ‘After Austin died.’

  ‘Yes, and I said he was just trying to find a way to have fun and you thought his inability to form a long-term relationship with a girl was going to be a forever thing. That he was going to turn into some sort of cruel commitment-phobe.’

  ‘Well, now I wish he was commitment-phobe or gay. Gay would be good. Then he—’ She couldn’t finish the sentence. She was in danger of crying.

  ‘Then he wouldn’t leave you? Wouldn’t replace you?’ Ben’s eyes were soft, gentle, because he knew his words were killing her. ‘At least that way you’d stay his number one woman?’

  ‘I can’t talk to you,’ Mel muttered sulkily because he’d nailed it and she was not ready to rationalise this betrayal yet. A whorl of her hair had fallen into her coffee; she hadn’t even noticed. ‘I feel betrayed, excluded, by both of them,’ she said, sadly. ‘My son and my best friend. I thought I had special links and relationships with each of them but they had this enormous secret that they were keeping from me. They’ve probably been laughing at me.’

  ‘You know, if he were gay he might still date someone older,’ pointed out Ben reasonably.

  ‘Then I’d have a sexy forty-something man in my house, who had an interest in home decor. That wouldn’t be a good thing.’

  ‘That’s such a cliché, Liam would be outraged.’ She almost smiled. They both remembered Liam’s pomposity at Sunday lunch the first weekend Abi had arrived. At the time Ben had thought Liam was maybe showing off to Tanya. Now, he couldn’t help but wonder if he had been trying to impress Abi. Sensing a thaw, Ben carefully pointed out, ‘You said age was just a number.’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘Then that must apply in the fact, as much as the abstract.’

  ‘I suppose.�
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  ‘And you wouldn’t mind an older lover if he was gay?’

  ‘Well.’ She shrugged, she’d just said so.

  ‘Then why does this bother you so much?’

  ‘She’s known him since he was a baby. It’s weird. Wrong.’ Mel’s hand contracted convulsively around the paper napkin she’d screwed into a ball.

  ‘She barely knew him. They’d only met once, was it?’ Ben pointed out calmly. Mel shook her head. ‘I can’t explain.’ She looked desperate. They sat in silence for a few minutes – it felt like weeks to Ben. Eventually, Mel asked, ‘So what should we do?’

  ‘Go home, cook tea. Carry on as normal,’ he advised.

  ‘That’s it? You’re happy with this?’

  ‘No, but I don’t think we should get worked up. If we go to war, throw her out and insist he stops seeing her, it will just draw them together.’

  ‘Our seventeen-year-old boy is having sex with a thirty-eight-year-old woman and you don’t think we should get worked up?’

  ‘What can we do?’ He held his hands wide.

  ‘I don’t know,’ muttered Mel, darkly. ‘But something.’

  34

  Melanie

  Ben insists I go home, start tea. Act normally. Carry on. I do as he tells me. Not because I think it’s such a great plan, but because I don’t have any ideas of my own. None at all. He says if we don’t offer any resistance, the relationship will burn out swiftly. Liam will come to his senses, get bored. Ben says we have to carry on as though Abi was any other girlfriend Liam had introduced, that I must appear to be accepting if I can’t manage friendly, which I absolutely can not. Ben volunteers to collect the girls and we agree to meet back at the house. I think he knows I’m still in shock and he probably doesn’t trust me driving with them. I appreciate that he’s not going back to the office; it shows that while he doesn’t think this is the disaster it clearly is, he understands I need him.

  When I get home, there is no sign of Abi but Liam is sat in the kitchen. Just sat there. Not doing homework, or playing on a video game, not eating, not even pretending to be busy. Waiting, I suppose. For me, for Ben. For the fallout.