The Forever Home by Sue Watson
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Phoebe and I sat up until late, downing another bottle of wine, and going through the different possibilities. I didn’t mention the video to Phoebe; if Mark was charged, and it was used in court, I’d deal with telling the kids then. How could Lara not have given it to the police? I’d have done the same. I just wish she’d told me. It was a very raw, personal diary, and I would have liked to have some control over who saw it, and when. But that was the price I’d paid for being with Mark, nothing really belonged to me, even my personal life.
In the meantime, we were just waiting for news from the police. I’d called Estelle to see if she knew anything, but she wasn’t picking up, and neither was Lara, so we just had to wait.
‘Last time I spoke to Dad he didn’t sound happy, Mum,’ Phoebe sighed. ‘He said Erin was difficult, that he wondered if he’d made a mistake…’ Then the colour drained from her face. ‘Christ, I hope nothing…’
‘No, Phoebe, your dad wouldn’t…’ I paused, remembering the times his temper had got the better of him. ‘We just need to wait and see what happens after Dad’s been questioned.’
We were both so tense that when my phone rang, we jumped. It was Jake, who’d seen news on his phone that his dad had been arrested.
‘Mum, you don’t think he’s… done something to her, do you?’
‘Oh no, love, I’m sure it’s all a big mistake,’ I said, in a desperate attempt to convince myself as much as him. ‘They often arrest people, and talk to them, then have to release them in twenty-four hours if there’s no evidence,’ I added, hoping the nugget I’d picked up in a recent crime drama was fact not fiction. Jake seemed happy with this, and after a quick chat with Phoebe, he asked us to let him know if there was any news and hung up.
‘I’m sure it’s nothing,’ I murmured, like a mantra, as I put my phone down.
‘I just keep thinking, what if they argued, and… something happened?’ Phoebe said. ‘In the news, it said he’d just had this massive pay-out too.’
‘Yes, Estelle was crowing about it in the papers.’
‘Estelle?’
‘His agent.’
‘Oh God, yeah – I thought he’d found someone else for a minute.’ She gave a nervous laugh.
I felt another pang for Phoebe. My kids had seen through him as much as I had. Unfortunately, they couldn’t let go like I could; he was their father, and they loved him, as much as they were conflicted by the past.
‘You don’t think he tried to dump Erin, do you, and she’s done something to herself?’ Phoebe asked.
‘I don’t know, Phoebe, I really don’t know, but the tabloids will have a field day over this…’
In the past, Estelle had stamped down on the women who had threatened to kiss and tell. From overheard, hushed phone calls between her and Mark, I knew when something had gone on, but she protected him like a tiger mother. No way would she let some fame-hungry dumpee tell their sordid little tale to the tabloids and stop her star in his ascendant. However, after all the years controlling the narrative, even Estelle couldn’t stop the reporting of Mark ‘being arrested in relation to his missing girlfriend’.
So it proved the following day when I woke up to headlines offering a tantalising glimpse ‘Inside the Troubled Marriage of TV’s Golden Couple’, where ‘betrayed Carly, 49, mother to Mark Anderson’s two children’ apparently lived her life like ‘a recluse’. The ‘dashing DIY man’ dumped her after enjoying ‘secret trysts’ with her daughter’s twenty-four-year-old best friend, ‘who’s now been missing for two days’.
‘She wasn’t my best friend! WTF?’ Phoebe spat as we both sat, devouring the contents of our respective news feeds with mugs of coffee.
‘And I’m not bloody forty-nine years old either,’ I said. ‘I’m only forty-seven!’ That made us both laugh, in spite of everything. It was strange but liberating to think that after all the years of hiding, and lying, and me protecting Mark’s image, along with fierce and frumpy Estelle, it was all flooding out anyway.
Mark’s TV colleagues were talking, local people were talking. No one could keep their mouths shut. I imagined Estelle in her office batting away the phone calls, screaming at her staff. But I was taking no pleasure from this. I was genuinely worried about Erin, and the idea that Mark might have done something was really disturbing. This was the father of my children, and as bad as it would be for me, they would have to live with whatever had happened. But what had happened?
‘God, I hope she is okay. She’s Lara’s daughter, and the mother to a new baby, it would be such a tragedy if…’ I said, taking a screen break from my phone and gazing through the window.
‘I can’t get over the fact she was so toxic. She smashed this family into little pieces. I’m sorry, I can’t feel sorry for her – whatever’s happened.’
‘Don’t forget Dad in all this,’ I said. ‘He was the one that was married, not her.’
Phoebe didn’t reply and I went back to the constant updated news on my phone. The press seemed to think Mark and I had had this blissful marriage, until he spotted Erin, and exchanged me for the younger model. I was ‘bereft’, ‘distraught’, and now the waitresses from the Silver Spoon Tearooms had waded in with their story about ‘a showdown’ between Mark’s pregnant mistress and his wife, ‘Carly, 49’.
‘For God’s sake, isn’t it bad enough that they make me sound like the woman scorned, bloodied by betrayal, reeking of bitterness – do they really have to keep adding two years to my age? I’m just waiting for the paragraph on my menopause that spawns a million spin-off articles headlined with, “I had a menopause just like Carly Anderson”.’
I had only just begun to appreciate the freedom of being me, and living truthfully, with none of the fiction dreamed up for the media. Here we were now, with everything up for grabs again, reminding me how exposed I used to feel. And then there was the time bomb of my video diary. I pushed that to the back of my mind; I’d deal with that when it happened.
‘It’s not looking too good for Dad, is it?’ Phoebe sighed, looking up from her phone.
‘It’s too early to tell,’ I said gently.
‘I can’t see Dad being involved. I mean, he wouldn’t… he couldn’t?’ I felt her need for reassurance, but couldn’t offer much.
‘No, of course not,’ I said, trying to sound like I meant it, but who knew what had gone on that night after she’d left my house? Their whole relationship was beginning to sound a bit rocky, if you listened to Lara’s account. I knew from personal experience the switch in his mood and the difference between me and Erin, who was so needy and wouldn’t let go. So if he’d hurt me, the more laid-back partner, what might he have done to the more abrasive Erin when she challenged him?
‘Well, whatever’s happened, this won’t be good for his precious image,’ Phoebe sighed.
‘Phoebe, you’re terrible,’ I said.
‘I’m only joking.’ She winked, but I wasn’t sure. ‘I’m right though, Mum. Even if he hasn’t done anything, and isn’t involved, it still looks murky. And the press won’t just let him off the hook.’
‘Yes, and when we wrote the treatment for the US channel, we sold it on the fact he was the perfect husband and father. The big concern recently was reconciling that with the extremely young, pregnant girlfriend – but this is just beyond damage limitation, even if he’s innocent,’ I said.
Phoebe put down her phone and turned to me. ‘He still owes you the money he took from your bank accounts; if he loses the contract, he won’t pay you. Can you afford to keep the house if that happens?’
‘I’ll be fine,’ I said, not wanting her to worry. ‘I’ve got this new job, and I’m sure I’ll get extra hours once the summer season starts.’ I smiled. In truth I would have to sell the house; just thinking about it made me want to cry. If Mark wanted to ruin his own life that was up to him, but it seemed, even now, when I’d made my break from him, he was still in control of mine.
Later that day, Phoebe left. She offered to stay longer, but I knew she had to go back to work. ‘I hate leaving you like this, with Dad at the station, and her missing…’
‘I’m fine, Phoebe. This is Dad’s drama – and for once he can sort it out,’ I said, knowing I was already caught up in it, and perhaps there was worse yet to come?
‘Yeah, you’re right. It’s just that you’re all on your own.’
‘Ryan will be around,’ I started.
‘And that’s supposed to make me feel better?’ she asked, with a warning smile.
‘Honestly, you remind me of Grandma. “I won’t talk to any unsuitable boys, Mum, honestly!”’ I parroted in a little girl voice. ‘Now, you get back and stop worrying about me.’
Ryan was packing to move into the house that day, so wasn’t around. But later he’d turn up with his life in a van. At least Phoebe would be gone by then, and once he’d moved in, if he only stayed a few weeks, no one had to know.
We hugged and she grabbed her stuff and set off in her little car, waving and beeping as she drove off, leaving me to wonder who Mark was with when Erin thought he was with me. If he was seeing someone else, and they saw Erin as being in the way, then who knew what they’d do? Perhaps it was the same person who’d been sending her the messages? God, it might be the same person who sent me the note and the parcel? And if she’d hurt Erin, I could be next.
I called Lara to see if she’d heard any news, and if she needed me to do anything; we may have been estranged, but I still cared about her. And it was her daughter that was missing.
‘That bastard’s done something, I know it,’ she hissed down the phone.
I didn’t respond; I had nothing to offer.
‘You know something, don’t you?’
‘No… Lara, I don’t. I’m as much in the dark as you are. Do you need me to do anything?’
‘Yes, Carly.’
‘What?’ I said, eager to help.
‘Can I ask you not to call me again?’
‘Oh.’ I was a little surprised at her bluntness, but then again, under the circumstances, it was probably stressful to receive calls. ‘I’m sorry, I imagine every time your phone rings you think it’s someone with news?’
‘No, it’s not that. I just don’t trust you,’ she spat.
‘What?’
‘Erin was perfectly fine when she left here, supposedly meeting a friend. But she went to see you, and after that something happened and she didn’t come home. I don’t know what’s going on, but I don’t trust you – and I don’t trust him. So, please don’t call me with that “can I help” voice, because it doesn’t wash with me, Carly.’
‘Lara, I’ve told you and the police everything I know. And apparently you’ve given them the video.’
‘Yes I did. Why didn’t you give it to them?’
‘Because I honestly thought she was hiding somewhere,’ I said. ‘But I don’t know anymore – I just want you to know, whatever’s happened, I’d never hurt Erin.’
‘Carly, you’ve lied for him for years. I remember once when “a rumour” was about to hit the papers. Instead of telling them what a liar and a cheat he was, you stood in your back garden, holding a tray of coffee and feeding journalists lies and chocolate digestives. You posed for pictures with your arms around him, and all the time you knew he’d been with another woman,’ she hissed. ‘So forgive me if I don’t believe a word you say.’
With that, the phone went silent.
I felt like she’d stabbed me. She was right, I’d lied for him, and I felt ashamed. In my defence, he had a hold over me. Mark was the only person in the world who knew about the circumstances of my mum’s death and he used it brutally. He was reckless, and selfish, and one day, he’d tell someone, and my life would be over. As long as he lived, I would never be free.