Nick pulled the car up next to Holland Park, a couple of streets from my viewing. We’d barely spoken
during the drive from Kilburn, with only the warm air that pumped from the heating system for
background noise. The engine stopped, and he twisted his whole body towards me. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said,
his voice flat and sober. It made me realize how often it was layered, one meaning blanketing another,
my ears perfectly attuned to the duality.
‘For which part?’ I said. I sounded brittle. I was brittle: I could snap in two, or I could do damage. He
gave a hoarse laugh and shrugged. ‘Take your pick, Lily.’ I looked out towards the grand black iron
gates that ringed the park, the tall, strong trees that lay beyond them. The houses that lined this street,
that overlooked this view, were so imposing. It was odd, sometimes, up-selling something to
goggle-eyed Americans that I could never afford myself. If they balked at the price, I knew exactly how
to subtly make them feel cheap, how to send them scuttling for their self-worth via an eye-watering
d eposit. I always buried the discomfort, the way it took me back to a time I’d worked so hard to leave
behind, when it was my own nose pressed up against the glass. Staying quiet in the changing rooms
while other girls casually described unimaginable luxuries – a microwave, a Biba skirt.
‘I’ve always known who you are,’ I said, my eyes staying trained on the trees. ‘And vice versa, don’t
you think?’ ‘What do you mean?’ I looked back at him, weighing up how truthful to be. He’d never
been as bright as me – it had been lonely and reassuring, all at once. I’d never wanted to
be my mother, trapped with my father, no agency. At least in a sense I’d chosen this. ‘We both knew
what we wanted,’ I said. Nick’s eyes narrowed. ‘I’m not sure how to take that.’ ‘I think we’ve been a
good team,’ I said. My eyes raked over him, taking in the way the bulge of his belly was pressing
against his white work shirt. He needed to go up a size. Perhaps I’d just switch them out in his wardrobe
without his knowledge. ‘Filled in for each other’s weaknesses.’
Nick looked slightly helpless. ‘It’s not just been about money, though, or lifestyle?’ he said. ‘We love
our kids. We’ve been good parents.’ His voice was a pleading whine, a cry for my reassurance. I could
tell he was as baffled by how we’d got here as I was, a couple of would-be criminals in a flash car.
Every time I remembered where it was we’d just come from, I wanted to disappear, to evaporate.
‘Of course we have,’ I said firmly. ‘And Rachel will come back to us – she can’t survive without her
family, whatever she’s believing right now. I will not let that bitch win this, Nick.’ ‘I know you won’t,’
he said, putting his hand over mine, his scratched wedding ring chafing my skin. ‘You brought her into
our lives; you can get her out.’ All the rage I’d been mutating into false calm surged up, overwhelming.
I pulled my hand away and reached for my bag on the floor, flicking open the lock on the passenger
door.
‘You’re every bit as responsible,’ I hissed. ‘If anything happens to our daughter, it won’t just be the
police with blood on their hands.’ Anger was making me sloppy. The truth was beginning to erupt,
however much I fought to contain it.