Behind Closed Doors

  Jack follows me into the bedroom next door, where my clothes hang. I walk over to the huge wardrobe that runs the length of the wall, slide back the mirrored door, pull out one of the drawers and select the cream-coloured bra and matching knickers which Jack bought me last week. In another drawer I find some flesh-coloured stockings, which I prefer to tights. Jack watches from a chair while I take off my pyjamas and put on my underwear and stockings. Then I slide back the next door and stand for a moment, looking at all the clothes hanging neatly by colour. I haven’t worn my blue dress in a long time and it is one that Millie loves because it is the same colour as my eyes. I take it out of the wardrobe.

  ‘Wear the cream one,’ Jack says. It’s true that he prefers me in neutral colours so I put the blue dress back and put on the cream one.

  My shoes are stored in clear boxes on shelves in another part of the wardrobe. I choose a pair of beige shoes with a heel. As we usually go for a walk after lunch, flat ones would be more practical, but Jack likes me to be elegant at all times, whether we’re walking around a lake or having dinner with friends. I slip them on, take a matching bag from the shelf and hand it to Jack. I walk over to the dressing table and sit down. It doesn’t take me long to do my make-up: a little bit of eye pencil, some blusher and a dash of lipstick. There are still fifteen minutes left so to fill in the time I decide to wear some nail varnish. I choose a pretty pink from the various bottles arrayed on the dresser, wishing I could take it with me and paint Millie’s nails, something I know she would love. When it’s dry, I stand up, take my bag from Jack and go downstairs.

  ‘Which coat would you like to wear?’ he asks, as we reach the hall.

  ‘My beige wool, I think.’

  He fetches it from the cloakroom and helps me on with it. I button it up and turn out the pockets while Jack looks on. He opens the front door and, once he’s locked it behind us, I follow him out to the car.

  Although we are almost at the end of March, the air is cold. My instinct is to draw it in hard through my nose and gulp it down. Instead, I remind myself that I have the whole day in front of me, and rejoice in that thought. This trip out has been hard won and I intend to make the most of it. As we reach the car, Jack activates the remote control and the huge black gates that front our house begin to open. Walking around to the passenger side of the car, he opens my door for me. I get in and a man jogging past the house looks through the gates towards us. I don’t know him but Jack wishes him a good morning and—either because he is too out of breath to speak or because he is saving his energy for the rest of his run—the man acknowledges the greeting with a wave of his hand. Jack closes my door behind me and, less than a minute later, we drive out through the gates. As they swing shut behind us, I turn my head for a glimpse of the beautiful house Jack bought for me, because I like to see it as others see it.

  We begin the journey into London and as we drive along, my mind goes back to the dinner party we hosted last night. How I managed to pull it off is still a mystery when there were so many things that could have gone wrong.

  ‘Your soufflés were perfect,’ Jack says, telling me that I’m not the only one thinking about the previous evening. ‘It was clever of you to predict a delay in getting to the table and allow for it in your calculations, very clever indeed. But Esther doesn’t seem to like you very much. I wonder why that is?’

  I know I need to choose my words carefully. ‘She doesn’t appreciate perfection,’ I say.

  It’s an answer that pleases him. He begins to hum a little tune and, as I look at the passing landscape, I find myself thinking about Esther. Under other circumstances, I would probably like her. But her undoubted intelligence makes her dangerous to someone like me. It’s not that she doesn’t appreciate perfection, as I first thought, it’s more that she’s suspicious of it.

  It takes the best part of an hour to reach Millie’s school. I spend the time thinking about Dena Anderson, Jack’s client. I don’t know much about her apart from the fact that she recently married a wealthy philanthropist, well respected for his work with various charities and therefore an unlikely candidate in the wife-battering stakes. Still, I know only too well how appearances can be deceiving and if Jack has agreed to take her on as a client she must have a very strong case. Losing is not a word in Jack’s vocabulary, as he never ceases to remind me.

  We haven’t seen Millie for a month so, impatient to see me, she’s waiting on the bench outside the front door wrapped up in a yellow hat and scarf—yellow is her favourite colour—with Janice, her carer. When I get out of the car, she rushes over, her eyes bright with tears of relief and, as I hug her tightly, I’m aware of Jack watching us. Janice joins us and I hear Jack telling her that although we knew Millie would be disappointed, we hadn’t dared to come and see her until I had completely recovered from the bout of flu that had laid me so low. Janice reassures him that we did the right thing, adding that she had explained to Millie why we couldn’t come.

  ‘But it was very hard for her,’ she admits. ‘She adores you both so much.’

  ‘And we adore her,’ Jack says, smiling fondly at Millie.

  ‘Say hello to Jack, Millie,’ I remind her quietly and, disentangling herself, she turns to Jack.

  ‘Hello, Jack,’ she says, giving him a big smile. ‘I happy to see you.’

  ‘And I’m very happy to see you too,’ he says, kissing her cheek. ‘You do understand why we couldn’t come before, don’t you?’

  Millie nods. ‘Yes, poor Grace ill. But better now.’

  ‘Much better,’ Jack agrees. ‘I have something for you, Millie, for being so patient.’ He puts his hand into his coat pocket. ‘Can you guess what it is?’

  ‘Agatha Christie?’ Her brown eyes light up with pleasure, as there’s nothing she loves more than listening to murder mysteries.

  ‘Clever girl.’ He takes an audio book from his pocket. ‘I don’t think you’ve got And Then There Were None, have you?’

  She shakes her head.

  ‘It’s one of my favourites,’ Janice says, smiling. ‘Shall we start it tonight, Millie?’

  ‘Yes,’ Millie nods. ‘Thank you, Jack.’

  ‘It’s my pleasure,’ Jack tells her. ‘And now I’m going to take my two favourite ladies out to lunch. Where would you like to go?’

  ‘Hotel,’ says Millie immediately. I know why she has chosen the hotel, just as I know why Jack is going to refuse.

  ‘Why don’t we go to the restaurant by the lake?’ he says, as if she hadn’t spoken. ‘Or the one that serves those delicious pancakes for dessert?’ Millie’s face falls. ‘Which would you prefer?’

  ‘The lake,’ she mutters, her dark hair swinging in front of her face.

  Millie doesn’t talk much on the way. She had wanted me to sit in the back of the car with her but Jack told her he would feel as if he was a taxi driver.

  When we arrive at the restaurant, Jack finds a parking space and, as we walk up the path he takes our hands, so that we’re on either side of him. The staff greets us like old friends because we often bring Millie here. They show us to the round table in the corner, the one that Jack likes, by the window. We sit as we always do, Jack facing the window and Millie and I sitting on either side of him. As we study our menus, I stretch my leg out under the table and find hers, my secret sign to her.

  Jack chats away to Millie during the meal, encouraging her to talk, asking her what she did during the weekends when we didn’t come to see her. She tells us that once Janice took her back to hers for lunch, once they went out for afternoon tea, and once they were both invited to her friend Paige’s house, and not for the first time I thank God that Millie has someone like Janice to step in whenever I can’t be with her.

  ‘Grace come walk?’ Millie asks once lunch is over. ‘Round lake.’

  ‘Yes, of course.’ I fold my napkin neatly and place it on the table, my movements deliberately unhurried. ‘Shall we go now?’

  Jack pushes back his chair. ‘I’ll come
too.’

  Even though I didn’t expect anything less, there is still a feeling of crushing disappointment.

  ‘We go all way round,’ Millie warns.

  ‘Not all the way around,’ protests Jack. ‘It’s too cold to be outside for long.’

  ‘Then Jack stay here,’ Millie tells him. ‘I go with Grace.’

  ‘No,’ says Jack. ‘We’ll all go.’

  Millie looks solemnly at Jack from across the table. ‘I like you, Jack,’ she says. ‘But I don’t like Jorj Koony.’

  ‘I know.’ Jack nods. ‘I don’t like him either.’

  ‘He ugly,’ says Millie.

  ‘Yes, he’s very ugly,’ agrees Jack.

  And Millie bursts into fits of laughter.

  We walk a little way around the lake, Jack walking between me and Millie. Jack tells Millie that he’s busy getting her room ready for when she comes to live with us and when she asks if it’s going to be yellow, he says that of course it is.

  He was right; it is too cold to be outside for very long and after about twenty minutes we head back to the car. Millie is even quieter on the way back to her school and I know she feels the same frustration that I feel. When we say goodbye, she asks if we’ll be back to see her the following weekend and when Jack says he’s sure we will be, I’m glad that Janice is within earshot.

  PAST

  When Jack and I told Millie that we were getting married, the first thing she asked was if she could be our bridesmaid.

  ‘Of course you can!’ I said, hugging her. ‘That is all right, isn’t it, Jack?’ I added, dismayed to see a frown on his face.

  ‘I thought we were having a simple wedding,’ he said pointedly.

  ‘We are, but I’ll still need a bridesmaid.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Well, yes,’ I said, feeling flustered. ‘It’s traditional. You don’t mind, do you?’

  ‘Don’t you think it’ll be a bit much for Millie?’ he asked, lowering his voice. ‘If you really need a bridesmaid, why not ask Kate or Emily?’

  ‘Because I want Millie,’ I insisted, aware of her watching us anxiously.

  There was a moment’s awkward silence. ‘Then Millie you shall have,’ he said, smiling and holding his arm out to her. ‘Come on, let’s go and tell your headmistress the good news.’

  Mrs Goodrich and Janice were delighted to hear we were getting married. After sending Millie off to wash her hands in preparation for dinner, Mrs Goodrich agreed that it would be best if Millie stayed at school for another fifteen months, until she turned eighteen, as had been planned all along, despite Jack reiterating that he would be quite happy to have Millie move in with us at once. I was glad when Mrs Goodrich suggested it would be nice for us to have some time on our own and I wondered if maybe she’d guessed that we hoped to start a family straight away.

  Soon after, we were on our way to Hecclescombe, where Cranleigh Park was every bit as beautiful as Jack had told me it was. It was the perfect setting for a wedding and I was grateful to Giles and Moira, Jack’s friends, for allowing us to use their beautiful home. We didn’t think any of our guests would mind the forty-minute drive from London to be able to spend the afternoon and evening in such a lovely setting, especially as Giles and Moira kindly offered to put up anyone who couldn’t face the drive back to London once dinner was over. After a couple of hours spent deciding on a menu for fifty, which would be cooked and served by a catering company from London, we left for the hotel Jack had booked while I’d been in Argentina.

  I couldn’t wait for Jack to take me to bed at last, but dinner had to be got through first, because we only arrived in time for our reservation. The meal was delicious but I was impatient to be back in our room.

  I went off to have a shower and, when I came out of the bathroom, eager to make love, I was dismayed to find Jack sound asleep on the bed. I didn’t have the heart to wake him as I knew he was exhausted—he had confessed to me during dinner that he had almost cancelled our weekend away because of the amount of work he had on but hadn’t wanted to let me down. When he eventually stirred a couple of hours later, he was mortified that he had fallen asleep and, gathering me in his arms, he made love to me.

  We stayed in bed for most of the next morning and, after a lazy lunch, we headed back to London. Even though it meant that I didn’t see Jack for the whole of the following week, I was glad we’d managed to take some time out from the frenzy our imminent wedding had precipitated us into. And not being able to see Jack gave me the chance to finish the painting I had started for him two months previously. Because I rarely had time to work on it I had resigned myself to giving it to him as a wedding present rather than for Christmas, as I had wanted to do, but with Jack busy in the evenings and my suitcases consigned indefinitely to the back of the cupboard, I managed to complete it in time for Christmas Day. I hoped that if he liked it, it would grace the walls of our new home—I could easily imagine it hanging above the fireplace we’d talked about having.

  It was a large painting and, at first glance, it seemed to be an abstract design of different shades of red with tiny shots of silver running through it. It was only on closer inspection that one could distinguish the mass of red as hundreds of tiny fireflies—and only Jack and I would know that the mass of red had been created, not from paint, but from lipstick, which I had then sealed with a clear varnish before completing the painting.

  I had never told Jack that I enjoyed painting, and even when he had admired one of the canvases that hung in my kitchen I hadn’t mentioned that I was the artist. So when I told him on Christmas Day—once I was certain he liked the painting I’d given him—that not only had I painted Fireflies myself but that I had created it by kissing the canvas hundreds of times wearing different shades of red lipstick, he lavished so many compliments on me that I was pleased I had managed to surprise him. He was delighted that I could paint and told me that once we moved into our house, he would expect me to cover the walls with my work.

  My house sold quickly. I wanted Jack to put the money I received from the sale towards the house he had found for us in Spring Eaton, but he refused, reminding me that it was his wedding present to me. He had discovered the sleepy village of Spring Eaton whilst driving back from Adam and Diane’s one Sunday, and found its situation some twenty miles south of London ideal. Because there was some minor work to be done on the house before we moved in, he didn’t want me to see it until we came back from our honeymoon. When I badgered him to tell me what it was like, he simply smiled and told me it was perfect. When I asked if it was like the one in the picture we had drawn up together, he replied solemnly that of course it was. I told him that I wanted to use the money from the sale of my house to furnish our new home as my wedding present to him and, after a lot of persuasion, he agreed. It was strange shopping for furniture for a house I had never seen but Jack knew exactly what he wanted and I couldn’t fault his taste.

  I left my job a month before we were due to be married and a week later, after I complained teasingly to Jack that the novelty of not having anything to do all day long was wearing off, he appeared on my doorstep carrying a box tied with a red bow. Opening it, I found a three-month-old Labrador puppy staring up at me.

  ‘Jack, she’s adorable!’ I cried, lifting her out. ‘Where did you get her? Is she yours?’

  ‘No, she’s yours,’ he said. ‘Something to keep you busy.’

  ‘She’ll certainly do that,’ I laughed. I put her down on the ground and she ran around the hall exploring everything. ‘But I don’t understand what I’m meant to do with her while we’re on honeymoon in Thailand. We could ask my parents to have her, I suppose, but I’m not sure they’d agree.’

  ‘Don’t worry, it’s all arranged. I’ve found a housekeeper to look after our house while we’re away—I don’t want it lying empty and there’s still some furniture to be delivered, so she’s going to live in until we get back—and she’s going to look after Molly for us.’

  ‘Molly?
’ I looked at the puppy. ‘Yes, it suits her very well. Millie will be so pleased, she’s always wanted a dog. Millie and Molly—they sound perfect together!’

  ‘That’s exactly what I thought,’ Jack nodded.

  ‘Millie is going to love her.’

  ‘And you? Will you love her?’

  ‘Of course I will!’ I scooped her into my arms. ‘I already do.’ I laughed as she began to lick my face. ‘I’m afraid I’m going to hate leaving her behind when we go to Thailand.’

  ‘But just think how pleased you’ll be to see her again when we get back. I can already picture your reunion,’ he smiled.

  ‘I can’t wait to show her to Millie! You’re so wonderfully kind, Jack.’ Leaning towards him, I kissed him tenderly. ‘Molly is exactly what I need to keep me company while you’re at work all day. I hope there are some lovely places to walk in Spring Eaton.’

  ‘There are plenty, especially along the river.’

  ‘I can’t wait,’ I told him happily. ‘I can’t wait to see the house and I can’t wait to be married to you!’

  ‘Neither can I,’ he said, kissing me back. ‘Neither can I.’

  With Molly to keep me on my toes, the final weeks flew by. On the day before the wedding, I picked Millie up from school and we dropped Molly off with Jack, who was taking her down to the house that evening to settle her in with the housekeeper. I hated leaving her, but Jack assured me that Mrs Johns, the lady he’d found to house-sit for us, was wonderfully kind and was happy to look after Molly until our return from Thailand. I’d moved into a nearby hotel a few days earlier, after I’d seen the last of my possessions disappear off to Spring Eaton in a removal van, so Millie and I went back there to prepare for the next day. We spent the evening making sure our dresses fitted perfectly and trying out make-up I had bought especially for the wedding. I hadn’t wanted to wear a traditional wedding dress so I’d bought a cream silk dress that reached almost to my ankles and clung to my figure in all the right places, and Millie had chosen a cream dress too, but with a pink sash the exact colour of the bouquet she would carry.