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She nods. ‘We’d been together five years. I was in my mid twenties. I was surprised, but then when I thought about it, I realised I’d had an upset stomach and … whatever, there I was. But I was pleased. I thought we’d move in together. He was older than me, but … no. He wasn’t pleased. To say the least.’
There is no child, so far as Samantha knows. She wonders what Aisha will say next.
‘He said I was stupid,’ is what she says. ‘Irresponsiblewas the word he used. He was very … matter-of-fact. He did that low, calm talking thing he does, you know, as he told me that he’d booked me an appointment at a private clinic and that he would pay forthe procedure.’
‘An abortion?’
At the next table, a teenage girl looks over. She is wearing headphones, but even so, Samantha leans forward and repeats the question in a whisper.
Aisha gives a grim nod. ‘Cleaning up my mess was how he put it. Soon after that, I found out he was sha— sleeping with Jenny and we broke up.’
‘It’s OK, you can say shagging.’ Jenny gives a brief, mirthless laugh.
‘I like to think I would’ve had the strength to end it even without that.’ Aisha rolls her eyes, snorts a little, though her amusement is clearly fake.
‘I can’t laugh,’ Samantha almost whispers. ‘Sorry.’
‘Stop apologising.’ Jenny’s tone is light, kind. ‘I’m guessing that’s a habit you’ve got into in the last couple of years?’
‘I …’
‘Don’t worry. Just tell us, why did you want to know about Ecstasy?’
Their faces are open. But still. It’s hard to admit to what an idiot you’ve been. That you thought yourself sophisticated, maybe a little superior. Chosen. And now you’re in too deep to know what to do.
Aisha leans forward, takes Samantha’s hand in hers. ‘I know you don’t know us well, and I know we’ve been a bit … you know, pushy. But we’re on your side. And at a certain point, women have to trust each other, don’t we? We have to believe each other and we have to look after each other. God knows, the world is against us as it is without us being against each other.’
‘Aisha’s right,’ Jenny says. ‘We have to believe each other. We have to be on each other’s side.’
Samantha thinks of Lottie. Of all that she hasn’t told the police, of the reasons for that. She thinks of her own silent conspiracy.
‘I knew that Peter took Ecstasy,’ she says. ‘I didn’t know how often.’ She glances up; they smile their encouragement. ‘When I first moved in, he offered it to me a few times but I said no. He was insistent, but I said I was happier with a glass of wine or a beer.’
‘Oh, he loves his red wine.’ Jenny’s tone is cynical, hard.
Samantha winces but goes on. ‘And then he stopped. I guess I thought he’d got the message. And then I fell pregnant and there were other reasons for not wanting to take anything stronger. Emily was born. We were happy. He was happy. I mean, he was a little controlling. I suppose I’m beginning to see that now. He loves Emily, but I guess, if I’m honest, he doesn’t like any evidence of her, if that makes sense. He doesn’t like to see dirty nappies even by the back door. He doesn’t like it if her toys are out when he gets in.
‘Sorry, I’m rambling. What I mean is, he has his fixed ideas, you know? But he lived alone for so long, and he’s older, and I understand that. I guess I thought he’d forgotten about the drugs. I thought he’d … I thoughtwe’dmoved on. And then when I got home from teaching my first class, he was lying on the sofa and Emily was upstairs crying. And later, when he’d gone to work, I found a bag of pills behind the sofa cushions.’
‘Did you confront him?’ It’s Jenny who has spoken.
Samantha shakes her head. ‘I left it. I thought maybe they’d been there a while, that he’d not realised. I didn’t for one second think he might have taken one during the day, not while he was looking after Emily. Why would I think that? And then, a couple of weeks later, they were gone.’
Jenny sips her coffee, slides the cup back into its saucer. ‘Have you thought about why you didn’t confront him?’
‘Not really.’
‘We’re not attacking you,’ Aisha chips in. ‘We’re not suggesting there’s anything you should or shouldn’t have done. It’s just, having been there, I can tell you it took me until that termination to realise what I’d become. I was pretty much doing everything he told me by then. Including that last thing. It was Jenny who gave me the strength to kick him into touch. Even afterwards, when I’d ended things, I kept wondering if I was to blame.’
Samantha nods. She is thinking about these two women, that straight after they dumped him, Peter asked her to move in with him, got her pregnant barely two months later. Because that’s what happened, she knows that now. He was not too drunk to fetch protection from the bathroom; he simply didn’twantto protect her, against anything, and certainly not against carrying his child, against being bound to him for ever. She, Samantha, is not unique or special at all, but a reaction. The panic reaction of a man no longer at the height of his powers. There is so much she doesn’t know for sure. But there is so much shefeels.
‘Sometimes he’s so tender,’ she says. ‘Like in the evenings. Then other times he’s so distant, you know? Usually in the mornings. And sometimes I wonder …’
‘It’s OK.’ Jenny places her hand over Samantha’s. ‘You’re safe. You can say it, and besides, I think I know what you’re going to say.’
But what can she say? That she’s realised she’s not the love of his life after all but some sort of talisman against loneliness? That he chose her only because she was easily overpowered? She can’t say that. It is too private. It is too embarrassing.
‘Oh, nothing,’ she says. ‘I’m just really tired after yesterday. The whole thing was so awful.’
