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‘But he told Belle he was going to London.’
‘Are you going to answer my question?’ On the surface, his face gives nothing away, yet his expression tells me everything.
‘No…no, of course I don’t know him.’ The lie doesn’t come easily – odd, since my entire adult life is a lie. ‘What makes you think that?’
‘You also never told me that you used to live in London.’
My hand whips up to my forehead, dithering somewhere between a scratch and tucking back my hair. ‘I…I’m sure I did,’ I say, knowing I didn’t. ‘It wasn’t for very long.’
Rob nods. Just the once.
‘What else haven’t you told me?’
My brain swells against the inside of my skull, as if it’s trying to contain everything. There’s too much to keep in, but I can’t let it come out either. Having Belle changed everything, as though she’d exorcised me from myself. I became a different person after she was born. A responsible one, someone who loved, cared, took charge, and all I wanted was to provide a good life for her. It was easy to know what that should look like. It was the opposite of everything that had gone before.
‘Nothing,’ I say. ‘I don’t understand why you’re asking me these things, Rob.’
Rob’s face is an oil painting of dismay and mistrust. I see it in the brushstrokes of his eyes that he wants to believe me,oh so badly, yet the slash of his mouth tells me he doesn’t. It was what drew me to him when we first met – his expressive features that I found so easy to decipher. The way his head angled towards me, his pupils dilating like black coins in his marble-green eyes. His lopsided grin and sometimes awkward laugh. And I liked the way he’d touch my arm occasionally as we chatted on our first date. Not in a sleazy way, and God knows I knew whatthatfelt like – but rather in a way that showed he connected with me. That our souls chimed on the same frequency.
It was at the bank on a rainy Monday. I’d been building up to opening an account for my business all weekend, knowing I’d be taking things to the next level. After wearing my fingers to the bone cleaning other people’s homes myself for several years, finally taking on extra help when things got too much, I’d decided that I was best placed managing a team. I wanted better for Belle than dragging her around from house to house, spending hours like a caged animal in her playpen while I worked.
‘I’d like to open an account,’ I’d said to the young woman at the desk. ‘A business account.’ I took a couple of deep breaths. It was all becoming real.
‘You’ll need to speak to someone from the business team. Do you have an appointment?’
I’d shaken my head, not realising I needed one.
The bank teller went through to a back office, and a couple of minutes later she emerged again with a young man trailing in her wake. I stared at him, my mouth hanging open, suddenly believing in fate. He was about my age and dressed in a smart dark suit that somehow didn’t quite match his unruly hair or slightly lopsided, roguish features. I noticed how something in his face changed when he saw me standing there, as though he recognised me too. Belle was nestled on the jut of my hip, wriggling, so I hitched her up and she giggled, holding out her soggy chocolate biscuit to the man, despite the glass screen separating us.
‘It’s you!’ I said as he came round from behind the counter, extending his hand. I’ll never forget that first electric touch – and I know Rob hasn’t either. Like a lightning bolt discharging between us, it went on longer than was warranted. Belle felt it too, going rigid as I held her. For as long as I remained suspended in time, she did too. When the world finally reanimated, she thrust out her arms and leant towards him, as though she wanted him to take her.
‘It’s you, too!’ he replied. ‘Glad you’re taking my advice.’
I laughed. ‘No, Belle,’ I whispered as she reached out to him again. ‘You’ve got sticky fingers.’ It was possible that Belle also remembered him – the way he’d helped us pick everything up after her buggy had toppled backwards with the weight of stuff hooked on it. It had been a couple of weeks prior to that chance meeting in the bank, and I’d been struggling to get up some steps at the end of the park, the one with the sunken gardens and fountain, with Belle clutched against my side as I wrestled with the buggy, and he’d stopped, offering to lend a hand. As he gathered up my spilt things, all he’d said when he saw the cling-film-wrapped wodges of twenty-pound notes stuffed inside my shopping bag as he put Belle’s plastic cup back inside was, ‘You should get that in the bank, you know.’ When I explained that I needed to open a business bank account, bluffing that the cash was for a car I was possibly buying (though in reality, I always carried some of it around with me in case I had to flee in an emergency), he’d given me some advice and recommended a local branch. I didn’t have a chance to thank him or ask his name, as he’d hurried off.
‘Rob Mason,’ he said in the bank, his warm eyes flitting between my face and my daughter’s. ‘Nice to see you again. Come through to my office.’
He looked young to have his own office, I’d thought. Though it was easy to tell by the way he walked, the way he offered me a chair, made me a coffee from the machine and his easy manner, that he loved his work. He loved dealing with people. Or maybe it was just me he loved.
‘Do you have some ID?’ he asked ten minutes later after questioning me about my business needs. ‘It’ll all be simple enough to set up. Sounds like you’ve been doing well.’
‘Yeah…I have. I won an award a few months ago,’ I said with a small smile, not meaning to brag. In fact, I hadn’twantedto win anything – and certainly hadn’t intended on drawing attention to myself – but a client had put me forward for the prize and no one was more surprised than me when Greene & Clean beat the competition.
‘An award, eh? Anything I’d have heard of?’
I made a dismissive gesture, feeling bashful. ‘Just something the university here in Bristol gives out every couple of years. Part of the prize is advice from their business school if I need it, plus there was a little ceremony and a write-up in the local papers. No big deal, really.’ I blushed as I remembered how I’d tried to get out of having to make a thank-you speech and avoid the photographs after. ‘Sorry, you wanted my ID,’ I added, changing the subject as I grabbed my slouchy old bag from the floor. Mainly it contained things for Belle – a spare change of clothes, snacks, juice, some cream for the patch of eczema on the back of her knee. Out it all came. Followed by my passport. ‘Will this be enough?’
‘I’ll need proof of address too,’ Rob said, eyeing Belle and making a funny face at her. She giggled. ‘And well done. On the award,’ he added, looking at me in a certain way – a way that made my stomach flip.
I smiled, my blush deepening. ‘Yes, yes, of course.’ More rummaging produced a utilities bill for the flat. I was ashamed of the address – we lived on the top floor of a run-down terraced house tucked away in the worst street in the worst part of town. But it was quiet enough, and we’d had no trouble since living there, though we’d seen plenty. We kept our heads down, me holding onto the hope that once my business was established, I’d be able to buy a place of our own. I had a good deposit and it was well within my capabilities, but I needed several years of accounts to prove I was a solid bet for the extra I’d need to borrow. Meantime, I was living as frugally as I could.
‘All done,’ Rob finally said, printing out some documents. ‘Sign here and here,’ he indicated. ‘Greene & Clean is ready to roll.’
‘Great,’ I’d said, not wanting the meeting to end. ‘Just a thought,’ I went on. ‘Who does your cleaning here at the bank?’
‘Jack says you used to work for him, Hannah,’ Rob says now. His fingers tap the outside of his glass, an agitated dance. ‘You didn’t think to tell me?’
I pull a face, tipping back my head, shaking it slightly and making a vague pout. ‘It’s possible,’ I say, forcing a laugh and praying he doesn’t know anything else. ‘I don’t remember. I worked a few crap jobs during that time. Waiting tables, cleaning. You know.’ God, I’m a good liar. ‘I probably cleaned for him or someone he knows. Small world, right?’
