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But I can find out.
While the girls are busy, I slip into the garden office and close the door. The girls will be able to see me through the glass doors and low windows, but Poppy will assume I’m tidying up.
I pull out drawers and search through papers, but there’s nothing out of the ordinary. No evidence of any hotel stays. Nothing but work documents. Max doesn’t keep receipts. Everything is paperless, buried in his emails.
Max’s laptop is password protected but I try anyway – entering dates and words that might mean something to him.Poppy’s birthday. Mine. Our wedding anniversary. None of them work. Frustrated, I slam the laptop shut, leaving it on the desk.
As I scan the room, I become aware that something feels different in here. Max’s desk is a mess, when usually he puts everything neatly in its place once he’s finished working. There are papers left in a haphazard heap, and pens and pencils tipped out of his pen holder. He’s been preoccupied lately, that could explain it.Just one more thing he’s doing that’s out of character.
I turn back to the window, my breath catching in my throat when I see Max striding across the lawn. It’s only five p.m. Max is never home this early. Poppy calls out to him, but he just waves and heads straight towards me.
‘What are you doing in here?’ he asks, throwing open the door. His voice is calm, but his eyes are narrow slits.
‘I thought I’d clean up a bit while the girls were playing. I can keep an eye on them from here.’ My throat burns with the effort it takes to lie. I’m not good at it.
Max glances at the girls. ‘You didn’t mention Ivy was coming. It’s a school night. Is this a good idea?’ He sighs heavily, his eyes darting around. ‘I came home early but I’ve still got a ton of work to do. I’ll never get peace now. And why are they playing outside when it’s freezing?’ He doesn’t wait for an answer. ‘When’s Sarah picking her up?’
‘She’s not. Ivy’s staying the night. Sarah had to work and needed my help.’ I stare at him, defiant.
Time stands still until eventually Max’s face softens. ‘Just make sure they keep it down,’ he says.
I leave him to it and walk over to the girls. ‘How about we make some pizzas for dinner?’ I suggest. Glancing back as we make our way inside, I see Max opening his laptop, tapping his fingers on his desk while he waits for it to load.
‘What’s wrong with Daddy?’ Poppy asks, as the girls spread chopped tomatoes across their pizza bases. ‘He was a bit angry. Is he stressed again?’
‘He’s had a hard day at work,’ I say, wiping tomato sauce off the black granite worktop.
Poppy sticks out her bottom lip. ‘My daddy’s always angry,’ she explains to Ivy.
‘I don’t know my daddy,’ Ivy says. ‘He couldn’t be with us.’
When Poppy asks her why, I intervene and change the subject. ‘Right, let’s get cheese on these pizzas then I can put them in the oven.’
This works, and the conversation is quickly forgotten. Once the cheese is piled onto their pizzas, I suggest the girls play in Poppy’s room until they’re ready.
With endless energy, they bound upstairs and I turn to the window and watch Max in his office. His head is still buried in his laptop, his fingers furiously tapping the keyboard.
Taking a deep breath, I head outside, feeling as though my legs are too heavy to propel me forward.Is that fear? Of what? This is Max. My husband.
I knock loudly on the door. I won’t tiptoe around him.
He looks up, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. ‘Sorry, Hannah, but I really need to get this done.’
‘Just wondering what you want for dinner,’ I say, stepping inside. ‘The girls are having pizza in a minute.’
Max turns back to his laptop. ‘I’m not really hungry. Sorry.’
‘I haven’t been able to stop thinking about that girl,’ I say, walking over to him. ‘Alice Hughes.’ I perch on the arm of the spare chair, study him closely.
He doesn’t look up, doesn’t even flinch. ‘Who?’
‘The girl who was killed in the River Walk.’
He sighs. ‘I know it’s sad, but we didn’t know her.’ He resumes tapping. ‘This kind of thing happens all the time. Why are you getting this upset about it?’
His cold words shock me. I really don’t know my husband any more. ‘It doesn’t happen on our doorstep,’ I say.
‘Things can happen anywhere. Poppy’s safe. You’re safe. That’s all that matters.’
