Page 93 of The Perfect Son
“I’m fine. It’s just... it’s Jamie’s birthday today...” My voice trails off and I wedge my body into the gap in the door, closing off her view of the kitchen and the cake and the celebration we’re trying to have.
There’s a part of me that wants to scream at her to leave, to slam the door and bolt it tight. Another part of me wants to tell her I know everything. I want to tell her to give up, because I’ll never let her take Jamie away from me. Not ever.
Except I can’t find the words. The Shelley I see in the pages of my notebook, the one I fear in the small hours of the night when I can’t sleep, the one who drugs me with sleeping pills and sings lullabies to Jamie, the one I blocked from my phone and vowed never to speak to again, is somehow disconnected from the woman on my doorstep with her bleach-blond hair, the baby blue V-neck jumper, and the girl-next-door face.
Standing before me is my friend who pulled me back from the ledge of my grief, who came to my and Jamie’s rescue when no one else was there. I don’t know how I would’ve survived without her friendship. This Shelley saved me, and I don’t want to slam the door in her face. I want to burst into tears and throw myself into her arms.
There’s a scraping of chair legs on the tiles behind me, and I don’tneed to turn around to know Jamie is grinning ear to ear, desperate to show Shelley his new gifts and share his birthday celebrations with her.
So I ignore the siren screeching in my ears, I ignore the dread twisting knots in my stomach, and I step back, opening the door to let her in. Not just for Jamie and the happy dance of his feet thudding softly on the kitchen floor, but for me too. Shelley’s energy will make it a real celebration. We can light the candles on his cake and sing “Happy Birthday” and it won’t be fake, it won’t be false cheer we’ll feel.
“I just have to get something from my boot,” I say, trying to shuffle past her.
Relief relaxes the muscles in her face and she smiles a little. “I’ll get it. You’re not wearing any shoes.” She plucks the key from my hand and turns on her heel before I can stop her.
When Shelley returns, her face is drained of color and pure white against the colors of the sky. The balloon is blustering behind her, desperate to be set free, and she looks so distracted that for a moment I think it will fly out of her hands and be lost to the pink sunset.
Then I see the shadow and hear the extra crunch of footsteps on the driveway. Shelley is not alone. Ian is walking a pace behind her, his face dark and scowling. He’s wearing a shirt with no tie and black jeans. There is a day’s beard growth on his face. It’s the first time I’ve seen him look even a little ruffled.
I step back, a shiver racing over my body. “What do you want?” I stammer.
“May I come in for a minute, Tess?” Ian asks.
I shake my head but he’s already at the porch and bundling through the door with Shelley by his side. He strides into the kitchen, leaving Shelley in the doorway. Her eyes are wide. “I’m sorry,” she whispers.
I throw a glance behind me. Jamie has picked up one of his presents from this morning—the driving game for his PlayStation—and is studying the back cover, avoiding Ian’s gaze and the sudden addition of his uncle at his birthday.
Ian is standing by the sink with his arms folded. He seems to be staring wide-eyed at the piles of Legos on the kitchen table as if hypnotized by them.
“You’re working together, aren’t you?” I say to Shelley, nodding to Ian. “You’re trying to scare me into giving you Mark’s life insurance, and take Jamie away from me.”
“How about we all take a seat and talk,” Ian says. He raises his eyebrows at Shelley, sending her a signal I can’t decipher.
I falter and Shelley steps into the kitchen, knocking the balloon against me as she passes.
“Look what I got,” Jamie singsongs to Shelley. “Bet you won’t be able to win at this one.”
Shelley doesn’t reply, but lets go of the balloon. The weight at the end of the ribbon drops to the floor with a clatter. The 8 bobs up and down for a moment, its top scraping against one of the dark beams and making Jamie laugh.
“Mum, can I set my new game up?” Jamie asks, his voice loud with excitement. For once Jamie is too distracted by his gifts to notice the mood, the tension crackling in the air, too happy to see Shelley to ask why Ian is here. He hasn’t even noticed Shelley’s silence.
I nod. “Of course. Then we’ll do the cake.” Just as soon as I’ve gotten rid of Ian and Shelley.
It’s only after Jamie has skipped out of the room that I see Shelley is crying. Two perfect streams of tears leaking from her eyes. It’s the first time I’ve seen her properly cry and it makes me want to cry too. I look away.
I turn to Ian and raise my chin a little before I speak. “I don’t know why you’ve come, Ian, but you’re not welcome here. I have found no proof that you loaned Mark any money. I think you’re lying to me because you want to get your hands on some, maybe all, of Mark’s life insurance. You keep saying that you’re trying to help me, but that’s not true, is it? You’re trying to trick me. Both of you are.”
I stare between them and feel the walls pushing closer. Their faces are both drawn tight. Have I caught them out at last?
“Tess—” Ian begins.
I hold up my hand and cut him off. “You came into the house when I was out, didn’t you?”
Ian says nothing and I know I’m right.
“You... you are not welcome in our lives anymore,” I say. “Tomorrow I’m going to contact a new solicitor and make sure you don’t get a penny of Mark’s money. I... I’m going to file a restraining order too. I never want to see you again.”
My breathing is fast, like my heart thumping in my chest. I feel empowered and scared all in the same beat.
