Page 47 of None of This is True

‘Yes. It’s terrible. Only slightly more terrible than a husband who doesn’t come home for a dinner that his wife has cooked for him and spends the whole night out somewhere in his work clothes.’

Josie relishes the symphony of expressions that plays across Nathan’s doughy, booze-wrecked face. She stares at him and waits for him to find a response.

‘Well, yeah,’ he says. ‘That was pretty shit. It’s, er …’

‘It’s an issue.’

His left eyebrow scoots up his face. ‘Yes,’ he says tersely. ‘But rather an issue between me and Alix, I’d say.’

‘Well, not last night it wasn’t. It was painful for all three of us. And look what it led to.’

Nathan looks aghast. ‘I’m sorry, what?’

Josie sighs. ‘The only way I could persuade my husband to come here last night was by telling him that you were going to be here, i.e., another man. Because he’s a man’s man, Walter. And he came under duress. And you didn’t show up, so he felt like a prize idiot. It was a horrible evening, and he took it out on me.’

Nathan’s face is a picture.

‘Well, I’m really sorry to hear that,’ he says, flushing slightly. ‘Really sorry.’

Josie purses her mouth. ‘You should be a better husband.’

Nathan blinks at her. ‘Wow,’ he says after a moment. ‘Wow.’

The front door clicks again, and they both turn to see Alix walk in, looking slightly breathless and stressed. Her face softens when she sees Nathan, which makes Josie feel bizarrely furious.

‘Hi,’ says Nathan.

‘Hi,’ says Alix, taking the dog from the carrier and passing him over to Josie. ‘I see you and Josie have found each other?’

‘We certainly have,’ Nathan replies drily.

Josie sees him throw a meaningful look at Alix, trying to send her a message with his eyes. She sees Alix frown slightly, trying to work out what the message might be.

‘Anyway,’ Josie says. ‘I might just go and have another lie-down, if that’s OK with you, Alix? I’m still feeling completely shattered.’

‘Yes,’ says Alix. ‘Of course. Can I get you anything? Some breakfast?’

‘Oh. No. Thank you. I don’t have much of an appetite.’

‘No. Of course. Well, just message me or shout down if you need anything, won’t you?’

Josie smiles wanly and nods.

She passes close to Nathan as she leaves the kitchen, sees him recoil slightly, smells the fumes coming from him and feels a surge of dark fury. At the top of the stairs, she stops and waits, listens to the conversation coming from the kitchen. There’s a long, telling silence, which she knows consists of Alix and Nathan exchanging looks. Then she hears muted, urgent whispering, whispering that grows louder and louder, until she is able to make out the words ‘Well, what was I supposed to do?’ from Alix and the words ‘Fucking ridiculous’ from Nathan. And then she hears Leon come into the kitchen and ask for something to eat and the conversation changes and moves on.

She goes back to the spare bedroom and closes the door. She opens her handbag on the bed and roots around one of the interior pockets, until she feels the hard edges of the key that she’d taken from the flat last night. As her fingers find it, she experiences a sequence of flashbacks: the heft of flesh and bone, the splash and spatter of blood, electric light strobing in and out between splayed fingers, the metal taste of blood, the salt taste of sweaty hands, the sounds of muffled crying. She sees herself, as if from above, curled on the floor, the dog snuffling at her head, and then she hears the silence that followed, broken only by the hiss of a bus opening its doors at the stop outside the window, the whimper of the dog, the rumble of the bus leaving again.

She takes the key, and she slides it under the mattress.

Sunday, 14 July

‘Have you spoken to Erin?’ Alix asks Josie in the kitchen the following morning.

Josie nods. ‘Just messaged her. She’s fine.’

‘And, dare I ask, Walter? Have you spoken to him at all?’

‘No. No I have not. And I don’t intend to.’

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