Page 30 of Cuckoo

Chapter Twenty-Seven

30 November 2024

Dear Diary,

We spent the day visiting one of the Christmas markets on the South Bank. It was cold, but we wrapped up properly and had a lovely day out. Noah likes the hot apple cider but I went for a hot chocolate, and we wandered around looking at all the stalls and Christmassy knick-knacks together. There was a small stall with beautiful handmade pieces, jewelled rings and carefully carved pendants, which I stood poring over.

‘Do you want something?’ Noah asked.

I whipped my hand back, ashamed for wasting the stallholder’s time. ‘No, no. Just looking,’ I laughed. ‘Pretty though, aren’t they?’ I said, peering at one of the rings. It had little birds carved into the gold band, a sparkly stone of some sort set in the middle.

‘Yes, unique,’ he agreed, taking a glance over my shoulder.

‘Come on, let’s go ice-skating,’ I suggested, pulling him along.

I was awful. Like Bambi on ice, all the gear and no idea. I ended up clinging on to the railing most of the way around. Noah was better– but not by much.

‘Not a skater boy back in the day then?’ I asked.

‘You can talk! Trash talk from the sidelines. How about letting go of the railing?’ he teased back.

I watched him stiffly drive himself forward, legs straight and body tense. We were both terrible, but at least neither of us fell!

Claire

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Imayhave turned on notifications under my Emma Smith Facebook and Instagram accounts, to alert me whenever Noah or Lilah update their profiles so I can keep track of their relationship. I’m not proud of it, it makes me feel seedy and desperate, but surely I’m owed some sort of explanation, which Noah is clearly not going to give me.

I need to understand what I did wrong, why he left. Clearly, he has been with Lilah since they were children, so maybe he’s just staying with her out of some sort of misguided loyalty? Or a fear of change? I mean, if he had been happy with her, truly happy, why would he have asked me out? Why would he have created this beautiful life with me, put a ring on my finger, if he was content with her? I can’t help but be hopeful about the fact that her left hand is clearly bare. So he must like me more. There’s something she must be holding against him, keeping him with her against his will. I just need to find out what it is. You may think you’d behave differently, but when push comes to shove, if you found yourself in a situation as bizarre as this, I don’t doubt you would be doing the same.

I open the notification and pull up the photograph. It shows a gigantic bouquet of flowers that must have cost asmall fortune. For a moment I feel a stab of panic– is she engaged?Pregnant?But no, my heartrate slows right down as I take in her caption. Lovely surprise from clients.Then I take in the setting and realise, of course, it’s a work thing. The background isn’t a home environment, I can see strip lighting that indicates an office, and the desk that the bouquet is showcased on isn’t the sort of designer shabby-chic piece that would fit in at pristine number 48. She’s clearly at work.

Perhaps there are secrets that could be extracted from studying her office. I haven’t even considered it so far, but if Lilah wants to store something she can use to blackmail Noah into staying with her, it would make sense that she’d conceal it somewhere he didn’t have access to. I flit back to LinkedIn where I type in her full name and click through to the company page. She works for Sparxx, a luxury womenswear brand that I’ve heard of but haven’t ever shopped at. It’s a bit overpriced and housewifey for me, a lot of pastel cashmere jumpers and beige cigarette trousers. Beneath the ‘About’ section the company head-office address is listed in Notting Hill. It’s nottoofar from my own offices. From home, it’s a bit further than I’d want to travel and I don’t usually head that far west but I have the whole day off. Maybe I can do a bit of window shopping while I’m there. I tell myself that it makes sense, that I’ll just have a little nosy around the area. I work out the best route to take.

I get dressed in to one of my staple work outfits: pale blue shirt, grey trousers with boots and my long camel coat. Then I throw on a pair of sunglasses and put a black scarf into my handbag before I make my way to the Underground station.It’s not that I want adisguiseper se, but I don’t want to draw attention to myself. Lilah might be walking around the area and recognise me from the altercation at the club.

Another thought strikes me– how much does she know aboutme? What has Noah told her to explain the incident where a stranger threw a ring at him in a club? Maybe she thinks it was just a one-night stand, or maybe he managed to keep it from her entirely. I mean, why would she stay with someone who had been cheating on her for over a year? Does she have no respect for herself? And all this time Noah has been with me, where did Lilah think he was? The whole way to the Underground station I wonder what isreallyhappening behind the closed door of number 48.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

When I exit at Notting Hill Gate tube station the sun is streaming down. It’s busy, heaving with people looking to soak up the sunshine and enjoy the boutique shopping, so I step back into the doorway of a bank to catch my breath and still my thoughts. I’m pondering Lilah’s reason for staying with Noah despite my very public outburst at the club. There are so many questions and loose ends that my mind can’t get past. I feel like I need a notebook, spider diagrams and a full-on thriller-movie-style pin board with red strings linking facts and evidence, to help me work out what the hell happened and what Noah is thinking.

Tourists heave in waves in front of me, all moving in the same direction towards Portobello Market. I slot into the swarm, letting them carry me along with them as I follow the little blue Google Maps trail. Usually, I’d feel flustered by the sheer volume of people, but today I hold on tightly to my purse and phone and focus on reaching my destination.

When I reach Lilah’s office, I need to double-check I have the right address. I’m just surprised; it’s such a fancy company but this is a small office, based above a random restaurant. There’s no signage at all until you get to the front door and then the company logo is stuck on the buzzer forFloor 3. I hop from foot to foot, unsure of what to do now that I’m here. I decide to go into the restaurant beneath the office and try to be rational about things, work out why I’m here and what I hope to gain.

I’m relieved to discover that it’s not a typical overpriced Notting Hill restaurant, more like a small traditional cafe, and because it’s only 11 a.m. it’s still quiet before the lunchtime rush. A little bell rings as I push the door open and a chirpy-looking girl greets me. ‘Eating in or taking out?’ she asks brightly.

‘Eating in. Can I take that window seat?’ I ask, nodding over at a high table that looks out onto the street.

‘Sure, no problem! When you’re ready to order, just come on over to the till.’

I settle myself down, gazing out and wondering if this is the same view Lilah has all day from her desk. Stores and independent boutiques line the street at ground level while flats above them have huge, beautiful windows looking out and down onto the busy scene. The house fronts are painted in pastel colours, creamy pinks and soft blues making everything seem part of a cheerful stage set. Small pop-up stalls selling bohemian jewellery and leather pouches and wallets line the pavements. Everything seems too picturesque for this to be London.

I end up ordering a club sandwich and a cappuccino, and take my time with them as I go over possible courses of action now I’m here. I’d envisioned a huge office that I could slip into unannounced, something similar to Noah’s, but it’s clear this isn’t the case at all.

I finish my sandwich, running a finger over the crumbs and popping them into my mouth. I am about to call it quits and head back home when I give a jolt of surprise. There in front of me is Lilah. And she’s coming into the cafe.

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