I keep returning to the same few thoughts. This shouldn’t have been possible. He doesn’t know where I live. He thought I was out shopping with Anna.
‘You all right, Mum?’ says Connor. I realize I’m still standing in the middle of the kitchen.
I force a smile. ‘I think I’m getting a migraine.’ Another wave of panic crashes in. I look at my son. He knows about you, now, I think. You’re no longer safe. I feel myself begin to suffocate.
‘Shall I get you some water?’ he says. He goes to the sink and picks two tumblers off the drainer.
‘Yes,’ I say. ‘Thank you.’ I take the glass from him and sip; it’s lukewarm.
‘I think I’ll go and have a lie down.’
I go upstairs. Lukas still isn’t answering his phone, and there are no messages on mine. I open my computer and see he’s online. My fury is doubled.
– What was that all about? I type. I hesitate before pressing send. I ought to walk away, I want to walk away. But I can’t. There’s no way out, now. Everywhere I turn, he’s there.
His reply comes after only a moment.
– Did you enjoy it?
I gasp. He has no idea how I feel, what he’s done.
– How did you know where I’d be?
There’s no reply. For a long time, nothing. Damn you, I think. Damn you. And then, finally:
– I thought it would be a nice surprise.
A nice surprise? I’d laugh if my whole body wasn’t humming with fear.
– How did you know?
– I had to get creative.
– Meaning?
There’s an even longer pause.
– Don’t panic. I was in Islington. There’s an antiques shop there I go to occasionally. I saw you across the street. I followed you.
Antiques, I think. Since when has he been into antiques? I don’t know anything about this man.
– I thought it’d be fun.
– Fun? You scared me!
I read his messages again. I want to believe him, but I can’t. He happened to be shopping in Islington? Some coincidence. And even if it were true, then surely he’d have just messaged me?
Instead, he’d followed me, sat next to me, winked at me in the dark. He’d spoken only to my son, not to me, and his expression wasn’t that of someone giving someone else a nice surprise. It was the expression of someone who thinks they’ve found something out.
– Scared you? Why? What did you think I was going to do?
– I don’t know.
Suddenly I realize. It’s a moment of absolute clarity, when everything that had felt muddled and grey is as clear and colourless as ice-cold water. I’d become involved with him for the sake of my son, but now it was my son who was at risk. I have no choice. I’m going to have to end it.
I try to fix on the thought, but even as I do another, stronger, part of me is trying to push it away. Lukas sends me another message.
– What did you want me to do?
– What?
– In the cinema. Tell me.
I feel like screaming. How can I make him see this isn’t a game? There are things at stake here, things that might be lost for ever.
– Not now, Lukas. OK?
I press send. I sit back. I want him to understand what he’s done, how much it’d scared me. I want him to know there are lines we mustn’t cross.
His reply comes a few seconds later.
– Tell me how you wanted me to touch you, it says. Tell me you were imagining it, right there in front of all those people.
– No, I say.
– What’s wrong?
I don’t answer. There’s no avoiding it, and I don’t want to have this conversation online. I can’t make him understand what he’s done, not here, not now. I don’t want to see him again, but I have no choice.
– I want to see you. It’s important.
– Whatever you like.
There’s a long moment, then he sends another message.
– By the way, who’s the kid?
‘He’s my son.’ He’s sitting opposite me, we’re having lunch. My choice, even though now I’m here I wish I’d suggested somewhere more secluded. He’d wanted to meet in a hotel, but I knew that wouldn’t be a good idea. We’ve come to a restaurant just near the river. We’re sitting outside, under an umbrella. Commuters stream past on their way to the station.
I haven’t even asked about his hunt for more of Kate’s online profiles. I suspect he’s given up. I doubt he was ever looking very hard.
‘Your son?’ he says. For a moment I think he doesn’t believe me. ‘You didn’t tell me.’
‘No,’ I sigh. I have to be honest. It’s time for that, at least. ‘I wanted to keep him out of it.’
And I failed. Lukas knows everything, now, and it’s too much. What had seemed manageable is now out of control, what had been in a box has now broken free.
I look at this man. It’s almost as if he owns me, and I must claim myself back.
‘What’s his name?’
I flinch. It’s a protective instinct; I’m angrier than I thought.
I look away. On the other side of the road a guy in Lycra remonstrates with a driver who must’ve almost knocked him off his bike.
‘No.’ I turn back. ‘Like I said, I want to keep him out of it.’
‘You don’t trust me.’
‘Lukas. It’s not as simple as that. What we had, I wanted to keep it separate from my real life. I wanted to keep it apart. I didn’t want to have to think about my husband, and certainly not my son.’
‘What we had.’ It’s a statement, not a question.
‘Sorry?’
‘You said, “What we had.” Past tense. So I’m guessing it’s over?’
I don’t answer; my choice of words had been uncalculated, my mistake Freudian. But it’s made, and now a single word is all it would take. I could say yes, then stand up. I could walk away, change my phone number, never log on to those websites, then all this would be in the past. A mistake, but one that’s easily undone. He’s never been to my house, never even seen it; nor I to his. We’re entangled, but not so much that one single decisive action wouldn’t separate us, cleanly and for ever.
But is that what I want? On the way here I’d thought it was, but now I can’t be sure. Sitting here now, I’m in two minds. Would he really hurt anyone? He seems so gentle, so loving. I think of the long nights of loneliness. I think of going back to the days when a new message on my phone would be nothing more exciting than Hugh telling me he’ll be late again or Connor asking whether he can stay out longer.
‘Look.’ He shifts his weight, opens his arms to shrug his shoulders. I’m struck again by his presence, his flesh, right in front of me. It glows; it’s in three dimensions, where everything else seems in two. ‘I fucked up. In the cinema. I’m sorry. I really thought you’d like it.’
‘I didn’t.’ I glance briefly over his shoulder at the argument that’s only now beginning to lose momentum, then look back at him.
‘It was a coincidence, that’s all. I was in Islington. I didn’t even know you lived round there.’
‘Lukas …’
‘You don’t believe me?’
‘What were you doing in Islington?’
He hesitates. It’s just a fraction of a second, but long enough for it to sound like a lie. ‘I told you. Shopping. I go quite often, when I’m in town.’
‘So why were you in town?’
‘I come in every Tuesday, if you hadn’t noticed. Usually it’s to see you. It was force of habit, I suppose.’ He sighs. ‘I missed you. My day felt kind of wasted without you, so I thought I’d come up to town anyway.’
‘You expect me to believe that?’
‘I was upset, I guess. I wanted to see you. It was our day. You cancelled on me.’
‘So you were in Islington, completely randomly, where I was taking my son to the cinema?’
‘Coincidences do happen, you know.’
I find myself beginning to wish I could believe him.
‘You think I’ve been following you? You really are paranoid.’
‘That’s an unkind thing to say.’
‘I’m sorry. Listen, I saw you. Honestly. Crossing the street. And I’d thought of nothing else but you for a whole week, so I followed you. Maybe it was a mistake—’
‘It was.’
‘But I’m going crazy. You’re all I think about.’