Behind Her Back by Jane Lythell

Author:Jane Lythell [Lythell, Jane]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Head of Zeus Ltd.

Thursday evening, Camden Town

It was six-forty when I took the Tube to Camden Town. From the Tube I walked quickly to Douglas’s flat, my heart still beating too fast from the stress. I was clutching my mobile in case Julius called me back but I would have to turn it off before I met Douglas. He couldn’t overhear any conversation Julius and I might have. Douglas’s block of flats overlooked the Grand Union Canal and were approached by a flight of steps at the side of the bridge. I went down the steps and checked my phone for one last time before I turned it off. I was late. I took a deep breath to steady myself and punched in the number of his flat on the electronic keypad. His voice, slightly distorted, came through the grille.

‘Hi, Liz. Take the lift to the first floor.’

He met me at the lift.

‘Sorry, I’m later than I intended.’ I was breathless.

He led me into his flat.

‘Welcome to my pod,’ he said, spreading his arms wide.

‘Do show me around.’

I tried to focus and sound normal. It was a three-bedroomed flat, two doubles and one single. One double room looked like it was his son’s, judging by the sports equipment lying on the floor and the posters on the wall. The other double, the master bedroom, had a good view of the canal but it was strangely impersonal, as if he hadn’t the time, or the inclination, to add his touches. He was using the single bedroom as his office and this was messy with books and papers piled on the desk and the floor. The flat had two bathrooms and there was a nice smell of his aftershave in one but otherwise these too felt impersonal, like hotel bathrooms. His kitchen was modern with state-of-the-art equipment. There was a shortage of utensils and I noticed a single recipe book, the Delia Smith’s Complete Cookery Course, on the shelf. It was rather touching that he didn’t have more stuff. It was the kitchen of a single man starting out again.

The sitting room was the nicest room and looked more lived in. It was a good size and had three large porthole windows looking out over the canal. The floor was black and white ceramic tiles. There was a red leather chesterfield with a footstool in front of it. A chaise longue upholstered in pale yellow taffeta was placed by the windows. Both pieces of furniture looked broken in and I guessed that they had come from the family home, as had the table lamps placed around the room, probably. I remembered the whole process of dividing our furniture, our music and our books when Ben and I split up, and how for a while our furniture, bought hopefully as a couple, felt tainted by the failure of the marriage. I wondered if Douglas felt that way. I stood at the middle window and looked out. On the other side of the canal stood a terrace

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