The Perfect Girl

RICHARD

There’s an image that feels as if it’s just within my grasp; it’s an idea that’s forming and then wavering, threatening to disappear, as if it’s a mirage floating in the hot evening air.

I have not had a drink today, and this means that the idea is real, even if I can’t quite make it solidify.

The idea is this: that Tessa and I will take on these children. I’ve spoken to Philip Guerin and he wants to go back to Devon without his daughter. He’s met a new partner and she’s from the local village, close to the families who lost children because of Zoe. Their relationship will not work with Zoe in their midst, and Philip will not consider moving away and starting again.

I expect we could try to persuade him, but why would we, when an alternative might be available?

Mentally, I remove him from the scene in front of me and I reimagine it.

There is Tess, and I, on the bench. I have my arm around her and she has remained in her seat, and not squirmed out from under my touch, as usual. In front of us there are three children on a rug: two blonde princesses and a dark, clever boy.

They are two damaged teenagers and a perfect baby girl who will never remember her mother, and we are looking after them. They will fill our days and nights and we will fill theirs. I will cook for them and organise them, and drive the older kids to music lessons, while Tess works as normal. We’ll give them patient care and love and help, and their lives will be as good as they can be. We’ll give them ordinary, we won’t be seduced by their talent or upset by their histories.

There’s only one thing that makes this mirage shimmer, and threaten to dissolve into the air.

It’s what I thought I overheard while Zoe was bathing Grace earlier.

It was Lucas saying, ‘It was an accident,’ and ‘I’m going to tell them everything.’ It sounded like a confession, but maybe he was just talking about what they witnessed. It must have been.

I won’t mention this to Tessa, but I expect that if I did she would say, ‘Well what does that mean? Are you sure you heard it right? Had you had a drink?’ So I won’t.

I’ve already cleared up the broken model that I found in my shed. If one of them smashed it they would be doing nothing worse than I’ve done in the past, when all the sadness I’ve felt has occasionally driven me to an act of destruction like that.

To make sure I’m fit to take on these children, I’ll go around the house and take every bottle and tip it down the sink. I’ll never buy alcohol again. I’ll go to AA. I’ll be a perfect father to them. Even if Lucas doesn’t want to stay with us, he’ll always be welcome here to see his sister Grace.

Today is not the day to say this to the children. Nor will tomorrow be, and perhaps not even next week, but it’s the offer I want to make them as and when they’re ready to hear it.

If Tessa will agree.

I’m willing to bargain.

If she’ll agree to this, I’ll not ask questions about how she knew, off by heart, the personal mobile phone number of Zoe’s solicitor. I’ll not phone her friends to ask if she stayed with them last night, because I think I know where she was. I think she was with him. It was her that told me, her defensiveness when I phoned him. I’m not one hundred per cent sure, I have no idea how it might have happened, but I can live with a little uncertainty. It’s a lesser demon than the ones I’ve been cohabiting with for the last few years. Tess’s infidelity is probably as much as I deserved, and it’s certainly no worse a thing than what I’ve put her through.

This is what I want to say to the children, this is what makes me feel invigorated, strong, hopeful: Stay with us. We’ll look after you. We’ll make sure no more harm comes to you. We can be your family.

From inside the house, our landline rings and I feel Tess tense up beside me.

‘I’ll get that,’ I say.