Second Life by S. J. Watson Page A

pain.
And I don’t want it.
    I think of Marcus. We’d been seeing each other for less than a year when he said
he wanted to move. ‘Where?’ I asked, and he said, ‘Berlin.’
    He seemed so certain, and so desperate. I thought he was trying to get away from
me, even though until that moment we’d been happy. He could see it in my eyes. The
flash of disappointment, suppressed a moment too late.
    ‘No,’ he said. ‘You don’t understand. I want you to come with me.’
    ‘But—’
    He shook his head. He was determined.
    ‘You have to. I want to go with you. I don’t want to go by myself.’
    But you will, I thought. If I don’t come. You’ve already decided.
    ‘Please come. What’s keeping you here?’ I shook my head. ‘Is it the meetings? We’ve
been clean for ages now. We don’t need to go any more.’
    ‘I know, but . . .’
    ‘Is it Kate?’
    I nodded. ‘She’s only twelve.’
    He stroked my arm, kissed me. ‘She’s in school now. You can’t look after her for
ever.’
    I thought of all the fun we’d had, Kate and I, despite how hard it’d been at times.
We used to make popcorn and sit watching videos, or we’d play in the long grass at
the bottom of our garden, pretending to be chased by dinosaurs. Dressing up in our
mother’s clothes, wearing her shoes, spraying ourselves with her perfume.
    ‘How long have you been looking after her?’
    ‘Eight years.’
    ‘Exactly. And now it’s time your father started doing his bit. Besides, she’s nearly
a teenager now. You have your own life to live.’
    I told him I’d need to think about it, but really I already knew. Kate was nearly
thirteen, older than I’d been when I started looking after her. She’d had enough
years of my life. Kate would be fine.
    Except she wasn’t. I open my eyes. I reach for my laptop.
    Anna’s online. I message her.
    ‘Any luck?’ she asks.
    I think of the few people who have messaged me. There’s been nothing interesting.
    ‘Not yet,’ I reply.
    Hugh comes back from his conference. He takes the train from the airport, then a
cab, and arrives carrying a huge bunch of flowers. He kisses me then hands them over.
‘What have I done to deserve this?’ I say, and he shrugs. ‘Nothing. I love you, that’s
all. I missed you.’ I find a vase. ‘I missed you, too,’ I say, a little too automatically.
    I take the scissors out of the kitchen drawer and begin to trim the stems.
    ‘How’s Connor?’
    ‘Good, I think.’
    ‘And you?’
    I tell him I’m fine. ‘I had a job,’ I say, thinking back to the day before. ‘A friend
of Fatima’s. Her daughter wants to be a model and needed some pictures for her portfolio.’
    ‘That’s good,’ he says. ‘Have you seen Adrienne?’
    ‘No. But she called. She’s in York, with work. But we’ve arranged dinner.’
    He smiles and says he thinks that will do me good. I didn’t tell him Adrienne has
asked if I’d decided about going online and I’d said no, not yet.
    Another lie. I’ve logged on a few times, and now it’s Friday night. Hugh’s upstairs,
catching up with admin, and Connor is at a friend’s house working on a homework project.
I’ve already edited the pictures I took on Wednesday, and now I’m half watching the
television. It’s a drama. Undercover cops, a series of brutal murders, duct tape,
revenge and rape. Every victim beautiful, of course, as if we wouldn’t care otherwise;
plus, we’re supposed to envy them their lives right until the moment the blade slices
into their flesh.
    It’s no use, I can’t focus. I switch it off. I can’t help thinking of Kate. She
was pretty, but not beautiful, and she wasn’t raped. Kate was killed because she
happened to be walking down the wrong alleyway in the wrong part of town at the wrong
time, or so Hugh and everybody else tells me. It’s as simple as that.
    Except it isn’t. It can’t be.
    I log back on to encountrz. I know I should leave it alone, do something else instead,
but I can’t.