Moira follows Lizzie towards the kitchen. She’s on her guard, already anxious from the guy watching her; now Lizzie acting strange is making it worse. It feels like this could be some kind of trap. Does Lizzie know something? Has she asked an ex-colleague about her already? Is the real reason she’s been asked here to confront Moira about the truth of who she is?
I should attempt small talk, Moira thinks, to try and make the situation feel more normal. She looks at the photos on the hallway walls. Tries to concentrate. They’re family group shots of Lizzie, Philip and four children – three girls and one boy – at various ages; holiday snaps in front of a caravan, inside a tent, on the steps of a Cotswold stone house, at Disneyland. There are graduation photos too for three of the children, and wedding pictures for two. ‘Do your kids still live in the UK?’
‘Three of them do,’ says Lizzie. ‘Jennifer, our youngest, travels a lot for work. She’s in Australia at the moment. They come out here and visit when they can, but it’s not the same as having them down the road.’
Moira hears a tinge of sadness in Lizzie’s voice mixed with a slight tremble, and sees that she’s twisting the rings on her wedding finger around – a trio of diamonds on the engagement ring, a plain gold band, and a third diamond-studded band. So much for her attempt at small talk – all she’s succeeded in doing is upping the angst level. She silently curses her blunder and makes a mental note to stick to the weather. There have to be fewer pitfalls in that conversation, surely.
They reach the kitchen.
‘Let’s get some coffee and then we can sit outside, the weather’s glorious.’ Lizzie’s smile is over-bright, her eyes shiny. Blinking, she cocks her head to the side. ‘And how about something to eat, a sandwich, to tide you over until the boys get back and I make us all a meal?’
‘Just coffee, thanks.’ Moira tries to keep the suspicion from her voice. Lizzie’s messages made it sound like Philip and Rick were due home any moment, and that’s why she needed Moira to come here. ‘You said you needed my help, but if the guys aren’t back yet then . . .’
‘I wanted you to come over early so we could talk.’ Lizzie’s expression is serious.
Moira braces herself. ‘Okay.’
‘But let’s get the coffee first.’
As Lizzie makes the coffee, it feels to Moira like every second lasts an hour. She wants to know what’s bugging Lizzie, and what she knows. She hates the suspense. Needs to think about mitigation and containment. She needs to find out if Lizzie knows her secret, and if she’s going to tell other people. She has to know whether things are going to get so out of control she’ll have no choice but to move again.
Still, she tries to act casual. Leaning against the island unit, she looks around. She hadn’t really taken in her surroundings when she was here earlier, and now she’s struck by how neat and ordered everything is. The white countertops are clear of clutter with just the coffee maker, toaster and a jug with spatulas beside the hob. The island unit has a spotted china bowl with apples and bananas at one end, and on the window sill behind the sink a vase of flowers – vivid purples, pinks and greens – is giving a splash of colour against the white cabinets, countertops and flooring. The whole thing is a far cry from her own scattergun approach to decor. She doesn’t even own a fruit bowl.
As the coffee brews, Lizzie unlocks the sliding door to the sunroom – an outside space screened by permanent rigid bug mesh. Then she turns to Moira and beckons her outside. ‘Have a seat, I’ll be with you in a minute.’
Moira does as she says, stepping out on to the patio and taking the seat at the outdoor table that gives her the best vantage point across the garden. She scans the space – there’s no sign of the blond guy in the garden or on the street immediately alongside it. Moira takes a deep breath. She feels slightly calmer out here where she can see her options for an easy exit. The outside is as stylish as the inside: white wicker garden furniture with generously padded seat cushions, the spotlessly clean plunge pool and hot tub and the neatly manicured lawn. Bright Moroccan-style lamps in turquoise, orange and purple give vivid splashes of jewel-like colour against the white furniture and natural greens. There’s a side gate at the end of the path that runs down the side of the house, and another on the far side of the screened-in patio; two exits that could get her free and clear fast if needs be.