The Imposter, Anna Wharton [romantic story to read TXT] 📗

Chloe carries on talking: ‘You know that’s not right, don’t you? That no one should talk to you like that . . .’

Maureen struggles slightly to swallow her toast. Her voice is husky when she speaks.

‘Maybe he’s right,’ Maureen says, dropping the slice in her hand to her plate. ‘I have been having some strange thoughts lately.’

Chloe shakes her head quickly.

‘You’re not crazy, Maureen. If anything, Patrick is the one who won’t face reality. He’s the one who isn’t at peace with the past.’

Maureen pulls at the cuff of her sleeve, twisting it round between forefinger and thumb. Chloe knows only too well that sometimes the truth can feel uncomfortable. But this is important, this is something Maureen needs to hear.

‘Patrick says that it’s too painful to look back,’ Maureen says. ‘But isn’t it normal? It’s grief, isn’t it? But I can’t even do that. I don’t even know that she’s . . . that she, you know . . .’

Chloe nods because she does know. She still remembers those hours when Nan was missing. Imagine decades spent in that no-man’s land.

Maureen starts to cry, and on cue, Chloe gets up from her chair and wraps her arms around her shoulders. She feels Maureen relax into her arms, and she knows then that’s she’s got her. She can feel it. Between the soft sound of Maureen sobbing, Chloe listens out for Patrick’s car on the drive. She hates him for doing this to Maureen, she doesn’t want him to walk in and ruin this moment for them.

Maureen pulls a tissue from her sleeve, and reaches for Chloe’s hand.

‘Thank you, Chloe, I don’t know what I would do if you weren’t here. Things have been hard with Patrick over the years. He’s a good man, but he’s not always been easy to live with. But recently – well, since you arrived, or perhaps it’s since we moved – he’s been different, he’s been . . .’

Chloe senses an opening. She sits back down opposite Maureen. Sometimes over the weeks, as she and Maureen have grown closer, it’s been easy to forget why she is here. But that one sentence reminds her that she has a job to do.

‘How has he been different?’ Chloe asks.

‘Oh, I don’t know, maybe I’m wrong—’

‘You’re not wrong, Maureen, you’ve got to stop thinking like this, you’ve got to stop letting him tell you you’re wrong or you’re crazy or . . .’

Maureen looks up at Chloe and her face softens. She reaches for her cheek, tucking a loose coil of black hair behind her ear.

‘Perhaps this does sound crazy,’ she says, ‘but I’ve often wondered what it would have been like if Angie . . . well, you know . . . and you being here, it’s answered that for me. You’re a good girl, Chloe. Your mum, she would have been proud of you.’

Chloe swallows down the mention of her mother. She doesn’t want to talk about that. She needs to hear more from Maureen.

‘Oh, don’t listen to me, Chloe, love. I’m feeling emotional today. I don’t like arguing with Pat, and you know what it’s like, in an argument you both say silly things.’ She gets up and tucks her chair in, but Chloe isn’t ready to let this go.

‘What did you say that was silly?’ Chloe asks.

Maureen stops still on the kitchen lino. ‘Well, I didn’t, but I’m sure in the past—’

‘But he said you were crazy, that was ten minutes ago. That’s a terrible thing to say to someone, let alone his wife.’ She leans back in her chair, feeling the front two legs lift from the floor.

Maureen goes to speak, but instead lets whatever it was drift away. She starts tidying the dishes, scraping her remaining toast into the bin. Chloe knows there’s no need for her to say anything, that the seed she’s planted will take root without her watering it with more words. Still, she is wholly unprepared for what Maureen says next.

‘Maybe Patrick’s right, maybe it’s not such a good idea you being here.’

Chloe tips forward in her chair, landing against the kitchen table.

‘What?’

Maureen bites the corner of her lip. She doesn’t answer. Not right away. But Chloe feels something familiar stir deep inside her.

‘You know he’s jealous, don’t you, Maureen?’ Chloe says. She can’t help it. ‘That’s the problem, he’s jealous of how close we are.’

‘But how could he—’

‘It’s not you and I that are the problem, it’s him.’ Chloe speaks quickly. She knows she should stop before she says too much. But the thought that Maureen thinks she should leave . . . ‘Maybe . . . maybe he’s the crazy one. I mean, why else would he think it’s unhealthy for me to be here? What does he know that we don’t?’

There, she’s said it. The truth beats against the kitchen walls. Chloe stands up from the table and pushes her chair in.

‘What do you mean, Chloe?’ Maureen asks.

‘I’ll start looking for another place—’

‘What do you mean?’ A trace of panic in Maureen’s voice.

‘I’ll be out of here as soon as I—’

‘No, Chloe.’ Maureen takes a step towards her. She grabs hold of her hand.

‘But if Patrick thinks I shouldn’t be here . . .’ Chloe tries to shake her off. She hates doing this to Maureen, hates to see her broken like this, but sometimes, it’s true, you do have to be cruel to be kind.

Maureen grips her harder, tries to weave her fingers through Chloe’s, to make them one.

‘No, he’s wrong,’ Maureen says. ‘You mustn’t go, Chloe. You can’t—’

‘I don’t want to be a bother, you and Patrick were happy here before I—’

‘No, not again. I won’t lose you again, Angie.’

She lets go of Chloe, but the words hang there between them. Maureen wraps her arms across her waist.

‘I . . . I didn’t mean . . . I meant . . . well, it’s not like you . . . and Angie . . .’

Chloe goes to speak, but there really isn’t anything to say. It has already been said. Chloe is so much more than just the lodger.

The silence is broken by the sound of Patrick’s car hitting the pebbles on the drive. Maureen lets go of her arm and spins around to fix her hair.

‘I’ll talk to him, Chloe,’ Maureen says quickly as