I haven’t heard from James for three days and I’m starting to worry. He left the hotel room before me on Sunday morning because he had to go home and get changed before rehearsal and I haven’t heard a word from him since.
I keep running the time we spent together over and over in my head but I can’t find anything wrong. I did ramble on a bit over dinner about how excited I was that Maggie had given me the opportunity to design costumes for the Abberley Players and how the bar job meant I’d finally be able to ditch TEFL and sew in the daytime but I asked James plenty of questions too. And I didn’t smoke once. Not even with my coffee.
Sunday morning, before he left, he leaned over the bed and kissed me on the lips. He said he’d had the most amazing night of his life, that he couldn’t bear to leave me and he’d ring that evening.
Only he didn’t.
And he didn’t ring on Monday evening either.
By Tuesday night I was so stressed I called Hels. She talked me down off the ceiling and said there were all kinds of reasonable explanations why James hadn’t called and he’d ring when he got the chance. She told me to relax and get on with my life. That’s easy for her to say. She hasn’t been single for years. She can’t remember how torturous it is, sitting in, trying to watch a film but all the time staring at the phone, wondering if it’s working – then getting up to test it to find that it is.
Oh God. The phone is ringing right now. Please, please let it be him.
Chapter 4
I’m curled up on the sofa when Brian gets home, a book in my hand, a glass of wine on the coffee table and my feet tucked up under my bum. It’s a familiar scenario, and one that would normally signal a happy, relaxed Sue, but I’m on my third glass of wine and I’ve read the same paragraph at least seven times.
‘Hello, darling.’ My husband pops his head around the living room door and raises a hand in the same easy manner as his son, twelve hours earlier.
I smile in acknowledgement but my body is tense. It’s not the thought that he’s having another affair that’s tearing at me, it’s the fact he’s been using our daughter’s accident to cover his tracks. I’ve been torturing myself all day – poring through my diary and the one in Brian’s study (there was nothing in the drawer, just some headed notepaper), looking for anything to back up, or even discount, my suspicions – but I found nothing. If it wasn’t for the phone call with Mark this morning I wouldn’t have a shred of evidence.
‘You okay?’ He raises a hand as he strolls into the room with Milly at his side. When he reaches the sofa he kisses me gently on the lips and sits down. ‘How’s your day been?’
‘Okay.’
He reaches for the cushion behind his back, throws it onto the armchair, leans back with a sigh and then looks at me. ‘Just okay? I thought you were going to go into town and treat yourself to a new dress?’
‘I …’ For a second everything feels normal – my husband and I, having a chat about our day – but then I remember. Everything is far from normal. ‘I didn’t go. I was too busy.’
‘Oh?’ He raises an eyebrow and waits for details but I change the subject.
‘Oli popped by, this morning.’
‘I missed him again?’ He looks genuinely gutted. ‘What did he want?’
‘Nothing in particular. He was on his way to Southampton for a field trip. I think he’s going to call in again on his way back.’
‘Oh, good.’ Brian brightens again. His relationship with his son is different from his relationship with Charlotte, it’s more complex. They were joined at the hip when Oli was a child, clashed furiously when he was a teen and have developed a mutual respect since. Theirs is a comfortable friendship, tempered by a similar sense of humour and challenged by different political views. They laugh easily but when they clash it’s Titan-like. Charlotte and I always run for cover.
I twist to place my book and my wine glass on the coffee table, temporarily hiding my face from my husband. I feel sure he must have noticed the strained expression on my face. Trying to appear ‘normal’ when all I want to do is rage at him is exhausting, but I can’t scream at him. The last thing Charlotte needs is for me to suffer another of my episodes. I have to be calm. Logical. One lie does not an infidelity make. I need more evidence.
‘You okay?’ There’s concern in Brian’s voice.
‘Great,’ I twist back. ‘How was work?’
‘Urgh.’ He groans and runs a hand through his hair. It was once as bright a shade of auburn as Oli but it’s now ninety per cent grey, what’s left of it. ‘Hideous.’
‘How was the train journey?’
He casts me an enquiring look. I’m not normally so interested in the details of his daily commute. ‘Same as normal,’ he says then reaches across the sofa and pats one of my knees. ‘You okay, darling? You seem a bit … tense.’
My fingers are knotted together. Was I twisting them while Brian was talking? It’s amazing, the little messages a body can leak. I look from my fingers to my husband. His body isn’t saying anything unusual. He looks as relaxed and calm as normal.
‘Why did you lie to me, Brian?’ So much for staying calm and logical.
His mouth drops open and he blinks. ‘Sorry?’
‘You made out you were going to work.’
‘When?’
‘This morning. You didn’t go, did you?’
‘Yes, I did.’
‘That’s odd, Mark said you weren’t there.’
‘Mark?’ Brian snatches his hand from my knee. ‘Why would you ring my PA?’
‘I didn’t,’ I say. ‘He rang me.’
‘Why?’
‘He said he had something important to discuss with you. Didn’t he mention it when you went into the office in the afternoon? If you went in.’
‘Of course I did. And yes,’ he shifts position so he’s turned square towards me, ‘now I come to think of it, he did have something fairly urgent to discuss with me.’