I arrived home to utter darkness. It was only nine-forty-five so I didn’t think James would be in bed. He was probably still slogging away in his office, I thought. Not wanting to disturb him, I took my laptop into the orangery. If Megan found out about the online dating ‘she’d’ been doing too, I dreaded to think what she’d do. I had to delete it.
But when I logged in, I saw a message from Andrew, and I couldn’t bring myself to delete the account without reading it first – Andrew hadn’t done anything wrong after all and he too deserved the truth.
Hi Megan,
If you don’t like pies, I don’t know if we can be friends . . . there’s savoury and sweet . . . they’re applicable to all three courses. What’s not to love?
I do like to travel but haven’t done much in recent years.
I suppose this is the part where I tell you my wife passed away and I’ve not really had anyone to travel with since then. For the first couple of years, I couldn’t imagine going anywhere without her so I didn’t. She wanted me to have a life after she’d gone and just before she died, made me promise to enjoy my time on earth. It’s taken me a while (five years and counting) but I’m finally thinking about moving forward.
Travelling is something I plan to do again and, hopefully, I’ll find someone to do it with. Sorry, didn’t mean to come over all maudlin on a Saturday evening but we’re getting to know one another, aren’t we?
Tell me more about you . . . where’s your favourite place to visit? I love Italy, pretty much any part of it.
Andrew
I froze as a jolt of pain passed through my chest. Not only had I betrayed Megan’s trust and hurt her, I’d also formed a bond with Andrew under false pretences and was about to sever that too, after all he’d been through. I pictured his beautiful face washed with the same anguish as Megan’s. I was a monster.
I put my head in my hands and allowed hot tears to streak down my face. The ugly, smudged make-up all over my skin served to mark how repulsive I’d become on the inside. I felt like I was losing all sense of control, and control was what I did best. I was calm in a crisis; I always knew what to do in a situation. I didn’t cause the situations, for goodness’ sake.
The sound of the front door slamming made me jump. James? I quickly rubbed my face with the sleeve of my dark sweater and closed the screen of my laptop as I heard heavy footsteps plod into the kitchen. It was gone ten, and I’d presumed James was working upstairs when I’d come in. I came over all panicky and picked up a golf umbrella that stood next to the French doors of the orangery. Slowly, I crept through the lounge towards the kitchen and peered around the doorframe, relaxing when I saw that it was James. Something stopped me from walking in and greeting him. His slow, clumsy movements looked odd. Then it hit me – he was drunk. I placed the umbrella down and walked in.
‘James?’
He looked up slowly from a piece of bread that he was buttering. His tie was loose around his neck and the top button of his shirt was open. It was very un-James. ‘Charlotte,’ he mumbled, taking a bite.
‘Have you been drinking?’ I needn’t have asked; the closer I got to him, the stronger he smelt. ‘Have you been smoking too?’ I asked before he had time to answer.
‘I’ve been for a drink with some of the guys from work,’ he slurred.
‘On a Saturday?’ It struck me as odd they’d meet up on a weekend when they spent so much time together during the week. Thursday drinks happened occasionally but James usually grumbled about them.
‘The case is all coming together well, so we wanted to celebrate.’
I was confused. ‘And you didn’t think to tell me?’ We weren’t the kind of couple who just went out without telling the other where we were going.
‘You were out; you’re always out,’ he said, in a bitter tone that took me aback. James never spoke to me that way.
‘I . . . I shouted up to you. I told you I was going to Megan’s.’
‘Whatever.’ He shoved the last of his bread into his mouth and walked out of the room shooting a look that impaled me.
I’d never seen James that way before. It must be stress – the case and everything must have finally got to him and the best thing to do was to let him cool off and sober up. It would all be better in the morning.
Things were always better in the morning.
Chapter Eight
I woke with an odd sensation in my stomach. James had slept in the guest room, and I hadn’t objected. He’d needed time to cool off and think – we both did. But once the sun came up, the little tiff, or whatever it had been, felt silly. I pulled my dressing gown tightly around me as I went to see if he was still sleeping in the spare room. Strangely, the bed was made. Not ‘James’ made, but fifteen-pounds-an-hour ‘maid’ made, with perfectly placed scatter cushions that James would never have thought to put back on. Yet, Janine hadn’t been few a few days. How odd. Perhaps he’d ended up crashing on the sofa. I went downstairs to investigate. There was no sign of him there either, so I went to put on some coffee and spotted a note on the breakfast bar.
Gone for a run then popping into work. Needed to clear my head – we’ll talk later. J x
A run? With a hangover? I shook my head. Despite everything, I had to admire that. With all
