Everything was going swimmingly until James walked into the orangery. The giant shadow I was casting through the glass roof was bound to make him look up. A huge thud in my chest almost knocked me off balance. I had no option but to throw myself down onto the stone ledge and hope he’d get what he needed and go without looking up. But he sat down. Of course he did.
From the height I was at, I could see over the wall into next door’s garden and to the beautiful greenery of the Cheshire countryside beyond. Fortunately, nobody was in the garden. They did, however, have a lovely outdoor sofa with big squishy cushions that I admired. Before a thought hit me and a spear of pain shot through my stomach. Would this house even be mine if I split up with James or would I have to move out? What would happen? Oh God. It started again: the crying.
Lying flat on my stomach on the cold, stone ledge, I sobbed big hideous tears. The river of despair merged with a small brook of snot, which formed a reservoir on my top lip. Clutching the lip of the stone tightly with my left hand, I brought my right sleeve up to wipe my face.
‘Mrs Emsworth, is that you?’ a warbly voice trilled from the direction of the neighbour’s lovely outdoor sofa. Oh bugger.
I turned my head. ‘Mrs Hamilton.’ I gave a small wave and hoped my puffy eyes weren’t visible across the distance.
‘Whatever are you doing up there? Do you need some help?’ She approached the bordering wall, hovering about a metre back to maintain her vantage point of her oddball neighbour clutching the roof.
‘Just a cat. I think it’s jumped down now,’ I shouted. ‘By the way, your tulips are looking beautiful this year.’
She smiled and gave a ‘say no more’ wave before trotting back towards her house. I slumped, relieved, on the ledge.
‘Charlotte?’ There was a thunder of doom in my stomach; this time, it was an all too familiar male voice that spoke. I wriggled to the corner of the roof and peered down at my landing pad – the wooden patio table. James stood next to it, arms folded.
‘Care to explain what the hell you’re doing?’
Seeing the familiarity of his face contrasting the unfamiliarity of his actions brought on a stabbing sensation in my chest. ‘Er, a cat . . .’ My voice wavered, and it wasn’t anywhere near as convincing as when I’d said it to Mrs Hamilton.
‘You’re sneaking off aren’t you?’
‘No,’ I said defensively.
‘What has gotten into you? Come down and let’s talk about what happened earlier. I know I have a lot of explaining to do, and I’m prepared to do it honestly. Maturely.’
Well, that’s very big of him. How big and mature of him to have an honest reason for being a philanderer. The condescending arse.
‘You haven’t any explaining to do because I don’t want to hear an excuse. I simply wish to get down from the orangery roof and go to see my friend.’
‘You’re behaving like a child.’
I clenched my teeth and glared at him in an attempt not to cry.
‘Fine, if it’s time you need, take some time!’ He stormed back inside the house, leaving me to finish wriggling around the ledge, swing my legs over the edge, and hop down onto the table. It was as easy as it looked after all. As I turned to go to the driveway, there he stood. Again.
‘Here.’ He tossed my car keys at me and walked back inside. That part I was relieved about; in my haste, I’d not thought any further than the wooden patio table.
When I pulled up outside Megan’s house, my hands were still trembling and my face felt moist and puffy. Adrenaline or nerves or something else was still surging through my veins so I sat outside for a moment before knocking on her door.
‘Charlotte, look at you! Come inside.’ This last bit was definitely a command, and I obliged. ‘Take a seat in the lounge and I’ll make some tea.’
I sunk into her cushioned sofa and closed my eyes as she went into the kitchen. My lids felt heavy. The emotion had drained me. After a few minutes, I took a moment to look around Megan’s modest living room, wondering how our lives could have changed so much in such a short space of time. There was the standard flat-screen TV mounted above the hole-in-the-wall fireplace and an oak coffee table. The walls were covered in a light, shimmery grey paper, which matched the grey carpet and charcoal sofa. It was exactly the same as it had been when Mike lived there, and I wondered how she coped, living a life that was almost exactly the same aside from the missing man-shaped chunk.
I couldn’t imagine it – living in my gorgeous house without James there to share it with. Or would I be the one to leave? The thought of people finding out we’d split up struck me. Frances’s haughty face, Lauren’s smug grin – I could just picture them, and it was unbearable. The sympathy from the ladies at the charity events – it made me want to scream. How dare James do that to me?
But then, perhaps nobody needed to leave at all. Plenty of couples went through little blips like affairs, didn’t they? Perhaps I was even to blame a little bit. I’d been so preoccupied with Megan and Sam and my charity work that perhaps James just felt neglected. Maybe I should have just sat down and talked to him like an adult.
‘Here you go.’ Megan interrupted my thoughts
