The sunlight was hurting my eyes and I willed Richard to stop talking. I did appreciate the apology, though. Besides, I wasn’t exactly blameless – I had been about to kiss him, until he’d blurted out that I reminded him of my dead sister.
The coffee smelled so good. Wordlessly, I waved him inside.
We sat at the kitchen table – I didn’t want a replay of our scene on the sofa.
‘So, what’s new?’ he asked.
I prised the lid off my cup, inhaling the cloud of steam. Where to start? ‘Something doesn’t add up, about Phil. Hurting Amy. It… It just doesn’t make sense.’
A long pause. Eventually, Richard shook his head. ‘I can’t work out what makes them think it was Phil Turner. He hardly seems the sort.’
A light rain started, the drops on the window blurring the world outside. I took a deep breath. ‘Phil and Amy were having an affair.’
Richard’s mouth fell open. Shame burned in my chest.
‘Yup. Amy and Phil. Something was going on. Or something might have been going on… They had ended things a while back. Maybe. But now I’m not so sure…’ The pressure started to build behind my eyes and I stopped talking, waiting for the threat of tears to pass. Deep breaths.
Richard considered it for a second, then shook his head. ‘No way. That’s not true. Don’t you mean Mike was having an affair?’
His words floored me – did the whole village know?
Richard saw the look on my face. ‘I don’t mean he was having an affair, I just mean – I could believe it more from him. But not Amy. And Phil Turner!’
His expression was utter incredulity, his eyebrow twisting up into a question mark.
A lump rose in my throat. ‘It’s true. I logged into her Facebook and saw messages that Phil had sent her, and I told the police. I swear, they were right there’ – I nodded at my phone – ‘three messages, from Phil, and now they’re gone.’
Richard’s mouth was pressed into a hard line and his grip tightened on the cup in his hands. ‘She wouldn’t do that. Amy wasn’t like that. She would not do that.’ His knuckles turned white and his eyes were glassy with tears. ‘You got it wrong. There’s got to be some mistake – it can’t be true. You have to tell the police – Amy wouldn’t do that. She would not have an affair with Phil Turner.’ He put down his cup and brought his hands up to his face, taking a long, deep breath.
I was frozen, unsure of how to handle his reaction. My pulse had quickened.
Richard went to say something, then stopped, as if he thought better of it. He stood up and shrugged on his jacket. His mouth twisted into something between a sneer and pity. ‘Amy was your sister. Did you even know her at all?’
I didn’t cry until he had closed the door behind him – I didn’t want him to see how deeply his words had cut.
How come everyone around here seemed to know Amy better than I did? Richard’s certainty was unnerving. But was he right? There was no other evidence Amy had been having an affair – if it was true, there would surely be some proof somewhere. A receipt, or an email, or a suspicious best friend.
Could I have imagined the messages from Phil? Perhaps part of me wanted to think the worst about Amy. Or had the messages been about something else - had I somehow got the wrong end of the stick? No, that was impossible. I knew what I had seen, and now they were gone. But would anyone believe me?
I missed Rachel terribly and really needed a confidante right now. I churned over the painful idea that I’d possibly ruined her marriage – ruined her life – for no reason. I owed her an explanation – when she eventually came home. If she ever came back.
Richard had made me feel horrible about Amy. My betrayal of my sister was etched across his face and his words rang in my ears. But the messages had been real. I had been meant to see them. Had someone deliberately set me up to frame Phil?
Mike was at home, alone. From the street, I could see him in his upstairs office, working at his computer. I stood outside, mustering as much bravery as possible before going in.
The hallway was lined with family pictures: baby photos and holiday snaps and school portraits. Smiling, happy faces. A happy family. Except I no longer knew what was real and what wasn’t. Mike came into the kitchen.
‘Were you having an affair?’ I blurted the words out before I lost my nerve.
‘What?’ Mike’s incredulity rang hollow to me. ‘Where did you get that from?’
‘It doesn’t matter how I know – what matters is whether it was true or not.’ I balled my hands into tight fists. Hold your nerve, Izzy, hold your nerve.
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ Mike shook his head and sighed, as if my paranoid sister routine was wearing thin.
‘OK, let me put this another way: I know you were having an affair. I’ve seen the proof for myself—’
‘What proof?’ he sneered.
‘Enough proof to make it impossible to deny! And I know that Amy found out,’ I spat, dealing my trump card. ‘Does this have anything to do with her accident?’
He turned away from me, looking out of the kitchen window. There was a stack of unwashed dishes in the sink. Even with his back turned, I could see his breathing had become ragged.
‘It’s not what you think.’ He turned to face me, holding up his hands in a plea before realising they were shaking. He folded his arms to hide them.
‘So tell me what it is, Mike. Explain it to me.’
‘It was a mistake!’ He pressed his knuckle to his lips. ‘A stupid, stupid mistake. Yes, Amy knew about it, and we’d moved on.’
‘Was that who we saw you
