‘Well, that was how it started. Then I saw how hard you worked at your job. I saw how kind you were with me when I was still learning how things worked around here. And I saw how beautiful your wife was in the photo in your office, and I guess the fact you were taken made me start to think about you even more.’
I’m aware that what started out as a light-hearted suggestion for a drink in the kitchen is now quickly descending into something much heavier, and I know I should nip it in the bud before it gets any further. But I don’t, and there’s a good reason for that. It’s because it’s been a while since somebody told me how nice I was. I’ve had nothing but my wife telling me how bad she thinks I am recently, so it’s fun to hear someone tell me that I’m not so bad. It’s particularly fun coming from a woman who looks like Maria.
Is the whiskey affecting me already?
It must be because now I’m not thinking about how bad Rebecca has made me feel anymore.
I’m thinking about how good Maria is making me feel instead.
‘I’m sorry I tried to kiss you the other night,’ Maria says to me, sitting forward in her seat and looking me in the eye.
‘I told you not to worry about that,’ I reply, but Maria shakes her head as if I have misunderstood what she means.
‘No, I mean I am sorry for trying because trying isn’t good enough,’ she says, her eyes looking down at my mouth now. ‘I should have kept trying until you kissed me back.’
With that, Maria moves forward and brings her lips towards mine and this time I don’t pull away. Our lips are only inches away from connecting when I feel the vibration in my pocket from my mobile phone, and it’s just enough to snap me out of my trance and drag me back to reality.
I was just about to kiss a woman who is not my wife.
What the hell am I doing?
Getting up from my seat, I apologise to Maria before waving my phone at her and telling her that I have a call to take. She looks annoyed but stays where she is sitting as I leave the kitchen and look down at my mobile to see who is calling me.
I’d have a hard time not feeling guilty if it was my wife.
But it’s not.
It’s my private investigator.
‘Erica!’ I say into my phone, my elevated voice reflecting how shocked I am to find out that she is calling me. ‘Have you got something? Please tell me that you have got something?’
There is a pause at the other end of the line before she replies.
‘I have got something.’
‘You have? That’s great! What is it?’
‘Alexandra is a woman who gets paid to break up happy marriages,’ Erica replies calmly, but calm is not a word that can be used to describe my reaction to that news.
‘She’s what?’
‘People hire her to break couples up. It seems she does it by spreading lies and planting false evidence. You and Rebecca were obviously one of her targets.’
‘What? Why?’
‘It would seem that there is somebody who wants to be with you, which means they needed to get rid of Rebecca first.’
‘Who the hell would do that?’
‘I have a name that I believe you will recognise,’ Erica replies, and I slump down into an empty office chair before she has time to say it. But I’m not expecting any more shocks now. That’s because I feel like I’m already looking at the woman whose name I am about to hear.
I keep my eyes on Maria sitting in the staff kitchen as I wait for Erica to tell me that it is my colleague who has been doing all of this to me and my wife so that she could stand a better chance of starting a relationship with me. It all makes sense. She has tried to kiss me. She told me that she had liked me since day one. She liked me even though she saw the photo of my wife.
But it’s not Maria’s name that comes out of Erica’s mouth a second later.
It’s Ally.
43
ALLY
I’ve spent the last two hours sitting with Rebecca listening to her talking about Sam, but that’s nothing compared to the years I have spent listening to her tell me all about the man who I wish was with me instead of her. Rebecca tried to change the subject a few times tonight, including when she asked me about my current boyfriend, Phil, but I was always able to steer the conversation back onto the only things that I care about.
Her, her husband and the current state of their marriage.
‘Stop me if I’m being too personal but have you thought about what is going to happen with the house?’ I ask Rebecca before taking another sip of my wine.
‘I haven’t really thought that far ahead,’ she admits, and I nod my head in understanding but decide to add a few words of advice too.
‘Of course, I understand,’ I say. ‘But when the time comes and if you do want to stay, make sure you put the reason for divorce as adultery on Sam’s part rather than just saying it’s irreconcilable differences. That way, you have more chance of getting things you want when it comes to dividing things up with the lawyers.’
It sounds like pragmatic advice, sensible if a touch insensitive, but I’m not just doing it because I want to see my friend stay in her nice house. I am doing it because I am pushing the boundaries and seeing how serious Rebecca really is about divorcing her husband.
It’s not just me who needs to know. So too does the woman I have paid to get Rebecca and Sam into this perilous position right here. Her name is Charlotte, or at least that is the name she gave me when we first
