He looked at the clock. He’d better have a shower: it would soon be time for him to leave. He glanced over at Kate, who had returned from supervising the girls and was getting dressed in silence, feeling such a mixture of emotions that he could barely contain them. He was fizzing over with excitement at what lay ahead, at the thought of Claire making her way to St Pancras Station, waiting for him in the café they had agreed to meet at. He was as excited as a child on Christmas Day and Claire was definitely the best present he could have asked for. But he also felt jittery and nervous and part of him just wanted to hide under the covers and never come out. It felt like he had an angel on one shoulder who was continuously warning him against doing this while the devil on the other side was jumping with glee and telling him to ignore the warnings. He just had to stop procrastinating and go now; he felt like the walls were closing in on him and if he didn’t leave soon, he would never escape.
‘I’ll see you downstairs. I’ll put the coffee machine on,’ Kate said, before heading to the girls’ bedrooms to make sure they were ready. As soon as he was sure that she was in the kitchen, he grabbed the letter he’d written her and put it on her pillowcase. He figured she wouldn’t see it until later that day, when he was long gone. Just breakfast left, he thought, then I’m out. By the time he got downstairs the children had already left with Rachel. He panicked for a moment, realising that he hadn’t even had a chance to say goodbye to them. Jesus Christ, what the hell am I doing?
Calm down, he told himself, you’ll speak to them really soon. You’re not leaving your children, just your wife. Still, he felt awful about it.
He helped Kate make breakfast and they worked together in a synchrony that only couples who have been together for years can do. He felt like they were preparing the last supper but he had no interest in savouring the moment. Right now, all he wanted to do was get the hell out of there before he changed his mind. The house now felt like a prison that could trap him at any moment. He ate his toast as quickly as possible while Kate made small talk. She has no idea what’s about to happen, he thought. She thinks it’s just a normal day.
As soon as he’d finished, he wiped his mouth, stood up, kissed her and prepared to leave. Just a few more steps and out of the front door and he’d be gone. For better or for worse, the decision would be made. He started walking down the hall, his shoes clattering on the tiled floor. The front door was in sight – just five steps, then four and it would be over. He could see the familiar shape of his holdall that he’d put by the front door on his way downstairs, covering it with his coat so it looked less conspicuous. Everything would be better once he was out of the family home, once he saw Claire and she reassured him with her words and kisses. Just a couple of steps to go now.
‘Were you ever going to tell me about her? Or were you just going to sneak off like a coward and leave us all behind like discarded toys you no longer want to play with?’
He stopped dead in his tracks. What did she say? Had he heard her correctly? No, he couldn’t have done, she didn’t know anything. Did she? Fuck, fuck, fuck! His body was frozen but the adrenaline started to course through his body, like a deer that realises it’s been caught. The last thing in the world he wanted to do was to turn around and face her but he knew, with a sinking feeling, that he had no choice. Slowly he forced himself to look at her. She was standing in the hallway, looking straight at him with pure hatred on her face. And in that moment he knew for sure that, despite how careful he’d been, somehow she had found out about Claire.
‘How did you know?’ It was a terrible opening line but it was the only thing that he could think of to say to her. He had already determined, in the microsecond he had to react, that there was no point in denying it. She clearly knew and pretending otherwise would just be digging himself deeper into a hole. But right now he had no idea what, or how much, she knew. Half of him felt trapped, in that hallway, with no way of escaping the truth that was finally staring him in the face. But he also felt something else – was it relief? He had been living a lie for so long that it had weighed him down like stones in his pocket, forcing him deeper into the depths of deceit and lies and perhaps now he could finally be free of it.
‘Oh, I’m sorry, Pete, did you think you were so clever that I’d never work it out? Or was it that I was just too stupid?’ She was practically spitting the words out.
‘Neither, Kate,’ he spluttered. ‘I didn’t mean that, I’m sorry.’ He felt like a dog, hanging its head in shame, tail between its legs. He could only submit.
‘What I don’t understand is exactly what your intentions are. Are you planning to run off into the sunset with your younger model, never to be seen again or were you, at some point, planning to own
