In the morning, the kids were up first: Ben just after eight, followed in short succession by both girls. None of them enquired about Amy or Ant during breakfast, so I decided to wait and speak to Joe first before saying anything. Without knowing what time Ant and Amy would return, or what they might say when they did, it seemed impossible to think what to say anyway. What lie would best fit this situation?
Joe didn’t surface until almost ten, and when he did he simply vanished into the bathroom.
Leaving the kids playing with a bucket in the jacuzzi, I moved to the kitchen in order to ambush him on his return, but when he finally did reappear, he had nothing more than a towel wrapped around his waist, and this, for some reason, embarrassed me. Inexplicably, a towel seemed far more intimate than the trunks he’d been wearing around the pool, so I turned and looked out of the window.
‘Everything OK there, Heather?’ he asked as he passed by.
‘I need to talk to you,’ I said without turning. ‘But maybe you could get some clothes on, first?’
‘Sure,’ Joe said. ‘I had that planned, as it happens, so . . .’
He returned wearing a pair of turquoise shorts and a faded Grateful Dead T-shirt. ‘So, what’s up?’ he asked.
I was sitting at the kitchen table, biting my nails. I still didn’t know how I was going to do this.
‘God, you look even worse than I feel,’ Joe said, leaning on the table and peering into my eyes. ‘Bad night?’
‘Thanks,’ I told him sarcastically. ‘It’s always good to know when you look like shit. Can you, um, sit down, do you think?’
Joe made an amused but confused face, and after glancing at the kids, pulled out the chair and sat. ‘Something’s wrong, isn’t it?’ he said.
‘I’m not sure really how to tell you this, Joe,’ I said.
‘Where’s Amy?’ he asked, suddenly noting her absence. ‘And Ant? Is he still sleeping?’
I shook my head and swallowed with difficulty. I pinched the bridge of my nose. ‘I caugh—’ I started, but I couldn’t get where I needed to go that way. It was too brutal. I coughed and then took a couple of gasps of air before starting again. ‘They’re not here,’ I finally managed, my voice weak and brittle. ‘That’s the thing.’
‘They’re not?’ Joe asked, looking pointlessly around the room as if perhaps they might be hiding in the corner. ‘Um, where are they then?’
I lowered my face into my hands. ‘This is so hard,’ I murmured. ‘And it’s so unfair that I have to be the one to tell you.’
‘Tell me what?’ Joe asked, fidgeting in his seat and straightening. ‘Are they OK? They haven’t had an accident or something, have they?’
I shook my head and peeped out at him over my fingertips. ‘I . . .’ I said.
Ben appeared in the doorway then, dripping water all over the floor tiles. ‘Dad!’ he said. ‘Can you come out? We want to go in the big pool.’
‘Just go outside,’ Joe said quietly. ‘I’ll be with you in a minute.’
‘But if you just came and sat outside, we could—’
‘Go!’ Joe said again. ‘I’ll be with you in a minute.’
Ben tutted and said, ‘Dad,’ in a whiny voice, but he turned and vanished from view.
‘So what’s happened?’ Joe said. ‘Tell me. Because you’re scaring me now.’
‘I caught them,’ I said, momentarily standing and leaning over the table so that I could see out through the kitchen window. All three children were safely out of earshot, still playing in the jacuzzi. ‘I caught them together in the outhouse,’ I added, as I sat back down again.
‘You caught them,’ Joe repeated, frowning. ‘Oh . . . You don’t mean . . . you mean you caught them?’
I nodded sharply, dislodging a tear, which rolled down my cheek.
‘Not . . . you know . . .’ Joe said.
I nodded again.
‘Shagging? ’ Joe said, more mouthing the word than speaking it. ‘Or just . . .’
I bit my lip and managed another nod. ‘I’m sorry,’ I whispered.
‘Christ!’ Joe said, covering his mouth with one hand. ‘And . . . ?’ He shrugged and shook his head. ‘What happened?’
‘Um, there was a bit of an argument.’
‘Yeah, I bet,’ Joe said. ‘And then?’
‘And then they left.’
‘They left?’ Joe repeated.
‘I’m sorry, Joe,’ I said. ‘But yes, they left. Together.’
Incongruously, Joe started to smile then. ‘Oh, I get it,’ he said. ‘This is a wind-up, isn’t it?’ That was when the floodgates opened once again, and as quietly as I could manage, I began to sob.
Six
Joe
Until Heather started crying, I didn’t really believe what she was telling me. After all, the scenario she was describing was so unlikely that a joke or a tasteless wind-up seemed as logical an explanation as any.
But when she began to cry, I believed her – or, at least, I understood that she believed what she was saying to be true. A different explanation came to mind then: that she was perhaps quite simply unhinged. We didn’t really know either of them, I reminded myself. Strangers can do and say the strangest things.
‘Heather,’ I said, glancing out of the window at the kids. ‘I’m sorry, but . . . well, they’ll hear you.’
‘Oh . . .’ she breathed, screwing up her features to stifle her sobs and then standing. ‘I’ll, um . . . Of course. I’ll be back. Just give me a minute.’ And then she stumbled off into the bedroom, closing the door behind her.
I moved to the kitchen step and managed to fake a smile when Ben looked over my way. ‘Can we go in the big pool, Dad?’ he asked.
‘In a bit,’ I said. ‘Stay there for now. I’ll be back in a second to watch you.’
I ducked indoors for my phone, and when I returned I sat at the garden table, where I
