So no, I don’t believe that any of that was my fault. My racing heart was simply not under my control.
Where my personal responsibility did come into play, because I do believe in free will – I’m not putting what happened down to destiny – was bringing them with us to Spain. I knew it was dangerous, I knew it was stupid, and, worst of all, I’m pretty sure I knew what would happen. But I did it anyway.
Part of me hoped that I’d hate him, I think. There was something unpolished about Ant, a scally lurking beneath the suit. He was what my mother would call a ‘rough diamond’ and I hoped that I’d simply get bored with his company. Perhaps I was just kidding myself, but I told myself that spending time with him was maybe the best antidote; that I’d be able to compare him to indisputably lovely Joe, who couldn’t fail to come out on top.
But I’d underestimated the power of attraction even as I was succumbing to it. Ant set my pulse racing by simply walking past me, in a way that Joe never had. Being in the pool with him yet not touching him was so unbearable I took risks by brushing up against him. We both knew it was going to have to happen.
I convinced myself I was doing it in order to get him out of my system. The alcohol had worn down my defences – it had diluted my ability to say no. But as I followed him into the outhouse, I told myself I was doing it in order to save my marriage. I’d get this over and done with and forget it. Because how good could it possibly be?
The experience of having sex with Ant was ecstatic. He smelt amazing, his skin felt like velvet, and once he was inside me I came almost immediately. Joe was no lazy lover and he invariably managed to get me there in the end, but it had always been something of a marathon he was forced to run, long after he’d reached the end of his sprint. But with Ant . . . I don’t know quite how to explain it, except to say that merely the concept of him had been enough to bring me to the brink.
The drive to the airport began in silence. I was feeling wretched about everything: about how upset Joe had been, about leaving Ben behind, about what I’d potentially done to our marriage and about crossing paths with poor Heather on my way back down to the house. But perhaps the hardest bit to own up to is that I was feeling distraught about Ant’s imminent departure, too.
‘I fucking hate this,’ he said, about half an hour south of Granada. ‘I hate all of this.’
I sighed and licked my lips. I tried to think of a reply.
‘Are you happy with him?’ Ant asked me a few minutes later. ‘You aren’t, are you? You can’t be. Tell the truth.’
I drove on in silence and eventually he asked if I was giving him the ‘cold shoulder’.
I smiled at him sadly. ‘I’m just trying to think of an honest answer,’ I told him. ‘It’s complicated.’ The honest answer would have been, I’ve never been happy with anything, I guess, but how unattractive was that?
‘I thought I was,’ I finally told him.
‘And now?’ Ant asked.
‘And now I’m not so sure.’
He turned to look out of the side window, and I forced myself to think of Joe and Ben, of the life we had built together. I forced myself to think of all the things Joe had done to try to make me happy.
‘I’ve always believed that anything is possible,’ Ant said. ‘D’you know what I mean?’
‘Go on,’ I told him. ‘I’m not sure I do.’
‘I mean that if you want something bad enough, you can have it,’ he said. ‘You have to work hard for it and you have to believe in yourself, but basically, anything you want, you can have it.’
I nodded. I wondered if he’d read The Secret, as that was the book’s basic premise: that the universe conspires to bring you what you want, as long as you believe that you deserve it. ‘Yes, in a way, I believe that too,’ I said.
‘But here’s the thing,’ Ant said, resting his hand on my leg. ‘I want you. I think we’d be amazing together. Sky’s the limit.’
I laughed gently. ‘Would we, though?’ I asked. I could picture myself beside him with shocking ease. He was the kind of man I’d always pictured myself with, if truth be told.
‘You know we would,’ Ant said, and he pushed his hand down between my thighs.
I wanted him desperately, even then. We’d made love twice in the hotel in Orce, but still I wanted more. I stared out at the shimmering motorway and asked myself how it was possible to want sex with someone so badly.
‘What about Heather?’ I asked, hoping that saying her name would act like a spell to save me. ‘What about the girls?’
‘She doesn’t want me,’ Ant said. ‘I think she hates me, if truth be told.’
‘But she needs you,’ I said. ‘They all do.’
‘I’m not so sure,’ Ant said. ‘And I’m not just saying that to . . . you know . . . convince you or whatever. Sometimes I think
