Reckless

by Gemma Rogers

  Once Charlotte had been dropped off, I returned and began the housework. David was cutting the grass outside and when I made him a drink, he suggested we get the train to London for dinner. I couldn’t think of a suitable excuse when David proposed the idea, although I wasn’t really in the mood for a night out. He seemed keen to make amends for forgetting our anniversary, so I relented.

  At around half past four, David called a taxi to take us to the station. The train was running a few minutes late, and I shivered on the platform as the wind whistled through the fence. David gave me his jacket to put over my dress, lifting the collar to shield my neck from the gale, his face close to mine. This was what he used to be like, the perfect gentleman. Always so attentive. What had happened to us?

  We caught the fast train, changed at Gatwick and arrived at London Victoria an hour later. David had managed to get tickets for that evening’s performance of Wicked at the Apollo theatre, although the seats were at the back. I was looking forward to seeing it as Stella had reported it was good when she went with her mum a couple of years ago. There was a tapas restaurant around the corner and by chance we managed to get the last available table. Pulling out my chair, David commented it was our lucky night.

  ‘Well, this makes a nice change,’ he said, pouring the complimentary sangria into my glass.

  ‘It’s good to get out. We haven’t had a night out in ages.’

  A waiter came over and took our order. David suggested we go for the set weekend menu and I agreed.

  ‘We could go the whole hog and stay over?’ David raised an eyebrow and winked.

  My skin turned to ice. It was one thing to come out for the evening, but I wasn’t sure I was ready for a night of passion in a hotel. It had been what I thought I wanted, to get us back on track, but since being with Nicky, it felt tainted. I couldn’t just pretend it hadn’t happened, or that I wasn’t suspicious that David might be playing away. He registered the look on my face and took a mouthful of his drink before he spoke.

  ‘Perhaps not then. I know I need to make it up to you and I’m sorry I haven’t been around. I’m trying to make my mark in this new place, and it means putting the hours in.’

  I nodded, unsure whether I believed him. ‘You took this job because you wanted to spend more time with us.’

  He frowned, but I couldn’t pretend everything was fine between us when it wasn’t.

  I contemplated telling him about Nicky. Blurting it out across the table as we waited for our food to arrive. Would he be consumed by jealously? Or think I was having a midlife crisis? Would he get angry? Throw his drink over me? Raise his fist? I didn’t think so, but I was sure he’d shout, maybe even cry. I knew our marriage would be over. David had always made that clear and at the time I’d said it worked both ways. That was in the early days of our marriage when we were adamant we’d be together forever, and our heads could never be turned. How things had changed.

  David’s voice jolted me from my thoughts.

  ‘Let’s pretend it’s a date. I’m taking you to dinner and a show. No expectations,’ he said with an easy smile and I felt my shoulders ease down.

  My stomach growled appreciatively when our food came out around fifteen minutes later. The sangria was making my appetite spike and I dived in straight away. Now I knew I wasn’t going to have to dodge sex with David, I loosened up. We discussed St. Wilfred’s, how Charlotte was settling in and what Amy’s parents were like. Before we knew it, time had run away with us and we had to leave to make it to the show.

  The seats we thought weren’t so great turned out to be pretty good and the show was amazing. I immersed myself in it and hummed the infectious song about defying gravity all the way home; making a mental note to download the soundtrack. I snuggled close to David on the train, a complete reversal of how we’d sat stoically opposite each other on the way there. The carriage was busy as people made their way home and the train was slow, stopping at every station on its route.

  By the time we made it through our front door, it was past midnight. I’d rung Louise in the interval, they had just got home from Smith & Western. The girls were giggly apparently from sugar overload and had fleeced Amy’s dad for pink sparkly cowboy hats which had subsequently covered the entire back seat of his BMW in glitter.

  Knowing Charlotte was fine, I kicked off my heels and made my way upstairs, still feeling the effects of the sangria and later wine at the theatre. David turned off the lights downstairs and checked the doors were locked before he came to bed. I was already cleaning my teeth when he came into the bathroom. I’d slipped into my nightie and David put an arm around my waist, squeezing and kissing the top of my head.

  ‘It was a good night wasn’t it?’

  ‘It was,’ I agreed and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

  He kept to his word and didn’t make a move. Instead he reached over to pat my hip and left his hand resting, becoming heavier as he drifted off.

  It finally came, what I’d been waiting for, the overwhelming feeling of guilt which washed over me like a wave. Tears pricked my eyes, seeping into the pillow. I lay rigid, not wanting to alert David to my distress. Thankfully he was asleep within minutes, and I lay under the duvet, thinking about what had happened with Nicky. What would Stella say, or my mother for that matter? What about Charlotte? It would be awful if she ever found out, she’d be humiliated. I’d be ostracised for sure, my reputation ripped to shreds. And what for? Yes, things had been strained between David and I, but tonight had proved that there was still hope, we’d been married for sixteen years for goodness’ sake, of course it wouldn’t always be plain sailing. I was ashamed of my infidelity and I had to make sure it never happened again.

  16

  On Sunday, I woke to the sound of David gently snoring beside me, it was past eight and I immediately checked my phone to make sure Charlotte hadn’t texted. She had sent a message, but it was a selfie of her and Amy in their matching cowboy hats. I smiled at the image, slipping out of bed, not wanting to wake David. Grabbing my dressing gown on the way out, I tiptoed downstairs and put on a pot of coffee, the smell filling the kitchen and instantly making everything better. I’d made the decision to put Friday behind me and forget it ever happened. David never needed to know. It was a blip, that was all.

  I poured myself a mug when the coffee was ready and sat in the conservatory, legs curled beneath me, listening to the birds chirping in the garden. I’d missed another call from Stella last night while we were out, so texted her saying it was difficult to talk but I would ring when I could. She’d understand.

  Sundays were for lazy mornings with coffee and warm croissants. I remembered I had a batch in the freezer and put them in the oven. Resuming my position back in the chair, a thud came from the hallway. The Sunday papers had arrived. Sighing, I got up again and went to collect them from the doormat. I could take them back to bed, David and I could peruse the headlines over breakfast like we used to before Charlotte came along.

  As I scooped up the papers, a single scrap escaped the pile and floated to the floor. I bent to pick it up, a crumpled sliver of paper with a mobile number scribbled on it. Whose was it? Was it Nicky’s? I raced to the lounge window to look out onto the street. There was no one to be seen, but I heard a car driving away. Was Nicky trying to contact me? Shit. How did he know where I lived?

  I chewed the inside of my cheek and turned the lounge light on and off four times before I could stop myself, hoping Mary wouldn’t see the flashing lights and think I’d gone mad or was sending SOS signals.

  Snatching my phone out of my dressing gown pocket, I got ready to give Nicky a piece of my mind. What the hell was he playing at? He knew I was married. Why had I made such a stupid mistake in getting involved? With trembling hands, I began to type. My fingers hovered over the screen.

  Wait. I had to be smart about this. Did I want to give Nicky my number so he could call whenever he wanted? Definitely not. I imagined my phone ringing repeatedly in the middle of din
ner and last thing at night. My nerves were frayed enough already.

  I put my phone and the paper back into my dressing gown pocket and went to rummage around the kitchen junk drawer. I knew David had an old handset he’d discarded, so old that even Charlotte didn’t want it. It was a Motorola flip-style phone with no SIM card in it. Maybe I could pop out and get one after breakfast? No, I’d ignore it and speak to Nicky on Monday. That would be the best course of action.

  The smell of croissants from the oven made my stomach rumble appreciatively. They were browning nicely, little flecks of pastry lifting away in the heat. I retrieved a tray from one of the cupboards and loaded it with butter, jam, two plates and two knives. When the croissants were done, I piled them onto one of the plates and added the coffee. After taking an age to climb the stairs with the precariously balanced tray, I found David still asleep.

  ‘Morning, sleepyhead,’ I said, watching him sit up and rub his eyes.

  A wide smile spread across his face as he saw what I was carrying.

  ‘Well, that’s a perfect vision on a Sunday morning. A beautiful woman carrying coffee and breakfast.’ He propped our pillows up and patted my side of the bed.

  ‘I forgot the papers.’

  Once I’d retrieved them, we snuggled under the covers, him reading the Sunday Times, me the Sunday Mirror, reporting on the climate change protest in Manhattan led by Greta Thunberg which dominated the headlines. David read with his glasses on, tutting every so often.

  The coffee perked me up and the buttered croissants melted in my mouth. I’d have to be more careful about what I ate this week after last night’s heavy meal and now this for breakfast.

  ‘What time are we picking Charlotte up?’ David checked his phone for the time, before getting out of bed.

  ‘I’m not sure, she hasn’t said. I’ll give her a ring once I’m dressed.’

  He grabbed his towel and went into the bathroom, closing the door. Seconds later, I heard the shower start. His phone, still laying on the duvet where he’d left it, was unlocked. Curiosity got the better of me and I reached for it, clicking into his messages. There were texts from me, Charlotte, Patrick and one from Paul that came through yesterday morning. That was odd. I’d never heard him mention a Paul.

  Can you get away this weekend? Xx

  Men didn’t put kisses at the end of text messages. It had to be her, logged in his phone under another name. I closed the message and dropped the phone like a hot potato, it bounced onto the bed. Fiery tears streamed down my cheeks and I let them come. I’d been holding back for too long.

  I heard the shower stop and the door slide open. My throat constricted and I thought I might heave, the croissants threatening to make a reappearance. I swallowed the saliva that filled my mouth and took the tray downstairs. Waiting down there for David to finish, I composed a text to Charlotte, who replied quickly and asked me to collect her around midday.

  When David came out and got dressed, I slipped into the family bathroom to avoid interacting with him. I wasn’t sure I could trust myself not to scream in his face. By the time I’d finished showering, I could hear him moving around downstairs. My stomach burned as I rolled my wedding band around my finger. The symbol of an unbroken circle of love. What a load of shit that was. I know I had acted unforgivably with Nicky, but an ongoing affair, which I was sure this was - there had been too many late nights, too many weekends away - was no comparison to a one-off lapse of judgement.

  As soon as I was ready, I headed downstairs and out of the front door, calling out before I closed it behind me, ‘I’m going to get Charlotte and I need to nip to the shops on my way. Won’t be long.’ Trying to keep my voice as even as I could.

  He shouted something back, but I didn’t hear it.

  It was half past ten, and my decision to contact Nicky didn’t feel deceitful. David clearly didn’t care about lying to me. Any sadness I’d felt for the breakdown of our marriage because of the miscarriage had been replaced with pure hatred. Nicky’s telephone number was burning a hole in my pocket. I’d been sure to transfer the old phone and the scrap of paper into my pocket before I left.

  I drove in a daze to the supermarket, where I managed to pick up a cheap pay-as-you-go SIM card. Sat in the car park, I was all fingers and thumbs as I put the SIM in the old Motorola and listened to the automated voice direct me on how to top up my balance. Two minutes later, I sat with the phone in my lap, now with credit, ready to text Nicky, but unsure what to say. I knew I was acting in anger. A knee-jerk reaction to David’s infidelity, which felt like a knife in the back.

  Perhaps I should ignore Nicky pushing his number through my letterbox altogether, if it was him at all, and wait until school to speak to him? But David was clearly having his fun, so why shouldn’t I?

  Typing Nicky’s number into the phone, the blank message screen flashed accusingly at me. I swallowed hard, my fingers moving clumsily across the buttons, so different from the ease of the smartphone I used.

  Hi.

  I didn’t want to say too much on text. What if it wasn’t Nicky? Even if it was, I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to say? Within thirty seconds, a beep, loud and shrill, rang out, making me jump. I fumbled to put the phone on silent and checked the response.

  Miss?

  The single word sent a thrill through me I hadn’t expected.

  Where are you?

  I wanted to see him, tell him face to face that it wasn’t OK for him to put notes through my door.

  Home. Can we meet?

  Where?

  The side road by the restaurant.

  Those were his only instructions, but I assumed he meant the last time he’d been in my car. My pulse accelerated making me feel lightheaded. I couldn’t deny the excitement I felt about seeing him again.

  Be there in ten

  I had sixty minutes and as I drove, trying to remember my way around, I convinced myself it would only be for a chat. I could tell him that he couldn’t contact me at home in future. That was off limits.

  When I pulled into the road, Nicky was already there waiting for me, leaning against a lamp post, engrossed in his phone. He could easily pass for being early twenties in his jeans, long-sleeved polo shirt and a brown leather jacket. I hadn’t made an effort, throwing on jeans and a jumper, my mind focused on getting a SIM card when I’d gotten dressed. I stopped beside him, and he bent to look through the window. My chest fluttered like delicate wings were beating inside me. I’d forgotten how handsome he was.

  I beckoned him inside and he flopped into the passenger seat, squeezing my thigh in greeting. My skin tingled beneath the fabric at his touch and I thought for a second he was going to lean over and kiss me, but he seemed to think better of it.

  ‘I don’t have long,’ I said.

  Nicky rubbed his chin, the stubble catching on his fingers.

  ‘OK, keep going down here and turn left.’ He pointed and I started the engine without hesitation.

  We drove for about five minutes before pulling into a park. Similar to Tilgate, but with a smaller, car park.

  ‘Where are we?’

  ‘Come on,’ Nicky said with a wink.

  He jumped out of the car and hurried straight into the wooded area. I followed quickly behind, locking the car using the key fob and glancing over my shoulder, grateful we appeared to be alone. The trees overhead tightly knitted together, making the sky barely visible. Underfoot, my pumps squelched on the damp earth and moss when he veered off the gravel path; moving so fast I struggled to keep up. He stopped abruptly when the car park could no longer be seen. Pushing me back into a tree so I was pinned against it, he kissed me with the same urgency as he had in the changing room. As though we were going to get caught any minute. The bark scraped the back of my head, hair snagging and pulling at my scalp.

  For a second, it was as though we were the only two people in the world, the need to feel him inside me was insurmountable. I gasped as he pushed his groin into mine, denim rubbing togeth
er. The notion of us just having a conversation was forgotten as his hand pushed inside the waistband of my jeans.

  A low groan escaped my lips. I was trying to be as quiet as possible out in the open air. He pulled down my jeans, skin exposed to the elements, and we had sex against the tree. It lasted longer than before, both of us a tangled sweaty mess.

  Trying not to laugh, we caught our breath, leaning back against opposite trees for support. My legs trembled, unwilling to steady themselves.

  ‘I’ve been wanting to do that all weekend,’ he said as we hastily pulled up our clothes. I vaguely remembered how much of a sexual appetite I’d had as a teenager. My libido reawakened with the prospect of sex with Nicky. Before I’d met David, I’d had a few wild months at university, excited to be away from home, enjoying the freedom and participating in all the drunken parties. A string of one-night stands followed, but it had been fun and I hadn’t regretted a thing.

  The desire I felt for Nicky was so overwhelming, it transported me back there. Drunken sex with men I thought were out of my league. Passion I hadn’t felt for years with David. It crossed my mind as I watched Nicky secure his belt that he could be doing this with a number of women or girls. How would I know? We should have used something. Too late now.

  I hadn’t intended on having sex with Nicky again, or maybe subconsciously I had? Either way, I’d hardly put up a fight. I’d known what I was doing. I couldn’t palm it off as a moment of weakness. I’d been calculated in my decision and it had served a purpose, to get back at David. A bittersweet victory in the cold light of day.