by Jane Fallon
‘He must trust you,’ I say sadly.
‘He does. Because we’re friends. Just not the kind of friends who want to socialize outside of work particularly. And definitely not the kind of friends who secretly want to bang each other either.’
‘I believe you.’
She pushes herself up, standing. ‘Well, hurrah for that. I have to go. I’m due back at two.’
‘It still doesn’t explain things though. I still have no idea what’s going on.’
‘You and me both. If you ask me this Emma has just made the whole thing up. She’s looking for attention or something.’
I get up too. The fight has definitely gone out of me. ‘Maybe. I wish I knew who she was. Does Nick know you’re here, by the way?’
‘Jesus, no. Please don’t tell him – he’ll probably fire me. I had to sneak into HR to find his address.’
‘I won’t. And I’m sorry again.’
‘Yeah, well.’ She smooths down her trousers at the front. Leans down and pats Igor’s head. ‘Maybe just give him the benefit of the doubt? Anything. Just a little bit of hope. Or he’s going to end up losing us all our jobs.’
‘Could I give you my number? In case … if you come across an Emma and you think it might be her, you know …’ I stare at the table. Given how offhand I’ve been with her it feels like a big ask. No, ‘offhand’ is a massive understatement. Rude.
She reaches in her bag for her phone. ‘Sure. Why not?’
I watch her sashay down the street in search of a cab. I don’t know what to think. It makes no sense for her to come all the way over here if she was lying, but how can Lydia’s information be so wrong? She can’t know though, Lou. I mean, she can know he’s not sleeping with her, obviously, and that I do now believe. But can she categorically know he’s not having an affair at all? No. The minute she’s left I wish I’d taken her number too. I have so many more questions.
I sit down at the kitchen table, put my head in my hands. There’s only one thing I can do. I need to send Nick a text. I notice he’s replied to my earlier accusations: And again, I have no idea what you’re talking about.
I ignore it. Can you come over tonight? I promise I’ll hear you out.
Fine, he texts back almost immediately. See you 6.30. No kiss.
CHAPTER 30
I’m so nervous when he shows up that I’m shaking. I’ve had a shower and dressed in my soft pale blue yoga trousers and a fitted T-shirt – I don’t want to look as if I’ve made any effort but I also know he thinks this outfit is cute. I don’t know why I care.
He’s five minutes early. He looks dishevelled. Grey. He rings the bell even though he has a key. Shuffles in hesitantly, like a reluctant visitor, not someone who co-owns the place. He hardly has the swagger of someone who is in the throes of a passionate affair. Igor does his Igor thing. I can’t believe it’s only a matter of weeks since we first clapped eyes on the dog. How excited we were. How happy. It’s like the world was hit by a meteorite a few days later and became unrecognizable.
‘Thanks for coming. Come through,’ I say as if he’s a job interviewee. He follows me downstairs, ditching his coat over a chair when we get to the kitchen.
‘What’s this about?’ he says, sitting at the table in his usual spot.
‘Do you want a glass of wine?’ I definitely do.
‘Sure.’
I pour us both a large Cabernet Sauvignon. Sit down across from him. ‘Are you OK?’
‘What am I doing here?’ he asks, not ready to indulge in small talk.
‘I’m confused …’ I haven’t really thought through what I want to say. I just know that something’s not right. Lou’s visit threw me.
‘Welcome to my world,’ he says. It’s an attempt at a joke, which gives me hope. But it’s said with a sneer, which takes it away again.
I breathe in and out slowly. Stay calm. ‘Has Lyds said anything to you about her friend who works at Diamond Leisure?’
This clearly isn’t the question he’s been expecting. ‘So this is another interrogation session?’
‘No. I’m just trying to get to the bottom of where it all came from. I’m … Please indulge me. This isn’t about trying to catch you out or put you on the spot …’
Something in my tone must get through. He swills his wine round in his glass. ‘She doesn’t know anyone there.’
What? Why would she lie to him? It’s not as if she was the one who told me he was seeing someone – well, she did, but not knowingly. ‘You asked her?’
‘I wondered if that was where this stupid rumour came from. But she didn’t know what I was talking about.’
‘She has a friend. Called Emma. Who works at Diamond Leisure.’
He shakes his head. ‘She told me she doesn’t know anyone there apart from me.’
It’s so frustrating that I can’t show him the proof – Lyds’s messages to Patricia. Without that I just sound paranoid.
‘Do you know any Emmas? Honestly.’
He looks as if he’s about to snap at me but in the end he shakes his head. ‘No. I think there might be one at Margate. I’ve seen her name on something. And there’s one in Catering at Blackpool. But I’ve never had any dealings with either of them.’
‘How would Lydia even know them?’ I say, more to myself than him.
‘She doesn’t. I told you. She doesn’t know what you’re on about.’
‘Is that what she said?’
He nods. Igor rests his head on his knee. Sighs when Nick strokes his muzzle.
‘Do me one favour,’ he says. ‘Tell me who told you about this in the first place. This supposed friend of Lydia’s? Because Lyds knows nothing about it.’
Shit. I wish I could just blurt it out. ‘It came from Lydia’s friend, yes.’
‘She actually told you? Face to face? This Emma who Lydia is claiming she doesn’t even know?’
‘No. Not exactly.’
He thumps the table and I jump. ‘Then who? Stop playing games, Georgia. This is my life. Our life. I deserve to know who’s saying this shit about me.’
‘Lydia told me. But she didn’t mean to. She actually told someone else, but I overheard. Sort of. Don’t be pissed off with her.’
A look of pure confusion crosses his face. ‘Lydia? She doesn’t even believe it.’
‘Of course she does.’
He shakes his head again, more emphatically. ‘She told me she didn’t. You’re saying she’s the reason you even heard this story in the first place?’
Oh God. ‘Inadvertently.’
‘What if you misunderstood? She was talking about someone else? Did you ask her about it?’
‘No. Well, kind of. I got someone else to ask …’
He rubs his hand over his face. ‘So you heard your best friend telling someone that I was having an affair and you didn’t even ask her about it? This is the biggest load of bullshit I’ve ever heard. You and Lydia tell each other everything.’
‘I know it doesn’t make any sense. But just trust me that that’s what happened …’
He sighs. ‘Like you trusted me, you mean?’
We sit there in silence for a moment, punctuated by Igor’s snores. Something’s not right. Something’s off.
‘So, let’s get this straight,’ he says. ‘You overheard Lydia telling some random person that someone I work with told her I was having an affair, and, instead of asking her what she was talking about, you got some other random person to do that. Have you and Lyds fallen out or something?’
‘No. It’s nothing like that. I shouldn’t have been listening in in the first place. I didn’t want her to know.’
‘Who was she telling?’
I feel the hole I’m digging for myself get deeper. ‘I don’t know.’
‘OK.’ He taps lightly on the table with his index finger, something he always does when he’s trying to work out a puzzle. ‘So who did you get to ask her about it?’
Shit. I lean forward on my elbows and rest my he
ad on my hands. I knew this was a bad idea. But I can’t let go of this feeling that everything is not as it should be.
‘Please, please, please promise you won’t say anything to Lydia. Promise.’
‘Surely it’s better for everyone if we all get everything out into the open?’
‘No!’ I say loudly. Igor’s ears stand to attention.
‘I’m just saying what you would usually say. Isn’t that what you always told the kids?’
‘I’m serious. If you tell Lydia what I’m about to tell you she’ll never forgive me. Please, Nick …’ Stupidly I start to cry. I have no idea how I’ve got myself in this mess when I’m the wronged party here. I can’t risk losing her friendship.
He softens. ‘I won’t. I promise, OK?’
I look him right in the eye. ‘Never, Nick. Whatever happens between us.’
He holds my gaze. ‘I promise.’
So I tell him everything. About Patricia. I go overboard to make him understand that it was done from love. To give him credit he listens without comment until I get to the part where Lyds tells Patricia what she’s heard about him.
‘So she just ups and tells a complete stranger that I’m having an affair? Out of nowhere?’
‘That her friend’s husband was. Remember, Patricia wasn’t supposed to know who any of us were. Lydia wasn’t gossiping, she just needed advice.’
‘From someone she met on Twitter?’
‘I know, Nick. I’m just telling you what happened, OK?’
‘But …’ he starts. I give him a look and he clams up again.
‘So you see why I can’t just ask her for the details?’
He nods. ‘This is crazy, though, you do know that? I can’t even defend myself properly.’
‘You promised.’
‘I’m not going to say anything. Can I at least see exactly what she said?’
I nod. Go on to Patricia’s Twitter account and scroll back to the beginning of her exchanges with Lydia. I want him to see how innocently it started.
‘Do you want something to eat?’ I say as I hand over my mobile. I need to distract myself while he reads and cooking is as good a way as any. ‘I’m making something anyway.’
‘Sure. Thanks.’
He buries his head in the phone. I can’t bear to watch his reaction so I chop garlic and basil. Dig some fresh pasta out of the back of the fridge. Check the use-by date – I’ve been eating random crap since Nick left. Lacking self-care. Toast and more toast. Occasionally a bag of crisps to spice things up. I look over and watch a frown form, lines puckering his forehead. He shakes his head. I put on a pot of water to boil, slosh olive oil into a pan, trying to distract myself.
Eventually Nick puts the phone down. ‘This …’ he says, a look of confusion on his face. I can tell he’s not acting. ‘None of this makes sense. Why is she saying this stuff?’
‘I guess she believes what this Emma has told her …’
‘Not even that. I mean, let’s give her the benefit of the doubt and say that she does indeed know someone called Emma who works at Diamond Leisure that for some reason she’s pretending to me that she doesn’t, and that that person really did make up a load of stories about me and fed them to Lydia … Even if that were true, the rest of it, the conversations she describes when we met up … it’s all made up, George. It’s all lies. All of it.’
I can’t take it in. I don’t know what – who – to believe. Why would Lydia lie? There has to be a rational explanation. I take the oil off the heat. Sit down opposite him. ‘OK. Let’s go through it.’
He nods, picks up the phone again. ‘Here’s what she says about us meeting up – Met up with Georgia’s husband tonight to try and prise the truth out of him – maybe that’s poetic licence but she told me straightaway she believed me. She seemed to think you were being irrational, if I’m being honest …’
I have no idea how to react, so I just nod. In the background the water starts to boil.
‘It’s as if he couldn’t care less about Georgia any more.’ He swallows noisily. ‘And then you – Patricia – asked her if I owned up to the affair and she says yes. Never happened. I swear on my life. Even if I was … why would I admit it to your best mate and not you? Wouldn’t I think she’d go straight back and tell you?’
‘I don’t know,’ I say with a heavy feeling. I don’t like where this is going.
‘I begged him to talk to her … She told me not to! Told me I should leave you alone till you’d had time to calm down. That I should go round when I knew you were out. And here’s my favourite – I apparently said what if my girlfriend had been there when Joe came round? What the fuck? None of this is true. None of it. Fuck. This is all Lydia, Georgia.’ He knocks back the rest of the wine in his glass. Pours us both another. ‘I don’t know what she’s up to, or why, but this whole thing started with her.’
Lydia? My best friend since I was nineteen? I’ve known her longer than I’ve known him. ‘Why …?’
He stares at the table for what seems like an age. ‘What’s the ultimate outcome of her telling you this? That we split up? So maybe she just wants you to herself. Maybe she can’t stand me and she thinks if you’re single she can see more of you?’
‘No way. Although it does feel as if she’s been avoiding bumping into you lately, but I thought that was because she felt awkward.’
His finger taps on the table again. ‘What else could it be?’
‘Wait,’ I say loudly. ‘It can’t be that. If that was what she wanted then she’d have told me. Georgia. But she told Patricia, didn’t she? She told a complete stranger.’ Feeling energized, I stand up and turn the gas on under the oil again. Lydia isn’t trying to ruin my marriage. She had no way of knowing I would ever find out what she’d said to Patricia. I throw some garlic into the oil and tip the pasta into what’s left of the boiling water. Really I should top it up with some from the kettle but instead I poke around with a fork, trying to make sure it all gets covered.
‘Shit,’ Nick says. I look over. ‘She knows that Patricia is you.’
CHAPTER 31
Time seems to stand still for a second. I feel lightheaded, reach out and steady myself on the counter. ‘That’s impossible.’
Nick shakes his head emphatically. ‘That’s the only explanation.’ He scrolls back through the messages frantically. ‘Right. Here’s the first time she mentions you. All that stuff about her feeling unfulfilled and you being successful. My guess is that she knew by then or why start talking about you at all? Either way she definitely knows by the next exchange because that’s when she starts on about feeling awkward around you and knowing something she shouldn’t. So, something before that gave you away …’
‘Let me look,’ I say, grabbing the phone out of his hand. ‘Drain the pasta, will you?’
He stands up and peers over my shoulder. ‘You always do that.’ He points at the screen. ‘That xoxo thing.’
‘Everyone does that.’
‘Do they? I don’t.’
‘Everyone who watched Gossip Girl then.’
‘Do you think Patricia watched Gossip Girl? In between cutting patterns?’
I watch as he pours the oil over the pasta in the pan, stirs it round, adds chilli flakes. ‘Probably not. It can’t be that simple though. How would you go from xoxo to that person must be a fake created by my best friend?’
‘Read those first few exchanges out. Everything, punctuation and all.’
So I do, cringing at how they sound. When I get to a conversation we had about football – Patricia’s eccentric passion – he stops me.
‘Read that again.’
‘It’s about Wycombe Wanderers. There’s no way she could guess anything from that.’
‘Just that last bit …’
‘What? “I have a bad feeling we’re going to lose …”?’
‘How did you spell “lose”?’
I double take at the screen. ‘L-o-o-s-e.’
‘Loose,’ he says.
‘That says loose. You always spell it like that.’
I stare at it. ‘That’s how it’s spelt. Fuck, isn’t it?’
He shakes his head.
‘That’s ridiculous. No way would she guess just from that.’
‘Maybe not. But there’s something.’
I keep reading. Stop dead, heart pounding. ‘Shit, Nick. I know what it is.’
He looks at me expectantly. ‘Lydia told Patricia about a mad Uber driver she had and then I asked her about it next day. Me, Georgia. Only she hadn’t ever told me about him. That was right before … Fuck, I’m so stupid.’
‘That’ll be it …’
‘Shit. Fuck. Why, though? If she knew it was me why go along with it? Why bring you up at all?’
‘That’s what we need to work out.’ He helps himself to the Parmesan from the fridge, brings it all over to the table. It feels weirdly normal. That’s the only thing that does, though. I’m hit with a vision of how things might have been – how they were meant to be. Me, Nick and Igor playing happy families now our kids were grown. What if he’s been telling me the truth all along? What if there is no other woman? Have I ruined everything?
‘Maybe she couldn’t bring herself to tell me face to face. So she saw this as a way of letting me know …’
‘Except it’s not true, remember? And all that stuff about me admitting it to her …’
I clutch at the nearest straw. ‘Could she have misunderstood? Misheard?’
Nick reaches a hand across the table and briefly touches one of mine. I can’t help it, I flinch. He snaps his back. ‘I know she’s your best mate. I know you don’t want to think the worst of her.’
‘Are you saying she might have made the whole thing up? Lydia?’
He rubs his palms up and down over his eyes, something he always does when he’s stumped. ‘I don’t know what I’m saying, to be honest.’
We finish the bottle of wine as we eat, and I open another. At some point Edie calls me and can’t keep the happiness out of her voice when I tell her that her father has come over for dinner. Whatever happens I need to make sure the kids see us being civilized with each other. While he chats to her I reread the Patricia messages on my laptop for the hundredth time, trying to work out if I really believe I could have been caught out. If I really believe Nick is innocent after all. It makes no sense. Fucked up doesn’t even come into it. As I’m staring at our exchanges I realize there’s a new box at the bottom. Unread.