A Life Without You

by Shari Low

  The prospect of the truth was killing me but I had to ask. ‘Because you were having an affair?’

  Say no. Please, please say no.

  ‘Yes.’

  No. Oh Dee.

  None of this was making sense to me.

  ‘She never told you?’ he asked.

  I shook my head. Sadness. Anger. Irritation. Disbelief. There was a cocktail of emotions fighting for supremacy in my head and I couldn’t untangle them.

  ‘Will you tell me now?’ I asked.

  He took another sip of his drink, gave a sad sigh. ‘What do you want to know?’

  ‘When did you meet?’

  ‘In 2011. She came over to Australia to see her brother…’

  My mind whirred backwards until I sussed out the dates and blurted, ‘But that would have been on her honeymoon.’

  ‘Yeah. Timing sucked. I own several bars and restaurants along the Gold Coast and she just happened to walk into one when I was there, to do a report for her blog. Fate, she said.’

  My rising anger was only contained by the fact that, for what it was worth, he seemed genuinely sad.

  ‘And you’ve been seeing each other ever since?’

  A rueful smile. ‘It’s what we do. I travel, looking for new investments, planning new hotels, clubs, bars. She travels. Travelled,’ he corrected himself, then took a moment to breath, to steel himself, before going on. ‘And we met whenever, wherever we could. Always separate room bookings, no contact, everything pre-planned in advance, that way if one of us didn’t show, the other knew it hadn’t worked out and we’d just catch up at the next destination. That happened a couple of times. Last June… Paris…’

  ‘Paris,’ I said at the same time, remembering. ‘I got the flu and she couldn’t go. I remember not quite understanding why she was so pissed off at me. She only had to postpone it by a week.’

  ‘I’d already left. I was there to check out a venue for a new club. Flying visit.’

  How could I not know? How could she not tell me? How could she do this?

  ‘So what was it? Were you planning to be together?’

  He shook his head. ‘I loved Dee, she loved me. But we both knew that we belonged elsewhere. I’m not one for commitments or ties. She had a life and a family in Scotland that she didn’t want to leave.’

  ‘And a husband,’ I repeated. It was churlish but I couldn’t help myself.

  ‘Yes, and a husband,’ he repeated, taking my point but not fazed by it in the least.

  I noticed his expression changed. A question.

  ‘I understand now that from the note and flowers you knew I existed, but how did you recognise me?’

  ‘I saw you back in New York, at the jazz club. I was leaving as you arrived and you held a taxi door open for me. I didn’t give it a second thought at the time, but then I saw you again at Tiffany’s.’

  ‘We always met there on our last morning.’ There was a hint of nostalgia in his voice. ‘It was our thing. I’d buy her something beautiful and she’d pretend to object.’

  This was getting worse with every line of the conversation. All those pieces of Tiffany jewellery that she told me she bought herself…

  ‘Were you at the Baccarat bar too?’ I asked him.

  He nodded. ‘Yes. Another of our favourites. Dee loved that place.’

  It gave me a pang of satisfaction that I’d already sussed that she would have adored the five-star luxury and glamour. I may not know all her secrets, but I did know Dee.

  ‘I stayed, had a drink, she didn’t show, so I left.’

  He must have been one of the guys that had his back to me at the bar, otherwise I’d surely have spotted him.

  ‘I didn’t see you there. It was only when I was on the plane home and wondering about the notes that it struck me I’d seen you at the club and at Tiffany’s. I still wondered if it was all a weird coincidence until I saw you this morning at the pool,’ I said.

  That surprised him.

  ‘I tried to follow you. Ended up in the lobby in my bikini. Not my finest moment.’

  His laugh, when it came, was low and brief and I took advantage of the moment to ask the obvious question.

  ‘So can I ask, are you married too? Is that what it was? Two married people having something on the side to keep them amused?’

  I really hoped he didn’t detect the slight twist of bitterness that had sneaked into my words. I couldn’t help it. I was getting more furious by the minute. How could she do this? And why would she want to? Didn’t she give Luke a second thought? Was she so swept up in the glitz and excitement of it all that she just forgot about us? And why, for God’s sake, had she never mentioned a single word to me about this? I couldn’t even start to decide which of those questions hurt me most.

  ‘No, never married. Not my thing. Like I said, the relationship I had with Dee was the very opposite of complicated. We met up, we had a great time, we went back to our lives until the next time. No strings, no ties, no demands. We both knew exactly what it was – pure enjoyment. We had a great time together and that was all it was ever going to be. She didn’t want to divorce and I didn’t want to marry so it was perfect. She was perfect.’

  ‘I’m not sure her husband would agree with you right now.’ I was finding it difficult to contain my anger now.

  ‘Dee said our relationship was what kept her and Luke together. Kept the excitement alive. I think she loved Luke and I in very different ways, and for very different reasons.’

  I wasn’t sure how to answer that. I couldn’t even begin to understand how she could love two men at the same time.

  My silence gave him the opportunity to open up a new path of conversation, moving it from the past to the present. ‘Are you going to tell him?’

  ‘I think I have to. Luke’s a decent guy, a good man. Not telling him would be unfair.’ I was thinking out loud now, going on instinct, despite that fact that there was not a single part of me that wanted to break that kind of news.

  Putting his wine down, he thought about that for a moment. ‘I think telling him would be unfair. I’d just be another ghost that he would have to live with.’

  Snap. That was it. Pure fury, and I’m not even sure who it was directed at. The self-assured man in front of me? Or Dee, who had put this situation into our lives? Or myself, for not seeing it, not knowing my best friend enough to spot what she was up to?

  I should have known. I couldn’t believe I didn’t.

  Why, Dee? Why weren’t we enough?

  But the answer was right there in front of me. Brad and his glitzy life were about as far removed from our existence in Weirbridge as it could possibly be. Our life at home was never going to live up to Dee’s thirst for excitement and adventure. In a twisted way, Brad was right. Having him probably sated her thirst, allowing her to lead a perfectly normal life at home with us, knowing that she had those carefree interludes to spice things up.

  There was nothing I wouldn’t do for her, but God, I felt sick at the thought of what she’d done. How could she? How could she? The question went round and round in my head, but I couldn’t bring myself to vocalise it in front of this man. This stranger. A stranger who had loved my best friend all this time and who she had loved in return. I wanted to hate him, but right then all I felt was pity. He’d lost her too.

  The compassion gave way to a gut-twist of anxiety and the surety that sitting here was somehow being disloyal to Luke.

  Time to go. I didn’t know everything but I knew enough.

  ‘You’re going now,’ he said, calmly as I got up. It wasn’t a question.

  ‘I am. I’m sorry. It’s just… too much.’

  ‘I understand.’ He reached into his inside pocket and took out a black leather wallet. Flipping it open, he slipped a business card out from one of the slots.

  That’s when I saw her face. A snapshot. That Julia Roberts grin, the waves of red hair, peeking from the folds of the leather. He kept her picture with him. If I needed confirmatio
n that this wasn’t meaningless, that was it.

  ‘If you ever need to get in touch, here’s my number,’ he said, handing me a card.

  I took it. ‘I won’t,’ I told him, truthfully. I had nothing more to say to him and, even sitting here, felt like a betrayal of Luke. Yet another one.

  ‘I know,’ he replied softly. ‘Let me walk you back to your hotel,’ he offered.

  He had manners. Two good men. Dee picked well – just one time too many.

  ‘No, thank you. I really need to clear my head.’

  He could see there was no point in arguing. I left him with his glass of wine and his thoughts. Another heart chipped.

  The chill didn’t even permeate as I strode towards the hotel. I just wanted to get back there, to pack, to call the airline and change my flight to the first one the next morning, to get out of this city where the memory of my best friend had been so tainted

  The streets were still busy. The Spanish way. Eating at 10 p.m. or later on a Saturday night wasn’t unusual. No one gave me a second glance as I passed them, all going about their normal lives, completely unaware of the bombshell that had just detonated in mine.

  At the hotel, the concierge pulled open the glass door and I thanked him, then crossed the lobby, took the lift up to my room.

  Only when I’d closed the door behind me did my legs give way. I sank to the floor, spent, exhausted. How could she? Dee, what were you thinking?

  Not since Pete walked out the door, had I felt so utterly weary, so betrayed.

  When I found some strength, I got up again, headed to the minibar and pulled out a miniature bottle of gin. I realised it wouldn’t be enough, so I called room service and ordered three gin and tonics and a bucket of ice. I cracked open the one from the minibar while I was waiting, poured it into a glass from the vanity area, topped it up with a tiny can of tonic and then sat on the edge of the bed. Too wound up, too irritated, I got up and opened my case, then started packing, collecting my possessions and throwing them inside. I had so little with me, I was done in minutes. I pulled Dee’s iPad out of the safe and went on to the airline’s website. They charged me a hundred quid to change my flight. What a disgrace. It was blatant profiteering and totally shameless, but I’d have paid double if it meant I’d be home sooner.

  Room service arrived and I tipped the guy ten euros. Someone may as well have a good night.

  Picking up my mobile phone, I looked at the screen to check the time. One a.m. That meant it was midnight in the UK. I unlocked the handset, pressed my favourites button, saw Luke’s name and… My finger hovered over the dial button for a moment before I tossed it to the side. I couldn’t just phone him and blurt it out. I had to think it through, come up with the best way to break it to him. Hey Luke, your dead wife was shagging someone else from almost the minute you were married.

  He deserved to know, but I couldn’t tell him on the phone. It had to be face to face.

  I slugged down one of the large G&Ts that the waiter had brought, then lay on the bed and watched it spin. Lightweight once again.

  ‘How could you Dee? How could you?’ I challenged her aloud this time. ‘And why didn’t you trust me enough to tell me? How could you keep this a secret? How could I not know? Luke fucking loved you and you did this to him? Why? What gave you the right to do that?’

  My memory threw me back to Brad’s comment, saying Dee had been sure she didn’t want to get divorced.

  ‘Why not? Why not let Luke go and find someone that wouldn’t cheat on him for his whole married life? What were you thinking? That this was OK? How deluded could you be?’

  Even as I said it though, there was a part of my brain that was thinking it was classic Dee. Live in the moment. That thirst for excitement. Her love of the wild side, combined with a heady weakness for the flashy and finer things. Brad, with his suaveness and windswept lifestyle, would have been irresistible to her. I could see that now.

  So why stay with Luke then? But I knew the answer to that question. She loved him. She really did. What they had couldn’t be faked. The problem with Dee was that nothing was ever enough, no thrill or devotion could completely sate her thirst for more. If she went on a roller coaster it had to be the fastest. If she jumped from a plane, next time she had to go higher. If she was making money, she had to make more. I hadn’t realised that applied to her husband too.

  This would break Luke, but how could I keep it from him? He was struggling so much to find a way to heal. We both were. The only time we felt anything close to happy was when we were together, two damaged emotional wrecks supporting each other…

  I must have dozed off, all hail the tranquilizing properties of gin, because the next thing I knew my phone was buzzing incessantly. I grappled around the duvet until I found it. Six a.m. was the time on the screen, right above the name LUKE. Just the sight of his name made me start to panic.

  ‘Hi,’ I croaked, my voice inhibited by the fact that my throat felt like it had swallowed a sandbag.

  ‘I’m sorry, did I wake you?’ he asked, and I could hear from his voice that something was wrong. Bugger, did he know? How had he found out? Had I called him when I was pissed off and a bit drunk? No, I hadn’t. Definitely not.

  ‘No, it’s fine, I was just about to get up any way. Are you OK? You don’t sound…’

  ‘I just got home.’

  ‘But it’s…’ I struggled to remember if it was an hour forward or an hour back. ‘…5 a.m. there. Wild night?’

  He was fine. Just a bit drunk, maybe? He must have gone to the office night out after all. I told him he should, but he’d been pretty adamant he wasn’t up for it.

  ‘I went back to Callie’s place,’ he said. ‘Spent the night.’

  ‘Spent the night, as in slept on the couch?’ Please say yes. I beg you. I couldn’t handle another shock right now. Now that I had any right to feel that way. Luke had every right to do as he pleased, especially after last night’s revelations about Dee.

  ‘No,’ he sighed. ‘Spent the night with her.’

  My heart sank. Oh, Luke. Every word oozed such utter misery I didn’t even need to ask how he felt about it. My stomach flipped and a wave of nausea started to rise from deep in my gut. How had I ended up in the middle of this twisted mess?

  I threw the phone down, made the bathroom just in time before I threw up until there was nothing left in my stomach. Legs shaking, I tried to stand, just as the room phone rang. I’d never understood why hotels put phones in bathrooms – it wasn’t a situation which I ever considered perfect timing to have a chat to a chum – but right now I was hugely grateful that they did.

  I took the receiver off the cradle. ‘Hello?’ I stammered.

  ‘Jen, are you OK? The phone went dead and I was trying to call you back but it wouldn’t go through.’

  ‘Sorry, I was just…’ The sweats were taking over now. Chills sending water oozing out of the pores on my forehead, my hands, my back. ‘I’m not feeling great. Think I drank too much last night.’

  ‘Sorry I’m not there to help. Christ, what a pair we are.’ He sounded almost melancholic. I wasn’t quite sure how to respond.

  Luke had slept with Callie. Was I supposed to say berate him for being unfaithful to her memory? Or say ‘Good for you!’ and be happy that he was moving on? Or tell him that I really wished he hadn’t? The last one was true. Yes, it was selfish and yes, I’d kissed Mark so I had no right to judge, but this changed everything. Before it was him and I, both piecing our lives together, relying on each other for support as the only two people who could really understand what we’d been through. Now that had changed. He had moved the pieces.

  ‘And how do you feel?’ I asked him.

  I could hear the sigh, then the pause, then utter weariness. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever come closer to hating myself.’

  His bereft tone, the palpable pain were like flashing, neon indicators that now wasn’t the time to tell him about Brad.

  Chapter 36

 
; Val

  I’d been determined to stay home tonight. At least, that’s what I told myself, but it was a lie, because I hadn’t taken the sleeping pills that would have made me unfit to drive. Instead, I’d lain there, groundhog night, staring at the clock, listening to Don snore, until I could tell myself I’d given it a try, then I’d got up, dressed silently and slipped out. This time I went to the supermarket first, bought the same products as always, then went to the café.

  She wasn’t there. It was a man behind the counter, a wide, muscled, bloke with a shaven head and a smile that showed crooked teeth.

  I didn’t wait. I left, intending to stop at the food bank as always, hang the bag on the door and get back home.

  This had to stop. I was driving myself insane. I needed to go home. To stop this madness. To get a grip.

  Yet, here I was, turning into her street again.

  I pulled into the kerb opposite the house, turned the lights off but kept the engine running, because even on this summer night it was chilly.

  No lights on in the house.

  I stared at the windows, each one in turn, wondering which room he was sleeping in, and wondered if I threw something through it would it hit him?

  If only I had the courage to try.

  I’ve no idea how long I’d been there when I was flooded with light from the car that was pulling in behind me.

  Every nerve ending screamed, my heart started to race, panic, anger, fear and fury. It could only be him. Who else but a lowlife druggy or a demented, grief-stricken mother would be out here at this time of night?

  A light. Different from the one on the car. This was a single beam, and I watched in my side mirror as it came towards me. My jaw set. Bring it on. Come right ahead, I dare you. Red mist descended. Fight or flight. I was staying and that no-good evil scum was finally going to get what was coming to him.

  The shock of a knock on the window made me jump, but there was no fear. I’d been thinking about this moment for months, planning it, wondering how it would play out. Now I was about to find out.

  I opened the window, adrenalin pumping, ready for him.