Strictly Between Us

by Jane Fallon

  I sit down with my back to the hotel, just in case Patrick has a sudden desire to look out of the window.

  ‘Thank you.’ I knock back half of it, slam the glass back down.

  ‘Wow, should I order you another one before he goes back inside?’

  ‘No. Tell me what happened. I assume you saw Patrick go in?’

  Adam sits back, very pleased with himself. And so he should be. ‘I went in after him. He checked in under his own name.’

  ‘And did you see … was there any sign of her?’

  ‘There was a woman sitting in reception. So I sat there too. A few minutes after Patrick went up to the room she went to the desk and asked if they could put her through to him. All she said was ‘Hi’ and ‘See you in a minute’, and then when she put the phone down she went to the lift. Do you know what I think?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘She’s a hooker and they don’t even know each other. Because he walked right past her when she was sitting there and they didn’t even acknowledge each other.’

  I think about this for a second. It doesn’t make any sense to me. ‘No. What about all the Ben messages?’

  Adam shrugs. ‘Escort agency. They send a different girl each time?’

  ‘He told me he was seeing someone … Damn, I wish I’d seen her. What did she look like?’

  ‘Brown hair. Pretty. Youngish. Compared to him anyway.’

  ‘Clothes?’

  ‘Yes.’ He looks at me and waits for me to laugh, but I’m too impatient to hear every last detail from him.

  ‘You know what I mean. Was she smart? Casual? Officey? Prostitutey?’

  ‘God, I don’t know. Just normal. I thought I did pretty well spotting her at all.’

  ‘You did! I have no idea what I would have done without you. It’s just frustrating, that’s all.’

  ‘They’ll have to come out eventually,’ Adam says and he waves the waiter over again. ‘Want to order food?’

  ‘We might as well, I suppose. You haven’t got anything better to do?’

  ‘Me? You met me on a blind date. Do you really think I have a rampaging social life?’

  ‘No. Me neither. Let’s eat.’

  The restaurant we are sitting outside turns out to be French, so we order a blue cheese and endive salad to share, then coq au vin for him and salmon for me to follow. Every seven or eight seconds I remind him to keep watch on the hotel doors, but even so I still can’t help myself asking, ‘Is that her? What about her?’ every time anyone of a vaguely female persuasion comes out.

  ‘Don’t forget to take a photo when she comes out. Make sure your phone’s ready.’

  ‘I think we’re safe for an hour or so,’ he says after the fifth or sixth time I tell him not to lose concentration.

  ‘What if they have a row? She might cut the evening short.’

  ‘I’m watching,’ he says, taking a large bite out of his garlicky bread. ‘I’m not going to miss her.’

  ‘I know,’ I say. ‘Sorry. It’s just that this is huge. And I don’t want to blow it.’

  ‘What are you going to do once you see her, by the way? Confront her?’

  ‘No.’ I shudder. ‘I don’t want Patrick to know I’m on to him. I’m going to go over and get a good look at her, you’re going to take lots of pictures and then we’re going to wait here till Patrick leaves and take pictures of him, too.’

  ‘That’s hardly proof.’

  ‘It’ll prove he wasn’t where he said he was. It’ll be something, OK. It’s the best we’ve got.’

  ‘Still watching,’ he says, before I can ask again.

  44

  Bea

  ‘I need to start looking for another job,’ I say. We’re lying under the duvet, away from the fierce cold of the air conditioning. Me nestled under his arm, my head on his chest.

  ‘She’s not going to find out it’s you.’

  I sit up and look at him. ‘Just in case. It’s better to jump ship now, isn’t it?’

  He shrugs. ‘It can’t hurt, I suppose.’

  He looks at the clock on the bedside table. ‘Time to get up.’

  The way it always works after – after – is that I leave first. There’s no need for me to have a shower because I’m not going home to anyone who isn’t supposed to know what I’ve been doing. I once asked Patrick if Michelle didn’t find it odd that he sometimes got in from work smelling fresh and clean – and of a different shower gel to the one they had in their own bathroom – and he told me that he makes sure that doesn’t happen. He just uses water, no soap. Dries his hair thoroughly. He has it down to a fine art. He’s a pro.

  Once I’ve left, then he leaves too. Apparently he doesn’t even tell the people on reception he’s checking out after all. They have his card details, everything is paid for. Better that he doesn’t draw attention to himself by fabricating an emergency. Especially as we’ll be back again in a few weeks, no doubt. We try not to go to the same place too often.

  ‘There’s nothing going at Home Improvement is there?’ I ask casually as I start to get dressed.

  He laughs as if I’ve made a joke. ‘Hardly.’

  I stop tugging at the zip on my skirt and turn to look at him. ‘I’m serious. That’d solve everything.’

  Patrick sits up. Pours himself a glass of water. ‘Where’s this come from?’

  ‘Nowhere. I was just thinking that you might have something, that’s all. If I end up having to leave Castle when I’ve only been there a year. Forget I asked.’

  ‘That really wouldn’t be a good idea,’ he says, hammering the point home.

  ‘I said forget I asked. It was just a thought.’

  ‘It would be madness.’

  ‘All right. Jesus. I wasn’t suggesting you make me your right-hand woman. I just thought you might know of something somewhere across the company …’

  He’s out of bed now. Covering himself with a hastily grabbed towel. It’s as though a wall has gone up between us. A part of me wishes I’d never started this, but another part is furious he’s reacting like this.

  ‘… after all, it’s not just me who’s responsible for what we’ve been doing.’

  When he speaks again it’s slow and considered.

  ‘We’re pushing our luck as it is. We’ll give ourselves away if we’re together in front of other people.’

  I respond in the same considered fashion. ‘We wouldn’t be together in front of other people. You’d be in your office and I’d be working as the production secretary on some crappy show.’

  ‘I don’t get involved in who the producers employ at that level. I couldn’t give a shit who types up their progress reports or answers the phones, so long as they do it correctly.’

  ‘God, you’re a patronizing shit.’

  He ignores that. ‘Imagine how it would look if I started micro-managing like that? Apparently I already have a reputation, so … what? They’re really going to believe I was so impressed with your admin skills that I had to make sure you worked for the channel?’

  ‘I’m not asking you to recommend me. I just meant tell me if you hear of anything, that’s all. If Tamsin finds out about this I’m the one who’ll be fucked at work, not you. I just thought—’

  He cuts me off. ‘Tamsin is not going to find out. And if she does then I’m the one who has the most to lose. So she might not give you a good reference. Big deal. I’ve got a wife to worry about.’

  ‘Fuck your wife.’ I shout. Followed by, ‘You’re the one who’s done this to her, not me.’


  I wish I hadn’t said it immediately. Not that I don’t mean it – well, not the fuck her bit. The other thing – the fact that ultimately he’s the one who decided to risk it all, to betray Michelle, yes, I do believe that. Probably best not to have said it, though, because he’s now looking at me like I’ve expressed a desire to run her over and mount her head on my living-room wall. Now there’s a thought.

  ‘I think it’s time for you to leave.’ His expression is cold. I know that, as far as he is concerned, I have pushed it way too far. I don’t want to go with it like this. I feel as if I might never hear from him again. And that’s not an option I’m willing to consider.

  Before Patrick I was used to dating lads. Banter, partying and drinking. Both ducking out if things got too complicated. But my relationship with him is real. It’s adult. It’s special.

  ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean that. At all.’

  He’s immoveable. ‘I’ll be in touch.’

  Desperation hits me. I don’t want this to end. ‘Can’t we make a date now?’

  ‘I’ll call you.’

  ‘Please, Patrick. I shouldn’t have said it. I felt backed into a corner …’

  ‘Forget it. I’ll call you, OK. Now I’m going in the shower. You need to go.’

  ‘I could join you. It’s still early,’ I say in a rather pathetic, flirty way. I want to find a way to erase the last five minutes. I don’t want to end the evening like this when our whole relationship is only held together by a wispy piece of string in the first place.

  ‘I have to get going. It’s OK, don’t worry about it.’

  He puts a cursory arm around me and I try to find his mouth with my lips. He pecks my cheek and pushes me gently away.

  45

  Tamsin

  I’m finding it hard to concentrate on my grilled salmon. Not because it isn’t delicious – it is – but because my stomach is in a knot. Churned up with anticipation and fear.

  About forty minutes ago my mobile rang. I jumped, gasped, looked round as if the noise might have somehow given me away to my fellow diners.

  Adam laughed. I picked up the phone. Michelle. Of course, she would be calling to pass the time while Patrick was at football practice. I held it up for Adam to see who was calling. He waved his hand as if to say ‘answer it’.

  It was still early. There was no way Patrick and his woman would be out soon. If I didn’t answer I would only have to call her back later, and who knew what might be happening then. If I had to cut the conversation short I would be able to think of an excuse. I pressed ‘accept’. Tried to sound as natural as I could.

  ‘Hi. I was just thinking about you.’

  ‘Were you feeling my boredom? You should have come over.’ Michelle needs company like most people need water.

  ‘You need a hobby.’

  I looked up at Adam just to check he was still concentrating on his mission. He was barely blinking, tongue poking up from one corner of his mouth like a five-year-old trying to remember his three times table.

  ‘I know. There must be a reason I hate my own company so much. I’m sure it’s an indicator of some terrible psychological trait.’

  ‘I can’t stay long. I’m having dinner with Adam – do you remember I told you about Adam?’

  Adam looked at me at this point, surprised, no doubt, that I had thought he was worth a mention.

  ‘Oh. New best friend Adam who you don’t fancy? Looks like a potato?’

  I pressed the handset closer to my ear. I would hate for him to hear the way I’d described him.

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘Tell him to find his own best mate. You’re all mine.’

  ‘You could arrange a fight over me.’

  Adam looked at me. ‘Tell Michelle she can have you. I’m just here as back-up.’

  ‘Ha! I heard that. Tell him I like him.’

  ‘She likes you.’

  Adam raised an eyebrow. ‘Excellent. Is she single?’

  I gave him a look that meant ‘you know very well she’s not. That’s why we’re here’. I heard Michelle’s laugh on the other end of the line.

  ‘God, are you sure you don’t fancy him? He sounds pretty perfect.’

  ‘OK, I heard that,’ Adam said. He took the phone from my hand. ‘Firstly … hello. Michelle … firstly it’s me that doesn’t find Tamsin attractive. She’s gagging for me but I just can’t bring myself—’

  I snorted in protest, causing a woman at the next table to pause, forkful of cauliflower au gratin hovering in her hand en route to her mouth.

  ‘… and second, I am pretty perfect, yes. Thanks for noticing.’

  Michelle said something I didn’t quite catch and Adam laughed again and said, ‘Not surprising really. She’s dreadfully annoying.’

  I grabbed the phone back from him. ‘Will you two stop talking about me?’

  ‘Who says we were talking about you?’ Adam said with a smirk. ‘The whole world doesn’t revolve around you, you know.’

  ‘I’ll call you tomorrow Mich. When I’m on my own.’ I smirked back at him as I ended the call.

  ‘Well she sounds lovely,’ Adam said.

  ‘Told you.’

  ‘Maybe when she’s divorced …’ he said, laughing, and I cut in, ‘Don’t even joke about it.’

  He was suddenly serious. ‘I assume that’s what all this will lead to, though. I mean, if you go through with it. Once she knows she’ll never be able to un-know it. You’ve thought about that, right?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Well, for the record I think you’re a good mate,’ he said. ‘It’s not as if Patrick’s going to have an epiphany and become a completely different person by the sound of it.’

  ‘Exactly. The point is that he’s been a different person all along. Different to what we all thought he was.’

  ‘I’ll drink to that,’ Adam said and filled up my wine glass.

  ‘I’d better not get too pissed,’ I said. ‘I’ll end up punching her.’

  He topped it up a bit more. ‘God, I’m glad I didn’t stay in watching Midsomer Murders.’

  It’s dark now, which makes me feel a bit less exposed to being seen. It’s also started to drizzle, but we’re tucked under an awning, a space heater next to us fighting off the worst of the chill. The waiter has been out twice to ask if we want to move inside, but we’ve said no for obvious (to us anyway. I imagine to him we just seem a bit insane) reasons. We’ve finished eating, polished off the bottle of wine and then, very sensibly, ordered soft drinks. We’re just waiting.

  I now know that Adam was married, briefly, a few years ago.

  ‘I left that out of my Other Half profile,’ he said when he told me, ‘so that people didn’t think I was some sad sack divorcee.’

  ‘No, much better for them to think you’re on your own because no one’s ever wanted you.’

  ‘Ah, no, that would be you,’ he said. I never take offence easily. Life is way too short. But I feel there is literally – and I mean it in the true sense of the word before you pick me up on it – nothing Adam could say that would upset me. It’s the way he tells them.

  Apparently his separation was completely amicable. He and his ex are still matey. I must have looked at him sceptically because he said, ‘Really. I think that was half the problem with us being married. We were better as friends.’

  They were at teacher training college together he told me. Met in the first month, shared a flat for a year before they decided to become a couple.

 
‘It was a good idea on paper,’ he said. ‘And then I felt terrible because I knew it wasn’t right. It was as if we suddenly found it hard to talk to each other. But I kept my head down. Tried to make it work.’

  ‘So what happened?’

  ‘One day she sat me down and told me she was worried we’d made a huge mistake, and I just burst out laughing, I was so relieved. The minute we went to see a solicitor about the divorce we went back to being how we were before.’

  ‘I once agreed to marry an old boyfriend when I was drunk and then I had to backtrack the next day. Actually I just pretended not to remember anything about it. So did he, though, to be fair.’

  Adam snorted. ‘Did neither of you mention it?’

  ‘No. We did the grown-up thing of acting like it never happened. Saved a lot of hassle.’

  He waved to the waiter for another couple of Diet Cokes. ‘When was the last serious relationship you had?’

  I racked my brain. Couldn’t remember anyone who’d lasted more than a few dates. ‘You know what, my feeling is, if it isn’t perfect it’s better to be on your own.’

  ‘Nothing’s ever going to be perfect all the time.’

  ‘I rest my case,’ I said.

  ‘Sometimes talking to you is like talking to my Year Tens,’ Adam said, laughing.

  ‘Are they that smart?’ I said with a smirk. ‘So where is she now? Mrs Best Mate Ex?’

  ‘Australia. She got married again a couple of years ago.’

  ‘God, she must really have wanted to get away from you.’

  ‘Ha ha,’ he said sarcastically. ‘You’re hilarious.’

  ‘I know. It’s an affliction.’

  We’ve been here for nearly two and a half hours now. If I take the whole Patrick/HER element out of the equation we’ve had a fun evening.

  I’m telling him about Ron. Showing him pictures on my phone.

  ‘This was the day I brought him home. He wee’d all over—’