by Jane Fallon
‘Fine. Yes, Michelle and I are trying for a baby. Yes, it means we need to have intercourse in order to achieve that. Happy?’
‘But why are you trying for a baby? Why now?’
‘Because she has wanted one forever and I’ve run out of reasons why we shouldn’t get on with it and do it. Besides, d’you know what? I’ve decided I want a kid. Sue me.’
This is not the admission of a man who’s thinking he might leave his wife one of these days and set up home with his girlfriend.
‘I thought …’ I stumble, I can’t say it.
‘You thought what? You’ve always known I was never going to leave Michelle. Apart from anything else, her dad is my boss.’
‘So you’re going to stay with a woman who makes you unhappy because it might affect your career prospects if you don’t?’
He looks at me levelly. My stomach turns over. ‘When have I ever said she makes me unhappy?’
He’s right, he hasn’t. I just assumed, what with all the affairs on the side. He hardly acts like a man who values his marriage.
And then I do the thing I always swore I would never do. I get personal.
‘How can she? I mean, look at her. She’s such a … frump.’
I know the minute it’s out of my mouth that I shouldn’t have said it. Lesson number one: never criticize the wife. He gives me a look that could freeze mercury.
‘How do you know what she looks like?’
Ah, yes, there’s that, too. I didn’t tell him about my encounter with Michelle at the office. I worried it might make him panic that things were getting too close to home.
‘She came into work to meet Tamsin.’
‘You’ve met her?’
‘Only for a second. Don’t worry, I didn’t give you away.’
‘Jesus. Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘I don’t know. It wasn’t that big a deal.’
If he believes that he’ll believe anything.
‘Michelle is one of the sweetest, nicest people I’ve ever met. Probably the nicest. I would never want her to get hurt, that’s all.’
‘But if I do that’s just collateral damage?’
‘Don’t be stupid. This isn’t about you. I just want to be sure Michelle’s protected. None of this is her fault.’
‘So that’s why you’re fucking me?’ I can’t help myself, it just comes out. In a rather loud, shouty way.
He stays calm. I’d rather he yelled back at me if I’m being honest. It would show passion. Show that he cares.
‘What we have is irrelevant. It’s separate from my marriage.’
‘How convenient. I wonder if Michelle would see it that way.’
‘Don’t. You. Dare.’ He spells it out, emphasizing each word.
‘I’m not … that’s not what I was saying.’
He stands up. ‘You know what, Bea, I don’t really feel like being here now.’
Shit. This wasn’t what I expected to happen. Although what I did expect to happen I don’t really know.
I stand, too.
‘No. I’m sorry … I just … I need to think before I open my mouth.’
‘You can stay here if you want, but I’m going home.’
‘No, Patrick—’
‘Maybe we just need a bit of space, I don’t know.’
‘I’m sorry about what I said …’
He’s picking up his jacket. ‘I’ll call you, OK. The champagne’s paid for. You might as well drink it.’
‘No, please don’t …’
Now I’m begging. Very attractive, I’m sure. But I don’t even have time to wonder what happened to the strong independent woman I once was, because I’m using all my energy to try to stop him going out of the door.
58
Tamsin
I’ve rehearsed this so many times in my head (and out loud to Adam) that I should be word perfect, but seeing the worried look on Michelle’s face gives me stage fright. I have forgotten my lines.
‘What? What’s wrong?’
I know that her immediate assumption will be that I’m going to tell her I’m seriously ill or that I’m emigrating to New Zealand. I know I have to put her out of that misery quickly and into a worse one. Shit. Here goes.
‘You know when you thought Patrick was having an affair? Well he is.’ I say it all in a rush to get it out there before I bottle out. I watch as her expression goes from confusion to heartbreak via disbelief. She knows I wouldn’t lie to her. Ironic, isn’t it?
‘I’m so sorry, Mich. I wish I didn’t have to be the one to tell you.’
Her first reaction is to laugh nervously. It must be obvious from my face, though, that this is no joke. ‘I don’t understand …’
She looks so vulnerable I reach a hand over the table and take one of hers.
‘I saw him … them. He was meant to be at football practice – that time I was with Adam and you called me, do you remember? We were sitting opposite the Covent Garden Hotel and Patrick came out with a woman.’
‘That was weeks ago …’
‘I know. I’ve been agonizing about how to tell you. And I wanted to make sure it was true first. That I wasn’t imagining things. It seems like it’s an open secret in the industry …’
She crumples. ‘No, Tam …’
‘I’m sorry.’
Michelle looks up. ‘Who is she?’
I try to keep my composure. ‘I don’t know. I didn’t really see her, Adam did—’
Michelle dives on this lifeline. ‘So he might have misinterpreted. Or it could have been Vic …’
Vic is Patrick’s older sister. She couldn’t look less like Bea if she tried, with her red curly hair.
‘It wasn’t Vic. This one had long dark hair, I saw that much.’
‘How does Adam even know what Patrick looks like anyway?’
‘He doesn’t. I saw Patrick come out, and I knew he wasn’t meant to be there so I guessed something was up. I turned away so he didn’t spot me and told Adam to see if he could make out what he was doing. He saw a woman come out and, well, apparently it was obvious they weren’t just colleagues. He told me when it was safe to look, so I just saw the back of her. They were holding hands.’
Please God don’t let anyone be taping my testimony for use in court. It would never stand up to cross-examination.
Michelle lets out a sob. ‘And all these people who apparently know all about it, they have no idea who she is either?’
‘It doesn’t seem so. I think it’s true, Mich. I wouldn’t have told you otherwise.’
‘So all the evenings he’s working late …?’
I nod. ‘I think so.’
‘Do you think he’s with her tonight? All night?’
‘I don’t know. It looks like it. Where’s he meant to be?’
‘Manchester.’
‘Do you know what hotel he’s supposed to be staying in?’
She shakes her head. ‘I can’t believe he’d do this. There must be an innocent explanation.’
‘He came home that night, right? The night you called me when I was with Adam?’
‘Yes.’
‘So we could ring the hotel and see if he had a room booked. I mean, why would you book a room if you were only going to be there for a couple of hours?’
‘Oh my God,’ Michelle says, as if it’s just starting to sink in. ‘Do you think that’s what they do?’
‘God knows. But it’s worth a try.’
‘They’re not just going to tell me
something like that.’
‘We can make something up – say we think he left something there …’
‘Hold on – what about when I was worried before and you called his office. It turned out we were wrong. How do you explain that?’
How indeed?
‘That must have been genuine. Same as some of his nights away probably are, I guess.’
‘We were going to have a baby.’ Big plump tears run down her face. I squeeze her hand.
‘I know. Awful as it is, it would have been worse to find this out after you were pregnant.’
Please agree with me. Please say yes, thank goodness for that lucky escape. No such luck.
‘Maybe it’s a one-off thing. Maybe it’s the idea of having kids. He just had a bit of a mid-life crisis or something. That might be it, mightn’t it?’
Shit. She’s going to try to find a way to forgive him.
‘I think it’s been going on for a while. And … I wasn’t going to tell you this bit, but I don’t think she’s the first.’
‘Why agree to the baby then? It doesn’t make any sense.’
‘No it doesn’t. I don’t know.’
‘I’m going to call him,’ Michelle says and she reaches for her phone. I need her to believe what I am saying is unequivocally true before he starts poisoning her with stories about me.
‘Hold on. Let’s try and find some proof first. What about his credit card bills?’
She sniffs. Thankfully sets her mobile back down. ‘He gets them online, I think. I don’t know his password. I never thought there was reason to ask.’
‘So phone the hotel it is, then. What’s the worst that can happen? That they won’t tell us anything? It’s worth a try.’
‘OK. You do it, though. I can’t.’
I google the number and then dial with the phone on speaker. I already know what I’m going to say, obviously, because this was all part of the plan. After a couple of rings a woman answers.
‘Covent Garden Hotel.’
I hesitate, not sure if I can carry this off.
‘Hi. My husband stayed with you a few weeks ago and he thinks he left something behind in the room. Is there any way you can check?’
‘Of course. What date was it?’
‘September the twenty-fourth.’ I have this date embossed on my brain.
I hear her clicking away on a computer.
‘And your husband’s name is?’
‘Patrick Mitchell.’
‘Ah yes, Mr Mitchell,’ she says, as if she only saw him yesterday. I hear Michelle gasp. She looks as if she’s about to be sick.
Click click click.
‘He was in room four two four, and there’s no record of anything having been handed in to us after he left. What is it he’s lost?’
‘His watch. To be honest he didn’t realize until a couple of days later so he could have mislaid it anywhere really …’
Now I just want to get off the phone and look after my friend.
‘Thanks for your help.’
The helpful receptionist isn’t having it, though. ‘I’ll certainly ask housekeeping if anyone remembers seeing anything. Is there a number I can reach you on if I have any luck?’
‘Oh … I’m going away for a few days … to a health spa where I won’t have my phone with me … don’t worry …’ Shut up, Tamsin.
‘Well, we have Mr Mitchell’s number on file, so I could always call him. Oh, I see he’s booked in again on Sunday. I’ll make a note for someone to let him know then if we find anything.’
I look at Michelle and she’s staring at me wide-eyed. I can’t get off the phone quickly enough.
‘Perfect. Thank you.’
I end the call without waiting for her response. Michelle breaks down in noisy tears. I get up and head round to her side of the table, leaning down to hug her. She sobs into my jumper.
‘He’s taking her there on Sunday,’ she says when she emerges. ‘He told me he had football again. I don’t think I can bear it.’
‘He’s a bastard. I’m sorry, but he is.’
‘What am I going to do?’
‘I’ve got an idea,’ I say. I can already see a plan forming. ‘Just bear with me.’
59
Bea
If you’ve never experienced the sensation of chasing a man down a hotel corridor while crying and begging at the same time, I can’t say I’d recommend it. It does very little for your self-esteem.
He’s already by the lift when I reach him.
‘Please come back.’
He looks round. Nervous.
‘For fuck’s sake, Bea. What are you doing?’
‘Don’t let’s leave it like this.’
‘There’s no point. I’m going home,’ he says in a low voice. ‘I’ll call you tomorrow.’
‘No. This isn’t fair.’
‘Ssshh! Jesus! I’m not going to have this conversation in a public place.’
The lift bell dings. I have no doubt that if he heads off now, home to his frumpy wife and his soon-to-be-a-family home, that’ll be the last I see of him. He’s angry with me. He’s irritated by me. He’s worried that his whole world is going to come crashing down because of me.
‘That’s why you need to come back to the room. Just for a minute. Please.’
He huffs. ‘Fine. But I’m not staying.’
He follows me back along the corridor. Thankfully I remembered to bring the key with me so I wave it at the sensor and we’re in.
‘We might as well open this,’ I say, picking up the champagne. Having a drink might chill him out a bit.
‘There’s no point to this if we keep fighting,’ Patrick says as I hand him a glass.
‘I know. I’m sorry. It was just … it was a shock to hear, that’s all. I shouldn’t have said anything.’
‘This was meant to be fun. I don’t need any more stress in my life.’
Well, that put me in my place. I am still just a bit of fun. Nothing more than a diversion. I don’t want to get into another row, but I can’t let it go completely.
‘It was. It is. But I suppose it was inevitable I’d start to want a bit more after a while.’
‘It can’t be more, though. You know that.’
‘More doesn’t have to mean leave your wife and set up home with me. I would never ask you to do that.’ Who am I kidding, of course I would, but now is clearly not the time. ‘But surely what we have has gone beyond a quick convenient shag in a hotel room? Or am I deluded?’
He puts his hand on my arm. That feels like a good sign. ‘No. I care about you, of course I do. I’d hate not to have you in my life.’
‘Honestly, that’s all I wanted to hear. It’s just sometimes I feel a bit cheap, you know. Like I could be anyone …’
‘You really think I would have carried on seeing you and risked starting to care about you if you were just anyone? It would have been much easier to keep things casual.’
‘I know. I’m sorry.’
He smiles. Hallelujah. ‘Stop apologizing.’
‘Sorry,’ I say. ‘Ha ha.’
He puts down his glass. ‘Come here.’
I practically pass out with relief. Nothing is really resolved. He still might be a father-to-be any time now and want to start playing happy families. But I’m hanging in there. I’m still in the race. I just have to work out how to win it.
60
Tamsin
‘I don’t think I can,’ Michelle says.
>
We are still sitting at the kitchen table, me now on the same side as her, chair pulled close, arm round her shoulders. She’s cried out for a while, although I imagine she’ll get her second wind soon.
‘It’s only for a couple of days.’
Of course, I completely understand that every fibre of her being wants to run straight to Patrick and accuse him. I’d be the same. She wants answers.
‘He’ll just keep lying to you. This way he won’t be able to. Think of it – how’s he going to explain the fact that he’s leaving a hotel with a woman when he was meant to be wherever he told you he was meant to be? And even if he does try to make out he was having a meeting or she’s a colleague, we can ask reception about the room. In front of him.’
I know, of course, that it’s unlikely Patrick and Bea will leave together. They are far too careful for that. If last time is anything to go by – and I can imagine they have a well worked out and rehearsed plan – she will leave first, followed by him a few minutes later.
Even though I’ve been nervous about Michelle finding out it’s Bea who Patrick has been seeing, I now see that this is a way to let her know without implicating myself at all. Bea will spot Michelle and I waiting in reception. She’ll be forced to stop and say hello. I’ll keep her talking – I’ll think of something – so that she has no opportunity to warn Patrick. He’ll emerge a few minutes later and bingo. One of their faces will give them away, I have no doubt. And then I can act as shocked as Michelle by the realization that my assistant is her husband’s mistress.
Of course they will try to throw me straight under a very big bus, but I can bluff it out. Unless they both announce in perfect unison that they met when I sent Bea to try to trap Patrick, or that I have a history with him myself, then I will be able to persuade Michelle they’re clutching at dust.
‘There’s no way I can act as if everything’s normal. I just can’t.’
‘Is he likely to call you tonight?’
She shakes her head. ‘He always says he gets back to the hotel too late, he doesn’t want to disturb me. He texts at some point in the evening usually. When he can sneak off to the loo or …’