Strictly Between Us

by Jane Fallon

  She trails off, remembering that everything Patrick has told her about his nights away, including this, is a lie.

  ‘… anyway …’

  She wipes away another tear. Blows her nose on the tissue I find somewhere in my pocket.

  ‘What are you doing at the weekend?’

  Michelle shrugs. ‘I’m going to see my mum and dad on Saturday morning …’

  ‘Just you?’

  She nods.

  ‘Perfect. Make an excuse to stay the night. Tell Patrick your mum’s not feeling well or something. That way it’ll only be tomorrow night and Sunday afternoon. I’m assuming you don’t talk much during work time?’

  She shakes her head.

  ‘If we do this you’ll know for sure. Then it’s up to you what you decide to do. Otherwise you’ll always have doubts. Either way.’

  ‘You’re right. I’ll try. But I don’t know if I can pull it off. How could he do this? I just don’t understand. Am I a running joke at his work then? Poor old Michelle. She has no idea we’re all laughing at her behind her back.’

  ‘No one’s laughing at you.’

  ‘Do you think Verity knows? Oh God, this is so humiliating.’

  ‘I don’t know. She might suspect … maybe. You can’t start worrying about that.’

  ‘I feel so stupid.’

  ‘If anyone thinks anything it’ll be that Patrick is a huge bastard and he doesn’t deserve you.’

  ‘Poor stupid little wifey at home while her husband runs round with some young thing. Is she young?’

  ‘I don’t know. I told you I didn’t really see her.’

  ‘What did Adam say, though? He must have described her to you. Is she pretty?’

  ‘He didn’t. I didn’t ask. I was in too much shock, I think.’

  ‘Look at the cliché I’ve turned into already. It matters, though. If she’s younger … if she’s gorgeous … it makes it so much worse somehow.’

  I think about Bea’s model looks. ‘Or maybe it would be better. He’s just gone for the superficial. It makes it more mid-life crisis and less about how he really feels about you.’

  ‘How am I going to tell my mum and dad?’

  ‘Worry about that later. Let’s just get through the next few days first.’

  Eventually I persuade her to go to bed and I sit next to her, stroking her hair away from her face while she cries.

  ‘I don’t know what I’d do without you,’ she says at one point and I try to ignore the knot that forms in my stomach.

  ‘Get some sleep,’ I say, and I feel like the worst person in the world. ‘I’ll be here if you need me.’

  61

  Tamsin

  So here we are. Me, Michelle and Adam, sitting in the restaurant at the Covent Garden Hotel like it’s the last supper. This is not how I ever imagined my two best friends would meet.

  Adam organized it. He asked for the table with the best view of the reception, and luckily that seemed to be a perfectly valid request. Now Adam and I sit facing the door, just in case either Patrick or Bea decide to make an early exit. Michelle has her back to it. She can hardly bear to look.

  She’s exhausted. Big dark rings under her eyes. She’s made an effort, though. Her blonde hair looks shinier and she’s got a bit of colour with the help of some bronzer. She doesn’t want to meet her rival without feeling like she’s looking her best, she said.

  The morning after I broke the news, I woke up still on her and Patrick’s bed, lying on top of the covers. Michelle was nowhere to be seen. I dragged myself downstairs and found her sitting at the kitchen table, still in her pyjamas, nursing a cup of tea. She looked wretched.

  ‘How long have you been up?’

  She shrugged. ‘I didn’t really sleep. I finally gave up and came down here about an hour ago.’

  I looked at the clock on the wall. Ten to six. ‘You should have woken me.’

  She gave a sad smile. ‘You looked so peaceful. I couldn’t bring myself to.’

  Then her face crumpled and she started to cry again. I noticed several balled-up tissues on the table in front of her.

  ‘Please tell me it’s not true,’ she said into my T-shirt.

  ‘I can’t.’

  Thank God Patrick wasn’t due home until the evening. It was obvious now that there is no way Michelle could have got through this without giving away that something was seriously up if he’d come home the night before.

  ‘Why don’t you go back to bed for a couple of hours? I’ll make sure you get up for work.’

  ‘No. I’ll feel worse, I think. I’m not sure I can face the office …’

  I didn’t think it would be helpful for her to spend all day on her own, brooding about what was happening. She had to try to suppress it somehow. She had a whole evening with him to get through.

  ‘I think you should. You need a distraction …’

  ‘I won’t be able to do anything … look at the state of me.’

  ‘Tell them you’re a bit under the weather when you get in. No one’ll question it. You just need to get through today, Mich.’

  ‘I can’t.’

  ‘Tell you what. We’ll both call in sick. I’ll stay here with you.’

  She reached over and squeezed my hand. ‘That’s so sweet of you. I can’t ask you to do that. I know how anal you are about never having sick days.’

  I manage a smile. ‘I’ll make this an exception.’

  ‘No,’ she said, sitting up straight. ‘You’re right, I should go in.

  ‘I’ll get us some breakfast.’ The early hour had made me feel nauseous but it seemed important we keep our strength up.

  ‘I’m going to go for a quick run, clear my head,’ she said. ‘Coming?’

  ‘I don’t have any stuff with me and your feet are way smaller than mine, otherwise …’

  She managed a laugh. ‘I was kidding. I’m going to, though. It helps me think sometimes.’

  By the time she got back I’d made the bed, had a shower, put the same clothes back on, resisted the urge to poke through Patrick’s things in the study in the hope of finding proof, and I was making scrambled eggs.

  ‘You are sure this is the right thing to do?’ she said when we were eating – or, at least, I was eating and Michelle was pushing her food around the plate.

  ‘I hope so. I think so. I mean … it’ll be awful but it’ll probably save months of him trying to wriggle out of it.’

  ‘OK,’ she said, finally swallowing a forkful of eggs. My scrambled eggs are pretty irresistible, by the way. Just saying.

  We travelled as far as Euston together on the tube. ‘Phone me any time,’ I said. ‘I’ll keep my ringer on. And if Patrick should happen to call don’t answer.’

  ‘I won’t.’

  I gave her a big hug as we got near her stop, and then I wished I hadn’t because I saw tears pooling in the corners of her eyes again.

  ‘Thanks again.’ I wished she’d stop thanking me. It was making me feel worse than I already did, if that was possible.

  ‘Knock ’em dead.’

  I was so early for work I stopped in a café near Hammersmith tube, ordered a large coffee and called Adam. I’d been expecting to have to leave a message but he answered on the first ring.

  ‘So?’

  ‘Grim,’ I said.

  ‘God, I’ve been pacing up and down half the night like an expectant father.’

  I had sent Adam a brief text just to let him know that I’d told her and that – hopefully – there was a plan i
n place, but I hadn’t felt I could call him and elaborate more. It didn’t seem right to be discussing Michelle’s marriage in front of her with someone she’d never even met.

  I filled him in on the call to the hotel.

  ‘Result!’ he said, and I wondered if he spent too much time with twelve-year-olds. ‘I mean … not … that made it sound as if I thought it was a good thing … it was just excitement …’

  ‘It’s fine. Hopefully it’ll solve everything. They won’t have time to get their stories straight and they’ll look like a pair of desperate liars when they point their fingers at me.’

  ‘Poor Michelle,’ he said and I remembered why I liked him so much.

  ‘I know. She’s devastated. Obviously.’

  ‘Obviously.’

  ‘You are free Sunday night, aren’t you. I think I need you for moral support.’

  ‘Are you kidding? I wouldn’t miss it for the world.’

  ‘No hot date with Mel?’

  ‘Mel and I are having dinner tomorrow.’

  ‘Oh. Lovely.’

  ‘A little bistro near the school.’

  I didn’t know what to say, so I just said, ‘Great.’

  I wondered, briefly, if Adam would have cancelled his date if it had clashed with my plans.

  The timeline for this evening goes like this. Michelle and I are meeting Adam at the Covent Garden Hotel at quarter past seven. We don’t want to risk either Patrick or Bea spotting us on their way in.

  Once at the hotel Adam, Michelle and I are going to eat dinner – or at least pretend to, I’m not sure any of us will have an appetite – while keeping an eye on the hall in case of an early exit. Patrick has told Michelle to expect him home about nine thirty, which would mean him leaving here at about ten to at the earliest. Our plan is to decamp to the foyer by about eight thirty – assuming nothing has happened by then – and then just wait it out. If asked, our excuse will be that we are waiting for some friends.

  Michelle was a bit unsure about me asking Adam to come along. She feels embarrassed, I think. The scorned wife trying to catch her errant husband out. I persuaded her, though. We need him for moral support, for advice, for ballast. To keep us entertained and occupied while we wait, because the two of us will be nervous wrecks. In the end she agreed reluctantly. I don’t think she’s feeling up to fighting. Not with me at least.

  So now we are sitting here. Trying to drink just enough to give us courage but not so much that we turn the evening into a scene from Shameless. Looking at our food rather than eating it.

  ‘So you got a good look at her?’ Michelle says eventually, turning to Adam. She’s starting to relax around him a little. It’s impossible not to. It would be like ignoring the advances of a puppy who was nuzzling your arm for a bit of attention. Adam looks cornered momentarily. He’s terrified he’s going to give away something he shouldn’t.

  ‘It was dark but, yes, pretty good.’

  ‘And?’

  He gulps. I hope she doesn’t notice. ‘Um … she’s got long dark hair. She’s quite tall.’

  ‘How old?’ Michelle says quietly.

  ‘Oh, well, I’m not very good at this kind of thing, but I’d say thirties. Mid thirties …’

  ‘Pretty?’

  He flushes red. I want to tell him he’s doing great. ‘I suppose so.’

  ‘I guess he’d hardly be sneaking off to meet a gargoyle.’ Michelle attempts a laugh but it comes out like a cross between a cough and a cackle. A cat chucking up a hairball.

  ‘Sorry,’ Adam says sweetly.

  ‘No. Don’t be. I want you to be honest with me. I need to face the truth.’

  ‘There’s no point in torturing yourself with the details, though,’ I say, reaching a hand over the table and rubbing her arm.

  ‘I’m fine. And … what did you see that made you so sure they were a couple? I mean apart from the fact he was somewhere he shouldn’t have been.’

  We’ve been over this. He knows what to say. ‘They held hands, just for a moment when they thought no one could see them. And then they looked round, like they were making sure they hadn’t been caught.’

  Michelle nods.

  ‘It’s hard to explain. It was just … obvious.’

  ‘If you hadn’t seen that I’d never have known,’ she says. ‘I mean, what are the chances of that?’

  Thousands to one probably. Millions.

  ‘It still would have been happening, though,’ I say. ‘Even though it’s awful, it’s probably better you found out.’

  ‘I know. It just doesn’t feel like that at the moment.’

  We sit there in silence for a minute. There’s no point any of us making small talk because no one’s interested. At one point Michelle tries, though: ‘So, you’re a teacher? What age?’

  ‘Secondary,’ Adam says, and that’s that.

  By half past eight we’ve answered the waitress’s concerned enquiry about whether there was something wrong with the food (No. Delicious. Just not hungry.) Ordered another round of drinks to sip on in the foyer while we wait, and paid the bill.

  ‘You’re welcome to sit here and drink those,’ the waitress says helpfully. ‘At least till someone else wants the table.’

  ‘It’s OK,’ I say, trying to think of an excuse that doesn’t make the three of us sound insane. In the end I don’t bother. ‘Thank you, though.’

  We arrange ourselves on the chairs in the foyer, me and Michelle on one side, Adam on the other. The lift is in full view. There’s no way either of them will get by us unnoticed. It occurs to me that I probably should have checked that Mr Mitchell had actually arrived as planned and hadn’t cancelled at the last minute. It hardly seems worth it now.

  I hold on to Michelle’s hand. She’s shaking.

  ‘It’ll all be over soon,’ I say, although I’m not sure how appropriate that sounds.

  I look at my watch. Time is moving unimaginably slowly. It reminds me of being a kid and waiting for church to be over. It always felt as if the hands on my Timex were moving backwards rather than forwards. The only way to stop it was not to look.

  After what seems like an age the lift pings. The three of us jump up like we’re a circus act shot from a cannon. An elderly couple get out. I actually feel annoyed with them for the false alarm. I feel myself glaring at them as they pass.

  We settle back down. Wait.

  Ping.

  This time we remain seated, eyes glued to the lift doors. And then there she is. My assistant. Patrick’s mistress. Bea.

  There’s a split second before she sees me. She steps out of the lift, flicking her hair back from her face. Confident.

  And then our eyes meet. She’s a rabbit caught in the headlights. She looks round as if she might just evaporate back into the lift but the doors have closed behind her.

  Trapped.

  Here goes.

  ‘Bea!’ I say in my best ‘how lovely to see you’ voice. I have to remember that I’m not supposed to suspect her yet.

  ‘Tamsin?’

  ‘What on earth …? Michelle, you know Bea, don’t you?’

  Bea’s eyes flick to Michelle. What’s left of the colour in her cheeks drains away. She tries to rearrange her face into a smile. Fails.

  ‘Oh, and this is Adam. I’ve told you about him.’

  Adam steps forward, arm outstretched. Big smile on his face.

  ‘Bea! Finally! I’m sick and tired of Tamsin banging on about how brilliant you are!’

  We’ve been over this. Adam is the only
one of us who can recognize Bea as the woman who was with Patrick. It’s his job to force her to stay without letting her realize what he’s doing. If I do too much Michelle will wonder – in retrospect – what my motive was. He shakes her hand and I find myself thinking again that he’s missed his calling. He should be playing Macbeth at the National.

  There’s a tiny moment where Bea relaxes. They’re not on to me yet.

  ‘Actually,’ she says, ‘I’m in a bit of a rush. Lovely to see you all.’

  ‘Oh no,’ Adam says, still hanging onto her hand. ‘You’re not getting away that easily. I’ve been dying to meet you and now I insist you have a drink with us.’

  ‘I can’t, really.’ The panic is back.

  ‘Just a quickie.’

  ‘I’ll be late.’

  She snatches her hand away. I can see we’re in danger of losing her. She needs to get somewhere where she can phone Patrick and warn him.

  ‘Of course. Where’s Danny, by the way? I thought you were meeting him.’

  She’s trying to edge towards the door. ‘I was. He cancelled so I’ve just …’ She flaps her hand. She’s got nothing. I change tack. Pull out the boss card.

  ‘Actually, I just need a quick word about Ashley.’

  She looks at me incredulously. ‘Now?’

  Adam, I notice, has casually moved between Bea and the door, as if he thinks she might make a run for it. Michelle is just looking a bit confused. Looking round as if to say, Shouldn’t we be keeping our eye on the prize.

  ‘It’ll take two minutes. It won’t make any difference to … who is it you’re meeting again?’

  ‘Ali. We’re going to the cinema and it starts at ten past nine so I really should go.’

  ‘Let the poor girl leave,’ Michelle says, being nice. ‘Sorry, Bea. You know what she’s like when she’s got a bee in her bonnet. No pun intended.’

  ‘I won’t get a chance in the morning,’ I say, desperately flailing around for what it is that’s so urgent I’d apparently be prepared to rugby tackle Bea to the ground rather than let her leave before we’ve discussed it.