She kissed him occasionally and was playfully affectionate with him, but never anything more than that.
So what if he has a wife, she thought, that's nothing whatsoever to do with me. We're friends. I can't help it if he finds me completely irresistible.
She drained the last of her vodka and decided to send Mark a cheeky text before working off her "dinner and dessert" on the cross-trainer.
Chapter 4
"Women," Mark muttered in exasperation as he jumped into a taxi to take him home.
"Tell me about it, mate," the taxi driver grinned at his passenger in the mirror. "Can't live with them, can't live without them."
"I'll certainly never understand the women in my life," Mark complained, happy to have someone agreeing with him for the first time that evening.
Mark sank back into the soft leather seats of the taxi and cast his mind back over the day. He had spent the previous afternoon photographing Ireland's latest top model, Penelope Garrett.
God, she's gorgeous, he thought, recalling the curves of her body and the fullness of her lips. He'd spent most of the day trying to get the little minx into bed, but she had refused his advances. They were very polite and subtle refusals but they were refusals nonetheless.
He was surprised and encouraged when she'd agreed to have dinner with him. He'd hoped some decent wine would help her warm towards him, but all he'd gotten was a kiss, albeit a wonderful kiss, but the evening with Penelope had left him wanting her even more than ever.
He'd decided to drop in on Shona on the way back from the Chinese but even she had rejected him, probably for the first time in their relationship. Her attitude towards him had bothered him slightly.
He could always depend on Shona. They'd met almost a year ago, when Shona was temping for his wife, Rebecca. Rebecca had had to take a few months off work to look after her sick mother, so Mark had needed an assistant. Shona had applied for the job. She was completely unqualified for the position, but he couldn't resist her cheeky confidence and flirty smile.
He fondly recalled the first time he'd seen her. He'd been up to his eyes in paperwork, having a very bad day, when Shona had come bouncing into his office. She was like a ray of light, all wild blonde curls and perfectly white, dazzling teeth. She was very petite, just over five feet tall. She was full of energy and life and never stopped smiling. He found himself smiling back without even realising it. He'd never met anyone as vivacious as her and she had been exactly the tonic he'd needed at that point in his life.
It had taken him a while to win her over. She'd felt very guilty about his wife and had insisted that they just be friends, nothing more. He'd had to invent a few sob stories about how Rebecca just didn't understand him and how they were drifting apart more and more.
He'd even had to say they were living separate lives and were only staying together for the sake of their son. He'd told her that he planned to leave his wife when Christopher's college exams were done. Shona had begun to soften then and she had finally slept with him six months ago and what an amazing six months they had been.
The sex was unbelievable. Shona was always so willing to experiment and try new things. She made him feel young and vibrant again. He loved his wife dearly, well as much as he could love anyone, but their relationship, especially sex, had become boring and very routine. Rebecca wanted him "to make love" to her, and even that was on the rare occasion when they actually were intimate. She never wanted to try anything new and her libido was not nearly as high as his. He could barely keep up with Shona! She was always so eager to please him and he knew she wanted him as much as he wanted her, but she was starting to become very clingy and quite demanding lately, which was beginning to annoy him. She kept pestering him about leaving his wife, reminding him that Christopher's exams were well and truly over and insisting that he tell Rebecca about her.
Why can't things just stay exactly as they are, he sighed to himself? Why do women have to be so demanding, always wanting their own way?
He knew he had no intention of ever leaving his wife. There was just too much history between them and in spite of everything he was still very fond of Rebecca. He liked their life together too much to want to leave and start all over again with someone new. He enjoyed a very comfortable lifestyle with Rebecca. They had built up his photography business together over the years so that it was flourishing and his work was widely acclaimed and respected within the industry.
They had a stunning Georgian home which they had spent a lot of money and effort on over the years and Mark certainly didn't want to give up the house. The house was his pride and joy along with the gardens that surrounded it.
He was a well-respected member of the business community, chairman of the local business association and on the board of directors of his son's secondary school. He certainly didn't want to ruin his reputation as an upstanding member of the community by letting down his wife and beloved son for some bimbo who was almost half his age; what a cliche!
Everyone would laugh at him, they would accuse him of having a mid-life crisis and more than anything else Mark hated being embarrassed. He knew he'd have to let Shona down eventually, sooner rather than later, especially if she kept insisting on them being together permanently. Maybe she’ll leave me, he mused, especially when he considered that her attitude towards him earlier was less than welcoming.
"Here we are mate," the taxi driver slowed down at the gates to Mark's house. "Nice place you have here."
"Thanks, keep the change.” he hauled himself unsteadily out of the car.
Mark stood outside the gated drive and admired his beautiful Georgian home. He and Rebecca had initially taken it on as a renovation project and had planned to sell it later, but they'd grown too fond of the place to ever let it go. They'd lived in a caravan on the grounds for almost a year while they lovingly restored the interior of the once stately house.
The garden was Rebecca's obsession and she spent every spare moment of her time in it; digging, weeding and tending to her roses. She also grew all the family's vegetables and had planted trees all along the drive which had now grown to well over twenty feet tall. They added an air of majesty and grandeur to the place.
They would never have been able to afford the extensive renovation without the help of Rebecca's parents, who were very wealthy. Rebecca's father was a high profile barrister as was his father before him. He was a generous man, but rather pompous, and Mark felt quite intimidated by him. He fondly referred to him as "Rebecca's bit of rough,” which Mark did not find remotely amusing.
Their house, which they'd given the Irish name Cois Farraige, meaning "Sea View" was a perfectly proportioned, very spacious red bricked property. Guests to their home always said that what first struck them as they entered the hall was the pervading sense of warmth and brightness. Rebecca had insisted that their home should have as much natural light as possible. She hated darkness. The house had two stunning reception rooms, one of which was the family living area and the other room had all the splendour which was to be expected in a home of such quality.
The whole house had a certain flow to it; from the elevated ceilings, with their intricate plasterwork, to the original ornate fireplaces which Rebecca had had painstakingly and very expensively restored, to the polished wide oak floors. They had fitted a new kitchen with a breakfast area, the main feature of the kitchen was the fireplace and cast iron gas stove. The exceptionally large conservatory with its floor to ceiling windows provided stunning views out onto the landscaped gardens.
Upstairs, on the first floor there was a bathroom and a very pleasant double bedroom, with a double bed and wardrobe. This was the spare guest room for family who might stay overnight. The master bedroom was breathtaking with its sheer size and luxurious appointments, not to mention the amazing views over Eaton Square. Also on the first floor was the nursery, which they had converted to a study and adjoining the study was Mark's dark room, where he developed some of his photographs.
&nbs
p; The stairs lead to the very top of the house where there was a fine queen-sized bedroom on one side of the landing and another bathroom with separate power shower and huge bath on the other side. This was Christopher's bedroom and bathroom and also on the same floor was another guest bedroom where Christopher's friends slept when they spent the night.
Cois Farraige overlooked the sociable and very popular Eaton Square. The large lawns and mature trees and shrubs were lovely to sit in with a spectacular view of the sea. The house was less than a five minute walk from the blue flag Sea Point beach.
The DART, Dublin's electric rail system, was just down the road and the main bus route was only a short stroll away from the house. Monkstown and Blackrock villages were easily accessible and both villages offered a wonderful choice of good restaurants, pubs, gourmet shops and unique clothes boutiques.
Monkstown was one of the most sought after areas in Dublin. It was very centrally located to the city and airports and ferry ports, but it managed to maintain the character and atmosphere of a small village. People came from all over Dublin to the restaurants and the place was a hive of activity, especially at weekends and during holidays. Monkstown was also the headquarters for Ceoltas, which represented traditional Irish music, and the village was renowned for its Irish traditional music sessions.
Rebecca and Mark had loved Cois Farraige for the past twenty years. They were constantly upgrading the house while taking special care to maintain every period feature. The house was their family home and had spent many happy years there. They'd wanted to have a big family, at least four, but complications with Christopher's birth and a very difficult pregnancy had led them to make the decision not to have any more children. It had saddened them both but Mark said he'd rather have Rebecca with him safe and sound than risk losing her during pregnancy.
Cois Farraige was a real home, very cosy, in spite of it's almost three thousand square feet space. The house overlooked a wonderful square with many trees, including a mature walnut tree. Mark found it hard to believe at times that the house was so near the city as the area was blissfully quiet, especially in the evenings.
He put his key in the door and was eagerly welcomed by Pepper, their chocolate Labrador. Pepper had been a birthday present for Christopher when he turned thirteen years old, but it was Mark who had looked after him, taking him for long walks by the sea almost every day.
"Hey buddy, it's good to see you too," Mark bent to pat the dog affectionately. "Where's your mummy?" Mark asked Pepper.
Pepper yelped his response and went running out towards the back garden.
"Rebecca, Chris, anyone home?" Mark called as he made his way to the kitchen.
There was no answer so he went to the refrigerator and poured himself a large glass of white wine.
"Sauvignon blanc," Mark sighed, "I suppose it will have to do."
He was a bit of a wine buff and had a cellar full of very expensive wines that he had collected over the years. His wife insisted that there was very little difference between a cheap and cheerful bottle of plonk to some of the exorbitantly priced wines that he insisted were so amazing. He sat on a stool at the kitchen bar and slowly sipped the refreshingly cool liquid. "Mark, darling, I didn't hear you come home," Rebecca suddenly appeared in the kitchen, her thick black hair powdered in dust.
Rebecca was tall, almost six feet in her socks. She had a curvy, voluptuous figure which she kept trim by regular sessions at the gym.
"Come here and give your old husband a kiss.” Mark held out his arms to her. She smiled and hugged him.
He kissed her lightly on the lips and lost himself in her beautiful aquamarine eyes. He could never grow tired of gazing into those eyes. They were the colour of the sea on a very warm day, blue with turquoise green around the iris and then a splash of yellow towards the edges. Thick black eyelashes framed her eyes and her eyebrows were carefully plucked dark arches. Rebecca was one of the few women who actually became lovelier with age. Her face was lightly tanned from all the time she spent tending to the garden. She wore very little makeup, just a slick of lipstick and some mascara.
"What is it?" Rebecca asked as Mark continued to stare at her. "You're looking at me like you've never seen me before."
"You're beautiful.” Mark smiled at her.
"You're very handsome," Rebecca blushed slightly and disentangled herself from his arms. "How was your day?"
"Oh, fine, I spent a while in the studio and then met some potential clients for dinner.” Mark always found it simpler to stick as closely as possible to the truth when lying. It made it easier to remember the lies later if necessary. "How was your day, darling?"
"Good. I went to see Tamsin earlier. She's finding it difficult to cope with baby Lilly. She cries incessantly and hardly sleeps, poor mite. I found her quite trying myself when I was minding her this afternoon while Tamsin had a few hours’ sleep. Poor girl, she looks completely exhausted. It's not easy being a single mother."
"She's lucky to have a sister as kind as you.”
"That's what sisters are for," Rebecca replied as she routed around in the fridge.
"Do you fancy sharing a salad with me?" she asked.
"Oh, no thank you, darling, I'm still bursting from dinner," Mark lifted up his shirt and then patted his round stomach for dramatic effect.
"My eyes! My eyes!" Rebecca joked, her eyes glittering. “When is our baby due?"
"Any day now," Mark laughed, "I'm expecting twins."
He pushed his stomach out even further as if to prove his point. Rebecca smiled indulgently at her husband as she began to cut lettuce for her salad.
"I'm going to catch the news," Mark said, making his way towards the living room, kissing his wife lightly on the cheek as he passed her.
"Ok, dear, I'll join you in a minute.” Rebecca smiled stiffly.
Rebecca continued slicing the lettuce, her cuts getting more determined. Potential client, my ass! she thought, narrowly missing slicing a piece out of her finger. I wonder what sort of a client leaves a foundation stain on your shirt. You must think I'm an idiot Mark McNamara.
She flung cherry tomatoes in with her lettuce and attacked the cheese with equal venom. Rebecca sawed into the cucumber with as much force as she had sliced the cheese and lettuce. He must think I'm an absolute moron, she thought. I always knew he was a flirt but I never imagined he'd actually cheat on me, after everything I've done for him, the wonderful life we've built together and he throws it all away on his secretary.
~~**~~
Rebecca cast her mind back to the utter desolation she had felt when she had discovered Mark's affair about a month previously. They'd been going through a stressful period; she'd been preoccupied with her sick mother and he was worried about the business. Relations between them had been quite strained for a few months and they had rarely made love during that time. They'd barely had a proper conversation for weeks, just exchanged a few short words, mostly by telephone as Rebecca was spending most of her days and late into the night looking after her mother. She had noticed that Mark had seemed withdrawn and distant but she had been too busy and too tired caring for her mother to talk to him about their issues.
Anyway, she'd gotten home early one afternoon and had decided to have a mass cleaning of the house. The place looked like a pig sty it was in such an untidy mess. She'd gone through Mark's gym bag, which stunk from his sweaty tee-shirt and joggers that he hadn't bothered to put in the laundry basket.
A mobile phone had fallen out of the pocket. She'd stared at the phone where it had fallen on the floor, knocking the battery out. She'd never seen the phone before. Mark only ever bought the latest, top of the line gadget and this was a cheap, simple looking model, not his usual iPhone.
She kept staring at it as if it was some sort of a radioactive device. She knelt down to pick up the battery. It clicked easily back into place. She held the phone in her hand for some minutes, trying to decide whether or not she should switch it on. She wiped it clean w
ith a towel and considered putting it back in Mark's gym bag, where she could pretend that it didn't exist. She could continue living in blissful ignorance, unaware of the possible secrets that the simple mobile phone might hold. She sat there on the floor, knowing that her life might be about to change dramatically at the touch of a few small buttons.
She took a deep breath and switched it on. It felt like a lifetime until the screen lit up. Her heart was pounding in her chest and she had butterflies in her stomach. She thought she might vomit, but she willed herself to carry on. She owed it to herself to know the truth.
She had a quick look at the time. It was half past three. Mark wouldn't be home until after six o' clock and Christopher had gone to Sligo, surfing with his friends for a few days.
The screen prompted her for a pin number.
Sneaky bastard, she’d thought to herself.
Her mind raced and after trying several four number combinations she got the right pin on the third attempt. The pin number was the year of their marriage; 1990. She sighed at the irony.
The phone was now on its main menu. She went to the message section and had to force herself to read the texts in front of her on the screen. There were at least ten texts from someone called Shona and one or two from someone called Penelope. Rebecca's heart sank.
She opened and read the texts. The messages were mostly of a very flirty nature. She was absolutely gutted at the words in front of her and felt as if someone had punched her full force in the stomach.
How could Mark treat me like this?
She felt dirty and humiliated and very alone. The life that she and her cheating husband had built together suddenly seemed a lie, a joke, but the joke was on her.
Unfaithful (The Complete Trilogy) Page 3