The Story of Our Lives

by Helen Warner

  Further down, amongst the slightly older pictures, there was one of Anton on his own, looking into the camera pulling a comedy ‘sad’ face, his bottom lip sticking out as he pretended to cry. Underneath was the caption: Boo! My daddy has a new job in London so I’m only going to see him at weekends.

  Several people had left comments underneath the picture, including one from Sarah Massey. Anton’s ex-wife had written, At least we won’t have him moaning about us clogging up the shower with our hair during the week…! xx

  Emily’s throat felt as if it might close over and her heart began to pound. That couldn’t be right. But even as she clicked on Sarah Massey’s profile, she already knew what she was going to find. Her profile photo was her on her own, on a cliff overlooking a beach somewhere in the UK. But her background photo was her with Anton, standing on a beautiful golden beach with a turquoise sea in the background. Anton was standing behind her, with his arms wrapped around her, beaming proudly. According to the dates on Facebook, she had only recently changed it. Emily clicked on Sarah’s ‘About’ page and her eyes scanned the screen, searching for information that she already knew. Sure enough, beside ‘relationship status’, were the words, Married to Anton Massey.

  Emily put her hand over her mouth to catch the sob that was just escaping. She gulped for air as the tears began to fall, splashing onto her keyboard like little fat raindrops. Everything had been a lie. The pain was like a knife twisting inside her heart. She had lived her whole adult life waiting for this man, who she adored, loved, idolized. And he wasn’t worth any of it. He was a liar, a cheat and a fantasist. He had used her in the worst possible way, letting her believe that she had a future with him, when in fact he was just using her for sex.

  She wrapped her arms around herself, rocking backwards and forwards to try to ease the awful, awful pain. She was hurt, she was deeply ashamed and most of all, she felt so stupid.

  ‘Oh, honey, I’m so sorry.’ Sophie put an arm around Emily’s shaking shoulders. ‘But it wasn’t your fault. How could you possibly have known?’

  ‘How could I not have known?’ Emily shot back. ‘If you think about it, all the signs were there. I just chose not to look. I chose not to see what was right in front of my face.’

  ‘You’re not the first one to have done that, Em,’ Amy said, standing up and taking Emily’s glass from her and starting to mix her another gin and tonic. ‘Look at me. Everyone warned me about Nick but I chose not to see it. It sounds like such a cliché but love really is blind. You shouldn’t feel stupid because you’re not the only one who’s fallen for his lies – don’t forget his wife is being duped too.’

  ‘I feel so terrible about her,’ Emily whimpered. ‘I would never, ever have got involved if I’d known he was still married. I… well, I’m not that sort of woman.’

  There was an uncomfortable silence as everyone turned to look at Melissa.

  ‘And neither am I. Any more.’ Melissa shot them all a defiant look.

  ‘Sorry.’ Emily shook her head wearily. ‘That wasn’t directed at you, Melissa. I just feel bad for that poor woman that she doesn’t know what a bastard she’s married to.’

  ‘You’re not going to tell her, are you?’ Amy handed Emily the freshly mixed gin and tonic and sat back down on the floor.

  Emily hesitated. ‘No.’

  Sophie nodded. ‘Good. It wouldn’t achieve anything except bringing misery to someone else. And imagine the effect on his daughters? They don’t deserve that.’

  ‘But what about Jack? Anton’s his father too…’ Melissa countered.

  ‘Yes, but he doesn’t know that, does he, Em?’ Sophie looked at Emily, who was staring into her lap.

  Emily bit her lip and shook her head.

  Emily arrived at Anton’s flat as planned that evening. It was nearly 7.30 as she let herself in, using the key he’d given her all those months ago. As she made her way through the hallway towards the stairs of the Victorian conversion, she stopped to look at the pile of post on the shelf. There were three flats on three different levels, with a number of letters addressed to the owners of the other two. There were none for Anton, although maybe, she told herself, he had collected it that morning.

  Why she was still making excuses for him, she didn’t know. She had all the proof she needed that he had pulled off a truly spectacular deception, but a small part of her kept hoping that perhaps there was some mistake. Could anyone really lead such a double life? And she genuinely did feel that he loved her. He made her feel like she was the only woman in the world when he was with her and she sensed that they had a connection on a much deeper level than just sex.

  She opened his front door and walked up the remaining few stairs. Normally, she would prepare dinner for them and be waiting with a drink by the time he arrived home, usually at around 8 p.m. But tonight she kept her denim jacket on and sat straight-backed on one of the wooden chairs in the small lounge-diner. As she waited, she looked around her. It was as if she was opening her eyes for the very first time. He was an English lecturer with a passion for poetry. It made his soul burn, apparently. So where were his books? Where were the photos of his daughters? The pictures? The art? The things he had collected over the years on his travels? Where were the signs of his life? There were none. It was just a weekday crash-pad. Nothing more. And she was just his weekday whore. Nothing more.

  By the time he came through the door, she was shaking with the coldness that had seeped into her bones, despite the heat of the day.

  Anton bounded up the stairs and into the sitting room, in his hand a bottle of very good red wine. ‘Hello, you,’ he said, bending to kiss her frozen lips. ‘You have filled my head all day long and I can’t wait a moment longer. I suggest that before we eat, I pour us both a very large glass of this wine and we drink it in bed.’

  Emily didn’t reply. Couldn’t reply. His presence filled the room with such warmth and radiance. She had loved this beautiful man so very much. Still loved him. And when it was over, she knew without a doubt that she would never, ever love anyone like that again. The thought of her life without him in it was unbearable.

  ‘Emily?’ Anton rarely called her Emily. He knew something was up. ‘What’s wrong? You’re shaking. Are you ill?’

  He knelt down in front of her and enveloped her in his arms. ‘What’s wrong, darling?’

  Tears sprang into Emily’s eyes. He was so damn convincing.

  ‘I know,’ she said, her words muffled by his hair.

  Anton held her at arm’s length and gazed into her eyes, as if he could see right into her soul. She held his gaze, wanting to memorize for ever those lovely glittering blue eyes, that strong, square jaw and those exquisite high cheekbones.

  ‘I know,’ she said again, more clearly this time.

  A flicker of doubt passed over Anton’s face. ‘Know what?’

  Emily shook her head. ‘You don’t need to ask that, Anton. I know everything. About you. About your daughters. About your wife.’

  Anton swallowed hard. ‘But… that’s impossible. H-h-h-ow?’ he stuttered.

  Emily exhaled. ‘Through your daughter’s Facebook account. It’s all there, laid out right in front of my eyes. What a complete and utter bloody idiot I’ve been.’

  Even now, she wanted him to prove to her that she was wrong. That she had misunderstood. But she could tell by his expression that she was right.

  A succession of different emotions passed over Anton’s face – defiance, outrage, guilt – before he crumpled completely. ‘Oh my God, Em. It’s not what you think. There’s nothing between us any more. It’s just for the sake of the children… You must believe me, Em. I love you!’

  ‘I do believe you,’ she said, prompting a sigh of relief from Anton. ‘I believe that you love me.’

  ‘I do!’ He gripped her arms. ‘I really do.’

  ‘But you love your wife more.’

  ‘No! No, Em, it’s just for the sake of the children. We lead separate lives… it’s
a marriage in name only—’

  ‘And the person that you love more than anyone else…’ Emily cut across his protestations. ‘Is yourself.’

  Anton leaned back on his haunches and shook his head in disbelief. ‘No. You’re wrong. You’ve got it all wrong.’

  ‘Well, that’s the first truthful thing you’ve said. I definitely got you all wrong.’ Emily stood up. ‘You used me, Anton. And I was so stupid that I actually believed that you wanted to spend the rest of your life with me. Imagine if I’d said yes when you asked me to marry you? What the hell would you have done then? You’d probably have gone through with it! God, I feel like such a fool.’ As she finished speaking, she began to cry. ‘No!’ she shouted through her tears, wiping her face furiously. ‘I’m not going to cry over you. You’re not worth it.’

  As she bent to pick up her bag, Anton grabbed her hand. ‘Don’t go like this, Em. Please.’ He looked up at her with a pleading expression. ‘I can’t live without you. I need you in my life. I’ll leave Sarah. I promise. We’ll get married and get a house together… you, me and Jack. We’ll be a family!’

  ‘Shut up!’ Emily yelled, desperately wanting to believe him. Desperately wanting to un-know everything that she now knew about him. ‘You’re such a fraud. You actually don’t know where the truth ends and a lie begins.’

  Anton got to his feet, still holding tight on to her hand. ‘I’m so, so sorry for hurting you. I know what I did was wrong but I can make this right. Please, Em, give me a chance to make this right.’

  Emily could feel herself softening. He was so convincing and she wanted to be convinced. Sensing that she was weakening, Anton pulled her into his arms and clutched her to his chest, as if his life depended on it. The smell of him and the feel of him was as intoxicating as ever. Cupping the back of her head with his hands, he lifted her face towards him and kissed her with the sweetest tenderness she had ever known, his tears falling onto her cheeks and blending with her own. ‘I only love you,’ he murmured, as his hands moved inside her shirt and began to explore her body. ‘Only you.’

  Suddenly, Emily’s senses snapped into focus. ‘No,’ she said softly, looking up into those beautiful blue eyes, now swimming with genuine tears. For a fleeting moment, she felt a pang of sympathy for him. He did love her but she knew without the tiniest scintilla of doubt that it wouldn’t work out between them, even if he did give up his wife and commit to her. She would never be able to trust him. She would never really know the true person inside him. He had so effortlessly led a double life that she doubted if one woman would ever be enough for him. He would always want more. He would always be on the lookout for the next gullible student who would hang on his every word and maybe even waste thirteen years of her life waiting for him.

  ‘Goodbye, Anton.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Sophie woke early the next morning. She wished she could learn to lie in again but since having Emma and especially since having Theo, her body clock was timed to sleep no later than 7.00. She got up and walked downstairs to the kitchen. It was a beautiful cottage, painted with soft, pastel colours which, coupled with the low, beamed ceilings, gave it a warm and inviting feel. She imagined that Christmas here would be idyllic, with the open fires and the smell of freshly baked cakes spilling from the Aga. All very twee, but lovely nonetheless.

  She made herself a cup of coffee and opened the French door out onto the pretty courtyard garden. Despite the early hour, the sun was already hotting up and the scent of lavender and honeysuckle was unmistakable in the morning air.

  She sat down at the wrought-iron table and sighed happily. Last night had been cathartic for all of them. Emily had really listened to what they had to say and something seemed to click inside her mind. ‘If Amy can come back from being almost killed, then I can get over a tiny little thing like betrayal,’ she told Sophie as they sat in the kitchen later.

  ‘Nobody underestimates the shock you’ve had, Em. Yes, they’re very different circumstances, but both very difficult.’

  Emily nodded and took a deep, calming breath. ‘Being with Anton did do one thing for me though…’

  Sophie finished the last of her wine. It tasted a bit sour. She had definitely had more than enough. ‘What’s that?’

  ‘He reminded me that when I was at university, I showed so much promise. Everyone expected me to have a big, successful career. And what did I do? I settled for a boring job at an insurance company in the City. It’s literally the last place I think anyone expected me to end up.’

  ‘But that’s because you had Jack. How could you realistically go off and have a big career when you had a baby to look after? You needed something with manageable hours, rather than doing what I did and working all night, every night.’ She could feel herself flushing slightly as she spoke, remembering suddenly that she wasn’t necessarily just working when she was out so late.

  Emily shook her head. ‘I think I used it as an excuse though. Anton once told me he looked forward to reading my first novel and I really think he expected me to be a writer of some kind. He used to say I was a very talented writer…’ She tailed off, a wistful expression on her face.

  ‘Well, it’s not too late, is it? You’re only thirty-four and there’s no time limit on writing. That’s the beauty of it.’

  Emily smiled and sat up a bit straighter. ‘No, it’s not too late. I shouldn’t waste another minute of my life. I’m going to retrain as a journalist. I should have done that from the start. And I’m going to take a creative writing class. And I’m going to write a novel. I’m going to do it all.’ Emily’s dark eyes shone with excitement and determination as she spoke.

  Sophie shook her head in admiration. ‘You are the strongest person I know, Emily. And I really believe you will.’

  ‘Will what?’ Melissa and Amy came through into the kitchen from the sitting room where they had been nestled on the sofa, deep in conversation.

  Emily held up her glass in a mock toast. ‘I’m going to make the most of my talents. There’s no way I’m spending the rest of my life working in the City. I’m going for a career change.’

  Amy and Melissa looked at each other and laughed. ‘Well, that’s funny, because Amy and I have just been discussing her doing exactly the same!’

  Sophie motioned for them both to sit down and filled all their glasses from the open bottle of red on the table. She had already drunk far too much and would regret it in the morning but for now, she just wanted to keep the positive mood going.

  ‘What are you thinking, Amy?’

  Amy smiled. ‘Well, I think I’m a pretty good cook…’

  ‘You are!’ They all chorused as one.

  Amy laughed. ‘So, I’d like to make a career of it. I’m going to start up my own catering business.’

  Sophie eyed her warily. ‘I know you’re not short of money, Amy. But starting up a business isn’t cheap. It’s going to swallow up a hell of lot of cash—’

  ‘She knows all that,’ Melissa cut in, waving her hand dismissively. ‘But luckily, there’s a very rich man who I happen to know will be her first client and introduce her to lots of other potential clients.’

  Sophie frowned. Nick was due to be released from prison within a matter of weeks. ‘Not… Nick? Surely not?’

  Amy pulled a face. ‘No, of course not! It’s Melissa’s “friend” Mark.’ She made quotation marks with her fingers as she spoke.

  ‘Mark Bailey?’ Sophie’s mouth dropped open. ‘Melissa… is there something you haven’t told me?’ A mixture of emotions moved like a wave through her mind. On the one hand, she was delighted if Melissa and Mark had become more than just friends. She desperately wanted Melissa to meet someone to settle down with.

  On the other hand, Mark was a notorious lothario. He definitely wasn’t the settling-down kind, which instantly made her worry for Melissa. Another, much smaller part of her felt ever so slightly jealous. Although there had never been any sort of physical attraction between them, sh
e adored and admired him, meaning she was more than a little possessive when it came to his relationships.

  Melissa shot Amy a warning glance. ‘No! I don’t know what Amy’s on about… but I know that Mark would back her. Just wear a short skirt when you meet him, Amy, and with your long legs, he’ll be putty in your hands.’

  Sophie exhaled with relief. ‘That’s a bit unfair,’ she admonished Melissa. ‘He has an amazing business brain and he’ll only back something if he thinks it will make him lots of money. Mind you,’ she added, grinning at Amy, ‘I don’t suppose wearing a short skirt would do you any harm!’

  Later that night, Melissa lay in bed, thinking. Sophie’s reaction to any suggestion of a relationship between her and Mark Bailey was an interesting one. It gave her a tiny scintilla of hope that it might one day be a possibility.

  She looked at herself in the mirror each morning and gave herself a stern lecture about the folly of getting involved with him. He had women falling over themselves to sleep with him and he was unashamed about taking them all up on their offers. Since they had begun working together, she hadn’t yet succumbed to his charms but she knew it was only a matter of time and so did he. He looked at her with that twinkle in his dark eyes that reminded her of a cat toying with a mouse. He was just biding his time until the inevitable happened.

  She wanted to be the exception; the one who turned him down. But she also knew herself well enough to know that she was powerless to resist him. He was like no one else she had ever met. Yes, he was good-looking and charming but he was also fiercely clever, hilariously funny and unswervingly loyal. She didn’t know anyone, male or female, who wasn’t a little bit in love with him.

  And she didn’t think it was too much of an exaggeration to say that working with Mark had saved her. It had given her a focus and a drive that had always been missing in her career. Before, she had drifted along, enjoying the excesses of the music industry without thinking about the future. Since joining forces with Mark to cover Sophie’s maternity leave, she had found something she was good at. Something she didn’t mind working hard at because she didn’t want to let either Sophie or Mark down. Earning his respect and his praise for her work, rather than her body or her sexual prowess, had given her a bigger buzz than any drug had ever done and helped her to flourish.