by Sue Watson
‘I didn’t want to tell you because, well, I didn’t want to scare you off. Can we talk? Properly? I want to see you.’
My throat constricts. No, no, not Alex.
‘Just tell me, who is she?’ I want to be sick.
‘It was Helen.’
‘I don’t know what to say.’ I’m confused and hurt and upset, I don’t know how to feel.
‘But – but you need to know everything,’ he says. ‘And when I tell you, I need to hold you, to explain everything carefully, so you don’t get the wrong idea.’
I desperately want to believe this is going to be okay, that Alex will come up with a perfectly innocent reason why he had lunch with his ex today and didn’t tell me. The ex he seemed to have a huge problem getting over, until quite recently. I don’t say a word, I just want to listen.
‘Hannah, please, you mean so much to me…’ His voice fades.
‘If I mean so much to you, why did you lie to me?’
Again the silence. I was hoping he’d laugh, simply dismiss my fears, tell me I’m being silly, that she was just a client, a colleague – whatever. I want him to convince me there’s nothing to worry about. But I am worried.
‘Meet me, Hannah, let’s talk.’
‘I don’t know.’ I sigh.
‘Please, I’m begging you, don’t throw away what we’ve got. There’s nothing to be jealous of, I promise.’
‘Jealous? This isn’t about me being jealous, I’m not a teenager. I can understand someone meeting up with an ex – but my problem with it is that you didn’t tell me.’
‘I… Let me meet you at yours,’ he says firmly.
‘No, I don’t want to meet at mine. But I do want to know what’s going on, so let’s go somewhere neutral, and then, if I don’t like what you have to say, I can just go.’
‘Okay, okay, whatever you want. But promise you’ll hear me out?’
‘I’ll try, but I’m promising nothing. Where shall we meet?’
I glance out of the window, it’s filling up with snow, covering everything in a sheet of white.
‘The wine bar on Foregate Street? Where we went on our first date?’ he says. ‘I can be there in five minutes.’
‘Okay, but you’re at my home, right? It’s at least ten minutes away by car, and it’s snowing, it’ll take you longer.’
‘Oh. Yeah… I’ll… Look, just wait at work for me.’
‘No, I’ll see you in the wine bar.’
‘Why can’t I just come to the office…?’
‘I have some work still to do, so text me when you get to the wine bar and I’ll leave then.’ It doesn’t really matter if he comes here or not, but I hate it that he sometimes tries to tell me what to do. He has this way of convincing me, browbeating me, in a nice way.
‘Why do you never want me at your office?’
‘It isn’t that I don’t want you at the office… I just want to be on neutral ground.’
‘You never want me there, what are you trying to hide?’
What’s he on about? I suddenly feel angry and defensive. ‘Alex! Really? It’s you who’s been hiding something, so please don’t try to deflect this onto me. I’ll see you in the wine bar in half an hour,’ I say firmly, putting down the phone, angry that he’s suggesting I have a reason for not letting him near my office. He’s always offering to pick me up from here, but there’s no need, and for now I want to keep home and work separate. Plus, from a professional perspective, it isn’t appropriate. There’s confidential information stored in this office and Jas would have a fit if she thought anyone other than the team were in here after hours. And it would just be my luck for her to have forgotten something, or to come back to check I’m okay, and find him here with me in the semi darkness.
In the shadows of this office are shelf upon shelf of bulging files and locked cabinets. Among the many notes and records of meetings and decisions are the secrets people hide, the things we have to keep safe. Sometimes in this job, we have to let life spill out in all its filth and horror. But in the end it’s about making lives better.
I hear something, a movement at the far end of the office. Jas said she thought we had mice. I hope not. There it is again. It’s definitely coming from the back of the office. I look round, trying to focus exactly on where the noise came from, but it’s so dim I can’t see that far.
I try to finish what I’m doing so I can leave to meet Alex, but I can’t concentrate. I have this horrible, irrational feeling that someone’s in the shadows watching me. I know there’s no one there, but I turn again behind me into the blackness, and it’s then I see a movement. It definitely wasn’t a mouse.
I stay very still and stare for a while and realise it’s probably just my mind and the darkness playing tricks. I need to stop being stupid and finish filling in the report from today’s meet with Chloe and her mother.
I go back to the task in hand, and continue typing, my keyboard clicking in the deep quiet. I hear something and suddenly stop. And wait. Silence. I gaze around. Nothing. I start typing again, remembering the way Chloe couldn’t meet my eyes, the way her mother spoke her words for her. As Harry said, maybe there’s more to Chloe than meets the eye. Is she the victim this time or the culprit?
I definitely hear something and I stop typing again. I stand up, and my heart starts to thud in my ears so loudly I’m deafened to any other sound. ‘Is anybody there?’ Just hearing my voice asking this freaks me out.
I wait and I’m met with more layers of thick, snowy silence. I stand for another few seconds, aware I have to finish this report, and yet distracted by something – and nothing. I could kick myself for allowing what happened today to fill my mind – if I hadn’t, I’d be finished and gone now. Instead, I’m scaring myself half to death when I should have been home hours ago.
I’m cold and it’s creepy and I need to see Alex, so without finishing the report, I click off the laptop, throw Chloe Thomson’s files into a carrier bag, grab my coat and shoulder bag, and make my way to the door. I know there’s no one here, no one lurking in the shadows, but as I walk towards the door I’m driving myself mad with crazy, intrusive thoughts.
When I reach the outer door, I realise it’s locked. Jas must have done that as she left, so no one could get in anyway, thank God. I smile to myself and roll my eyes at my nervousness. But just then I hear something again, and rummage frantically for the keys in my bag. I’m not usually anxious like this, but I’ve got myself into such a state today. And now I can’t find my bloody keys. The more I feel around inside my bag, the more panicky I become. ‘Shit, shit,’ I’m saying under my breath, I can feel a scream forming in my throat, but swallow it down. Miraculously, my fingers finally grip the keys and I lift my head to put them into the lock when I see the outline of someone’s face pressed up against the glass.
Now the scream that’s been sitting in my throat is released, loud and shrill. I didn’t know I could make such a noise, it’s like it’s coming from someone else. My heart is now wedged firmly in my throat. Do I open the door and let whoever it is in? Or stay locked inside here, alone in the dark?
The shadow moves away slightly from the glass.
‘What do you want?’ I shout. ‘I’m calling the police.’
The shadow moves again.
I grab my phone from inside my coat pocket.
‘Hannah… Hannah? It’s me, darling.’
‘Alex?’ I call back doubtfully.
‘Yes.’
I push in the key and open the door, and to my relief, Alex is standing there. He’s smiling, his arms outstretched, delighted to see me.
‘Why did you come here?’ I say, without returning his smile, or falling into his arms, which he now drops awkwardly.
‘I… I was worried. I… was already on my way when I spoke to you on the phone.’
‘We arranged to meet at the bar, didn’t we?’
‘What is this, twenty questions?’
‘You scared me to death, why have you turn
ed up here?’
‘Hannah…’ He looks behind me into the office. ‘Is somebody else here with you?’
‘No,’ I say, irritated.
‘So you’re on your own?’ he asks again.
‘Yes, of course – why are you asking?’
‘I was worried… I thought I saw someone.’
‘When? Now?’ I’m really creeped out. Can he see someone behind me? I daren’t turn round to look.
‘Not at the moment, but I swear I saw someone leave. They were coming from the back of the building.’ I feel a shiver run down my spine. ‘That’s why I came to the door,’ he explains.
I was the only one in the building, but I can’t help but feel anxious. I thought there had been someone in there too. What if I wasn’t alone?
‘Let’s get out of here,’ I say, ushering him out and locking the door behind us. My anger towards him can wait, for now I just want to leave.
We start walking to the wine bar. It’s a few minutes away, so Alex leaves his car.
‘When you saw someone… leaving just now, were you heading to the bar?’ I ask as we trudge through the snow.
‘No… I was…’ He pauses. ‘I was sat in my car. He ran out from the back of the building and through the car park.’
‘Are you sure you saw someone? It’s very dark.’
‘Well, I think he ran from your building. I turned on my full beams, I definitely saw someone running away.’
‘How long have you been sitting in the car park?’ I ask.
‘Not long.’ He reaches for my hand, but I pull away. ‘I was so worried, and when you weren’t at your flat, I drove here, to your office. I know for some reason you don’t like me turning up at the office… but…’
I stop walking to look at him. ‘Alex, why do you keep saying that? I don’t have a problem with you coming to my office, so stop trying to make out I do.’
He shrugs. ‘I just feel like whenever I suggest calling by or—’
‘I’d rather you didn’t. But not for any other reason than it’s my place of work and Jas would be really pissed off.’
‘Seems to me like Jas gets pissed off very easily.’
I ignore his remark. We plough on through the thickening snow, and if things had been different, this would feel so romantic – Christmas lights twinkling along the high street, white confetti in the air. As we pass the Guild hall, I can’t help but take in the huge Christmas tree, resplendent in her twinkling ball gown of lights.
‘So, Alex,’ I start, ‘about today?’ I refuse to wait any longer.
We’re almost at the wine bar, and he gestures for us to keep walking, says he’ll tell me once we’re inside. It’s freezing, my teeth are chattering it’s so cold, so I shrug, I might as well be warm while he says what he has to say.
Once inside, I realise it may not have been the best place to come to have an intimate chat. It’s early December, but the office parties are already in full throttle. It hurts to remember our first date here and how happy I was compared to how I feel just a couple of months later. It was cosy and romantic then, now it’s loud and busy, and instead of the excitement and hope I had weeks ago, now I feel upset.
‘Are you sure you don’t want to go to mine, where we can talk?’ Alex yells as we fight our way to the bar.
I shake my head. ‘Here is fine,’ I say and, unsmiling, I look away from him so he won’t try to convince me otherwise.
We eventually get served, he orders us a glass each of Merlot and, against the odds, we find a table in a fairly quiet corner.
‘Talk to me Alex,’ I say, sitting down opposite him, placing my handbag and the carrier bag with Chloe’s files on the floor, then taking off my coat, and laying it down on the bench next to me.
Alex is pleading with me to hear him out. ‘Hannah, I haven’t lied to you… that’s not how I see it.’
‘Okay, so how do you see it?’ I’m impatient, I’ve put myself through hell today, and only he can stop this horrible, sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.
‘I didn’t lie. I didn’t tell you because I don’t want to…’ He pauses. ‘Lose you.’
I sip my wine, keeping eye contact, but making no attempt to speak. I just need him to talk.
‘So. The woman you saw today… with me, yes, it was Helen. How did you guess?’
‘I saw a photo – in your bathroom. Someone had… scribbled on her face.’ I look right at him. ‘That was Helen?’
I see the realisation dawn on his face, and he drops his head. ‘Yes, I’m not proud of that. I was very angry back then.’
‘So it would seem. You ripped across her face with a pen. And yet there you were today lunching with her – how things have changed,’ I say, unable to keep the bitterness out of my voice.
‘Things did change – when I met you. I was able to forgive her because I’d found someone I really loved.’
I ignore this, I won’t be seduced by his words. ‘So… why didn’t you tell me about today?’
‘Because…’ Another pause. He takes a drink, I know he’s buying time. ‘Because – it’s complicated.’
‘Oh please.’ I roll my eyes while discreetly holding on to the table to steady myself. ‘“It’s complicated”? Teenagers put that as their Facebook status, it’s meaningless.’
‘You’re angry.’
‘Damn right I am. This morning, before we both left for work, you told me you were in court. And later you lied again, told me you couldn’t meet me for lunch because you were in court. But presumably you were in her bathroom!’
‘No, no I was in the pub.’
‘Even worse. You were speaking to me from a bathroom in the pub because you didn’t want to pick up in front of her.’
I take a longer sip of wine this time, and as I put my glass down, he’s staring at me. He’s really struggling to find the words, and the more he struggles, the more I glare at him, waiting.
‘Look, Hannah, I haven’t been strictly honest with you.’
‘Here we go.’ I sigh heavily. ‘You spent the afternoon in a hotel room, you’ve realised she’s your soulmate and you’re getting back together?’
‘No, none of that. But… she isn’t my ex-girlfriend.’
‘What? Who is she then?’
‘She’s my wife.’
Chapter Fifteen
If he’d stood up and punched me in the face, it couldn’t have shocked me more.
‘Your wife?’ Is all I can say. ‘Your wife?’ I repeat. My chin’s trembling, I’m going to burst into tears any moment.
‘I was going to tell you, Hannah.’
I can’t bear this any longer, I’m not going to sit here while he attempts to explain. ‘I’m sorry, Alex, but this is too much.’ I stand up, gathering my bag and coat in my arms, and make to leave.
‘Please, Hannah, hear me out, it isn’t what you think.’
‘What I think? What I think is that we’ve been together since October and it’s now December. Almost three months – three months – and not once have you ever mentioned that you’re married.’
‘It’s—’
‘Please don’t tell me “it’s complicated”, again,’ I hiss, as I desperately try to push back the bench I’ve been sitting on, which is now jammed against the wall. ‘I don’t want to hear anything else,’ I mumble, on the verge of tears. My mind has been a whirl of doubt and mistrust all day, but even in my darkest thoughts, I never imagined she was his wife! I’ve been totally blindsided, and I’m governed only by primal instinct. I have to escape, like an animal fleeing from pain.
I finally extricate myself from the bloody bench and the table, knocking my drink over in the process.
Alex is on his feet now. ‘I knew you’d freak out – but honestly, we’re not together now, please listen to me – there’s something else. Hannah!’
I can’t listen to another word and make my escape, as he continues to call my name. His voice fades as I fight my way through the laughing Christmas throng, twenty-deep at
the bar. I’m almost lashing out to get through. I can’t bear to be here, where everyone’s so full of alcohol and joy, the air thick with pissed happiness. I have so many questions burning inside my brain, but I can’t face Alex now. This has come from nowhere and made me question everything about him.
Eventually I reach the door, and pushing through more people to get outside, I gulp the freezing night air and start running down the high street. I don’t know where I’m running to, or what I’m running from.
Clutching my coat and shoulder bag to my chest, I run down the street, tears freezing on my cheeks. A gang of girls with Christmas baubles dangling from their ears shout, ‘Are you okay, love?’ I’m in such disarray, people are staring at me as I pass.
I keep my head down and continue quickly along the frozen high street. I almost bump into a cosy couple, out for a romantic dinner, who step aside and look pityingly at me. They probably think I’m just sad and single and drunk. I want to yell at them for their smugness, and for assuming they’re safe in their coupledom. I want to tell them that I felt just as they do twenty-four hours ago, thinking I was untouchable. But Alex is married.
I had this naïve hope nestled somewhere inside that when we got to the bar, he’d laugh, tell me the woman I’d seen him with was his long-lost sister. And, in a fleeting Bridget Jones moment, I confess I even allowed myself to hope that he’d taken a female friend to help choose an engagement ring for me. That he’d turn up tonight and go down on one knee, wrapping my worry up in a bright-red bow and handing it back to me for Christmas. But he hasn’t. I’m not living in a rom com after all. This is real life. And real life hurts.
I’m shaking with cold, and desperately try to put on my coat without dropping my bag, when I hear someone running beside me in the now sloshing snow. Alex has caught up and he’s gently taking my bag and coat from me. I stand there, helpless, as he puts my arms into the coat he’s holding, like a parent dressing his child. Once my coat is safely on, he fastens my bag tightly, then puts it on his shoulder before taking off his scarf and wrapping it carefully around my neck.
He stands back to admire his handiwork. He’s tidied me up, but the tears are now streaming down my cheeks.