A Virtual Affair

by Tracie Podger

  “Sounds good, can we join you?” Morton said. He and Carla had made it back to shore before us.

  “Sure, why not.”

  The guys left to book the cruise and Carla and I headed back to the villa. A dip in the fresh water pool was in order. My pinked skin needed respite from the heat and salty water.

  “Morton wants to keep in touch when we leave,” Carla said.

  We had our elbows resting on the side of the pool and our bodies floating in the cool water.

  “Wow, are you going to?”

  “I might. It would be nice to have a male friend.”

  “Do you think you could have a relationship with him?”

  “I doubt that, but he’s fun company.”

  We fell silent until it was time for a shower.

  We arrived in reception to find the guys already waiting. One of the staff from the water sports centre met us and escorted us along the jetty to a waiting catamaran. Having never been on a catamaran before, I was unsure how to climb aboard. Two hulls were connected with what was basically rope netting. There was no graceful way to do it so Carla and I crawled, much to the amusement of everyone else.

  It was the most thrilling thing I’d done. The boat glided across the Indian Ocean, rising on one hull as the wind picked up. I clung on, laughing out loud. My heart pounded with excitement and my smile spread the faster we went. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d laughed so much.

  We eventually arrived at a sandbank. The pilot—I’d been told off for calling him captain—helped me from the boat, and hitching my sundress to my thighs, I waded to the shore. We sat as a glass of champagne was handed to us and watched the sun set. It was probably one of the most beautiful sights I’d seen. As the sun lowered, its orange glow spread across the calm water.

  Stefan had decided to sit beside me. As he placed his hand on the sand to lean back, his fingers brushed against mine. I looked down at them and his thumb swept over my wedding band.

  “Are you happily married?” he asked quietly.

  I couldn’t speak. I looked up at him. His dark blue eyes were staring intently at me and I felt tears pool in mine. I gently shook my head.

  “I guess neither of us would be sitting here if we were.”

  It was the only conversation we had about our lives outside of the fantasy the island had surrounded us in. Sadness washed over me. I thought on his words. Were we both so miserable? More importantly, were we only drawn to each other because of our miserable lives? I think that would have been worse.

  As the sun dipped below the horizon we made our way back to the boat. It was a calmer sail back to the island and once back on land we walked to the Italian restaurant.

  Something had changed. Although I still found Stefan easy to talk to, we chatted and laughed through dinner, there was an undercurrent of tension. Perhaps it was in my mind. Carla, who was normally so in tune with me, hadn’t indicated she felt anything different.

  The evening ended, as usual, back at the bar for a drink before the guys left. Their dives each morning started early.

  And so it went on. Carla and I spent each day on the beach or in the spa; the guys joined us in the afternoon and for dinner. As the holiday wore on, I became more comfortable with Stefan but that undercurrent of tension got greater. At night, I longed for him, for his touch. The guilt intensified.

  Our last evening had been spent with the guys dancing to a local band in the bar. Stefan had held me close as the band played their last song; he’d sung quietly along with the lyrics.

  Their departure was later than ours the following morning but they came to reception to see us off. It was awkward; both Stefan and I were quieter than normal. Carla and Morton exchanged details and I watched, envious of their budding friendship. A porter came to take our luggage and we followed along the wooden jetty to the waiting speedboat.

  “Jayne,” Stefan said.

  I turned to face him. “If you want to, I’d like to stay in touch,” he said.

  He reached out holding a business card. I took it from him, my fingers gently swept over his name printed in the centre of the card.

  “I’d like that too.”

  He took a step towards me and placed his hands on my shoulders, his thumbs just caressing the side of my neck. I looked up at him as he leant his head closer to mine and his lips brushed against my cheek.

  He stood straight, smiled and nodded, then walked away.

  I watched his retreating back until Carla gently took my arm. We climbed aboard the boat and took a seat.

  “Are you okay?”

  I sighed. “I don’t want to go home. Thank you so much for this holiday.”

  She placed her arm around my shoulder and we made the journey to the capital in silence.

  The flight home was torture. My cheek tingled where Stefan had placed his lips for hours after. My stomach knotted as we made the exchange in Dubai, knowing the next stop would be Heathrow. Dread set in and mixed with the guilt I felt for the feelings I’d developed towards Stefan.

  “You have nothing to feel guilty for. You know that, don’t you? You did nothing wrong,” Carla said as we exited Heathrow and headed for our taxi.

  “I don’t know about that,” I replied.

  “Nothing happened, you just made a friend.”

  I hadn’t told Carla about the feelings coursing through my body. I hadn’t told her about the ache in my stomach each night and the heat of desire that spread between my thighs every time Stefan had touched me. Nor about the spark of electricity I’d felt wherever he’d place his hand.

  The house was cold when I opened the front door. It felt bleak. Carla waved from the taxi as it reversed from the drive to take her home. I walked from room to room, noticing it was exactly as I had left it two weeks prior. The note to Michael was still on the kitchen table. I opened the freezer, not one meal had been used. I walked around the house and to his bedroom. I opened the wardrobe, ten shirts were missing, they weren’t in the laundry room either, and I knew he hadn’t even been home

  Nothing had changed in the house but me. I wasn’t the same plain Jayne that had left it. Whether it had been meeting Stefan, whether it had been standing up to Michael and taking that holiday, I’d changed. I was determined to keep in contact with Stefan; I wanted a friendship. In my mind I wasn’t doing anything wrong.

  I unpacked my case and loaded the washing machine; I took a meal from the freezer and settled down to listen to the answer machine. I’d received a call from my mother-in-law enquiring whether Michael and I would be attending lunch that weekend. There was a call from Casey, excitedly telling me about a ski trip she’d been invited on and one from Ben to welcome me home. He’d obviously held the phone to Dini and encouraged him to bark, he didn’t, of course, but I smiled at the gesture.

  The house was silent except for the hum of the fridge. I retrieved my cigarettes from the empty biscuit tin, their usual hiding place, and opened the back door. I shivered. February in Kent was a million miles away from February in the Maldives. I sat at the garden table and inhaled the evil nicotine for the first time in two weeks.

  As I leaned back and exhaled slowly, I thought of him. I could see his blue eyes in my mind, the slightly lopsided wicked grin he saved for me, and the blond hair that flopped over his forehead and was always messy. I pictured his salt encrusted body, but all of that paled into insignificance when I thought of the greatest thing he’d given me—his time and undivided attention.

  I headed back indoors and turned up the heating. It had been set low and I wondered if Michael had forgotten I was due home that day. It was as if the house had been closed up, vacant. I collected my laptop from the study and settled at the kitchen table by the Aga, thankful that he hadn’t turned that off.

  Taking Stefan’s card from my purse, I studied it. He owned his own business in Denmark, a marketing agency it appeared. He hadn’t given me his personal contact details but his business ones. I opened up my email account.

 
; To: Stefan

  From: Jayne

  Date: 17 February 2014

  Subject: Freezing from the UK

  Hi, I’m home, it’s cold and miserable here. I’m already missing the sun and the feel of sand beneath my feet. I hope you made it home okay and wishing you well on your return to work. I downloaded some of the pictures from my camera; I have some nice ones and great memories.

  Jayne x

  I deleted the X, and then re-typed it. I didn’t want him to think I was sending kisses but just leaving my name seemed so formal.

  I checked through my emails, deleting every one. No one emailed me other than foreigners to tell me I had won a million pounds in some lotto, or a relative I’d no knowledge of had died and if I handed over my bank account details they’d transfer an inheritance, or Viagra. I’d often wondered who sent those emails to someone with the name ‘Jayne’.

  I closed down the laptop and smiled. I’d made a new friend, the first since I’d married Michael.

  A blast of cold air wafted down the hallway when the front door opened and Michael trudged in carrying a holdall. He dumped it in the kitchen.

  “The trains are a bloody nightmare. You’d think South Eastern would get their act together. We have this every winter.”

  No, ‘hello’. No, ‘did you have a great holiday’. No mention that I’d just returned from two weeks away.

  “Oh, I need a dress shirt for tomorrow evening. I have some bloody boring function in the City. God forbid I should miss it.”

  I sat in stunned silence as he shrugged off his suit jacket, left it hanging over a kitchen chair and took himself off to the lounge with his paper. I heard the chink of glass as he poured his usual shot of whiskey.

  I picked up my car keys, my purse, and walked to the hallway. I retrieved my coat from the hook, and as I opened the front door, I heard him call out.

  “Did you hear? I need a dress shirt. The one with the black buttons.”

  I slammed the front door behind me.

  My hands shook as I inserted the key in the ignition. Tears blurred my eyes as I backed out the drive; I angrily brushed them away.

  Not one fucking word of kindness. Not one fucking word about my holiday. Not one fucking hint that he’d missed me.

  “Prick! Fucking douchebag, twat!” I shouted, making up as many swearwords as I could.

  I slammed my hand on the steering wheel as I drove, catching the eye of the driver in a neighbouring car.

  “Oh, fuck off,” I said through gritted teeth.

  I must have looked quite mad. The only time I ever spoke my mind, let out the screaming in my head, was when I was alone in the car. I drove to Ben’s.

  “Hey, Mum, are you okay? I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow. I could have dropped Dini off, you know,” he said once he’d opened the front door.

  “I’m great, jet lagged for sure. I missed my baby, wanted to collect him and see you both.”

  “Aw, that’s nice. Missed me or the dog?” he teased.

  “The dog, of course.” I whistled for him.

  Dini came bounding towards me and gave me the welcome home I’d wished for from my husband. He leapt, placed his paws on my shoulders and licked my face. Okay, I hadn’t wanted Michael to lick my face but a hug or even a smile would have been nice.

  “Jayne, did you have a good time? Come and tell us all about it,” Kerry said.

  The willowy, tall blonde with a permanent smile walked towards me. She had rosy cheeks and looked far healthier than she had just two weeks prior.

  “You’re obviously feeling better, I’m glad,” I said.

  She looked from me to Ben; her smiled widened. She bit down on her lower lip and patted her belly while raising her eyebrows.

  “You’re not? Oh my God, how?”

  “Well, there are these birds and some bees…” Ben said. I swatted the back of his head.

  I pushed the dog off me and pulled her into a hug.

  “I am so pleased for you both. When did you find out?”

  “This morning, we haven’t told anyone yet. I’m only a month gone so I want to keep it quiet for a little while, but I’m just so excited,” she said.

  “I’m going to be a grandmother!”

  I squealed a little, Kerry cried and Ben hugged us both.

  “Now, tell us about this holiday. I’ll put the kettle on,” she said.

  Ben and Kerry rented a tiny modern house on one of the new estates that were springing up on the outskirts of the village. They hated it, but it was all they could afford. The one bedroom wouldn’t last them long with a baby on the way. You could barely swing the proverbial cat in their bedroom, let alone fit a cot.

  We sat and drank our tea. Our conversation alternated between my holiday and the pregnancy. Before I’d realised, an hour had passed.

  “I need to get back. Your father is waiting on his dinner, no doubt,” I said as I stood.

  I hugged Kerry, grabbed Dini’s bed, food and lead, and headed for the car. Ben walked me out.

  “Have you told Dad or Casey?” I asked.

  “No, you can if you want, but other than that, we’d like to keep it to ourselves for a little longer.”

  I nodded, hugged and kissed him, loaded the dog on the backseat then drove home.

  I tensed as I got closer to home, and my stomach knotted. I pulled onto the drive and sat in my car for a few minutes before taking a deep breath and opening the door. Dini bounded over the driver’s seat and followed me out. He sniffed before cocking his leg against the umbrella Michael had left by the front door. I clasped my hand over my mouth to quieten the giggle.

  The smell of Thai food wafted from the kitchen. As I walked through I noticed empty tin foil containers on the counter. Michael had obviously ordered himself a takeaway but there was nothing left for me. He could shove his dress shirt up his tight arse.

  I uncorked a bottle of white wine, plated some cheese and biscuits and sat in the kitchen with my laptop and a memory card. I downloaded the rest of my holiday snaps as I ate and drank.

  Once the download was complete, I flicked through them, stopping at the only one I had taken of Stefan. He was standing at the water’s edge, side to the camera and looking out to sea. My finger trailed over the screen and across his body. I quickly clicked to the next picture when I heard Michael walk from the living room.

  “I’m going out,” he said, his voice brusque.

  “Oh, before you go, can you take this?” I ran up the stairs and grabbed the camisole top I’d found from my dresser.

  He was at the front door when I rammed it into his chest.

  “I don’t do that tart’s washing,” I said, then walked away.

  I heard his sigh of exasperation and it infuriated me. As the door slammed behind him, I sat and tears of anger fell. What a great welcome home. I shut down the laptop and headed upstairs. I was tired; I needed a shower and to curl up in the warmth of my bed.

  I didn’t sleep. I tossed and turned and was awake when I heard Michael return. The clock on my bedside table showed two in the morning. He didn’t try to creep but stomped up the stairs to his bedroom. I turned on my side and cried again.

  My marriage had been in tatters for years. It had gone downhill right after our wedding. I wasn’t the wife he wanted. In the beginning, I’d managed. I’d gone to the office parties and met his clients. Although it had never been me, it was Scarlet.

  Scarlet was my inner person, the woman I wanted to be. She was beautiful and confident, could hold a conversation, and everyone wanted to be her friend. The reality was so far removed that only a glass or two, or three, would bring Scarlet to the surface. But after a while, even she had deserted me.

  I must have fallen asleep, as the closing of the front door jolted me awake at seven o’clock. I lay for a while, disorientated and disturbed. I’d dreamt that I was sinking. I could still feel the sensation in my body. I was sinking into an abyss where the darkness was sucking me slowly in and I couldn’t climb o
ut. I was screaming for help, my mouth was open but no sound emerged. The screaming was all in mind. Whether I’d screamed out for real or not, I had no idea, but my throat was sore and my cheeks damp.

  My limbs felt heavy as I climbed from the bed. Tiredness swept over me despite the fact I’d slept on and off for over ten hours. I stood in the shower hoping the water would revive me.

  Once dressed in my usual jeans and a sweater, I made my way downstairs. The kitchen remained in the same state it had the previous evening. I cleared the takeaway containers away and washed the dirty plate left next to the sink. While I waited for the kettle to boil, I let Dini out in to the garden.

  With a cup of tea to warm my hands, I sat and opened my laptop. I wanted to look through my holiday pictures properly. My heart fluttered in my chest when I saw a notification that I had received an email. I opened my account and smiled.

  To: Jayne

  From: Stefan

  Date: 17 February 2014

  Subject: Cold also.

  Hey, thank you for your email; it was a nice surprise this morning. I came into work early to catch up. It’s also cold here in Denmark and you will have to forgive my message. I have to change my keyboard from Danish to English to speak with you. Do you remember the song we danced to? It was playing on the radio as I drove in; gave me good memories too. Send over any nice pics. :)

  Stefan x

  My smile got broader as I read, then re-read. He’d added a kiss after his name too, and that small thing meant more than the fact that he’d responded. His spoken English was better than his written and once I’d closed down the email, I googled a Danish translation app. I thought it might be nice to converse in his own dialect. I’d listened to him and Morton talk and there was no way, despite their teaching, I could speak his language. I’d ended up spitting over him.

  “Dini, my baby. We need a walk,” I said to the sleeping dog.

  Immediately, his ears twitched. He jumped to his paws and ran for the back door, claws scratching against the tiled floor.

  I had a spring in my step as I walked through the brown turned field to the woods beyond. I smiled as I recalled Stefan’s email, all traces of my earlier tiredness and anxiety were gone. I even sang, out of tune, of course. Dini bounded ahead, sniffing his way from tree to tree, chasing imaginary squirrels and frequently ran back, panting, to check on me. The trill of my phone in my pocket was the only sound to be heard.