by ML Roberts
‘How’s the mentoring going?’ I ask, knowing that that will, at least, cause him to raise his head. Which it does.
‘Why do you ask?’
‘I’m interested in your work, Michael. I always have been.’ I pick up my napkin, scrunching it up in my fist. ‘Look, I know you have this student/professor confidentiality thing, but don’t you think that’s a bit, you know? A bit of an overreaction? I mean, it’s not like you’re discussing their medical records or bank details. Why the need for such secrecy?’
I don’t care now. I don’t. I need to ask questions, it’s the only way I can get to the truth. I need to push him, until he tells me what I need to hear. I can track his whereabouts, listen in to his calls, read his texts, but I want to hear him tell me. Something. And he will. I’ll make him, if I have to.
‘There is no secrecy, Ellie. It’s just not something I think we need to talk about.’
‘Why not?’
He looks at me through narrowed eyes. He doesn’t like it when I talk like this. I’m being confrontational, I know, but I’m starting to lose patience. How many times has he lied to me? How many times has he done that?
‘I have work to do in the office.’
He throws his napkin down, pushes back his chair and leaves the table. But as he passes me he stops, rests a hand lightly on my shoulder and gently kisses the top of my head.
‘Get some rest, Ellie. You work too hard.’
I let him go. I listen as he climbs the stairs. One flight. Two. He’s gone straight up to his office.
I look down at the napkin bunched up in my fist and I squeeze it tighter, so tight my knuckles turn white. When I loosen my grip, it falls onto my plate, into my half-eaten food. I watch as it slowly becomes soaked in soy sauce, and as I watch I’m aware of a sharp pain coming from my hand. I look down. I’ve been picking at the scabs on my palm, scratching away until I drew fresh blood. I hadn’t even been aware I’d been doing it, but now the soy sauce-soaked napkin is peppered with droplets of blood, the red and the brown slowly merging together in a dark, mud-coloured mess.
I inhale deeply before I finally get up from the table. I fetch the small first-aid kit from the cupboard and I wash the reopened cuts, carefully placing plasters over them; there’s not enough blood to warrant a bandage. And then, like a robot programmed to carry out these everyday tasks, I clear the table. Stack the dishwasher. Fill up the coffee machine and switch it on. I pour myself a glass of whisky and down it quickly, closing my eyes as the warm liquid settles in my stomach. That one was for medicinal purposes. But then, aren’t they all?
Raising my eyes to the ceiling I wonder if Michael really has got work to do. I doubt he does. It’s his go-to excuse when he doesn’t want to talk – he has work to do.
Sighing quietly, I head out into the hallway, stopping at the foot of the stairs. I turn around, look at his jacket hanging on the hook by the door, and without hesitation, without any hint of guilt, I rifle through the pockets, finding nothing more than a receipt for his newspaper and his glasses case. But that means nothing. It’s easy to cover your tracks when you’re doing something you don’t want anyone to find out about. I should know. Which is why I don’t trust him. I know the signs, I’ve been playing this game for a while now, and I’m good at it. Is he?
I go into our room, check my reflection in the mirror. I look okay. Not too tired. You could even describe my complexion as slightly glowing, and that’s all down to Liam. Sex and time away from this charade fills me with a renewed energy, something that keeps me going until I need to keep running on empty. And I briefly wonder if this was how I looked before everything happened. Did my complexion ever glow back then?
A sudden noise from outside on the landing jolts me from that thought; makes me spin around. Even when I’m not alone in this house my nerves are on edge. It’ll be nothing more than a beam creaking, but for the briefest of moments I’m wracked with memories I won’t ever forget. The fear. The noise. The blood …
My phone vibrating in my pocket drags me back from those memories and I quickly take it out. There’s an alert flashing up on the screen; Michael’s making a call, to a number I recognize as Bill Franklin’s, a member of his faculty. Another work call, but I’ll still listen to it, later. When he’s asleep.
Sliding my phone back into my pocket I look up at the wall facing our bed, at the picture hanging on it. Me and Michael on our wedding day. Sunshine, happiness, laughter, that’s what I remember about that day. A darkness hides the sun now. I can’t remember the last time I felt true happiness. I’m happy, for a few brief minutes, when I’m alone with Liam. It’s a kind-of happy, anyway. Something that masks the sadness, for a while.
‘Ellie?’
I turn to face him. He looks tired as he stands in the doorway, his reading glasses in one hand, his other pressing down on the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, his head down, eyes closed. ‘I thought you were working.’
‘I am. I just need something from the car. I left some papers in there.’
I turn back to look at the picture on the wall; let a couple of beats pass before I turn to face Michael again. ‘How is work?’
He slowly raises his head, and I fix my eyes on his. I look right at him, wait for him to tell me about Cardiff, because he just forgot, right? He forgot to tell me he was going away.
‘Work’s fine. I just have a lot to catch up on, that’s all.’
‘Your students keeping you busy, are they?’
He narrows his eyes, that familiar, weary expression taking over his face. ‘Where is this going, Ellie?’
I leave another beat or two before I answer him. He’s defensive. That means I’ve touched a nerve. ‘It’s just a question, Michael.’
You won’t be able to keep her a secret for much longer, Michael. Your car was outside her house, you were in there, with her, I know you were. It’s only a matter of time now, before I find that cast-iron proof I need. It’s only a matter of time …
‘I need to go fetch those papers from the car.’
He’s shutting me down, as he does so often these days. He’s ending it, before I start asking more questions. Before I start pushing him, he’s putting a stop to it. And I’m too tired to fight it tonight. But I will fight it.
I want my life back.
I want Michael back.
I don’t want this …
Chapter 27
It’s a busy day at the spa. We have a, thankfully very well-behaved, hen party spending the day with us today; there are also a couple of clients with birthdays and an anniversary treat, amongst many others. My new business has really taken off. The spa has appeared in lots of features in the local press and a regional news programme filmed a lovely piece on us for TV that went out a few nights ago, which has brought a lot of new business in. I’m happy, at work. It’s a necessary distraction.
I’ve been busy today making sure we have everything set up for a meeting tomorrow about expanding into the wedding venue side of things, but my staff seem to be doing an amazing job of keeping this place running. And I need that, because there are times when I can’t focus. When I’m somewhere else, not concentrating on work. When I’m wondering where my husband is.
I still have lunch most days in the Spanish restaurant, even though I’ve all but convinced myself Michael probably hasn’t been in there again. The tracker has never put him there, but I still go. Just to be sure. Just in case.
My phone signals an alert and I pull it from my pocket, look down at the screen. It’s a text, from Liam. He’s coming to the university this afternoon to set up another run of guest lectures, and he wants to see me. Do I want to see him? Today?
I stop outside the pool room – a huge glass-walled extension we had built onto the back of the building that looks out over the grounds and gardens. It houses the swimming pool, two hot-tubs and a sauna. Most of the loungers that surround the large oval pool are occupied by guests this morning, decked out in white robes drinkin
g mocktails and prosecco while they relax after treatments, looking forward to lunch. It’s a sight that makes me happy, seeing another venture slowly become a success; a reminder that, in spite of everything that’s happened, I haven’t let any of it affect my work.
I turn around and lean back against the glass as I call Liam back.
‘Hey.’
‘Can you get away?’ he asks, and for a second I just let the sound of his voice fill my head.
‘I don’t know. I’m busy today. Come and see me here, at the spa.’
‘You sound like you’re summoning me.’
Maybe I am. He’s going to come anyway. ‘I can’t leave here, Liam. If you want to see me …’
‘I’m on my way.’
I end the call, slide my phone back into my pocket, and I can’t keep the smile off my face. I like having sex with him, here, in my office. I think it’s the danger, I get off on it. I like that feeling of possibly being caught, even though I know we won’t be. But Liam isn’t putting us in danger. My distraction is harmless. Michael’s isn’t.
Michael. I haven’t checked his whereabouts for a while now, so I pull out my phone to see where he is. I check the tracker. He’s at work. Or he’s in his building, anyway. He’s at the university. But that means nothing. She could be with him, in his office. He’s also made a few calls this morning, all work-related by the looks of it. And there’s been one call to him. A number I don’t recognize this time. And that makes my stomach turn, I’ve never seen that number before. Is that her number? Ava’s? Has she made this easy for me now?
I take a deep breath, put my phone away and head back to my office. I might just have time to check that call before Liam gets here.
‘I’m taking a break for lunch now, Carmen. Can you take charge for an hour or so? There are a few things I need to catch up on in the office. Oh, and Liam’s on his way. Tell him to come straight through when he gets here. Thanks.’
Am I playing with fire? Sailing a little too close to the wind? Are Liam’s visits becoming so frequent that others may start to suspect something’s going on? I don’t think so. I think we’re okay. My husband, on the other hand, his time may well be up. Soon.
Closing the door behind me I head straight for my laptop, slip the earphones into my ears and log into Michael’s call history. I find that call that was made to him – the one from a number I don’t recognize – and I play it back, my heart hammering so hard I have to turn up the volume. And it’s Michael’s voice I hear first. A simple ‘hello’. He sounds distracted. A female voice answers him, tells him she needs to see him. Needs to talk to him. His voice becomes slightly more agitated as he tells her she shouldn’t call him on this phone. I feel sick. Is it her? Is that what she sounds like? He tells her to stop by his office as soon as she can, before that afternoon’s lecture. And then he ends the call.
It’s her. I know it’s her. Ava. I’m certain of that now.
I sit back in my chair, stare blankly at the laptop screen. I don’t know what to do. That conversation didn’t exactly incriminate anyone, it didn’t give me anything that told me they’re definitely having an affair, but his voice – he sounded irritated. Slightly angry. She shouldn’t be calling him on that phone …
The door opening pulls me back from my paranoia and I look up. I see Liam closing the door behind him, and just the sight of him makes a little of that paranoia disappear. For now.
‘Was it my idea?’
Liam frowns; he doesn’t know what I’m talking about.
‘To keep our past a secret from Michael? Was it my idea? I can’t remember …’
I trail off, stand up and go over to the window to pull down the blind, plunging my office into semi-darkness. There wasn’t all that much of a past to keep secret, in reality. What Liam and I had before, it was nothing more than sex. Pretty much exactly what we have now, except I wasn’t married then. But I don’t feel married now. I feel like I lost my husband a long time ago, but I’ll get him back. This, what I’m doing, sleeping with Liam – I see it as a kind of therapy. It’s keeping me on the right side of sane; without this release I’d be on the brink of a breakdown. This helps keep that at bay.
‘I really don’t think it matters anymore, Ellie.’
I turn around, tilting my head to one side as I look at him. ‘Maybe not.’
He throws his jacket down on the couch in the corner and comes over to me. He cups my cheek, leans in to kiss me and the second his lips touch mine I feel that release start to build. I feel the paranoia recede a little further, allowing the escape to begin. I feel the darkness lift; my temporary respite is here.
I loosen his shirt, slip it back off his shoulders. Sometimes I just need to feel his skin against mine, warm and hard, his strong arms holding me close, keeping me safe.
For a second or two we just look at each other, and I’m aware of my heart pounding, pushing the breath out of me in short, sharp pants as his mouth lowers down onto mine. I crave the way he kisses me. I crave the taste of him, the smell of him, he’s my medicine.
He reaches down, lays a hand on my leg and he keeps it there, he doesn’t move it. I feel his fingers dig into my flesh as his eyes bore into mine. He’s teasing me, taunting me, he doesn’t make it easy but that’s why I need him. He forces me to play these games until I have no other option but to give myself to him, and I want him to take me, to bring a small shard of sunlight into my darkened world. I want him to touch me, I want him to push the pain away. I want him inside me.
I keep my eyes locked on his as he slides my dress up over my thighs, tugs at my knickers, nudging them down, and I help him. I wriggle out of them, kick them away, let him push my legs apart with his knee, and my heart is pounding so hard it’s threatening to break through my ribs. Outside I can hear the sound of the spa going about its daily business, while I’m in here, doing this, but it’s that danger of being caught that drives me. The excitement is addictive.
I place my hands on Liam’s naked chest, look back up into his deep, grey eyes. His skin is warm and smooth, taut beneath my palms. I kiss his slightly open mouth. I breathe him in. Escaping. I’m not here anymore, in this cruel world I’ve been forced to live in. I’m not there. I’m somewhere else, that place I want to be, where Michael and I have a future. Where our child is alive and we’ve never known the kind of heartache we live with every day now. I’m somewhere happy and bright, as light as the yellow on the walls of our dead child’s nursery. I’m there. Liam takes me there, he always does. He touches me, and I come here.
I bite down on my lip, throw back my head and close my eyes as he pushes his fingers inside me, his mouth covering my neck in tiny, featherlight kisses. My heart’s beating impossibly fast, my body wracked with the most beautiful shivers. He’s doing what he knows he can do so well, bringing me to a crashing climax, one silenced by his mouth covering mine. He swallows down my moans, takes my pleasure as his own, and when I’m done he instructs me to open my eyes and look at him, right at him. He knows what he does; he gives me the strength to carry on, the energy I need as I try and put my shattered life back together. That’s why I can’t let him go, I can’t stop this. I won’t.
‘She called him,’ I whisper as I run my fingers ever-so-lightly over his rough jaw line. ‘I listened to it. The call. I heard them, talking.’
He takes hold of my hand, strokes my knuckles with his thumb, but I keep my eyes on his.
‘Michael was your best friend back then, when we were together. Why did you never introduce me to him?’
I’d never really thought about it at the time. I’d never questioned the fact that Liam had never once introduced me to any of his friends, not just Michael. I’d never met any of them and I hadn’t questioned it because what we’d had, it was nothing. Just sex. And I’m not even sure why I’m questioning it now, I just want to know.
I feel his hand squeeze mine a little tighter, but he doesn’t break the stare. His eyes continue to burn into mine. ‘Michael was – he w
ould’ve drawn you in, Ellie.’
I frown. ‘Drawn me in?’
‘All he needed to do was smile and women came running. You came running. Eventually. At the time, I didn’t want to lose you, so, I kept him in the background.’
‘And now we’re doing the same to him.’
‘No. This isn’t the same.’
I slide a hand onto his back, stroke his skin with my fingertips. I don’t know if I’m done with him yet. ‘You said you didn’t want to lose me.’
‘I didn’t.’ He shrugs. ‘But you went anyway.’
‘I thought you didn’t want anything serious?’
‘I didn’t.’ He steps back from me, grabs his shirt from the floor and puts it back on. I stay where I am, watching him. ‘But you stopped returning my calls, so …’
He leaves that sentence unfinished, and I frown again. But I don’t dwell on it. I have enough to think about. What happened in the past, between me and Liam, well, that’s in the past. I need to focus on the future.
I go over to him, press my body against his. I kiss him, feel his fingers wind into my hair, pulling my head back. I let him push me against the wall, let his fingers scratch lightly over my skin, his beard rough against my neck as he kisses it. His mouth touches mine one more time before he takes his jacket and leaves. We’re done, for now. And that’s fine. I’m okay with that, I have work to do. He gave me what I needed, it’s time to get on with my day.
I quickly pull myself together, open the blinds, call Carmen to let her know I’ll be out for the rest of the day.
I’m going to see my husband.
Chapter 28
I know he has a lecture this afternoon. I know, because he mentioned it in that phone call. He told her – Ava – to come and see him, in his office, before that afternoon’s lecture. So, I went home after Liam’s visit and accessed Michael’s timetable from his desktop computer. I found out the time of that lecture. A lecture I’m assuming she’s going to be attending. That’s what I got from that call. Because I’m still certain it was her. He never called her by her name, but I know it was her, calling my husband. Asking to see him. To talk to him.