The Wife

by ML Roberts

  What about, Michael? What does she want to talk to you about? Your trip to Cardiff? A couple of sordid hours in a cheap hotel? What does she need to see you about, Professor Travers?

  I’m at the university now. I’m going to that lecture, because I need to see them together. I need to see, for myself, those tell-tale signs. I need to do something. And I don’t want him to know I’m here, that would be pointless, so, I need to stay back, just until the lecture starts. Then I’m going to quietly sneak into the back of the theatre, and watch him at work. Watch her, at work. Stealing my husband. Fluttering her teenage eyelashes at a man old enough to be her father. A man she can’t have. None of them can have him, and Michael, he needs to realize that he has to stop this, he has to put an end to these infatuated girls, he has to stop playing up to them. It’s dangerous. Look what happened before. The repercussions are slowly destroying us, and we can’t deal with it a second time. We can’t.

  I stand back as the last of the students file into the lecture theatre. Michael’s already inside, I can hear him, chatting away as he sets up, his deep voice easily heard even though he’s right down there on the floor. It’s not the first time I’ve sneaked into one of his lectures, it’s just that, all the other times I’ve done it, he knew about it. He knew I was there, and it was fun, watching him. This isn’t fun. This is necessary.

  I slip inside behind the last of the students, find a seat at the very back of the hall, and already my eyes are scanning the room. Is Ava here yet? Please don’t make this a wasted journey … no, she’s here. She’s down at the front, where else would she be? I can just about make her out, and I squint slightly, to make sure, but then she stands up and I can see her face a little more clearly. It’s definitely her. She’s wearing that same unflattering jumper she was wearing the first time I saw her, skinny jeans and black ankle boots, her dark hair pulled back off her face in a loose ponytail. Even from way up here I can’t fail to notice how pretty she is. How young she is. Just like the last one. The one who invaded our home, kicked our baby to death. So, my husband – he needs to put a stop to this. To her. He needs to rid himself of his distraction. Am I going to have to do it for him?

  I watch her as she laughs with her friends, and then I glance over at Michael, but he isn’t looking in her direction. He’s talking to another student, a young man wearing a Foo Fighters t-shirt, ripped jeans and Converse trainers. But she’s looking at him. At Michael. She’s watching him, talking to this student, even though she’s still chatting to her friends. And I wait for him to turn and see her watching him, but it doesn’t happen.

  He calls an end to the chatter, asks everyone to sit down. Be quiet. And within seconds he has them all in the palm of his hand. My husband. The popular professor.

  I spend the next hour watching both of them, trying to catch a glimpse of them glancing at the other, but I’ve either blinked and missed it or it just hasn’t happened. Should that surprise me? After all, if something’s going on between the two of them, the last thing Michael will do is anything that could give them away. So I wait, I stay put until the lecture ends. Until he dismisses them, starts packing away his things. I stand up and back off into the doorway, I can’t stay seated now. Everyone’s leaving, he’ll notice me if I stay. So I hide in the doorway, keep my eyes on him because she’s still there. She’s still there, even though her friends are leaving, filing out up the stairs towards the entrance I’m standing just outside of, far away enough to remain unnoticed but close enough to see what’s happening.

  I wait, craning my neck above the crowd of students still streaming out of the lecture theatre, because I need to see what’s going on now. Has she left? Is she still down there? I can’t see … no. She’s still there. She picks up her files, hugs them close to her chest, and I feel my breath catch in my throat as she walks over to Michael.

  I edge closer to the doorway, giving myself a slightly clearer view, and I watch as she approaches him. I watch as he turns around and throws her a smile, but it’s a very brief one. It’s almost as if he’s remembered where he is, and that smile is wiped off his face in a heartbeat.

  He leans in closer to her, rests a hand on her arm. They exchange a few words, she doesn’t take her eyes off him. Are they arranging the trip to Cardiff? The hotel they’ll sleep in? The room they’ll fuck in? Is that what’s happening here?

  I feel my stomach turn over and over as I continue to watch their exchange. She takes her phone out of her pocket, finally pulling her eyes away from Michael as she scrolls down, looking for something. She shows him the screen, and he scribbles something down on a piece of paper, tucks it into his pocket. Will that piece of paper still be there when he gets home? Will I be able to find it? See what he’s just written down?

  Nausea floods me, rising up from my belly into my throat, but I swallow it down. I need to stay here, I need to watch this, until it ends. Until she leaves. Only then am I leaving.

  She puts her phone away, starts talking to Michael again, and he stands there, listening to her. Her listens, to her. He doesn’t listen to me. And that fills me with an unbearable sadness, a dark anger; it’s becoming harder to control so many conflicting emotions.

  He reaches out, places a hand on her shoulder, and he smiles at her. She smiles back. He squeezes her shoulder and turns away from her. It’s over. Whatever that was, it’s over. She’s heading out now. It’s my time to leave. He can’t know I was here.

  I make my way to his office, to see Sue. I really can’t remember whether he told me about Cardiff or not, but I’m still convinced he didn’t. Because he wants to take her. He doesn’t want me to know, he’s going to spin me some lie, I’m sure of it now. But Sue won’t be aware of that. She’ll just assume I know about his trip, that he’s told me, because that’s what husbands do, right? They talk to their wives. They tell them when they’re going away. They talk to them. But my husband – I think he’s going to lie to me. Again.

  ‘Ellie! What a nice surprise. Michael isn’t here, though, he’s just finishing a lecture.’

  ‘Oh, that’s a shame. I was hoping to catch him. I was on my way into town to pick up a few things for the spa, and I just wondered if he needed anything. Never mind. It’s not important.’

  ‘I can pass on a message, if you like? Get him to call you.’

  ‘No, it’s fine. I’ll call him myself … Actually, before I go, Sue, you couldn’t check his calendar for me, could you? Some friends of ours are organizing a dinner party next week and I need to check when Michael’s free. You know, when he hasn’t got an evening of tutorials or meetings.’

  ‘Just let me look for you … well, as you know he’s in Cardiff next Monday and Tuesday, but apart from that …’

  ‘Cardiff?’

  Sue frowns. ‘He’s giving a guest lecture there next week. Didn’t he tell you?’

  I wave a dismissive hand in the air, I laugh it off. ‘You know, he might’ve done, but I’ve had so much on my mind lately what with all the publicity for the spa and now the wedding venue side of things taking off, I totally forgot about Cardiff!’ I check my watch. I need to leave now, before Michael gets back. ‘Anyway, I’d better go. I need to be back at work in half an hour.’

  Sue smiles at me. She’s bought my act, she’s given me what I need. I can mention Cardiff now, and Michael will have to tell me. Whatever lie he was planning to spin me, he can’t do that now.

  He’s going to tell me everything.

  Eventually.

  Chapter 29

  ‘What were you doing at the university this afternoon, Ellie?’

  I leave a brief silence before I answer him. ‘I came to see you, but you were busy. Is that a problem?’

  He sits down and drops his head, clasps his hands together between his knees. I see his shoulders sag, hear him sigh. I’m the problem. And I don’t want to be that anymore, but he’s forcing my hand, he’s making me do these things, to save us.

  ‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Cardiff
.’ He looks up at me. His expression’s changed now. It’s softer. Kinder.

  Is that because I almost caught you out, Michael?

  ‘You might’ve mentioned it.’ I shrug. ‘We’ve both been really busy. Things get left out. Forgotten.’

  You’re forgetting me, Michael.

  He nods, and I can see him wringing his hands, does he know he’s doing that?

  ‘You have to stop dropping by like that, Ellie. Unannounced. I’m really busy right now, and I don’t need …’

  He leaves it there, doesn’t finish that sentence, and I feel another piece of me die.

  He’s slipping away from me, faster than I thought. I need to move quicker, fix this quicker.

  ‘You don’t need what, Michael? Me? You don’t need me?’

  ‘Not like this, Ellie.’ The agitation has returned to his voice, his tone’s harsher. Irritated. And that’s all he says. He gets up, he leaves the living room, leaves me alone. Again. I hear him go into the kitchen, then head upstairs a couple of minutes later. I feel tears prick the back of my eyes and I blink hard, squeezing my eyes tight shut, I don’t want to cry. Crying won’t help anything.

  I get up and walk through the kitchen to the orangery, down to the pool room at the far end of the house. I go into my office, fire up my laptop and I check to see if he came straight home, after work. He didn’t. He went to see her. Or was she with him, in the car? Did he drive her home? Stop off for a quick one before he came back to me?

  I sit back, look out at the pool, at the last of the slowly setting sun as it hits the water’s surface, shooting patterns of light up at the ceiling. The swirling patterns of bouncing light are quite mesmerizing, and for a few seconds I just sit there, watching those patterns. And remembering, as I always do, when I’m in here.

  The sound of something clattering outside in the garden jolts me from my trance-like state and I cry out in shock, a short but loud gasp. Any sudden noise still puts me on edge, especially when I’m in here. When I’m alone, in here …

  I get up, look outside, and I see a cat scampering across our garden. He’s knocked over one of the terracotta pots on the summer house porch, that’s all. It happens a lot; that cat seems to like our garden, so I should be used to this by now. Those sudden noises, these random sounds. I wonder if I’ll ever get used to it.

  I take a minute until my breathing has slowed down before I head back into the house. I might have a bath, try to relax a little. Try to forget, for a while, that my once happy life is now a sad and lonely one. And it shouldn’t be that way, I won’t let it stay that way. I won’t.

  As I walk through the kitchen, I hear voices out in the hall. Michael’s, and Liam’s. I take another deep breath before I go any further, folding my arms tight against myself as I leave the kitchen and head into the hall.

  Liam sees me first, his glance over Michael’s shoulder brief but I catch the slightest of smiles on his face. I smile back. Michael turns his head, but I receive no smile from him.

  When did you become so cold, Michael? What guilt are you carrying that’s made you treat me this way? Is this all because I refuse to forget? Refuse to play along, pretend that things didn’t happen when we both know that they did? They happened, Michael … and I’m sorry …

  He turns back to face Liam, and they finish their discussion. They’re talking about some football game, it’s just a flying visit, they’re saying goodbye now. But before he goes Liam glances over at me again. He smiles at me, again, before he leaves. A smile Michael doesn’t notice, why would he? He’s already closed the door, he’s about to head back up to his office but he stops at the foot of the stairs. He looks at me, at the palm of my hand decorated with plasters. It’s been a few days since I accidently picked at the scabs there, but they’re still healing.

  ‘What’ve you done to your hand?’ he asks. It’s the first time he’s shown any interest in my well-being in a while, and I feel oddly happy about that. I’m snatching for scraps, anything that makes me think he’s still in there. My husband.

  I turn my hand palm upwards, look down at the plasters. They need renewing again. They’re starting to curl upwards at the edges, the packet might say they’re waterproof, but they’re not.

  ‘I knocked it, at work. It reopened one of the cuts, that’s all.’

  The lies trip off my tongue now. Do they trip off his, too?

  He takes my hand and runs his thumb lightly over my palm. He stares into my eyes, and for the briefest of moments I feel a flicker of hope. I see my husband.

  ‘You need to be more careful,’ he whispers, and he sounds almost caring. He then starts to make his way back upstairs, taking them two at a time. Is he that desperate to escape me?

  ‘Michael?’

  He stops just before he reaches the landing.

  ‘Nothing. It doesn’t matter.’

  I don’t know what I was going to say. Maybe I’d just hoped something would come, something that would make him want to stay down here, with me.

  He sighs, turns back around and disappears from view. I hear him walking up the stairs to the top floor, hear him close his office door. He’s gone. That’s where he’ll stay until it’s time for bed.

  I sit down on the bottom stair and glance at the security monitor by the door. It’s quiet outside, but there’s a slight breeze blowing, nudging the leaves and flowers of the potted plants and shrubs lining the driveway. And it’s dark now. I should be cooking dinner but I’m not hungry. I don’t think Michael is, either. I don’t want to eat, I don’t want to be in this house, tonight. I don’t want to spend another lonely evening downstairs, alone, while Michael hides away in his office.

  I pull myself to my feet and go to get my coat, my hand brushing Michael’s jacket as I reach for it. The same jacket he was wearing at his lecture this afternoon. He put that scrap of paper he wrote on – something she showed him on her phone, he wrote it down and he slid it into this jacket pocket. I’m looking for it, but it’s not there. His pockets are empty.

  Slipping on my coat I glance upstairs. Should I tell him I’m going out? And then I remember, there’s no need to tell him. He won’t even notice I’ve gone.

  Chapter 30

  ‘Does Michael know you’re here?’ Liam closes the door behind me and I follow him into the living room.

  ‘No, he doesn’t. He won’t even know I’ve gone out.’

  Liam slides his hands into his pockets and looks at me. ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘He makes me feel like I don’t exist.’

  ‘Is that why you come to me? Do I make you feel like you exist?’

  ‘You know that’s why I come to you.’

  ‘And what happens if Michael stops being this cold towards you? Is that it, for you and me?’

  ‘Yes. Liam, come on, you know what this is for me. You know all it is for me.’

  ‘And what if it’s something else, for me?’

  I frown, I wasn’t expecting this. I’m not in the mood for analyzing relationships. ‘We don’t have feelings, Liam.’

  ‘No, Ellie, you don’t have feelings.’

  Maybe I shouldn’t have come here. I don’t want this, it’s confusing. ‘I should go.’

  I start to walk out the door but he runs over to me, grabs my arm. He stops me, from leaving.

  ‘No, Ellie, please. Stay.’ He swings me around, slides an arm around my waist. He pulls me against him and he kisses me slowly, his hand cradling my cheek and I melt into him. ‘Stay the night,’ he whispers. ‘Leave Michael on his own, teach him a lesson. Let him worry about you. I want you to stay, Ellie. With me.’

  I look up at him. He’s serious, he wants this, but I’m not sure. What he said just then, I don’t know where that’s coming from. He’s saying things now that are playing on my already messed-up mind. He’s complicating a situation that can do without any more crap being heaped on it.

  ‘I don’t know …’

  He drops a hand to my hip, slides it around so it cups my bottom and
I try not to gasp, but I can’t stop it from happening.

  ‘Stay,’ he murmurs, his mouth resting on mine, so close his breath is my breath.

  I nod. I don’t want to go back home. I don’t want to go back to the man I love, because it’s too painful. Too hard.

  ‘I’ll get us some drinks.’ He lets me go and I watch him leave the living room, his long-legged swagger so different to Michael’s.

  I walk over to the window, look outside at the quiet suburban cul-de-sac. This house is on the market now. Liam’s marital home. He’s been looking at apartments and houses closer to Newcastle, where his offices and laboratory are. He wants rid of this place, it holds too many memories. And we all have memories we want rid of, don’t we?

  I close the blinds, I shut out the world. It’s the way I like it, the way it’s going to be, until the world I want has been put back together.

  ‘Beer?’

  I swing around at the sound of his voice, smile at him as I take the beer he holds out to me. ‘Thanks.’

  I sit down on the couch, cross my legs up underneath myself, taking a swig of beer as I watch him look for some music to play. The haunting intro to Pink Floyd’s Shine On You Crazy Diamond floods the room, and I smile at him again as he sits down on the chair opposite me.

  ‘You saw them live too, didn’t you? Earl’s Court, ‘94?’

  I take another swig of beer. Give him another smile. ‘This was the set opener. The first song they played.’

  His eyes lock on mine, and already I’m beginning to feel better. My head’s clearer, I don’t feel so sad anymore. I don’t feel alone.

  ‘I love you, Ellie. You know that, don’t you?’

  His words slam into me, knocking the wind right out of me, but I don’t break the stare.