Anne chuckled at his fanciful ideas. ‘And how would I get up and down to work every day? I wouldn’t want to drive for hours before starting my shift.’
‘You silly goose,’ Tom laughed. ‘You won’t be working. I’ll make enough money for us both to live comfortably,’ he said and took her hands in his. ‘This is just the start, Anne. I can feel it in my bones.’
At the mere thought of not having a monthly salary coming into the house, Anne’s mind filled with feelings of panic, but just as she was going to protest, the tickly cough began again. She just managed to get her next words out, ‘Don’t come too close, Tom. I don’t want you to get this flu.’
Then her ribs began to ache with the coughing spasms that racked her chest and she held a tissue over her mouth.
Tom jumped up from the bed and wagged a finger at her. ‘And, young lady,’ he warned in a loving tone, ‘if you don’t feel any better by tomorrow, I’m calling the doctor.’
As the coughing fit subsided, Anne lay back against her pillows, trying to catch her breath – she felt exhausted. She watched him do a funny jig as he danced out of the bedroom and sighed with pleasure at his attention and concern. It was a little scary feeling so poorly, as it hadn’t happened to her before, but she knew that she’d have felt a hundred times worse if Tom hadn’t been by her side. Anne dabbed the sweat from her forehead with a clean tissue and let her eyelids droop. I love him so much, she thought, drifting off to sleep, and how lucky am I to have such a caring husband.
Tom went straight back to work at his desk. He scoured the copies of all the magazines he’d bought. That’s Life, and Chat magazine seemed to offer the same terms as Take a Break, and he decided to write more letters with humorous anecdotes that would fit this particular magazine reader, and send them out straight away. However, Woman magazine only paid for letters with a tin of biscuits and he cast that one aside, but Woman’s Weekly and The People’s Friend were full of stories and, more importantly, accepted stories from new writers. Best magazine had a three-minute-read section, which at his junior level of expertise, he decided, would be another great place to start.
His mind flooded with storylines and his fingers flew over the keyboard, typing quickly before he lost his train of thought. Memories of a cousin’s wedding in Brighton came to mind and how, as the bride stood up, the bridegroom pulled her chair back to prevent the train of her dress getting caught. But, unaware of this, she’d sat straight down again and ended up on the floor, red faced, and fuming at her new husband.
Next he remembered one of his first girlfriends struggling with the condom machine in the ladies’ toilet, as they’d both been too embarrassed to go into a chemist. She’d been quite drunk and put her money into the wrong machine and bought a box of tampons to use – how they’d laughed about that.
Another of his girlfriends had a mishap when they’d been on a ferry travelling to Ireland. As she’d suffered from sea-sickness and hung over the side of the boat, she’d lost her two front false teeth into the sea. Tom chuckled to himself while he wrote and the hours of pleasure recalling the memories flew by.
*
The following day, when Tom had left the house to go to the library, Anne managed to struggle out of bed. Her legs were much stronger, her cough had eased, and the aches and pains had subsided. At last, she thought, I’m on the road to recovery. After a long warm soak in the bath she wandered into Tom’s office and sat on his chair. Dreamily, Anne thought of how he’d cared for her since Boxing Day when the flu symptoms had begun, and how he’d made her light snacks and drinks. He’d thought nothing of running up and down stairs time and time again; it seemed that nothing was too much trouble to him. He’d made numerous trips to the chemist to buy flu remedies and different cough mixtures to help ease her chest, and had rung her workplace every morning with an update on her progress.
Anne wasn’t unduly concerned about staying off work as it was her first bout of sickness in five years, and Tom had insisted that she had to take the rest of the week off to recuperate. She’d wanted to argue with him as she did feel much better and could have dragged herself back to work, but she’d learned over the last few days that when Tom had that serious, don’t-mess-with-me look in his eye, it was simply best not to argue. Plus, she thought, fiddling with the mouse, I know he’s being insistent purely out of concern and love for me.
Idling at the desk, she decided to look at restaurants that would be open on New Year’s Day, as she intended to treat them both to a slap-up meal. Entering names into the Google search box Anne noted down prices for local restaurants then clicked into one of Tom’s story folders and began to scan his latest pieces. She had, of course, read all of his assignments after he’d proudly told her about the good A’s and B+ marks that he’d received. He really has a talent for this, Anne realised, and decided that in the future she would make a conscious effort to stop worrying about money, and encourage him more than she felt she had done so far.
At the bottom of the first assignment she read a note, which was from someone called Ellie who had written her comments on the story. Anne opened the next few assignments and saw more comments and suggestions from Ellie. A pile of papers lay to the other side of the mouse and she quickly read over the top few sheets of text. In red pen Tom had written, ‘Ellie thinks this is okay’ and ‘Ellie reckons I should try a different ending’. Anne’s antennae were on red alert now and she flicked through the rest of the pile. Nearly all the writing held comments from the same name, Ellie. And then on the last piece Tom had scribbled, ‘I’ll ask Ellie tomorrow in the market’.
Anne frowned, who the hell is Ellie? And what on earth does the market have to do with all of this? Her heart began to hammer as feelings of jealousy and hurt raised their ugly heads. Was Ellie the woman in the library that Tom had told her about? Anne frowned; she had the impression that she was an older woman. And, she sighed, Ellie is a young name. Instantly, Anne hated herself for not trusting him.
*
On Wednesday, at twelve midday, as Tom called goodbye and set off to the library, Anne waited ten minutes, then pulled on her fur jacket and slotted her handbag over her shoulder. She had more or less recovered from the flu symptoms and was determined to find out if Tom was actually going to the library as he’d claimed.
Leaving the house and walking on to the West Road she looked down the street and saw the back of Tom’s jacket as he climbed on board a bus. She hung back near a neighbour’s hedge for a few moments to make sure she hadn’t been seen, and then hurried down to the bus stop. Not knowing the bus times as Tom did, because she usually drove her car, Anne wasn’t sure how long she would have to wait for another bus. However, one arrived in a few minutes and she stepped on to it behind two older women. They laughed at the bus driver as he made the usual joke about waiting ages for a bus and then three coming along together. Anne settled herself into a seat behind the women and stared out of the window.
She felt terrible following Tom, but after two days of constantly torturing herself as to who the mysterious Ellie could be, she knew she couldn’t go through another day without knowing the truth. Any other woman would just ask her husband outright if he was going to the library every day, Anne thought miserably, or would demand to know who Ellie was. But, she sighed, tugging at her fringe, she didn’t want Tom to think that she didn’t believe in him.
As the bus wound its way down the road into the city centre, Anne’s mind went into overdrive. What if she found out something she didn’t really want to know? Or what if Tom was actually sitting in the library, which is where she secretly prayed he was. Then she’d feel like a complete idiot if he saw her peering through the windows. And Anne also knew that for the rest of their marriage he’d never forget the fact that she hadn’t trusted him.
Maybe I should turn around and go home, she thought, wiping condensation from the window with her glove, but the bus had now turned onto Grainger Street and Anne suddenly realised she was nearer the market than the li
brary. Quickly, she stood up and joined the line of people getting off the bus and alighted on to the pavement right outside the main doors into the market. I’ll walk up through the stalls, she thought, and then out of the opposite doors to continue up Northumberland Street towards the library.
Her stomach churned with nervous agitation as she stepped inside and wandered down the main aisle towards the centre. She looked to her left and right at all the different stalls and then, as she approached the café, she sighed with relief – there was no sign of him. I’m just being totally and utterly stupid, she cursed, and Tom will no doubt be at a desk in the library by now. A large group of teenagers ran past her, shouting and laughing, and Anne looked at the space in the crowds they’d created. She gasped in horror. Tom was standing in front of the book stall with his arms around a young girl’s waist.
Anne staggered back towards the butcher’s stall and cupped her hand over her mouth in shock as she saw the girl wind her arms around Tom’s neck. A small sob escaped from Anne’s throat as she saw the look on the girl’s upturned face as she gazed lovingly at her husband. He’d obviously said something to her and Anne recognised the intimate look of love shining from every pore on the girl’s beautiful face. Slowly, arm in arm, they headed towards the farthest aisle of the market. Anne felt the blood pound in her ears as she noticed that the girl was wearing the unmistakable green scarf she’d bought Tom for Christmas.
Grasping hold of the side of the butcher’s stall, which was hidden by a red and white striped canopy, Anne swallowed bile from the back of her throat and took long, slow, deep breaths. Her substantial, solid legs now felt like jelly and she could actually feel her knees trembling. Dear, God, she raged, how could he?
In the meantime, Darren sidled up to his boss and pointed towards Ellie’s back. He scowled, ‘How pathetic is that, to see an older man letching after such an innocent girl; it’s disgusting,’ he moaned. ‘He’s taking advantage of Ellie’s gullible nature and should be ashamed of himself.’
When Darren’s boss made a sarcastic remark about the green cashmere sweater, Anne knew for certain that they were talking about Tom and, that the young girl was Ellie for sure. Darren’s words swam around in Anne’s mind, and she felt quite light headed. Her whole body shivered as slowly, and as if she was just beginning to learn how to walk, she dragged her feet out of the opposite doors of the market.
*
Anne lay on their bed, staring at the ceiling – it had happened – the one thing she’d dreaded had actually happened and Tom had met someone else. She’d had to take a taxi home from the market as her mind had been in such a blind panic that she’d felt incapable of finding her way.
How could Tom be so two-faced, she wailed, and how could he be so loving and caring to me while at the same time being with this girl? It wasn’t as if their marriage was in tatters and they’d been arguing all of the time, or growing apart, or had major problems in bed, because they hadn’t. In fact, when Anne let her mind drift over the last few months, she decided they’d been closer than ever – so why was he doing it?
Thinking in particular about the scarf she’d bought him for Christmas and, although he’d raved about it on Christmas Day, maybe he hadn’t actually liked it. Had he given it to Ellie because it meant nothing to him? There again, how could a man give something to a girl, because that’s all she was Anne thought, when it had been bought for him with such care and forethought by another woman? Maybe Tom had some type of split personality?
Tears streamed down her cheeks as she recalled the sight of them together in the market; every detail of Ellie’s appearance was already etched firmly in her mind. Long red curly hair, tall and skinny in a short skirt with long legs clad in black tights; the V-neck ribbed jumper which was stretched across huge breasts and gave Ellie a cleavage that she herself would die for. Anne cried even harder, knowing that Ellie was in a totally different league to herself, and there would be no way she could ever hope to compete with her. Apart from possessing a fabulous figure, Anne seethed, she was also very pretty – there was nothing whatsoever plain about Ellie. Clenching her fists, she decided, however, that the major upset from seeing them together was the fact that they’d looked so bloody happy with each another.
Anne now thought of all the plans she’d made with Tom for their future, and knew that as soon as she tackled him about Ellie, they’d be scuppered. She choked back sobs and wiped mucous from her nose with a tissue. Her dreams of a baby and her own little family would swiftly go up in smoke.
She played out a conversation in her mind where she asked Tom about his affair, and knew there could be one or two outcomes from his reaction. He would probably deny everything, go in the huff for a few days and, when he knew he wasn’t winning the argument, he’d use his charm to talk her around; maybe even get her to believe that most of what had happened was her fault. She bit the inside of her lip. Or, if he was in love with Ellie and was looking for the opportunity to run off with her, he would cause an almighty row, leave, and move straight in with Ellie.
Huge sobs wracked her body now and she wrapped her arms around her chest. At the thought of trying to live her life without him, and the desperate loneliness that would fill the gap he left, she felt in a state of panic and believed her breathing was becoming ragged. Maybe, she cried, I’m about to prove Mam right and actually die from a broken heart.
Trying to calm herself by taking deep breaths, she sat up on the end of the bed and wiped her face. Anne cast her mind back to her life before she’d met Tom and shuddered, remembering the loneliness of living in the family home after her father died. Her social life had consisted of going to the cinema, or for a meal at weekends with Sharon and friends from work. But the weekday nights, when she’d returned to an empty house, loomed heavy in her thoughts. In fact, she remembered, that was the main reason she’d bought her dog, Sammy. At the time she’d told everyone it was to get fit by taking him for walks, but it had actually been to have someone to talk to when she returned home. Anne recalled all the trite remarks and cruel words that Sharon and her mum had said about Tom, and she flopped back on to the bed, burying her face in the pillow.
I’m going to have to admit they’ve been right all along, she thought, and curled her toes up, cringing. That, she reckoned, was the hardest thing of everything that had happened today. The upheaval that lay ahead of her, with all the changes and embarrassment she would have to go through, terrified her and she swallowed hard with a dry raspy throat. How was she going to tell everyone?
What if Sharon and the women at work were cruel and took great delight in saying, ‘we told you so.’ Or, Anne thought a little more optimistically, maybe they’ll rally round me to help get through it all? She wished with all her heart that she could talk to Sharon about her predicament, because in the past she’d been a good confidante and Anne trusted her sound judgement. But as she’d never liked Tom from the outset, if she heard what he’d done now, she’d hate him, and it would be like igniting a bonfire.
As an only child, Anne had been painfully shy, she’d hated large groups of noisy children and was much happier with a couple of quiet friends. She’d progressed to secondary school with no self-confidence and had longed for a sister who she could talk to and seek opinions about clothes, hairstyles, and, of course, boys. Although Anne had lived on the outskirts of the biggest party city in the country, she’d never been one of the eighteen year old girls sashaying around the city to pubs and night clubs. She’d never particularly liked the taste of alcohol and because of her weight problem she’d always felt too self-conscience to dance. Anne had been what her father liked to call a home bird, and had loved to lose herself in a good book and work hard at what some women might think of as a menial job.
In effect, Anne now thought, even if I wanted to, I’ve no idea how to try and keep my husband. Should I fight for him and beg him to stay? Anne sighed with indecision. She knew other women would be raging with fury and feel insulted that their husband had
cheated on them – they’d probably pack up his belongings and throw them and him out on to the street – and then move on to find another man. Although Anne wasn’t sure what she wanted to do, she did know that throwing him out wasn’t an option; she couldn’t run the risk of losing him forever.
Her eyes were stinging and sore as she wearily pulled herself upright on the bed and reached over to the bedside table to pick up her tub of night cream. Sniffing and trying to bolster a little courage she dried her face and eyes with a tissue and smothered her face with cream. The cool cream was blissful on her swollen eyes. She glanced at the clock – it was nearly five. She had to think of a plan of action before Tom came home and it was time to face him. But it suddenly dawned on her that while she’d been wrapped up in the nightmare of the last few hours, Tom hadn’t actually seen her in the market. Therefore, she thought, at this moment he’s none the wiser and doesn’t know I’ve found out about Ellie. This, she reasoned, would give her valuable time to think of a plan and come to a decision. Anne contented herself with one of her father’s favourite sayings, if you don’t know what to do – then do nothing at all.
She nodded and slid off the bed, padding through to the bathroom in her fluffy slippers. If I can just keep up a straight face and false pretence in front of him, she thought, then it will give me a chance to think things through properly. It’s going to be the biggest decision of my life and I don’t want to get it wrong.
Chapter Thirteen
On the Monday after New Year, Ellie sat on her stool in the bookstall lost in thought. Small misgivings whirled around her mind about her relationship with Tom. As hard as she tried, she was struggling to shake them off. She’d been with him a couple of times since Christmas Day, but since then he’d told her he was away visiting friends in the Midlands for the New Year, and she’d gone home to Yorkshire to see her parents. Her mum had known there was something amiss as she’d moped around the house and, although she’d joined them in the village celebrations for 2015, her heart had been elsewhere, thinking about Tom.
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