‘Which you mostly snored through,’ I say, rolling my eyes.
Rob acknowledges that fact with a sheepish smile.
‘Do you want to see her?’
I watch an internal battle play across his features. And as I watch him, I remember how dear those features are to me.
‘Okay,’ he croaks.
We go to her room and he looks down at her. I recognise, feel in my own heart, the love I see in his eyes, and I share in those emotions flitting across his face: awe, fear, adoration. But then his eyes tighten at the corners, and they start to glisten and something inside me knows. It just knows that we’re never coming back from this. Even still, I have to try. Because he and Ruby are everything. How did I never realise they were everything until it was too late?
‘She looks exactly like you,’ he whispers, a touch of awe in his tone, but I can’t interpret the full measure of his meaning.
‘So I’m told,’ I whisper back with a smile, longing to reach over and take his hand.
We hold each other’s gazes, and time stands still for a moment.
I open my mouth to tell him, to confess and beg for his forgiveness, but a shadow passes over his face, and the atmosphere shifts.
‘What did you want to see me about, Dee?’ he asks once we’re back in the kitchen. ‘You made it sound pretty important.’
‘Oh. Do we have to get onto that right now? I was hoping we could … I had some dinner sorted. There’s some more wine in the fridge. I thought maybe …’
Rob’s face turns stony. ‘Thought we could what?’ His tone is dark. ‘Just forget everything for the night? Pretend everything’s okay?’
‘No. But … I’ve missed you.’
‘Well,’ Rob pushed his chair back and stands as if to leave. ‘That’s your doing, isn’t it?’
‘What exactly is it you think I’ve done?’ I shout.
He looks incredulous. ‘Are you serious? You know exactly what you’ve done, Delilah. Or more like who you’ve done.’ He points out of the window accusingly.
Amidst it all I cringe. The vulgarity doesn’t suit him.
He looks on edge, ready to say more. My mind races. Does that mean he doesn’t know about Ruby? That it may still be salvageable? Cheating is one thing. Some people can come back from that; they must. But if he knows the worst of it, we’re done for.
There’s white-hot fury in his eyes but then he closes them and takes a deep breath.
‘You asked me to come, so here I am. What is it you want, Dee?’
There’s one last chance, specific to my skill set. I grasp at it, hoping.
‘You,’ I tell him, truthfully. ‘You. You’re all I want.’ I throw my arms around him, clasp the back of his head in both my hands and stare up into his eyes, willing him to believe me. To forgive me. He doesn’t move; his body is as rigid as stone, but he hasn’t pulled away.
‘Do you still love me?’ he asks softly. The pain in his eyes is more than I can bear. ‘Did you ever?’
‘I always have, and I still do.’ I know my words sound hollow, trite, in light of it all, but I mean them. ‘I always will. That’s why I hoped … I’d hoped …’
Time stands still, and I know that no matter what comes next I’ll remember this moment forever. I close the distance between us and press my lips to his.
For a moment, there’s no response. But when I stroke his face, Rob lets out a sound that’s half whimper, half moan and then he’s kissing me, hard and fast like he’s been starved for me.
Then, out of nowhere, he shoves me away.
‘What are you …?’
‘I can’t,’ Rob gasps, looking at me with pain and anger in his eyes. ‘I have to go.’
He turns away from me, but I grasp his forearm. And pull him back ‘Please,’ I whisper, reaching for the last weapon in my artillery. ‘What about Ruby? She misses you. How could you do this to her?’
Rob gapes at me. ‘How could I do this? Believe me, none of this is how I wanted things to go. None of this was up to me!’
‘Please,’ I sob, desperate now. ‘Please just tell me so I can understand.’
‘You know why.’
‘No, I don’t!’
Rob reaches into his coat pocket and thrusts a piece of paper to in my face.
‘I had to be sure,’ he says, his voice dangerously soft.
When I look up, his eyes are filled with a kind of rage I’ve never seen before.
‘And now I am.’
Chapter 38
Dee
June, 2017
Sunday, 6:30pm
The floor rushes up at me. I land on my arm, pain like lightning shooting up from my elbow and wrist. My gasp echoes in the room.
He’s staring at his hands, his mouth agape. The anger has vanished. His face is a white mask, drawn tight with horror. He looks at me and the expression in his eyes morphs from regret to conflict.
My throat closes against speech. There’s too much, and yet nothing, to say.
Rob turns sharply to face the window, as if worried someone’s seen, but the shutters are drawn. He turns to face me, and his eyes are haunted.
I can’t move or speak. I stay where I fell, pain pulsing through me, the area around my eye on fire. The slip of paper lies on the floor just out of reach, the words DNA TEST RESULTS at the top of the page glaring like a neon sign. The words burn into my corneas, but I don’t feel anything yet. I’m in shock. Numb.
‘Fucking hell, Dee,’ Rob rasps. His hands are shaking. ‘Look what you made me do.’
Even under the glaring exposure of what I’ve done, his words light a fuse. I burn. ‘Made you do?’ A croaky laugh escapes then dissolves into a cough.
Rob’s shaking his head and I see it in him, the hypocrisy, the devil on his shoulder convincing him what he’s done is okay, that the cause justifies the means. He laughs bitterly. ‘You know I’m not like that, Dee. I’m not! You made— I’ve never done it before. Never! Even though …’ He clenches his hands and my cheekbone throbs in response. ‘They all warned me about you. I didn’t listen. I should’ve listened. Now look! Look what’s happened!’
He’s looking around maniacally, as if something in the room can save him, as if he can find something to dig his way out of this. And I can’t believe how something – someone – I thought was so strong has crumbled this easily.
Ruby chooses this moment to break into a wail. There’s no lead up, no slow build, just her shrill keening piercing the air.
Rob’s head jerks towards the cot. And in that moment the numbness evaporates. I feel a flash of fear. ‘No,’ I shout, but it comes out as a whisper.
Ruby’s cries escalate and my heart thunders against my ribs. Rob tears his gaze from the cot and my fear turns to pain – deep, searing pain made richer with shame. My husband’s face is the picture of agony.
‘I’m sorry,’ I sob as I try to push myself up with my arm. ‘Rob. Oh God. I’m sorry.’
Rob’s face is white, his jaw clamped shut, teeth exposed in a tragic imitation of a smile. A spot on his neck jumps with his pulse. ‘Why?’ he says through his teeth, a tear bursting from the corner of one eye and running down his cheek. ‘Why?’
Ruby has gone silent and all I can hear is the roar of blood in my ears. A catalogue of memories flutters through my mind: Rob on bended knee, eyes bright with fear and hope, his feet entangled with mine in bed, the first kiss of the thousands he placed on Ruby’s brow.
I double over with the pain I deserve to feel, the pain I wished I could take from him. ‘It was only once. Just once. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.’ My voice is dead. ‘I love you.’ I can’t look at him.
I don’t even hear him leave.
Chapter 39
Liz
June, 2017
Sunday, 4:55pm
It’s the third cup of coffee I’ve made, and the third I haven’t drunk. I pour the tepid remains down the sink and stare out across the water. In the growing dark, the three grand houses seem ghostly, and
I have to turn away. Two more days and this place will be just a memory, and I can try to put everything that’s happened behind me. I’ll make an appointment with Tanya again, with a view to working through some things. It’s high time I put some demons to rest.
I pass the fridge on my way to the bedroom and automatically reach for the handle. I hesitate, shake my head, then make my way down the hall and into the bedroom. I let myself fall backwards onto the bed and lie there for a while, staring at the cracks in the ceiling. There’s a patch of mould above one of the cornices and I can hear something scuffling behind the wall. A rat, probably, I think with a shudder. We can’t get out of here soon enough.
I reach for my iPad and enter the passcode, frowning when I am denied access. I try twice more only to receive the same message that my password is incorrect. It’s then I realise it’s Adam’s iPad; he must have taken mine by mistake.
I head to the loft and pick up the thriller I’m struggling to get into, but after five minutes I realise I’m not taking anything in. Sighing, I roll onto my stomach on the daybed and peek through the curtains. Zac’s lights are on, as are the Haddads’s, but – of course – the Waters’s home is in darkness. I wonder whether Rob will return, or whether he’ll sell and find somewhere else. That’s what I’d do, if I were him. I draw the curtains closed and tell myself to think of something – anything – else.
Without knowing quite how, I find myself back in the bedroom. I fluff the pillows, straighten the duvet and slip on my dressing gown. The iPad stares at me from its position on the bedside table. Something’s scratching at the corners of my mind, and although I know it’s in my best interests to ignore it, I also know I won’t.
I carefully pick up the iPad and recline on the bed with the device held above my face. I try the passcode we share for our joint bank account, but it doesn’t work. Then I try our wedding anniversary – nope. I go to ‘switch user’ and find the guest login. Apparently, Adam’s neglected to put a password on it as I’m immediately granted access.
I feel a twinge of guilt at using his device without his permission, but there’s also an inexplicable frisson of excitement, like when I used to snoop around in my mum’s things before she left because I suspected her of having an affair (I was right), or as a teenager when I’d occasionally slip a tenner from my dad’s wallet while he was out of the room – that hyper-awareness that at any moment I could be caught.
I open Facebook, but it’s logged in as Adam. I’m about to log out when a Messenger alert pings. Trying not to look, but unable to help myself, I see it’s written in Chinese characters, probably Mandarin as Adam’s been learning the language in the hopes it will help him to liaise with overseas clients and China will potentially be one of his biggest markets.
I hover the mouse over the ‘log out’ icon when another message pings through. This time, it’s an image: a young Asian woman in lingerie posing seductively for the camera. It’s clearly an amateur mirror-selfie and not professional soft porn.
Warmth floods my chest and spreads up to my face. Surely this is just some click-bait designed to lure random men to a porn site – I know it happens to me now and then. Without hesitation I click on the message and a conversation reel comes up.
My heart is thudding out of time. What the fuck? There are messages dating back to January, and Adam has been replying to nearly all of them. Obviously, I can’t understand what they’re saying, so with trembling hands I copy the most recent message from the woman and Google ‘Mandarin to English translator’. When it pops up I paste the text into the window and close my eyes. When I open them, my heart sinks.
You are so sexy, I can’t wait to make you naked. When will we meet?
There has to have been some sort of misunderstanding. Adam wouldn’t encourage some other woman like this. What has he said in response? I clutch at the hope that maybe it’s been about business until now, and she’s got the wrong idea and sent him these messages. I copy one of Adam’s previous messages and paste it into the translator. The translation isn’t perfect, but the meaning is clear.
Only a few more weeks and we can meet again. Can’t wait to see that beautiful body again.
My skin flushes hot then cold. This can’t be right. Again? My stomach lurches at the implications of that one word. There must be a mistake. A mistake that will end up being a funny anecdote at social occasions when we’re back in London. We’re planning a future together. We’re buying a house, starting a business. He adores me. I adore him.
But those are the exact words he’s said to me.
Everything goes out of focus and for a second I think I’m going to pass out. I stand on shaky legs and run, tripping, to the bathroom. I just make it before I throw up, acid bile and the mushy remnants of the crackers I had as a snack sticking to the sides of the bowl. I press my cheek against the cool seat, my mind a blur of thoughts.
I sit up and look in the mirror. My skin is pale and blotchy; my eyes stare wildly back at me. We have it all planned. We’re in love. Happy. How can this have happened? How can he have done this?
I stare at the iPad that’s still in my hand as if it is the enemy. I have to make sure. So, deliberately, I go through the messages, pasting the text of at least five of them into the translator. All of them are sexually explicit. There are naked photos of him, of her. It’s stomach-turning. Sickening. The last message is dated yesterday.
I glance at my phone. Fuck. It’s 5:30pm; he’ll be home soon. What the hell am I going to do? What will I say? Instinctively I go to call Adam, the person I reach out to in a crisis, and then the weight of it all hits me so hard I throw up again, so violently my throat burns.
The iPad pings and a text message appears on the screen. I’m confused for a moment before I realise the message is intended for Adam. It mentions something about contracts, so presumably from someone involved in the business.
Adam’s phone must have synched to his iPad. I scroll through his messages.
My whole body goes hot, then cold.
There’s no name, just a number. And the message:
When can you come over?
It’s dated the night Dee went missing.
If you don’t come now, I’ll tell her everything.
I press my hand to my chest, unable to process what I’m seeing. I scroll back through the messages until I find the words ‘she’s yours’ and click on the photos attached. I click and click but it’s pixelated and won’t load properly. ‘Come on, come on …’ I mutter under my breath.
And then I hear the front door slam.
Chapter 40
Dee
June, 2017
Wednesday, 1:55am
I take a deep swallow of wine as I pace the living-room floor. Where is he? He said he was five minutes away, and that was before I came back from across the creek.
He’s so unreliable. When I didn’t hear from him all day, and it got until bloody ten at night, I decided I’d take matters into my own hands. I sent him a message warning him that if he didn’t meet with me soon, I’d tell his wife everything. And then I dragged the dinghy out of the garage and took myself across the creek.
Admittedly, it wasn’t one of my best plans. I’d been drinking, and the tide was dangerously high, almost reaching our back fence. A storm was due; I could feel it in the air, and, as proof of my premonition, it’s starting to drizzle now. It had seemed, at the time, the only way left to confront him, as he didn’t seem to be taking my requests seriously. But it’s worked out better this way. Much, much better.
I can see why he’s so desperate to protect his marriage. Liz is the type of person you like on sight. She’s lovely-looking, of course, but not in an intimidating way. Warm and sweet yet self-assured. She was so welcoming, despite me showing up drunk so late at night. In another lifetime, we might have been friends.
The second Liz answered the door, I knew I couldn’t tell her the truth. That I’d do whatever I could to protect her from it. She’s innocent in all this
, and I’ve wrecked enough lives already. I might have made some mistakes, but I’m not vindictive. I don’t like causing pain.
But Adam doesn’t need to know that. The threat of me telling Liz everything and spoiling his plans for his perfect little life is real, as far as he knows.
It’s not her I’m out for. It’s him. And freedom. At long last, freedom – for me, for Ruby.
Adam showing up across the creek when he did ended up working to my advantage. I’d run out of options to keep the threats at bay, and Rob clearly wants nothing more to do with me, so when I saw a light on across the water and recognised Adam as one half of the couple in the window, I did some Googling.
Turns out Adam got married a few weeks ago, so I figured the woman in the window was his wife. A pretty decent bargaining tool. And with the recent death of his father and the sale of the house going through, knowledge to which I’m now privy thanks to Liz, he’ll soon be rolling in money. With the price houses around here are going for at the moment, the amount I need won’t even leave them skint.
I check my phone. Still nothing. For God’s sake, hurry up! I’m going to be shattered when Erica brings Ruby back tomorrow. Topping up my wine, I sip and pace, telling myself that it will all be worth it in the end. I may have lost Rob, but I still have Ruby. She’s everything, and I’ll do anything to protect her. After tonight, my baby and I will finally be safe, and we can get out of this place. Start over somewhere new.
The knock at the door startles me so much I trip, and a generous slosh of wine escapes the rim of my glass and lands in a puddle on the floor. I must be more nervous than I thought. I grab one of Ruby’s onesies that’s drying on a clothes horse and quickly mop it up before answering the door.
‘Hi,’ he says, his face a study of indifference. From his expression, you’d think that by simply showing up he is doing me a favour.
But even though his arrogance pisses me off, I’m reminded of why I was tempted. Even as distant and as solemn as he’s looking at this moment, there’s something about him.
Across the Water Page 19