‘Then there’s the little issue of the letters,’ I said. ‘I got your letter yesterday. Pretty bloody stupid to give me one in which your husband, writing to me before you married him, told me how much he missed me.’ I shrugged. ‘So, what, you hid letters to section him off from his friends? What kind of a wife does that?’
The silence was deafening. I could almost pinpoint the moment each of her friends began switching off from her. One by one, the light of love and friendship was snuffed out.
‘So, he wasn’t cheating on you. He couldn’t, because you isolated him from everyone he cared about.’
‘Did he send for you?’ she asked.
‘What?’ I laughed. ‘No. You were intercepting his communication, so that would have been a little hard anyway.’
‘I wouldn’t call it intercepting, sweetie. After all, he has all the letters.’
I stared at her blankly, determined not to flinch.
‘He’s had them all along. I don’t know what he’s been telling you, but he’s had them.’
‘How long is all along?’ I asked. ‘That’s not incredibly time specific.’
‘All along,’ she said again, stepping out her words like a Hooked on Phonics cassette. ‘The. Whole. Time.’
‘Why would he do that?’
‘Because he’s William, and you don’t know him like you think you do.’
With that, she turned and walked back into class, apologising profusely to our instructor for my interrupting the class.
‘Well.’ Caroline looked at me. ‘That wasn’t quite what we expected, was it?’
Chapter 30
William looked different this morning. He sent an early message, asking me to meet for breakfast. I declined, as politely as I could. If it was true he’d had those letters and had known about them for as long as Angela said, I was dealing with someone very different to the person I thought I knew.
There was always a huge chance that Angela was lying. She hadn’t exactly proven herself to be a bastion of virtue at any stage of this process, so why start telling the truth now? Unless, of course, there was a benefit to her doing so. The whole situation was enough to give me a migraine, which I was sure I could feel as I walked to work.
‘Did you get my message this morning?’
I looked up to find William walking through the door. He looked concerned, in a state of ignorant bliss.
‘I did,’ I said. ‘I wasn’t hungry.’
‘You didn’t reply?’ He checked his phone again.
‘Didn’t I?’ I responded vaguely. ‘Sorry.’
‘Are you okay?’
‘I got an interesting letter last night.’ I grinned at him. ‘And then, wouldn’t you know, ran into your wife at the gym.’
His jaw twitched. I didn’t want to assume, but it felt like a decent indicator that he knew exactly what I was talking about. But, if he did, he didn’t show it. He goofed about as usual all day, trying to get a rise out of me. All the while, I sat at my desk, having had minimal sleep, trying to work out how to best broach the subject with him.
‘Hey, Emmy.’ William approached from his office, newborn baby swaddled in his arms. ‘Look at my new friend, George.’
I glanced up and gave George’s mother a polite smile. ‘Hi, George.’
‘Have you got babies on your London List?’ he asked, squatting beside me. ‘Look at him.’
George was cute, a tiny button face and a mess of thick black hair. He reminded me a little of my nephew, which only drew out my frustration at having to wait to visit. Not long to go, I reminded myself.
‘What do you think?’ William looked at me hopefully. ‘Ours might have brighter hair though.’
George’s mother gave a thrilled laugh. ‘You’ll have the best time.’
‘I think he’s beautiful.’ I looked at William. ‘But you need to stop.’
It was probably the nicest thing I could think of at that moment, with the hum of office life in the background, and Pam making noises about how we should totally have all the babies. I threw her a look and ignored William as he sent George and his mother on their way.
‘Let’s talk after work, Emmy.’ William walked away.
‘Sure thing, Red,’ I called after him.
When he turned back to look at me, his face was twisted up in anger.
* * *
Though the office was almost empty, it felt like the eyes of the world were on me as I walked down the short hallway towards William’s office. Office doors were closed, and everyone was preoccupied with tidying up from their afternoons, but it still felt like, somehow, everybody just knew. I knocked on the door and waited.
No words, just a wave of the hand to draw me in.
I closed the door quietly and crossed the room to sit in the patient’s seat.
William looked exasperated. ‘What is going on today, Emmy? I’ve been wracking my brain all day, and I cannot work out what the problem is. Yesterday was perfectly fine. I know we didn’t spend last night together, but surely that’s not it?’
‘No.’ I shook my head. ‘That’s not it at all.’
‘Then what? What have I got wrong?’ he asked.
I slid the envelope across the table. ‘I found this in the box my family sent me earlier this week.’
‘So? It’s an old letter.’
‘Yes, but I sent all your letters back to you.’
He glanced at me as he unfolded the solitary page. I was sure it was the colour draining from his face, and not the sun setting outside the window. He was whiter than rice, if that were possible.
‘I never got that one,’ I said. ‘Do you want to tell me how your wife ended up with it instead?’
‘She’s not my wife.’
‘I don’t care about semantics right now, William.’ I crossed my knees and fought the battle to keep my tone measured and professional – one of us had to be. This was embarrassing enough without setting off an emotional fire sprinkler. ‘I want to know what you know about this letter and how your wife came to leave it on my desk.’
He said nothing. His head shook in annoyance.
‘Please don’t lie to me again,’ I said as calmly as possible. ‘How long have you had them?’
‘There was a lot of back and forth with lawyers, but I got them back the week after Paris.’ He stuffed the paper back into the envelope and dropped it onto his desk. ‘She was upping demands constantly and, as you know, I figured she was the only one who could have done this, so…’
‘So?’ I urged him on.
His shoulders lifted around his ears. ‘I just threw a demand back that said she’d get nothing if I didn’t get those letters. Gave her a counteroffer and sent her on her way. I had them two days later.’
‘And you never thought to tell me?’ I asked, affronted, my brain not quite knowing what part to process first. ‘After all our conversations, all our fights and you just had them? This is not a difficult thing to discuss, William.’
‘For Pete’s sake, Em. You know it’s not that simple.’
Not that simple? What the bloody hell was so wrong about fronting up on my doorstep with a box of tattered letters and a bottle of wine? It wasn’t like we were talking classified war documents.
I took a deep breath and watched him, tried to read his face. I couldn’t work it out. I couldn’t read the lines or the tics and quirks. Even his eyes were empty. ‘I think that’s me done.’
‘Done with what?’
‘Us.’ As I stood up, his face fell in equal measure. ‘I can’t keep excusing things, William. It feels like it’s been one thing after another since I arrived. The way you treated me, hiding things. Whatever this is, it’s over.’
‘No, Em.’ He scrambled as I made to leave the room. ‘Can we just talk about this?’
I held a hand out but yanked it back as he tried to take hold of it. ‘Stop. Just stop. There’s nothing to talk about. I’m not going to yell or scream or get into an argument. I am tired, I am so tired, and I’m do
ne. From now on, we’re nothing more than colleagues, okay?’
His brow wrinkled. ‘No, Emmy, that’s not okay.’
‘It’s going to have to be.’
As I pulled the door open, feet disappeared through doorways, not unlike that scene with the hallway in the Yellow Submarine movie. I took the walk of shame, stopping for no one. I slung my bag over my shoulder and took one last glance over my shoulder. William stood in his doorway, pleading silently for me to call him. I shook my head and left for the night. The sooner I could get out of there, the less chance there was of making a complete farce of it all.
Chapter 31
If I’d learned anything in my time here, it was that relationships don’t just go quietly into the night. They bubble like a dropped bottle of cola and, while everyone will stand around and not touch it for fear of getting sprayed, eventually, the bottle will burst and there’ll be a mess everywhere.
I thought I had done my best. That was as much as I could say. I was quiet, cordial, and applied myself to my job as best I could. William, too, though he was trying to chip away at me as if he were taking an ice pick to carbonite. And, while others may have tried fishing for information, I was tight-lipped. Professional, calm, courteous. That’s what I was there for, after all.
It was only a week. That’s what I told myself as William appeared in the front door each morning, despondent smile on his face. Five working days, and I could get on a plane and enjoy crowding my thoughts with family and friends instead.
Frankie was running up her text message bill like a gambler at a casino on pension day. Last minute plans and bookings were coming to fruition, supplemented by dozens of ‘just checking’ messages, and quickly making my trip look like a tourist expedition. Admittedly, that felt strange. I mean, I was going home, wasn’t I? Was it supposed to involve climbing the Sydney Harbour Bridge or dinners booked in expensive restaurants, or museum attractions I wouldn’t normally bother with? Really, I would have been happy with a packet of biscuits and cuppa in front of the cricket. Okay, maybe not the cricket, but just the television in general.
Dad, in one of his rare turns of communication, offered up a list as long as his arm of local sweets and spreads he wanted me to bring home. Through mutterings of, ‘I haven’t had them in years’ and, ‘we used to ride down on our bikes and get them from the shops’, I was entreated to stories of his childhood that I’d never heard before.
I managed to hunt down as much as I could, though I wasn’t sure customs were going to love me when I landed and ticked that box that said yes, indeed, I did have a picnic spread of food in my luggage.
I debated for a few days, packing and unpacking a suitcase, when I gave in and just threw everything together in a jumbled mess. I was only going for a few weeks. I had clothes at home. The food would be fine if I declared it, surely. If not, a stint on one of those border security type shows was looking likely.
My ears pricked up at an unusually loud discussion by the front door. It was muffled, but the strains were enough to understand that it wasn’t an altogether pleasant exchange. As far as I knew, it was only Josh and me at home. He’d prepped dinner while I did a load of washing and cursed that my favourite comfy undies were still stuck in a spin cycle as I packed. If I just kept my head down, I would be able to sail on through whatever was happening without being bothered, continue packing my things and be done.
‘Emmy, you home?’ Josh knocked on my bedroom door before he walked in.
‘For the time being,’ I teased. ‘What about you? Are you home?’
‘You lucky thing,’ he said. ‘We have to wait a whole week more for our flight.’
I pouted. ‘I know, that sucks.’
‘Why didn’t we organise this a bit better?’ He tapped his chin. ‘Really. It would’ve been great fun: a whole row of the plane, a few shandies, some blankets. I’d be in the middle, of course.’
‘Next time,’ I said. ‘Promise.’
‘At least we get to party when we do get there.’
‘I’m so excited.’ I bounced. ‘I am sorry I haven’t done much to help though.’
That was something else I’d realised in my last week of overabundant time. I’d been a shitty friend, leaving Heather and Josh to organise their engagement party. Not that they needed my help, of course, seasoned organisers that they were, but they had asked, so I should have been there to pick up the slack when needed.
He gave a tight shrug. ‘You’ve had stuff going on. It’s okay.’
Josh stood quietly for a moment, his mouth paused mid-word and finger in the air. He was on the cusp of something important but wasn’t entirely sure what to do with that information. It was the same face he made the first time he tried to tell me I’d upset him. About what, I couldn’t remember, but I did remember that face.
‘What’s up?’ I asked. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Yeah … so you have a visitor.’ He made to leave but doubled back. ‘I feel like we say that to you quite a bit.’
‘Not that much.’ I tossed a pillow case in his direction. As it landed on the floor, something else settled in the room, something a bit heavier; more solemn.
William appeared in the doorway. He stepped over the pillowcase and into the room. In his arms was a small transparent plastic tub. It was stuffed full of envelopes and, at the very bottom, I recognised the eggshell blue tea set, and reference book William had once sent me. I looked at it, then at him.
‘Hi.’
I fought with a small cardboard box, trying to nestle it in the corner of my suitcase. ‘Hello.’
‘Are you leaving soon?’ he asked.
I looked at my bedside table, still decorated with Craig’s alarm clock that had to go back to him. ‘I’ve got a few hours yet.’
William shifted uncomfortably, from foot to foot, one hand scratching at the other. ‘Emmy?’
‘Yes?’
‘Before you leave, can we talk?’
‘If you’d like,’ I said.
‘I’ve brought our letters.’ He placed the box gently on the bed that stood between us, as if they were a sacrificial offering or rare gift; gold, frankincense, and feather-light airmail paper.
Right now, my stripped-down bed felt like a chasm. He may have only been on the other side of it, still close enough to touch but, emotionally, it was a world away. After all our midnight discussions and under the cover laughter, this must have been what emptiness felt like. I peered into the box, quickly fingering the bundles of letters, boxes of gifts, all things I’d thought lost long ago. My eyes met his, and he looked away nervously.
‘I didn’t … I mean, I meant to tell you. It’s just so stupid in hindsight, I know.’
‘Well, it’s not that difficult, William.’ I angled my body away from him, dumping another bundled T-shirt in my suitcase. ‘These should have been a thing of celebration, shouldn’t they? They’re not tainted.’
‘They have all been read.’
I looked at him disbelievingly. ‘Really? That was what you were worried about?’
‘No, Em, no, of course not.’ His head lolled about.
‘How did she get them?’ I asked. ‘Do you know?’
‘She needed a room to rent, so moved in about six months before the letters stopped. Given that she worked odd hours, she would volunteer to run errands. I’m talking bills, groceries, the mail, so that’s how she got the incoming and outgoing stuff.’ He rubbed at his stubble thoughtfully. ‘Really simple in hindsight.’
‘And how did you get them back?’
‘There was correspondence back and forth with her lawyers. You know, the usual divorce type stuff. It was all getting a bit messy, and one point stood out because I was sure I’d only ever told you that particular fact. I started piecing it all together, and it just made sense, like a missing piece of a jigsaw puzzle. So I played her at her own game. Told her lawyers I refused to move forward with anything unless she gave back all the letters she stole, or I’d have her up for stealing mail
. The next thing I knew, there was a box on my doorstep and it was full of you. I mean, it was a bit more convoluted than that, but…’
I frowned, and pulled one of the old letters out of an envelope. ‘Here’s the problem I have with this, and it’s not actually this box. It’s all the shit that led up to this. This just happens to be the icing on the cake.’
‘Honestly? I didn’t know how to handle you being back.’
‘You didn’t know how to handle it?’ I shrieked. ‘I’m on the other side of the bloody world. My social circle consists of maybe ten people, even less at the time I discovered that you were still here and, suddenly, the one person I’m thrilled about had turned into a complete ass in the time since I’d last seen him.’
‘Did you come here for me?’
I laughed loudly. ‘Are you kidding? No. I had no idea where you were, you asshole.’
‘At least you’re honest.’
‘Which is more than I can say for you.’
William took a deep, shuddering breath. ‘Emmy, I never meant to lie to you. I just thought it would be better to get all of my stuff sorted, get it out of the way and done, and then I could come to you and say, “Here, look what I have”.’
‘But it’s not just the lying, William.’ My voice rose. ‘It’s the humiliation that came before it. That first week at work; I didn’t know anybody, and yet, there you are telling me how to write on envelopes, ignoring me when it suited you, refusing to work with me even though you’d been told you had to.’
‘Em, I’m sorry.’
‘At the pub with that bloody drink, then out in the street where we argued for all and sundry to hear. It was humiliating, William. And from you, of all the people. You. I don’t want to fight with you, I don’t, but come on.’
‘I know I’ve made mistakes,’ he pleaded. ‘I know that, Emmy.’
‘And you’re still so bloody nonchalant about it. It’s no big deal, Emmy, I’ve said sorry, what do you want me to do?’ I mocked.
‘And what do you want me to say?’ he shouted. ‘I can’t do any more than what I’m doing now!’
An Impossible Thing Called Love Page 24