скачать книгу бесплатно
As the refuse lorry rumbles down the lane my eyes close with relief. All I heard was the bins being emptied. That’s all. My paranoia, that unwelcome rush of anxiety, it’s ramping up when it should be waning now. I should be able to deal with it all, after fourteen months. But I can’t. Or I won’t. I don’t know.
It’s then I realise which room I’m standing in. It’s empty. There isn’t even a bed in here. The walls are painted a bight lemon yellow and the carpet’s a soft, plush cream pile, but that’s all there is – painted walls and cream carpet. Maybe we’ll get around to making this more of a room and less of an empty space one day, but not yet. There’s no hurry. It’s not as if we need another guest room right now.
The view is pretty from this room. It gets a lot of sun in the afternoon, on the days when the sun dares to make an appearance. That’s why I painted the walls yellow, to make the most of the sunshine. I wanted this to be a bright and happy room.
The sound of my phone ringing out from the kitchen startles me. It’s becoming exhausting now, this almost constant fear that something is going to happen. I need to get my shit together.
Closing the door, I run downstairs towards the ringing phone. It’s Carmen, at the spa. It’s time to focus. But as I listen to Carmen’s update, my fingers curl around the scrap of paper in my pocket. This is far from over.
I love my husband.
My husband loves me.
Nothing, and nobody, is getting in the way of that.
*
‘Ellie! How lovely to see you!’
Sue’s smile beams out as I walk into the outer space that houses Michael’s office, and the offices of two of his fellow English professors. It’s a bustling, busy area comprising three desks for the secretaries, countless filing cabinets, a large table with two desktop computers on it at the back of the room, next to a huge wall of windows that look out over university grounds, an old battered leather sofa positioned beside a large, ornate fireplace, which Sue always makes sure is decorated beautifully at Christmas, and a small kitchen area with a kettle, microwave and a Belfast sink. It’s actually all rather homely, given that it’s a workspace.
‘Are you here to see Michael?’
‘I was just on my way to the spa, and seeing as I was passing I thought I might pop in, say hello. Bring him some lunch. Is he in his office?’
‘I think he’s just finishing a lecture, but he’s due back any minute now. He’s got tutorials this lunchtime. Can I get you a coffee? A cup of tea?’
‘No, thank you. I’m fine. I’ll just wait, if that’s okay.’
‘Of course it is … Oh, speak of the devil. Here he is.’
I turn to see Michael stride through the door, his expression a mixture of surprise tinged with something else – is that anger? But then his expression quickly changes and he smiles at me, that easy-going smile I’m all-too familiar with. He wasn’t quick enough. I can tell he’s using that smile to mask something; whatever it is he’s hiding from me.
I know what you’re doing, Michael. I’m your wife. Remember?
‘Darling? What are you doing here?’ He takes a step towards me, leans in and gently plants a kiss on my cheek, that smile still there on his handsome face.
‘I was on my way to the spa and I just thought I’d pop in and bring you some lunch, seeing as you missed breakfast this morning.’
His eyes meet mine. It feels as if he’s searching my soul. ‘Sue, can you stick the kettle on, please?’
‘Of course. Are you sure you don’t want anything, Ellie?’
‘I’m fine, thank you.’
Michael nudges his office door open with his shoulder. ‘I’ve got tutorials in a few minutes. Did you want to see me about anything in particular?’
‘I was just passing. I thought it might be nice to drop by and say hello, that’s all. Does there have to be a reason for your wife to pop in and see you?’
He glances over at Sue, but she’s in the kitchen area chatting to April, one of the other secretaries. They can’t hear us.
‘It’s just not something you make a habit of. It never has been.’
‘Do you want me to leave?’
I can’t stop the slightly irritated edge to my tone and he narrows his eyes as he looks at me.
‘No, Ellie, I don’t want you to leave. But I don’t have a lot of time. Like I said, I have tutorials.’
Sue comes back over and hands Michael his coffee, his face breaking into a smile as he takes the mug from her.
‘Thank you, Sue.’
He turns his attention back to me.
‘Come inside. I’ve got a few minutes to spare before my first student gets here.’
I follow him into his office and close the door behind me. He puts down the pile of folders and books he was carrying and leans back against his desk, folding his arms, his eyes boring into mine.
I don’t think he wants me here, and I know why. But I’m not going anywhere, yet.
I go over to him, take hold of his shirt collar, my lips brushing the side of his neck as I lean in to him. ‘You said you had a few minutes,’ I murmur, sliding a hand around the back of his neck, my fingers playing with his hair, stroking his skin.
He lets out a low groan as I press myself against him, drops his hand to my bottom as I kiss him. It doesn’t take much, Michael, does it?
‘Do you remember those days when you’d come visit me at work, at the salon?’ I whisper, as his fingers dig into my thigh, push me harder against him. ‘You’d meet me for lunch but we’d always end up never leaving my office. Remember?’ I push his head back slightly so I can look at him, look right into those beautiful blue eyes. ‘Those days when we couldn’t keep our hands off each other. I miss those days. Don’t you?’
His hand slides up under my dress and I gasp quietly as he touches me, as his lips brush the base of my throat, his thumb stroking my inner thigh.
He takes hold of my hips and swings me around, pushes me back against his desk. I wind my fingers in his hair and pull him down. I kiss him. I breathe him in because I love him. My husband. My husband.
I wrap my legs around him, feel his hand on my lower back push me against him, and then, almost as if a switch has been flicked, he steps back from me, drops his gaze for a second or two. And when he raises it I can see how on edge he is now.
‘What’s all this about, Ellie?’
‘What’s all this about?’ I frown, but his expression doesn’t waver. ‘When did stopping by your office become something you’re suspicious of?’
‘It isn’t, I just …’ He sighs quietly and pushes a hand back through his hair. ‘It just isn’t what you do. Bringing me lunch, dropping by to say hello. That isn’t what you do. You’ve never done that, so why now?’
‘Now I have a business not fifteen minutes away from your office, Michael.’
I watch as his expression turns from one of suspicion to one of guilt, almost. But he still wants me to leave. He isn’t making a secret of that. It’s written all over his face. He wants me to go. But that only makes me more determined to go through with this, because I need to know now. I need to fucking know.
‘Look, Ellie, I know things have been a bit strained lately …’
He leaves that sentence hanging and I almost laugh at his simplified summing up of the past few months. He thinks things have been strained lately? Things have been strained for a long time now; he just chooses to ignore that fact. But I don’t want him to be suspicious of anything, not now. I can’t risk that. If he thinks I’m being irrational or that my behaviour is changing – if he is hiding something, that would only alert him to that fact, give him a chance to cover his tracks. And I need to know if something’s going on. I need to know if there’s something – someone – standing in the way of me getting through to my husband. Something that threatens us. I need to know that. I need to make sure history doesn’t repeat itself, because he sure as hell isn’t doing that. I have a mission now, something to focus on, something that’s giving me back a little bit of that control I felt I was losing.
‘Anyway, I really need to prepare for this tutorial …’ He slides his hands into his pockets and walks behind his desk, firing up his laptop, ‘and I’m sure there are things you need to be getting on with.’
I watch him for a few seconds, his gaze dropping to the laptop screen, and then he checks his watch and I’m sensing a slight hint of irritation coming from him now. He really does want me to go, right now. Is there a reason for that? Is it guilt? More guilt? He doesn’t want me to come face to face with this student who’s about to turn up here, at his office, for their lunchtime tutorial, is that it? Is that why he wants me gone? Because his body language, Jesus, it’s screaming at me to leave.
‘Yes. You’re right, there are lots of things I need to be getting on with.’
I look back over my shoulder, outside into the outer office, but there’s no one out there except Sue and April. It’s quiet, even though it’s lunchtime.
‘I should be home for dinner.’
His voice causes my head to shoot back around.
‘Providing nothing comes up, of course. You know how it is sometimes.’
Yes. I know how it is. I know how it’s become. I know ‘sometimes’ is turning into ‘most of the time’, and I feel my stomach twist itself up into a tight knot as I catch him checking his watch again.
‘Okay, well, I’ll see you tonight.’ I reach into my bag and take out a small plastic box, placing it down on Michael’s desk. ‘Your lunch.’
He looks down at the box, but he just leaves it there. He doesn’t touch it.
‘Are you going to be working late?’ he asks, raising his gaze, and I look at him. His expression is verging on hopeful. Is that what it’s really come to now? How desperate he’s become to make sure we spend as little time alone together as possible?
‘No. I don’t intend to be. I’m learning to delegate more, Michael. I’m trying not to drown in my work quite so much, not when there are other things I need to concentrate on.’
I don’t know whether he can read between the lines of that sentence, whether he realises that that was a dig, a hint. I don’t know if he’d even acknowledge it if he had. But even though I leave his office, leave the outer office, I don’t leave the building. I didn’t come here to waste this chance, to not see what I need to see, I came here for a reason, and it wasn’t just to bring Michael lunch. That was nothing more than my excuse.
I remain outside in the corridor, stepping back against the wall alongside a large display cabinet and I pull out my phone. I check the time. If she’s the punctual type she should be here any second. I’m feeling strangely invigorated. The rush of adrenaline is both breathtaking and frightening and I don’t know who I’ve become, how I got to this point. I just know I can’t leave it alone now.
The sound of chatter coming from the entrance invites my attention and I turn my head slightly, putting my phone to my ear as I embark on a fake conversation. A group of three young women stop outside the open door to the outer office I’ve just left. They chat for a few seconds before saying their goodbyes and I watch as two of them head off in separate directions, leaving one still there outside the office. I’m guessing that’s Ava. She’s dressed in an unflattering long sweater and boyfriend jeans, her dark hair pulled back into a loose ponytail, but she seems pretty enough. And as she glances back over her shoulder, casting a wave in the direction of someone I can’t see from where I’m standing, she smiles and her whole face lights up. She’s really pretty, actually. The knot in my stomach returns, pulling tighter as I see Michael come to the door, watch as she turns around to face him, and her expression changes again, her smile growing wider. As does Michael’s. They start talking, but I obviously can’t hear what they’re saying and I shrink back into the shadows, just in case Michael’s gaze wanders, but he seems too focused on her.
I keep the phone to my ear, although I’ve stopped pretending to talk into it, I’m too busy watching my husband. I watch Michael lay a hand gently on the small of her back, guiding her inside. I’m almost sick in my mouth.
I slide my phone into my pocket as I calmly walk outside, but the second air hits me I have to stop and lean back against the wall. My heart’s still beating wildly and that knot in my stomach is so tight now it hurts, but I know what I saw – the way he smiled at her, touched her; the look on her face the second she saw him. I know that look only too well.
Chapter 9 (#ulink_e58b5c60-fb2d-56a5-9f2e-6f43a8aa33de)
I’m in the kitchen, cooking a dinner I’m not sure we’ll finish eating when Michael finally gets home. We may not even start, I don’t know. I’m just trying to keep up some kind of routine.
I glance up at the clock as I hear him out in the hall, and I feel that familiar ache in the pit of my stomach, that nervous anticipation, that worry – is tonight the night something changes?
A loud crash from the garden startles me.
‘Ellie?’
Michael runs into the kitchen, crouches down to pick the wooden spoon I’ve dropped in shock up off the floor.
‘Are you okay?’
‘I … I heard something, out there. Out in the garden. And the security light … the light’s been triggered.’
He goes over to the back door and I close my eyes as I wait for him. I’m so on edge these days. Lack of sleep and working too hard, I guess it’s all building up. It’s coming to a head. I love my husband but we never were tied to each other. But now – now I dread being alone. I’d rather have Michael here, rather endure the silences and that painful gap that’s growing wider between us as each day goes by; I’d rather have that than be alone. Here. In this house.
‘It was just a fox.’
I look up as Michael comes back inside; watch him as he locks the door, I watch him closely. Has he flicked both locks?
‘They knocked a couple of pots over, that’s all.’
‘Okay.’
He comes a little closer and I crave his warmth, his attention.
‘Everything’s fine, Ellie. All right? It was just a fox.’
He steps back and the gulf between us widens again.
‘I’m going to grab a quick shower before dinner.’
I nod and return to the stove.
The doorbell ringing makes me jump again and I take a second to pull myself together before I go out into the hall, checking the small black and white security monitor by the door first to see who’s outside. It’s only Liam.
‘Hey …’ He frowns. ‘Are you okay?’
I fold my arms and throw him a small smile. ‘I’m fine. Just tired, that’s all. When did you get back from Berlin?’
‘Landed about an hour ago. I’m on my way home from the airport, but I found this in my car, Michael must’ve left it there. And as I have to pass your place on the way to mine, I thought I might as well drop it off.’
I take the jacket Liam holds out, his fingers accidently brushing mine as I gather it up, laying it over the crook of my arm.
‘Thanks. Do you want to stay for dinner? I’ve got a casserole on the stove. There’s plenty.’
He shakes his head and steps back from the door. ‘I’d love to, but I’ve got a meeting first thing, not to mention copious notes to write up for a conference I’m attending next week, so …’ He shrugs and gives me an apologetic smile, ‘I’ll pick up a take-away on the way home. Are you sure you’re okay?’
I nod and try to muster up a more convincing smile. ‘Yes. Michael’s just grabbing a shower, then we’re going to have dinner, maybe grab an early night.’
Liam drops his gaze, scuffing the toe of his boot against the step, his hands in his pockets. He doesn’t say anything and even when he raises his gaze he just smiles at me again as he starts to walk backwards towards his car. ‘I’ll see you later, huh?’
‘Yeah. Later.’
I close the door before his car’s left our driveway, flicking the locks and double-checking them before I hang up Michael’s jacket. And I’m about to go back into the kitchen. I should check on that casserole, but I don’t. I stop and I glance quickly up the stairs. I can hear Michael moving around up there. I can hear his voice. He’s talking to someone.
Taking a deep breath, I turn back to look at the jacket Liam’s just returned. It really has come to this.
I slide a hand into one of the pockets and feel around inside but there’s nothing in there. So I try another pocket. Still nothing. But I’m sure this jacket has an inside pocket and I reach around to find it. And the second I put my hand in there I feel it. A slip of paper. A receipt, maybe? I pull it out and look at it. It is a receipt, for lunch at a Spanish restaurant in the city. The same restaurant we used to love going to, but we haven’t been there for a long time now. We haven’t been there, but he obviously has, and I check the date – it was a few days ago, his lunchtime visit. Just a few days ago. I scan the receipt more closely. Definitely a meal for two. He wasn’t alone.
Shoving the receipt back into his pocket I glance up the stairs again. His voice is a little more muffled now. It’s barely audible. He must’ve gone into his office. It isn’t Liam he’s talking to … so who is it?
Climbing the stairs, carefully, quietly, I try to avoid those steps that I know have creaking floorboards. He’s still just that little bit too far away for me to make out what he’s saying.
I make my way along the first-floor landing, again moving slowly so as not to make a sound, but I stop when I reach the bottom of the stairs that lead up to the top floor. His voice is a little louder now, but he’s definitely inside his office and the door is closed, so whatever he’s saying – whoever he’s talking to, I still can’t make anything out. And then it goes quiet, and I hear him moving about again, so I turn to go, but he’s already coming down the stairs. I dart into our bedroom, pretend to look for something I don’t need.
