‘Oh, those things? I never go,’ he said, rolling his eyes. Then he seemed to think about it again and added quickly, ‘Maybe I’ll pop in tonight. It’s good to do some networking.’
She knew she shouldn’t do but she felt ridiculously excited all day, a sense of anticipation growing inside her, butterflies fluttering around her stomach. The evening could not come soon enough. As soon as the clock hit 5pm she was out of her chair and in the loos faster than Usain Bolt, brushing her teeth, reapplying her make-up and spraying perfume. She got herself a drink and found some people to chat to while she awaited his arrival. She smiled and laughed at the right points in the conversation but she was distracted, looking around constantly for him. An hour passed and then a second hour. As the night progressed, she felt herself getting more drunk and more disappointed. Neither were what she’d had planned for the evening. Finally, she’d had enough and made her excuses before walking back through the reception area towards the revolving doors which would take her out of this stupid bubble of a life she had created in this building and back to reality again.
‘Leaving so soon?’
Her stomach lurched at the sound of his voice and she turned around to see him looking at her and grinning, ruefully – she thought, although she couldn’t tell with him yet. And looking so bloody hot. That was the moment, she realised on the way home, the moment when she knew that she was going to sleep with him. But it wasn’t going to be that night because she was too annoyed. So she simply replied: ‘Yes, got other plans, enjoy!’ swung on her heel and walked away, leaving him standing there and, she sensed, watching her go.
On Monday he was at the office at 8am with an almond croissant and she felt almost immediately that something unspoken had shifted between them. Over the following weeks their conversations became more intimate, the tiny flirtations that had been so subtle at first suddenly seemed more obvious. When the next Free Drinks Friday was announced, he forwarded the email to her, simply saying: ‘Going?’ She knew she was grinning like an idiot as she hit reply and typed: ‘Yep’. It was the first and only email he ever sent her. That evening when she entered the bar, everything felt different. She saw him almost immediately, chatting easily to some colleagues. She caught his eye as she walked past him towards the bar to order a drink and within seconds he was by her side, as she had known he would be. He ordered a gin and tonic for her and a beer for himself before turning to look at her.
‘You’re looking very pretty,’ he said and the line took her back to that film, Love Actually, when Alan Rickman has a thing with his PA, and without even thinking she leaned in and whispered the line from the film in his ear: ‘It’s all for you.’ Pulling back she looked at his unreadable face and panicked for a second, worried that she had gone too far and scared him off.
Then, without any visible reaction, he simply whispered, ‘Outside in twenty minutes’ before walking away and back over to the group of colleagues he’d been talking to previously. She quickly drank her gin and scuttled outside, avoiding eye contact so that she wouldn’t be drawn into any conversations, while butterflies fluttered around her stomach and she felt more excited than she’d done in ages. Half an hour later, she was still waiting outside, shivering in the cold and cursing the bastard when he dashed out and rushed over to her, full of apologies for keeping her waiting.
‘I didn’t want it to look too obvious,’ he told her. ‘I’ve never done anything like this before.’ His frank confession immediately thawed her coldness towards him.
‘Me neither,’ she replied.
They looked at each other, suddenly nervous and unsure what to do. ‘Drink?’ they both said at the same time and laughed. He gestured for her to follow him and they walked together but slightly apart, zigzagging down the small side streets of London, for about ten minutes until they came to a pub so hidden that she hadn’t even known it existed. Inside, it looked like it hadn’t been redecorated since the eighties and there wasn’t a single City worker to be found. She knew at once why he had brought her here – no one would see them, so they were safe from prying eyes.
Still, she found a little booth right at the back that was hidden from the rest of the pub while he went to the bar to get their drinks. When he came back he slid in next to her and the sudden closeness of him sent sparks of electricity through her. In all their previous interactions they had been divided by the chastity belt of the front desk. Their legs touched and she looked at him, sensing that he was feeling the same.
They never finished their drinks. She took him back to her flat in a taxi and they went straight to her bedroom, all the nerves from earlier banished. The sex was not as good as the fantasy she had played over and over again in her head, because it could never live up to that, but it was good enough. Afterwards, they lay there next to each other, unsure what to do. She looked at him and he smiled but she could tell he was grappling with something internally. The moment between them had passed, and she had lost him again to his other life.
‘Are you okay?’ she asked him.
‘Yeah, I’m good, I’m just… it’s just that I’ve never done anything like this before,’ he said. ‘I’m not sorry it happened,’ he added quickly as he looked over at her, ‘it was amazing, you’re amazing. It’s just a lot for me to process.’
She touched his arm. ‘It was amazing,’ she said. ‘And you don’t owe me anything at all. If you need to go now, then go. Don’t worry about me, okay? I get it and I’m fine.’
He looked at her gratefully, clearly relieved she had given him an out. Ten minutes later he was gone and she was alone in her flat again. It was never going to be romantic, sex with a married man, she knew. And that was all it was to her, she told herself, she had wanted to have sex with this man and now she had. Tick. Time to move on.
And yet she felt strangely bereft, a feeling that she couldn’t shake off all weekend. The following night she went out with some friends and as she sat in the crowded, trendy restaurant in King’s Cross, laughing and joking, her thoughts kept wandering back to him and the previous evening.
When Monday came about, she found herself feeling nervous, unsure about what, if anything, was next for them.
She opened her emails and saw she had a message from the recruitment company asking how she was getting on and if she wanted to stay on for another three months. Best to go, she thought, nip this in the bud now and get on with my life. No good can come of this. And she was just about to reply to say no thanks, she didn’t want to stay, when Pete walked in. The minute she saw him, she knew that they had unfinished business.
‘Are you free on Wednesday?’ he had asked her. Her heart had literally soared at the sound of those words, like music to her ears.
Later that morning she got a WhatsApp message from an unknown number. Looking forward to Wednesday, it said. She quickly saved the number to her phone under the name PG and returned to her email to the recruitment agency.
Hi Jess,
Lovely to hear from you! Everything’s going great here thanks, I’m very happy to stay on for another three months. Please feel free to send over the new contract.
Best,
Claire.
21
Pete
On Wednesday, just three days before he was due to fly to Greece with Kate and the girls, he broached the subject with Claire nervously, waiting for her wrath. She looked at him in incomprehension. ‘You’re leaving your wife in a couple of weeks and you’re still going to go on a cosy family holiday to Greece with her?’
‘What can I do, Claire? It’ll destroy the kids if I don’t go and it’ll probably be the last holiday that we all have together. I owe it to them. It’s just a week and then I’ll be home and I’ll be all yours, I promise.’
She looked furious but managed to swallow down whatever angry words were threatening to spill out, saying simply, ‘I don’t think it’s on, I really don’t.’
‘I understand,’ he said as soothingly as he could, ‘but think of it as one final tri
p, to mark the end of our marriage before you and I start our new adventure.’
‘And what about the sleeping arrangements then? Will it be sex on the beach after the kids have gone to bed?’
He laughed. ‘Hardly, Claire, we’re all sharing a room, the four of us. I can guarantee you there’ll be none of that. Anyway, there’s been none of that for a long time, as you well know. The only woman I’m sleeping with is you.’
She seemed a bit placated by that and he added, ‘Look, Claire, it’s for the girls, all right?’
She nodded reluctantly but still looked annoyed. Although she didn’t mention it again until the end of the evening, it was obvious that it was on her mind but he’d played the ‘children’ card and she knew that she couldn’t challenge him on that. When he was leaving, she wrapped her arms around him and whispered into his ear, ‘You’d better not come back and tell me that you’re in love with your wife after all.’
He squeezed her tight. ‘It won’t happen, I promise.’
On the way home he contemplated the ridiculous situation he had managed to get himself into. How had he ended up here? The rollercoaster ride that had thrilled him so much to begin with was now scaring him – it was too fast, too unstoppable. Not that he didn’t love Claire, he did, but everything else was terrifying. He was leaving the woman he’d been with for over fifteen years, leaving his children, his job, his friends and his life. And did he even want to move to France or was he just doing it to please her? He’d thought he was on board, he really had, but now he wasn’t sure again. It was like a constant conveyor belt of emotions, one after another, and it was starting to overwhelm him. He thought he’d felt suffocated before in his marriage but now he found there were times when the anxiety over what he was planning to do overwhelmed him so much that he struggled to catch his breath. When he was with Claire it was okay because her excitement was infectious but the minute he left her the doubts started coming back, thick and fast. Was he getting this all wrong? Had he fucked up completely? What had seemed like something so far away in his future to worry about was now just weeks away and he couldn’t push it to the back of his mind anymore.
On Friday, his last day at work before the holiday, Dan cornered him on his way out of the office to get a sandwich. ‘Have you told her yet?’ he asked.
‘No,’ he admitted. ‘We’re going away tomorrow and it’ll be our last family holiday together. I want the kids to enjoy it and to have fond memories of it. Then as soon as we’re back, I’m going to tell her.’ It wasn’t true, but Dan didn’t need to know that.
‘Well, have a good holiday,’ Dan said as he slapped him on the back. ‘Rather you than me, mate.’
He got home to chaos. The girls were so excited about the forthcoming trip that they were running around like tiny little maniacs, squealing, shrieking and jumping up and down on the sofa while Kate dashed around trying to pack for them all. She looked at Pete and smiled. ‘It’ll be worth it when we get there.’
He was dreading the trip. When they’d booked it a few months back he’d been enthused by the prospect, keen on the idea of a make-or-break holiday to help sort his head out. But since then so much had changed. Now he was going away with a woman who he no longer loved but still didn’t take any joy in hurting, pretending everything was fine, while the woman he did love was at home, pissed off with him. Going to the fridge and helping himself to a drink, he resolved to simply keep his head down and get through the week without any drama.
It was easier than he’d thought it would be in the end. After all, he’d been lying to his family for months, what was another week? The girls had a blast, playing in the pool most of the day, napping during the early afternoon heat, and making new friends. He and Kate both focused on the children’s enjoyment, being friendly to each other and looking to outsiders like a perfectly happy, harmonious couple while on the inside the void still remained, which was just like it had been for as long as he could remember. A couple of times, when they were sitting outside the hotel bar with a cool drink and the children were off running around the gardens with their new pals, he wondered if she’d ever bring up the state of their relationship. Did she even want to fix it? Or was she simply happy in this permanent state of denial? Had she resigned herself to a life of survival rather than enjoyment? She never said a word and he certainly wasn’t going to mention it now.
They went to bed not long after the children did most nights. Pete told Kate that he was exhausted from all the sun and swimming and she didn’t question it, she was tired too. The days of hiding in the hotel bathroom sharing a bottle of wine while the children slept in the bedroom were long gone.
It was a pleasant enough family holiday – not the life-changing one he’d had in mind when they’d booked it, but not a complete disaster either. He came back feeling just as confused as ever. It confirmed his feeling that their marriage was over, they had simply fallen out of love and run out of things to say to each other. He didn’t think they could get that back. But he still battled with the enormity of what he was planning to do in just a couple of weeks and the effect that it would have on his family.
There was another option on the table, he thought, a more honest and civil break-up where he stuck around to deal with the fallout and handled it all properly, which might help him sleep better at night. But Claire, amazing, beautiful Claire, would never forgive him if he abandoned their plans now and he couldn’t risk losing her too. No, he’d gone too far to put the brakes on now. He had to plough on, whether he liked it or not. The thought had started keeping him up most nights and, when he did finally fall asleep, he’d wake up sweaty and panicking. There were times when he thought that he might be losing the plot. Other times he just wanted to run away from it all and hide somewhere no one would find him.
But now he felt even more sure that not telling Kate everything was the best course of action. No need to confess the whole story right now, he could simply tell her that he needed some time away. It was kind of true. Claire never had to know about it, yet it would give him a bit more time to work through the doubts in his mind. The more he thought about it, the more appealing the idea seemed to him. There would be no tears and recriminations, not right now anyway, no ceremonious goodbyes.
No, on the day he was due to leave, he’d simply pack a few clothes and toiletries, leave Kate a note and go. He’d withdrawn some money from their ISA already, which Kate never checked, and would just deposit it back in if he came home again. Deep down he knew he was putting off the inevitable, but he didn’t care right now. All he had to do was to act as normal as possible for two more weeks. It wasn’t too difficult – they’d survived Greece and the one good thing about having a wife who you never confided in anymore was that it was easy to hide even the biggest secret.
Claire seemed to have got over her annoyance too. When he saw her for the first time after Greece she’d barely even asked him about it, wanting only to focus on their own upcoming travel plans. She’d won after all, he thought, she’d got what she wanted. She wasn’t interested in knowing about the intricacies of their family holiday, only that he had come home to her and that he still wanted to move to France.
They continued making plans and slowly he started to feel excited again, as he always did when he was in her company, like young lovers planning to run away to Gretna Green together. They decided to get the Eurostar so that they could spend a few days together in Paris first. ‘Where else to start our amazing new adventure than in the most romantic city in the world?’ Claire had said.
Behind her, on the wall, he saw she had been crossing off the days until they left on her French art calendar. Fifteen, fourteen, thirteen, twelve, the countdown was on. And still he was trapped between the two women in his life, not being completely honest with either of them and not entirely sure if he was being honest with himself either.
22
Claire
They’d been together for a few months when she broached the idea of moving to France with
Pete. She’d always dreamed of leaving the rat-race of London behind and going to live somewhere remote and beautiful, setting up her own B&B business to make some money. She’d adored her dad’s place in France and often dreamed of what it would be like to live there, but when he died she was heartbroken and couldn’t bring herself to visit it again, even though it had been left to her. She hated the idea of it falling into disrepair, yet every time she steeled herself to go and started looking at flights, an image of her dad sitting in his favourite chair, smoking a pipe and doing a crossword came into her mind and she just couldn’t go through with it. The thought of walking into that empty, abandoned house and knowing that he wouldn’t be there was too much for her to handle.
But since she’d been with Pete, she’d started dreaming of them going there together. Somehow it felt more bearable with him by her side. She was in love with him, she knew that now. She’d tried to fight it, to tell herself that he was married and that it was just about sex, but it was a battle she was never going to win. She’d never really been in love before, she’d had plenty of boyfriends but they’d all come to nothing, usually because she got bored and decided to move on. But Pete was different. She didn’t know if it was because he was more mature, because she was older and ready to settle down or if they were just a good match, but she was desperate to be with this man and being his bit on the side was no longer enough for her.
The Missing Husband: a tense psychological suspense full of twists Page 17
