by Lilac Mills
* * *
That went well, Henry said to himself as he got in his car and turned towards home. With nothing else on the immediate horizon, he was pinning all his hopes on this. He didn’t like being so restricted, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.
As he drove, he replayed the interview in his head, hoping he’d made a good enough impression. Sally Chisholm would be his immediate boss, and he thought he could work with her. Even if he couldn’t, the way things were at the moment he didn’t have any choice. If she offered him the job, he’d grab it with both hands.
It took him a fair while to get home and it was nearly seven o’clock by the time he pulled onto the drive. Morgan would be in bed by now, Henry thought, but when he glanced up at the front of the house, he saw his youngest child standing on the windowsill of his bedroom, his legs and arms outstretched, and looking cute in his Thomas the Tank Engine pyjamas. He could see Morgan’s mouth moving, leaving a trail across the glass, and guessed the little boy was saying, ‘Daddy!’
The first thing Henry did when he stepped in through the door was to go straight upstairs and give Morgan a kiss and take him back to bed.
‘Story, story, story!’ Morgan chanted.
‘Shh, calm down and I’ll read you one. What did you do today?’
‘I saw reindeers, and Santa, and a tall man, and swords, and carols.’ He waved his arm about as though he was wielding a lightsaber and made whooshing noises.
Okaaay… that was random, and who was Carol? ‘What story would you like?’
‘I saw you, too, Daddy.’
‘Yes, you did, didn’t you? But you mustn’t stand on windowsills. It’s dangerous; you could fall off. Shall we have this one?’ Henry held up one of Morgan’s favourite bedtime stories and the little boy nodded. He snuggled down under the covers and Henry read to him, possibly going a little faster than he did normally. He was anxious to have a beer and something to eat.
When he finally went downstairs, Lottie was in the kitchen, emptying the bin.
‘Had a good day?’ she asked him.
‘Yeah, good, thanks. You?’
Lottie stopped what she was doing, looked up and narrowed her eyes. ‘Yes, it was very—’ she paused. ‘—interesting.’
‘Did you get any more of that door done?’
‘Not today.’
‘Oh, right, OK. What’s for tea?’
‘Chilli and rice. I’ve already eaten. Give me five minutes and I’ll warm yours up. What did you do today?’
Henry shrugged. ‘You know, the usual.’
Lottie washed her hands under the tap, wiped them dry on a towel, then switched on the ring underneath a depleted and rather sorry-looking pan of chilli. ‘No, I don’t know,’ she said, her back to him, her hips moving slightly as she stirred the pan.
‘Went to see a few clients, got some sales. That’s it, really.’
‘Go anywhere interesting?’
‘Like where?’ Henry was baffled; Lottie rarely took this much interest in his travels.
‘I just wondered if you’d been anywhere where you could have picked up some more stuff for me to upcycle,’ she said.
Ah… ‘Not today, but I can keep an eye out, if you like. You’d be surprised what you see on farms.’
‘You’d be surprised what you see in towns,’ he thought he heard Lottie mutter.
He paused for a moment, trying to work out what she meant, then he shrugged it off. ‘Next time I’m anywhere near the coast, I’ll see what I can find,’ he promised. ‘Oars would look really good above Robin’s bed. It would set the room off nicely. How are things going with Eleri?’
‘I’m seeing her tomorrow evening for her first lesson. I’m not going out until seven, so do you think you can be home by then?’
‘I most certainly will be,’ Henry assured her, fetching a plate from the cupboard. The delicious aroma of chilli filled the air and his mouth watered. He was starving, having not eaten much at lunchtime due to nerves.
‘Did you know that the Winter Fayre is on at Penygraig Castle this week?’ Lottie asked.
‘Is it?’ He hoped to goodness she wasn’t suggesting they go. It would cost a fortune.
Lottie dished his supper up and he sat at the kitchen table. ‘It’s not far from Builth Wells. Isn’t that part of your territory?’
He said, ‘It’s too far east for me. Someone else does that patch.’ Oh, God, she was hinting that she’d like to go. They would visit the castle – just not this year, eh? She nodded, but he got the feeling his wife wasn’t paying attention.
‘Right, I’ve got to fetch Sabrina and Robin from your mother’s,’ she said. ‘Unless you want to do it?’
‘No, thanks.’ He pulled a face. ‘I’ve only just got in.’ He’d wondered why it was so quiet. Lottie had had an easy afternoon, then, only having Morgan to look after.
She shot him a strange look then left.
It was a pity she was still a bit frosty with him but he was confident once she knew what he’d been going through she’d be all tea and sympathy. He also hoped she’d be pleased with him for having not worried her. There was no point in both of them stressing; he was perfectly capable of carrying this burden himself.
Hopefully, by this time next week, everything would be sorted. Maybe Monday was a bit too soon to start the new job, because they’d have to get all the paperwork in place, but he was quietly confident it wouldn’t be long.
Finally, things were beginning to look up.
Chapter 18
Lottie
She had laid more traps than someone who worked in pest control, and her damned husband had walked into every one of them. Lottie was so furious, she was shaking. Or was it shock at his blatant lies? Either way, she simply couldn’t remain in the house a second longer.
She’d dashed out and was halfway to her mother-in-law’s house before she realised she should have taken the car.
Never mind, it wouldn’t do her two eldest any harm to walk. They’d probably grizzle, especially since she’d expect them to get ready for bed as soon as they got home, but the twenty-minute walk might go some way towards wearing them out. And if it didn’t, Henry could shift his backside and put them to bed. He could do it all over again tomorrow, too.
‘Mummy!’ Sabrina appeared delighted to see her, Robin not so much, and when Lottie walked into Meryl’s living room, Lottie could see why. Robin was sitting on the floor surrounded by a Lego set. Sabrina looked bored out of her mind, not enjoying the slightly childish cartoons on the TV. Meryl had a tendency to think of them as babies, which Robin still was to a certain extent, but Sabrina was growing up fast, and watching things like Peppa Pig wasn’t to her liking.
‘Fancy a cup of tea?’ Meryl asked.
Lottie didn’t, but neither did she fancy going home yet. It might almost be the children’s bedtime, but what the hell? What did half an hour matter in the great scheme of things? Lottie had always been a stickler for routine when it came to the children, trying to make sure Sabrina was in bed by eight thirty on a school night, Robin at seven thirty, and Morgan at seven o’clock. Tonight, though, she didn’t give two hoots whether they were in bed on time or not. Because the sooner they were in bed, the longer she would have to be alone with Henry without the children as a buffer.
‘Go on then, just a quick one,’ she said, and followed Meryl into the kitchen.
Meryl flicked the switch on the kettle and got a couple of mugs down from the cupboard above.
‘Did the kids behave themselves?’ Lottie asked.
‘Of course they did. They always do – they’re a credit to you. How was the Winter Fayre?’
‘Really good.’ Apart from seeing your son with another woman, Lottie thought.
‘Did you enjoy yourself on Friday when you went out for a meal?’
Lottie shrugged. ‘It was OK.’
‘It’s not exactly what you call gourmet food, is it? The Busy Bumble is all right just to pop in and have a quick bite to eat, but not
for a proper night out. You should have gone somewhere a bit nicer.’
‘We were lucky we went anywhere at all,’ Lottie muttered.
‘Oh? Why is that?’
‘Ask Henry.’
‘What’s he done now?’ To be fair to Meryl, she wasn’t one of those mothers who thought the sun shone out of her son’s backside. She was well aware he had his faults, just as she was well aware that Lottie had hers.
Lottie decided to stick with the facts as she knew them on Friday, without trying to let what she’d discovered earlier today colour the conversation. ‘We had a bit of a squabble about spending money.’
Meryl gave her a sharp glance. ‘Is money a problem? Because if it is—’
‘It’s not,’ Lottie hastened to assure her. ‘It’s just that with Christmas and saving for the extension, Henry has turned into a right miser. It’s become a bit of an obsession for him.’
‘The Busy Bumble is hardly expensive,’ Meryl said. ‘And it’s not as though you go out that often,’ she added.
‘I know. Try telling Henry that, though.’
‘He seemed happy enough when I came over to babysit.’
‘He’d come around by then,’ Lottie said, omitting mentioning the reason he’d come around appeared to have had a great deal to do with a certain phone call he’d received.
As much as she hated to admit it, things were starting to stack up, and now she could add lying about his whereabouts and meeting strange women to the list. Lottie still couldn’t believe he’d told her a barefaced lie about where he’d been earlier that day. It made her feel like crying.
She picked up her mug and took a cautious sip, the scalding liquid burning her mouth. ‘Burnt my mouth,’ she said, somewhat indistinctly. She fanned her face with her hand and hoped Meryl would think the tea was to blame when she blinked furiously to clear her imminent tears. ‘Talking of Henry, he’s only just got home,’ she added, once the threatened waterworks had subsided.
‘He’s late,’ Meryl observed, taking a look at the clock on the wall.
‘That’s nothing new. He’s often late these days,’ Lottie said.
Meryl leant forwards, her fingers clasped around her mug. ‘You mustn’t let him work too hard. Make sure you have time together as a couple. I’m always happy to babysit, you know that.’
Lottie did know, but she also knew that both of Henry’s parents still worked and they had busy social lives to boot. Oh, how she wished her own mum lived nearer – Llandudno was a bit too far to pop in for a chat.
But even if her mum had been closer, Lottie wasn’t sure she’d want to share her suspicions with her just yet. Because that’s all they were at the moment – suspicions. When – if – she had something concrete, she may well need a shoulder to cry on.
Feeling teary again, Lottie gulped the rest of the tea, trying to ignore how hot the liquid was, and stood up. ‘I must get the kids home; they’ve got school in the morning.’
‘I’ll get their bags and coats,’ Meryl said, but as she got to her feet Lottie’s mother-in-law added, ‘A marriage takes work, you know. On both sides. You don’t want to let it go stale.’
Lottie froze as she was putting her mug in the sink. Quickly she covered her reaction, but she had a horrible feeling Meryl knew something. Did she, too, have a sneaking suspicion that Henry was up to no good? Or – and Lottie suddenly felt drenched in ice-cold fear – had Henry confided in his mother, and this was her way of warning Lottie and telling her to pull her socks up if she wanted to keep her husband?
Lottie bit down on any retort she was tempted to make. For one thing, she didn’t think she could enter into a civil discussion right then, and, for another, if Henry was playing away – such an incongruous phrase for something with such dire consequences – there was no way she wanted to carry on being married to him. Lottie had always said she was a ‘one strike and you’re out’ kind of person. If Henry could cheat on her once, he could do it again, and she wasn’t prepared to put up with that – not even for the sake of the kids.
Oh, my God, the children; what was this going to do to them? Her three gorgeous, wonderful children would be devastated and heartbroken. They were more important to her than life itself. They should be the most important things in Henry’s world too, but they obviously weren’t. And it was that realisation which was very nearly her undoing as she rounded up Sabrina and Robin and shepherded them home.
* * *
Lottie had been right: the kids had moaned and grizzled when they realised they’d have to walk, but the novelty of being out and about when it was past their bedtime had soon made them perk up, and they had played games all the way home.
‘Go upstairs,’ she instructed as soon as they stepped through the door and into the hall. ‘Wash your hands and face, and clean your teeth. Daddy will be up in a minute to help. Give me a shout when you want me to tuck you in.’
Getting the children ready for bed was normally Lottie’s job, but this evening Henry could bloody well do it. She desperately wanted five minutes to compose herself. She also wanted five minutes to check Henry’s wallet again and dig through his pockets, while he was occupied with the kids.
‘Henry, please see to the children,’ she said without preamble. ‘I’ve got the uniforms to sort out and the bags to pack for the morning.’ There were always things from school to sort out, so she didn’t wait for Henry’s reply. Instead, she gathered up the two school bags and began checking them for letters, smelly PE kit, and leftover bits of lunch that seemed to lurk in the depths of Robin’s bag, despite him having a rather nice lunchbox and the availability of bins in the school dining hall in which to dispose of any half-eaten sandwiches and balled-up foil.
Lottie wasted no time: as soon as she heard Henry’s tread on the stairs she reached for his wallet. But, once again, she found nothing of interest, and his jacket pockets yielded no evidence, either. She hadn’t been sure what she’d been expecting to find – receipts from hotels or fancy restaurants, maybe? Surely he wouldn’t be so stupid as to leave evidence like that lying around?
Next, she sniffed his jacket, but all she could smell was Henry’s aftershave and a vague aroma of farmyard. When she scrutinised it for smears of make-up, the only thing she could find was what looked like moss stains (she hoped it wasn’t anything more substantial) on the back of it and down the front, which wasn’t unusual when farm gates and fences were leant on.
When she’d finished, all the time listening to the getting-ready-for-bed noises upstairs, she had to concede that she’d found nothing incriminating whatsoever.
Deflated, Lottie carried on sorting out clean polo shirts for the children ready for the morning, unsure whether to feel relieved that she hadn’t found a condom in his pocket or upset that she still didn’t know for certain whether he was having an affair.
At the thought of Henry having a condom about his person, Lottie collapsed against the washing machine. She didn’t want to have an image in her mind of him being in bed with another woman, but now it was there, she couldn’t shift it. The woman she’d seen him with earlier that day was playing a starring role in her imagination, and it made her feel quite sick. That Lottie was now able to put a face to the unknown woman hit her hard, and she clapped her hands to her mouth to stem the deluge of sobs wanting to break free.
‘They’re ready for you. Are you OK?’
Lottie let out a shriek at the sound of Henry’s voice, and it took every ounce of willpower she possessed not to fall apart, knowing that if she did, everything would be out in the open – and she wasn’t ready for that yet. She needed to get her head around it and find positive proof before she confronted him. She also didn’t want the fireworks to go off – and there would most certainly be fireworks aplenty – when the children were in earshot.
‘Thought I saw a cockroach,’ she said, latching on to the first thing to pop into her head.
‘A cockroach?’ He sounded dubious, as well he might: the little blighters didn’t
like lights or humans, and would hardly be scuttling around their kitchen while either of those two things were in evidence. ‘Let me see.’
Henry covered the floor in two strides and suddenly he was standing so close she could smell his skin, that familiar comforting scent that was his and his alone.
It made her want to cry.
Hastily, she pushed past him and headed for the stairs, taking them two at a time in her hurry to get away from her philandering husband. Because, God help her, she still loved him just as passionately as she’d done on their wedding day, and she had no idea how she was going to survive without him.
Chapter 19
Henry
The drive to New Quay from the A487 was along tree-lined roads, and the view of the sea once the road opened out never failed to lift Henry’s mood. Until today, that was.
Even with the sweep of Cardigan Bay stretching out before him as the road dropped down into the picture-perfect harbour town, Henry’s mood was sour. He was soon to be officially unemployed. The only thing keeping him going was the hope that he’d receive the phone call he’d been waiting for. It hadn’t been twenty-four hours since he’d met Sally Chisholm and in reality he shouldn’t expect her to contact him yet, but this waiting was driving him crazy.
Another thing bothering him was his wife. Lottie had been behaving a little oddly lately. He guessed part of it might be something to do with him – he was aware he was a little preoccupied – but he had no idea what had been up with her yesterday evening. She’d been off with him from the minute he’d got in to the minute he’d gone to bed. And beyond, because he’d felt her creep out of bed and had heard Morgan’s bedroom door close.
She’d slept in their youngest son’s bed all night, but Henry was fairly certain Morgan hadn’t woken up. Which begged the question of why she’d felt the need to abandon the marital bed. She was adamant that she slept better in their own generous bed, and she was usually tired and a tad grumpy after spending the night with one of the kids.
