by Lilac Mills
‘He might have been, but when I saw him, he was going into a house down the road from my sister.’
He was what? ‘Do you know whose?’ Lottie asked, keeping her expression and her tone as neutral as possible.
‘No idea,’ Catrin said, cheerfully.
Lottie felt anything but cheerful. She felt like giving her husband a good shake. What was he doing going into a house in Tregaron?
She tried not to jump to conclusions. Whoever lived in the house might also own a smallholding, or a riding stable, or a pig farm, for all Lottie knew. Tregaron was extremely rural, with only a handful of houses and not much else. The house Henry had entered might well be on the outskirts of the small village and have a farm attached to it.
But her instincts wouldn’t let it lie, especially since he’d told her he’d found the coffee table in a lay-by near Borth.
Borth was nowhere near Tregaron. It wasn’t even in the same direction. Which made her wonder if he was trying to put her off the scent.
Other women whose husbands were cheating on them got gifts of flowers, or chocolates, or even jewellery. What did she get? A grubby, ring-marked coffee table that had seen better days.
She’d looked up the signs that your man was having an affair on the internet and Henry ticked nearly every box, apart from the one where men who were cheating tended to want to have more sex with their wives.
Lottie recalled him turning her down, but then she also recalled their passion earlier in the month. He’d not been as ardent and as loving as that for a long time, so the jury was still out on whether he ticked that particular box or not.
But however many boxes he did or didn’t tick, she was convinced her husband was up to no good, and she was determined to find out what it was. And when she did, when she knew for certain, it would be the end of their marriage.
It saddened her beyond belief that it had come to this, but she was furious, too. How dare Henry throw away everything they had and everything they’d worked so hard for because of a bit on the side?
Lottie didn’t feel she could take any more. For the last month or so, she’d been on tenterhooks because of Henry. And now this, just when she’d thought their marriage was back on track.
Absently, she picked up an odd curtain, feeling the thickness of the fabric between her fingers, and tried not to cry. She was exhausted, emotionally rather than physically, the not-knowing draining her until she felt empty and hollow. She couldn’t carry on like this; tonight she’d ask him outright. No doubt he’d lie to her (again) but maybe, just maybe, he’d tell her the truth. The timing might be crap with Christmas only a week away, but she had to know one way or the other.
She might have been able to forgive him – she’d been prepared to do precisely that yesterday in the woods – but only because she believed the affair was over.
He might not be having an affair she conceded (yeah, right – what other explanation could there possibly be?) but if he wasn’t, he was still lying about something and that something was tearing their marriage apart.
They’d never had secrets from each other, or not to her knowledge at least. Not until now.
Even if he didn’t have another woman, would she ever be able to trust him again?
Chapter 31
Henry
On the way home from his second day of pretending to go to work, Henry had noticed he’d had a message about the other item on Freecycle he’d expressed an interest in, from a lady called Crystal, who had said it was his if he wanted it.
He had pulled over and replied to it, thinking that he might as well fetch the baby piano for Lottie, even if his daft idea regarding what she could turn it into had been exactly that – a daft idea.
Thanks. I appreciate it. Where are you and when can I collect? Henry Hargreaves.
At least he hadn’t been late home this evening. In fact, he’d been a little earlier than usual, but for some reason Lottie hadn’t seemed too pleased to see him. In fact, when he’d leant towards her to give her a kiss, she’d turned her head at the last moment and the kiss landed on her cheek instead. He hoped it had been unintentional, but he suspected not. His wife was being rather off with him again, and he had no idea why. They’d had a great weekend, and yesterday evening had been pretty good too, after he’d arrived home from ‘work’, although she hadn’t been as enthusiastic about the coffee table as he’d hoped. He’d collected it from a house in Tregaron and he’d been rather pleased with it. Maybe she was tired after three full-on days with the kids, and he guessed she had probably been making up for lost time by working in the shed today while Morgan napped.
‘Why don’t I cook tonight, and you can get on with doing something else?’ he suggested.
‘Thanks. I’d like to spend an hour in the shed and do some more work on the chest of drawers.’
He smiled ruefully; surely that should be his line? His mates were only too happy to escape to their sheds, garages and gardens. In the Hargreaves family, it was the other way around. ‘How’s it going?’
‘Why don’t you see for yourself?’
He was right – she was trying to juggle the kids and her hobby, and he probably wasn’t helping by bringing her more things to upcycle.
When he stepped inside the shed, he scanned the assorted pieces of wood propped up in various stages of being painted, and tried to make out which bit went where. It looked a mess but he assumed Lottie knew what she was doing. She usually did.
‘I’ve left the bottom two drawers as is,’ she said, ‘and I’m going to use the top of it and cut it down to make a seat to go on top of the drawers. The back and the sides can stay as they are, or maybe I’ll cut them down a little bit; I haven’t decided yet. Then when I put it all back together, I’m going to use a couple of pieces of foam I’ve ordered, and ask Gracie to cover them, to make cushions for the seat and back.’
‘Wow, you don’t hang about, do you?’ Henry said. ‘I’ll keep a lookout for anything else I can find.’
He couldn’t quite decipher the look she gave him, but before he could try to interpret it, she said, ‘I might already have a buyer for this. The woman who bought the coat rack said she was looking for a seat to go underneath it. I’m hoping this will do nicely.’
‘I’m sure it will,’ Henry said. ‘But even if it doesn’t, I have every faith in you. You’ll sell it sooner or later. And my bet is on sooner.’
She ran a hand lovingly down one of the sides which hadn’t yet been painted but had been sanded down. ‘How was your day?’
Henry perched on the edge of the worktop, one Lottie had made out of pallets, and he thought of the pallet he’d seen in the recycling centre. It was a pity he couldn’t tell her what he’d really been up to. Shuffling uncomfortably, he eased his phone out of his back pocket and put it on the worktop. There, that was better.
‘The usual,’ he said. ‘Clients and stuff. How about you?’ He was quite happy to stay in the shed for a while chatting to his wife, but he couldn’t stay too long because he’d have to go inside soon to check on the children; although no doubt Sabrina would come and find them if Morgan was doing something he shouldn’t. And if Lottie asked too many questions about work, he could always use the kids as an excuse to cut the conversation short.
‘Morgan and I went to the park, and before that I called into UnderCover.’ She picked up a piece of wood and turned it over in her hands. ‘I had a chat to Catrin.’ She gave him a look from underneath her lashes as though she expected him to say something.
‘That’s nice. How is she?’ he asked politely. He didn’t know Catrin all that well but she seemed pleasant enough.
‘Did you know she has a sister?’
‘Yeah, I went to school with her.’
‘She lives in—’
‘Mum! Sabrina painted my face. Look!’ Robin charged in, his expression indignant underneath all the face paint.
‘Come on, young man. Let’s leave your mum to it.’ Henry put his hand on Robin’s shoulder
and guided him back to the kitchen, where he found Sabrina with her paints, her tongue protruding slightly as she worked. Morgan looked like a cross between a tiger and a Klingon.
Henry tried not to laugh as he kissed the top of the little boy’s head, avoiding the paint, and wondered what to cook for tea.
He found some chicken breasts in the fridge and a couple of jars of curry sauce in the cupboard. With rice, and a few poppadoms, it would make a quick and tasty meal. It would only take about half an hour, so he decided to wait a while, because he knew when he called Lottie in to eat she probably wouldn’t go back out again, and he wanted to give her some time to herself to play in her shed.
‘Dad, can I paint your face?’ Sabrina asked, and Henry sighed. Having make-up and such like smeared over his face wasn’t his idea of fun.
‘OK, but I don’t want to look silly,’ he said.
‘Why, who’s going to see you?’
‘Your mum. She’ll laugh at me.’
‘She won’t care,’ Sabrina said, and Henry was taken aback. His daughter was probably right – Lottie wouldn’t care that much, if at all. She seemed to be caring less and less lately, despite the weekend, and once again he knew it was all his own fault and he had no one else to blame, but that didn’t help.
Resigned, he sat at the kitchen table and gave his daughter a free hand. Did it matter how silly he looked? Sabrina was having fun, and that was all that mattered.
After she’d finished, he was forced to examine himself in the mirror, and was unsurprised to see that he had flowers dotted all over his face – she’d stuck sequins and sparkly bits on him, too. He looked an absolute plonker, but it had made his daughter happy and that’s what was important.
‘Right, you lot, I’d better start cooking tea. We’re having chicken curry – OK, guys?’
There was some murmured assent, which gave Henry hope that they’d eat at least some of it, so he put the TV on for them for half an hour so they could wind down before they ate. Sabrina had her nose in a book, but he left the other two quietly watching cartoons while he set about preparing their meal.
When it was nearly ready, he shouted to Sabrina, ‘Can you tell Mum that I’m just about to dish up? She’s in the shed.’
There was silence for a moment, then Sabrina stamped past him out to the garden. But when she came back in, her mother wasn’t behind her and Sabrina had a very peculiar expression on her face.
‘What’s up, sweetie? Is everything all right?’ he asked.
‘Mummy says she’s got something in her eye.’
‘Does she need any help?’ He didn’t want to stop what he was doing because it would either go cold, or if he left it simmering it might spoil.
Sabrina shrugged. ‘I think she’s been crying.’
‘You do? Why?’
‘Because she’s sniffing and her eyes are red. Her face has gone blotchy too, like mine does when I’ve been crying.’
‘No, I meant why has she been crying?’
Another shrug. ‘I don’t know.’
Henry was about to abandon his task when Lottie walked in. She didn’t look at him; instead she went into the downstairs loo, and he could hear her washing her hands. When she came back out and took a seat at the table, he thought Sabrina may have been right, and Lottie had indeed been crying.
‘Is everything all right?’ he asked.
‘Never better,’ Lottie said, but she still didn’t look at him, and he could have sworn she’d spoken through clenched teeth.
‘I’ve made chicken curry.’
‘Fine,’ she said, but when he put her food down in front of her, she didn’t eat a great deal. Instead, she pushed it around the plate.
‘Sabrina’s been painting my face,’ he said, trying to make conversation. Since when had talking to his wife become so difficult? ‘See?’
‘Lovely,’ Lottie said, but her attention remained on the meal she wasn’t eating.
Henry stared at her with concern. She looked upset about something and he wondered what it could be. She hadn’t been herself since he’d come home this evening; or should he say, she was acting the same way as she’d acted before the weekend. But he’d thought all that was behind them now that he wasn’t being such a grumpy arse. Maybe she’d had something more on her mind than his moodiness, and he couldn’t help feeling a little panicked over the swiftly growing distance between them.
Knowing now wasn’t the time to ask – not in front of the children – he shelved it for later, when they were alone.
‘Mum,’ Sabrina whined. ‘You haven’t even looked at it.’
‘What? Sorry, love.’ Lottie looked at him; or rather, she stared in his direction but her eyes didn’t meet his. What was going on with her?
He was none the wiser as he was clearing up after their meal, while Lottie was getting Morgan ready for bed. He’d given the countertops a final wipe over and had hung the dishcloth over the tap and she still hadn’t come back down.
‘I’ll be up in a sec to bath Robin,’ he called up the stairs. He’d just quickly check his emails and messages, then he’d wrestle Robin into the bath. That child had a major aversion to soap and water.
Now, where was his phone…?
Henry glanced around the kitchen, but he couldn’t see it. Puffing his cheeks out, he tried to think where he’d seen it last, and then he remembered – he’d taken it out of his pocket when he’d sat on the workbench in the shed. It was probably still there, unless Lottie had moved it. Knowing her, though, she’d been so wrapped up in what she’d been doing she most likely hadn’t noticed it.
He found it exactly where he hoped it would be, and he touched his finger to the screen to unlock it. Immediately his attention was drawn to a message.
Give me a call? Crystal
There was a phone number underneath. So he did.
‘Good afternoon, the Star Hotel?’ a female voice answered.
‘Hi, is that Crystal? This is Henry Hargreaves. You messaged me about the piano?’
‘Oh, hi.’
‘Where are you?’
‘Danyravon.’
The next village, so not too far. ‘When is a good time for you?’
‘Would you like to fetch it now? The sooner it’s gone the better.’
‘Sorry, I can’t tonight. How about tomorrow, during the day?’
They arranged a time and Henry reached for Lottie’s scribble pad, flipped over onto a fresh page and wrote down Crystal’s address.
‘I’ve got to warn you, it’s in poor condition and it’s not got any innards,’ she said.
‘That’s OK, Crystal, I’ll see you tomor—’ He broke off abruptly, almost jumping out of his skin on seeing Lottie standing in the doorway, her arms crossed. ‘—tomorrow,’ he finished. ‘Bye.’ He slipped his phone into his pocket and tore off the sheet of paper with Crystal’s address on and put that in his pocket, too.
Lottie shook her head slowly, her face inscrutable.
‘I can’t help it if customers ring me,’ he said, feeling defensive. She turned smartly on her heel and he called after her, ‘I said I’d bath Robin and I will.’ She needn’t have come looking for him.
‘Don’t bother,’ she threw over her shoulder, and Henry frowned.
Had the weekend been nothing more than a mere brief upward blip in the generally downward slope their marriage appeared to be on?
Damn and blast, he had to get to the bottom of what was up with Lottie, but right now didn’t seem like the best time. He’d give it a day or so and see if her mood improved. He knew he was being a coward, but he was scared of asking her just in case he didn’t like what he heard.
Because what if she told him she didn’t love him any more? What would he do then?
Chapter 32
Lottie
Even though Lottie had gathered herself together enough to go inside the house and try to eat the meal Henry had prepared, all she could see was the message on his phone. The words swum in front of her eyes, se
ared on her brain. So that was the woman’s name – Crystal. Lottie had expected something classier, but then again, how classy could a husband-stealing hussy be?
When Lottie had noticed purely by luck (or bad luck – she had yet to decide) the incoming message on Henry’s phone, she’d been in shock, not sure what she had read. She remembered snarling as the message faded and the screen went dark, and she’d desperately snatched up his mobile and swiped at it, tears welling up and threatening to spill over.
‘Four fat snakes!’ she’d hissed when she remembered it was password protected, and she didn’t have the faintest idea what his password was.
With jerky, stabbing movements, she had tried a few of the more obvious ones, such as his date of birth, a mishmash of the children’s names, their wedding anniversary. The last had found her barking out a bitter laugh. As if he’d use that!
She’d imagined chopping his finger off to use his fingerprint before she had been forced to concede defeat as she’d heard her daughter’s quick footsteps outside, and had swiftly dashed her tears away with the back of her hand so Sabrina wouldn’t see.
How she’d managed to sit through dinner without screaming at him or throwing something at him she honestly didn’t know, and she’d escaped upstairs as soon as she possibly could, leaving her lying, cheating, pathetic excuse for a husband to clear up on his own.
When he yelled that he’d be up in a minute to bath Robin, it took all her willpower not to break down and sob. Would this be the last time he’d bath their son? Was he planning on leaving her, on leaving his children? Oh, God, what would she do? How would she cope? She and Henry were a team, they’d had each other’s backs; they loved each other, damn it!
Or so Lottie had thought.
From where she was standing or rather, sitting – she’d slumped onto the floor at the side of Morgan’s bed, her hands clenched into fists as she willed herself not to cry – she might still love him, but he clearly didn’t love her any more.
