by Jess Ryder
When Nick came downstairs an hour later, Emily and I were in the middle of breakfast. ‘Morning, my gorgeous girls,’ he said, kissing us both on the cheek. ‘Mm, porridge, yummy, yummy for my tummy.’
‘Tummy,’ echoed Emily, rubbing porridge into her pyjama top.
Nick started up the coffee machine and made himself some toast. ‘Everything okay?’ he asked after a few minutes of silence. ‘You seem a bit … well, remote.’
‘What? No, I’m fine, just tired.’ I turned away, pursing my lips. I’d instructed myself to act normal, but I was obviously doing a really bad job of it. ‘How was Paris?’
‘Oh, the usual. Fighting over the money. They took me for a fantastic lunch, though, so I can’t complain too much. The steak was out of this world and the tarte au chocolat, oh my God, it was to die for. We must go there one day, you’d love it.’ His voice was steady; it sounded like he was telling the truth. But I knew from experience that my husband was an expert liar – he’d lied to Jen constantly during our affair. I needed to remember that.
* * *
For the next couple of weeks, Nick mainly worked from home. He ensconced himself in his office on the top floor of the house and didn’t come out for hours at a time. Sometimes I heard him talking on the telephone, the ceiling above Emily’s room creaking as he paced up and down. Before, I’d longed for him to spend more time at home, but now his daily presence worried me. I felt like I was being watched – as if he knew I was planning to escape.
Sam wasn’t around, and the Range Rover remained stubbornly on the driveway. Where was he? Had he given in his notice like he said he was going to? I didn’t like to ask in case it aroused suspicion. I felt really bad that he might have walked out on his job out of loyalty to me. What if Nick knew that Sam had told me what he’d seen? It felt like we were playing mind games with each other, although on the surface everything was perfectly fine between us.
I’d been really careful not to betray the hurt I was feeling inside, or the fact that I thought of nothing but Nick and Jen every second of every minute of every horrible day. Sometimes the images were so strong I felt physically sick. I imagined going round to her apartment and confronting them in bed together – sometimes the fantasies turned violent. Every time he left the house, I was convinced he was going to see her. When he came back from the gym, I took his sports top out of the washing basket to check it smelt of sweat. I went through his pockets, looking for suspicious receipts – meals for two, orders from florists, romantic gifts – and found nothing. But that didn’t mean nothing was going on.
His phone had the latest fingerprint security and never left his side. Sometimes, in the middle of the night while I was tossing and turning and he was deeply asleep, I had this terrible urge to use his finger to swipe into his messages. I envisaged finding hot, raunchy texts, the kind he used to send to me, and footage of him and Jen having sex. But I didn’t dare risk it in case he woke up.
Nick was generally in a good mood and seemed to be on a health kick – getting up early to go jogging and making himself lots of revolting-looking smoothies. Naturally, I saw all this as evidence that he was buffing himself up for Jen.
‘This working-at-home thing is great,’ he announced one lunchtime, helping himself to a huge portion of salad. ‘Much better than sitting in traffic every morning. And it’s fantastic to be able to spend more time with my gorgeous little girl.’ He leaned across and tweaked Emily on the nose, sending her into floods of giggles. ‘And to see more of you,’ he added as an afterthought.
Keeping up the act was exhausting, but I still looked after Emily, had my nails done, ordered the shopping, cooked proper meals every evening and chatted to Nick about my day over dinner, even though I could hardly bear to look him in the face and every mouthful stuck in my throat. The one thing I couldn’t bring myself to do was make love to him – I knew I’d never be able to control my emotions and would break down. He tried a few times, but I faked sleep or the traditional headache and he gave up straight away. I concluded that he’d only done it out of guilt, or to allay my suspicions. The idea that he might still love me felt absurd.
During those mad, dark days, I blamed myself for my suffering. My friends had been right: I’d betrayed the sisterhood, colluded with a married man to deceive his wife. Jen and I had swapped places. What a perfect, exquisite revenge. Only what she was doing to me was worse than what I’d done to her, because there was a child involved.
I kept thinking about my own upbringing, always just me and Mum. ‘Two’s company’ had been her motto – we never spoke about the missing third person who would have made it a crowd. How would it be for Emily, I thought, growing up without her father? She wasn’t even two years old – there was no chance that she would remember living with him full time. I had no memories at all of my dad and I’d survived, hadn’t I? I had friends who had spent their childhoods swapping from one home to another, having to adapt to different households with clashing rules and family cultures. I didn’t want that for Emily, and I knew Nick wouldn’t want it either. If there was one thing I was sure of, no matter how much we battled with each other, we would always put Emily’s interests first.
As the days went by, I felt more and more desperate to run away, but Mum’s advice pulled me back from the brink. My position was very weak – I had virtually no savings and Mum couldn’t support us. Before I made any move, I had to build up a secret supply of cash.
But it wasn’t going to be easy or quick. Nick kept his cash card in a bowl in the kitchen, so that I could use it whenever I needed, but the hole in the wall would only allow me to withdraw three hundred a day, and if I took too much out he would notice. There was only one other option: to sell my designer stuff.
One evening, while Nick was supposedly at the gym, I went to the wardrobe and looked through my clothes and accessories. Some of my handbags had cost over a thousand pounds – I’d thought they were a stupid waste of money at the time, but Nick had insisted. I had several pairs of extremely expensive designer shoes whose heels were so high I could hardly walk in them, and a couple of cocktail dresses I didn’t even like. I pulled out a red Max Mara coat that Nick had bought me last Christmas as a ‘stocking filler’. It was too big, but I’d never got around to exchanging it. The laziness and extravagance made me feel sick, but at least I had some assets here – even second-hand, they had to be worth something.
I took my jewellery box off the dressing table and emptied it over the bed. A mass of necklaces, rings and earrings glinted like treasure under the lights. I assembled the earrings into pairs and untangled the chains. I tried on the rings and studied my sparkling fingers. How much was all this worth? A few thousand? A few hundred? I had no idea how best to sell them. Maybe I should take them to a pawn shop. I let out a grim laugh. My grandma had once told me a story about her mother pawning her wedding ring to feed her kids. It had sounded tragic, almost Dickensian. Yet here I was, in the twenty-first century, contemplating the same thing. I was entirely dependent on my husband – without his money, I was powerless.
Downstairs, the front door opened and shut again. Nick was back. I hurriedly chucked all the jewellery into the box and put it back in its place.
‘Good workout?’ I asked as he came in.
‘Great, thanks.’ He kissed me on the head. ‘I’ve got a meeting near Heathrow first thing tomorrow morning, so I won’t be able to take Emily to nursery, I’m afraid.’ This was another of his new habits – playing the devoted dad, one hand pushing the buggy, the other wrapped around a skinny latte.
I put on my best casual tone. ‘Will Sam be picking you up?’
‘Yes, of course,’ he replied, his mouth foaming with toothpaste. ‘Why?’
‘Just that I haven’t seen him for a while. He’s still working for you, then?’
‘Yes.’ He gave me a curious look. ‘Why wouldn’t he be?’
‘Oh, nothing, I just … No reason,’ I faltered.
Nick spat into the basin. �
�The meeting’s set to last most of the day, so if you need him to help out, just shout.’
‘Thanks.’ I turned away, not wanting him to see the relief spreading across my face. So Sam hadn’t left after all. I would text him tomorrow and ask him to come back once he’d dropped Nick off.
* * *
‘I’ve been so worried,’ Sam said as soon as I opened the front door. ‘I’ve been thinking about you non-stop, just feel so bad about … you know …’
‘You mustn’t. I’m fine, honestly.’ I stepped back to let him in. Thanks for coming over.’
It was a beautiful day and sunlight was streaming through the skylights of the massive extension across the back of the house. Sam had been inside several times before, but seemed newly taken aback by the gleaming granite surfaces and shiny white cupboards, the enormous cooker and the fancy chrome taps.
‘I thought you’d left or been sacked,’ I said. ‘I had this nightmare that you’d told Nick—’
‘No! I’d never do a thing like that.’ He paused, running his fingers along the worktop. ‘I’ve not given my notice in, but I am looking for something new.’
‘Please don’t leave, not yet.’ I moved towards him. ‘At least not until I …’ I trailed off. Could I trust him?
‘What is it, Natasha? If you need my help, just say. I won’t snitch on you, I promise.’ His face looked so open, his gaze so honest. I felt his warm smile washing over me and it made me want to cry. I’d felt so isolated and miserable these past two weeks, but now Sam was back, and he was my friend. The only one I seemed to have left.
‘I’ve some stuff I need to move to my mum’s,’ I said. ‘I could hire a man with a van, but I’m trying to save money and—’
Sam cut in. ‘You’re leaving him, then?’
Leaving him. It sounded so sad, so final.
‘Well, I’m not sure how it’s going to pan out, but I need some time to think about what’s best to do. For Emily’s sake, really.’
‘Don’t go to your mum’s. Come and live with me,’ he blurted out. ‘We’ll find a place together. We won’t have much money. I’ll get a new job, or you can go out to work and I’ll look after Emily, if you’d rather.’
I stared at him. What did he mean? ‘Gosh, thanks, Sam, that’s incredibly kind of you, but … I couldn’t possibly put you to such—’
‘I want to be with you.’
‘Oh, well, er, well,’ I stuttered.
‘I … I have feelings for you, Natasha.’
My cheeks flamed pink. ‘Oh … right. I, er …’
His words tumbled out in a rush. ‘You have them too, I know you do. We were attracted to each other from the start. I felt bad about it at first, embarrassed. I thought maybe I should ditch the job and forget I’d ever met you, but then we started the driving lessons and I knew it was for real. Now Nick and Jen are at it like rabbits, well … what does it matter? We don’t have to feel guilty any more.’
‘Sam … I don’t know what to say …’
‘He doesn’t deserve to have you, or Emily. We can be happy together, Natasha, I know we can. We don’t need money, or fancy cars, or designer clothes. We just need each other.’
He stepped towards me and put his arms around me. I felt myself sinking into his chest, and tears started to drip down my cheeks. I was totally confused; I no longer had a clue what or who I wanted, or what the hell I was doing with my life.
‘There, there,’ he whispered softly. He lifted my chin and tipped my face up towards his, then bent down and kissed me on the lips. A wave of emotion swept through me and I found myself hungrily kissing him back. We stayed there for what felt like minutes, unable to break away. ‘I’ll look after you, Natasha,’ he said. ‘You’ll be safe with me.’
14
Then
Natasha
* * *
I let Sam lead me up the stairs. I was trembling all over – wanting him and yet not wanting him, exhilarated by our kisses yet terrified of what was going to happen next. We reached my bedroom; the door was open, and I could see my super-king-size bed waiting there. But it wasn’t my bed, it was ours, mine and Nick’s. We’d made love on those sheets countless times. Did I really want this, or was it the thought of revenge that was turning me on? If Nick could be unfaithful, so could I …
Sam started to undo my shirt. I stared down at his fingers working away at the buttons, and panic overtook me.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘I can’t do this. Not now, not here. It feels wrong.’
His hands dropped immediately to his sides. ‘Sorry … I thought you wanted …’
‘I do. But I can’t. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have …’ I backed away from him. ‘I do have feelings for you, Sam, but I’m not in a good place right now. I’m feeling so hurt over Nick … I’m struggling, you know?’
‘Of course you are.’ He looked so embarrassed, it made my heart wrench. ‘I’m sorry, so sorry … Natasha, please … I didn’t mean to take advantage.’
‘I know that. Things are just a bit messed up right now. I can’t think straight.’
‘Yeah, right, yeah,’ he mumbled. ‘I’m just making it worse.’
‘No, it’s not that …’
‘Better to go to your mum’s, I understand.’
I sighed. ‘Yes. I think so.’
‘Yeah, me too.’ He backed away towards the door. ‘If you need help with moving your stuff, just let me know, okay?’
‘Thanks, Sam.’ I screwed my face into a tearful smile. ‘I really appreciate that.’
He virtually ran out of the house and drove off. I didn’t hear from him for the rest of the day, and when he dropped Nick home later, I made sure we didn’t meet. I felt terrible, replaying the awkward encounter in the bedroom again and again, my stomach twisting with agony each time. I could still taste Sam’s kisses on my lips, still feel the tip of his tongue exploring my mouth, the thrill of his fingers touching my skin as he undid my buttons. Part of me longed for him to return and finish the job properly; another part never wanted to see him again.
* * *
Nick started going to the office again: apparently there was another crisis looming and they needed him around. Sam turned up as usual each morning to take him there, but I kept well out of the way. I knew that, despite my rejecting him, he would still help me. Maybe it was selfish of me to use him like that, but I felt I had no choice.
I tried to put the embarrassing incident out of my head and continued making preparations for our escape. I managed to siphon off a few hundred pounds using Nick’s cash card, and made a secret list of what I was going to take with me – clothes, personal effects, documents, baby equipment, and importantly, the stuff I was going to sell. It was so hard trying to pretend nothing was wrong. Jealous thoughts and images constantly revolved in my head, day and night. I couldn’t sleep, and I was losing weight. I couldn’t go on like this, it was killing me. I would have to leave soon, whether I had enough money or not.
My chance finally came. It was a Thursday evening and Nick came home from work in a bit of a fluster.
‘Everything’s blown up in Toronto,’ he said. ‘Our co-production partner’s gone into liquidation. I’ve got to fly out tomorrow and try to save the show, otherwise we’re all going to be in breach of contract.’
My stomach turned over, but I carried on stirring the lamb casserole. ‘How long will you be gone?’
‘Not sure. At least a week, maybe two. Who knows? I’m sorry, darling, it’s a bugger.’
I shrugged. ‘I understand. If you gotta go, you gotta go.’
We made love that night, for the first time since I’d found out about the affair. I’d been avoiding him, but for some reason I wanted him as much as he seemed to want me. Maybe because I sensed it would be the last time. Our lovemaking was heartbreakingly gentle – it felt like a farewell, or even an apology. At one point I thought he was going to confess, but then the moment went away. I could have said something to prompt him, I suppose. Maybe
I should have said something. Maybe, just maybe, we could have pulled back from the brink and saved ourselves. But we didn’t.
‘My flight’s not till one p.m., so Sam and I can drop Emily off at nursery on the way,’ Nick said the next morning, putting a cup of tea on my bedside cabinet. It was very early and I was feeling drowsy. Nick had been up for ages, packing a suitcase. ‘I’ll get her up. You might as well have a lie-in.’ He zipped up the case and trundled it out of the room.
I took a sip of tea, then lay back and closed my eyes. I’d slept badly and the idea of having more time in bed was very appealing. As this would be the last time Nick saw Emily for a while, I wasn’t going to begrudge him spending time with her. I listened to the sounds of him cajoling her to have her nappy changed, carrying her downstairs and making her porridge. Tears gathered behind my eyelids as I remembered how happy we’d been when Emily was born. How willingly Nick had got up several times a night to see to her, even when he’d had important meetings to attend the next day. He’d never stinted from looking after her whenever he could. My actions were going to devastate him, but that was his fault, not mine, I reminded myself.
About twenty minutes later, he came back into the room, kissed me on the forehead and whispered goodbye. He thought I’d gone back to sleep, but I hadn’t. I was daydreaming, composing the note I’d leave for him on the pillow, picturing his reaction as he read it and realised that we’d gone.
Nick went downstairs, and after another couple of minutes, the front door slammed. I imagined Sam picking Emily up and strapping her into her car seat. Then the Range Rover pulled out of the driveway and there was silence. As soon as I was sure they’d gone, I got up.
Tempting as it was to move out immediately, I’d decided to wait until just before Nick came back. I had to make everything seem normal, so as not to arouse his suspicions. He liked to FaceTime us every day and he would notice if we weren’t at home. Also, Mum was still unhappy about our moving in so I didn’t want to push it.
