by Dunn, Matt
Sam’s email address is already entered in the log-in box, though for some reason, the remember my password box is unchecked. And while this immediately strikes me as suspicious, glancing up at the photo of Ollie, Sam’s recently run-over collie, on the mantelpiece, I realize I know her password, .
Like a cowboy practising his quick-draw skills, I try clicking on the close program button a couple of times, just so I’m sure I can do it if Sam arrives home. Then, and when I can’t put it off any longer, I move the cursor to the enter password box, type ‘o-l-l-i-e’ and hit return.
For some reason, I’ve shut my eyes, but when I open them again, instead of all of Sam’s secrets, there’s a message telling me my password’s wrong. More than a little frustrated, I try again, concentrating hard on the keyboard to make sure I don’t make any mistakes, but despite me actually mouthing the letters as I type them – a bit like Dan does when he reads – I get exactly the same result.
I stare at the screen in astonishment. This can only mean one thing: Sam’s changed her password. And if she’s changed her password, then that must mean there are things she doesn’t want me to see.
I stand up and start to pace anxiously round the room. This is worse than I thought, particularly since we’re not supposed to have any secrets. But as I glare back down at the laptop, I notice a small green light shining back at me from the bottom left-hand corner: the caps lock indicator. Of course! Passwords are case-sensitive – though perhaps not as sensitive as I am at the moment. Reaching over to hit the caps lock button, I type Sam’s password again, hit enter, and wait what seems like the longest few seconds of my life until I’m in.
As the front page loads, I almost don’t want to look at the screen. What am I going to do if I do see something incriminating – confront Sam as soon as she walks through the door? That would mean me admitting I’ve been reading her email. And even though her ‘sin’ would be much worse than mine, I can see how that would put me on the back foot.
My hand is shaking slightly as I click on inbox and read anxiously through her new messages, but as far as I can tell, there’s nothing out of the ordinary; a couple from her mum, some work ones, one from Madeleine, and the usual spam asking her if she needs some female Viagra.
Guiltily, I click on the mark as unread tab to cover my tracks, then scan quickly through the rest of her Inbox, breathing a sigh of relief when I don’t see anything incriminating, and I’m just about to switch off when I spot a folder in the list on the left-hand side named ‘wedding stuff’. For a moment, I just stare at it. Where’s the best place to hide messages from your lover? In a folder about things you’ve told your fiancé not to worry about, of course.
I’m just about to click on the folder when the doorbell rings, and instinctively I click on close, imagining it’s Sam and she’s forgotten her key, but when I open the door, my heart still hammering, I see a different person.
‘What do you want?’ I say, still a little panicked.
‘Nice to see you too,’ says Dan, peering at me anxiously. ‘Everything okay?’
For a moment, I think about not telling him, and then decide I could do with his advice.
‘Not really, no,’ I say, ushering him inside, then closing the door carefully behind him. ‘I think Sam’s having an affair.’
‘What?’ For a moment, Dan can’t take this in. ‘Sam? An affair?’
I nod. ‘Yup.’
‘Sam?’ repeats Dan. ‘An affair?’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘Your Sam?’
‘No, Dan. Sam the barman. From Cheers.’
Dan looks confused, and I’m reminded that teasing him isn’t always as rewarding as you might think, mainly because he thinks irony is a word to describe something made of iron.
‘You do mean your Sam, right?’ he says, eventually.
‘Yes, Dan.’
‘Oh. Well, are you sure? I mean, it doesn’t sound like Sam. The kind of thing she’d do, I mean.’
‘Yes, I’m sure.’ I walk over to the dining table and sit back down in front of the laptop. ‘Well, I think I am.’ I tap the screen in front of me. ‘And I was just about to find out before you disturbed me.’
‘By Googling it?’
‘Nope.’ I open Internet Explorer and click on the Hotmail bookmark again. ‘By reading her emails.’
Dan leaps across the room and slams the laptop shut, nearly trapping my fingers in the process. ‘Bad idea,’ he says, hauling me up out of my seat and dragging me towards the door. ‘Come on.’
‘Where are we going?’ I say, unable to find the energy to resist.
‘To sort this out, of course,’ he says, grabbing my keys from the coffee table, then pushing me out through the front door.
7.59 p.m.
We’re in the Admiral Jim, and not, thankfully, off to confront Sam – Dan’s idea of ‘sorting it out’ being – as usual – to talk about it over a beer. I’ve explained this afternoon’s sighting on the way here, and for once, he seems to be taking me seriously.
‘Well,’ he says, as I reach into my pocket to pay for the drinks he’s just ordered. ‘The way I see it, there are three things you can do.’
‘Which are?’ I say, when Dan does his usual trick of not continuing.
‘One,’ he says, counting them off on his fingers. ‘Confront Sam. Two – confront him.’
‘And the third one?’
‘What third one?’
‘You said there were three things I could do. You only mentioned two. What’s the third one?’
‘Confront Sam.’
‘You already said that,’ I say, picking up my drink and following him over to a corner table.
‘Hang on.’ Dan scratches his head. ‘You’re confusing me, now.’
This happens from time to time, Dan losing track of his own conversation, and usually, it makes me laugh, although I’m struggling to find anything funny at the moment. I sigh, then put my drink down carefully, before collapsing heavily onto a chair. ‘Supposing I don’t want to confront either of them, what else can I do?’
Dan pulls out the chair opposite and sits down. ‘The third thing.’
‘Which is?’
Dan shrugs. ‘Forget about it.’
‘No, come on. What’s the third one?’
‘No, the third thing is to forget about it. Her and him, I mean. So what if she’s been playing a little bit of tonsil tennis with someone else. Be the bigger person and let it pass.’
I stare at him incredulously. ‘I wish I could, Dan, but we’re getting married – and in less than two weeks’ time. Besides, I’m not sure that would actually be being the bigger person. In fact, it’d be being the smaller one. And I’m not prepared to do that.’
‘So, in that case, you need to find out what’s going on.’
‘Thanks, Einstein.’ I lean forward and stare at my untouched pint. ‘And how do I do that, exactly?’
‘Like you were going to. Hack into her email account.’
‘You mean the thing you just stopped me from doing?’
‘Er, yes. Or read her diary. Check her phone. Hire a private detective to follow her. That kind of thing.’ Dan clears his throat awkwardly. ‘I imagine.’
‘But . . .’ I slump back in my chair. ‘That would suggest I don’t trust her.’
‘Hello?’ Dan reaches over the table and raps twice on the top of my head with his knuckles. ‘You don’t, remember?’
‘No, I do. But maybe it’s, you know, him. Perhaps he’s a former boyfriend, or something, and he’s appeared back on the scene, and Sam’s just trying to let him down gently.’
‘By sneaking around with him behind your back?’ Dan laughs. ‘That’s hardly the actions of a loyal girlfriend.’
‘It’s exactly what I did with Jane last year. You know, to stop Sam from being hurt.’
‘And where did that get you?’ Dan grins. ‘Oh yes, that’s right, she nearly dumped you when she found out, didn’t she.’
‘All the m
ore reason for her to keep it from me,’ I say, weakly.
‘All the more reason for her not to, you mean.’ Dan gestures towards me with his beer bottle. ‘Listen, Ed, if you want my advice, just let it go. Whatever Sam’s doing – and it’s probably completely innocent – is something she’s obviously got to do. If she hasn’t told you about it, then there’s obviously a reason for that too. And she still wants to marry you, right? I mean, she hasn’t started having second thoughts, or said that she’s thinking of pulling out?’
‘No, but . . .’
‘And she’s still wearing the ring?’
‘Yes, but . . .’
‘But nothing. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about women – apart from the fact that they don’t like it if you sleep with their sisters – it’s that they work in mysterious ways. And trying to understand them? That’s like trying to understand how . . .’ His face crumples up in concentration. ‘Well, how something that’s very hard to understand works. You or I for example, we want to get from A to B, we just take the shortest, most direct route. But a woman?’ He rolls his eyes. ‘She’ll go all round the houses, maybe even stopping to buy a pair of shoes on the way, for no other reason apart from the fact that she’s a woman. And if you got her to explain why to you, she’d have what she’d think would be a perfectly logical reason, but to us, it just wouldn’t make any sense.’
‘A bit like you aren’t at the moment, then?’
Dan grins. ‘My point is, all you can do is let her get on with whatever she’s doing, safe in the knowledge that she’s going to turn up on the . . . When is it?’
‘Tell me why I asked you to be my best man again? The twenty-fifth.’
‘That’s what I thought. And from that day forwards, you’re going to be husband and wife, no questions asked . . . Result.’
As I let what he’s said sink in, I realize that this ‘no questions asked’ lark is the thing I can’t really get my head round. Surely the whole point of marriage is that you should have no secrets from each other, and that everything should be out in the open, so both of you know what you’re getting into: no surprises, and no skeletons in the closet? I mean, fair enough, if there’s something from Sam’s dim and distant past that she doesn’t want to tell me about, and it’s over and done with as far as she’s concerned, then that kind of thing is okay. But not this. Sneaking around with another man doing who-knows-what a couple of weeks before our wedding . . .
And yet, of course I can’t just come out and challenge her about it. Because if I’m wrong, and it’s all completely innocent, that would show her I didn’t trust her. What’s worse is, as I think about it, something else occurs to me too. The real issue I have is not that Sam might be cheating on me, but why she might be. And I’m worried that I know the answer to that.
‘Maybe we’re silly getting married.’
‘What’s this? Second thoughts?’ Dan raises one eyebrow. ‘Remember, better to listen to nagging doubts beforehand, than a nagging wife afterwards.’
‘No, Dan. Well, not really. It’s just . . .’
‘What?’
I take a mouthful of beer. ‘It’s stupid, really.’
‘So is marriage, if you ask me,’ says Dan.
‘I didn’t.’
‘Come on.’ Dan nods, encouragingly. ‘Out with it.’
I lean back and stare up at the ceiling. ‘It’ll sound ridiculous.’
‘So does most of what you say when it comes to women.’
‘Do you want to hear it or not?’
‘Course I do, Ed.’ Dan leans forward and rests his elbows on the table. ‘And today would be nice.’
‘Sorry. It’s, you know, Sam. I just worry that maybe she could do better.’
‘Do better?’ Dan stares at me for a moment or two, then starts to laugh.
‘What’s so funny?’
‘Of course she could! You’re playing so far out of your league that . . .’ Dan stops talking when he sees the look on my face. ‘Sorry, Ed. Just teasing you.’
‘Is that what you think too?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ Dan folds his arms. ‘Let me tell you something about how women work. The fit ones, they know they can pretty much have any man they want, right?’
‘So?’
‘So, dummy, that means they don’t waste their time waiting for you to make a commitment if they’re not sure.’
‘Jane did.’
Dan laughs. ‘I said the fit ones. And besides, she didn’t exactly hang about, did she?’
‘What’s your point?’
‘All I’m saying is, you and Sam have been together for, what, nearly two years now?’
‘Something like that,’ I mumble, not wanting to admit to Dan that I could probably tell him the precise number of days. If not hours.
‘And despite that wobble of yours last year, when you got the wrong end of the stick and assumed you were chucked, it’s all been pretty plain sailing.’
‘So?’
He sighs. ‘So, Eddie-boy, if Sam was going to leave you, she’d have done it by now. But in fact, she’s gone the other way entirely, you’ve moved in together, and she’s even asked you to marry her. She’s hardly going to do that if she thinks she could do better, is she?’
‘I suppose not.’
‘And following on from that, she’s even less likely to be having an affair, is she? So don’t you think you ought to just put these stupid ideas out of your head and have a little faith in her?’ He gets up and starts to walk towards the toilets. ‘And yourself, for that matter.’
I watch him go, then sit there on my own, staring into my beer, and realize that Dan’s right. Marriage is all about trust. If I can’t trust her in the crucial period leading up to our wedding, then how can I possibly trust her afterwards? And the last thing I want is to feel like, well, most of Dan’s girlfriends probably do, wondering what on earth he’s up to all the time. I’ve got to let her live her own life. Do things her way. And have a little confidence that our relationship is stronger than maybe I’m feeling it is at the moment. After all, she wants to marry me. And she’s seen me at my worst, my most incompetent, and my fattest, plus I’m not rich, or famous, so I’ve got to accept that she’s doing it because of who I am, and the fact that she loves me for – and even in spite of – that.
‘Besides,’ continues Dan, appearing back in his seat and making me jump, ‘why on earth are you getting so worked up about this? Even if she is having a little fling, it’s not such a big deal.’
‘Dan, it’s the biggest deal possible. Imagine if one of your girlfriends – and I use the term loosely – slept with someone else while she was sleeping with you. How would you feel?’
‘What – like in a threesome? Well, as long as it was another girl, I wouldn’t mind.’
‘No, Dan. Another man. And not a threesome.’
Dan laughs. ‘That’s hardly likely, is it?’
‘Oh, sorry. I forgot about the size of your ego. I mean, who’d sleep with anyone else when they could sleep with the great Dan Davis.’
Dan pretends to scratch his nose, whereas in reality he’s sticking two fingers up at me. ‘It’s not that at all. The reason they wouldn’t be sleeping with anyone else is that after a night with me they can hardly walk, let alone get up the energy to . . .’
‘Dan, please. That’s not the point.’
‘Yes it is,’ he says. ‘In fact, maybe it’s exactly the point. Tell me something. Is everything all right between you and Sam in that department?’
He holds his beer bottle towards me as if it’s a microphone, and I wave it away angrily. ‘None of your business!’
‘It’s just that, well, women are people too,’ he says, as if confiding a secret. ‘They have needs, desires . . .’
‘And Sam’s are being met – and satisfied – perfectly well, thank you.’
‘You’re sure, are you?’
‘Perfectly.’
For a moment, I worry that he’s going to la
unch into a Meg Ryan in the diner from When Harry Met Sally impersonation. And that’s one thing I can do without.
‘It’s just that, well . . .’
‘What?’
‘Well, it’s one of the reasons, isn’t it? Why women have affairs. So if your sex life . . .’
‘Just drop it will you.’
‘Okay, okay. As long as you’re positive.’
‘I am.’
Dan leans back in his chair. ‘Well, in that case, you’ve got nothing to worry about, have you?’
‘No. I suppose not.’ I sip my beer for a few seconds. ‘It’s just . . .’
‘For Christ’s sake, Edward. Let it go.’
I stare at him, wondering how I can get across how I’m feeling, and then it occurs to me. ‘Okay then. Imagine if Polly had done it to you. How would you feel then?’
Dan gazes back at me for a few seconds, then down at the table, unable to meet my eyes any longer. ‘Yes, well, she didn’t, did she?’
‘You’re sure, are you?’
Dan opens his mouth as if to answer, then closes it again. ‘Anyway,’ he says, eventually, ‘that’s in the past now.’
‘Well, how does even the fact that she’s going out with someone else make you feel? And sleeping with them? She’s a woman, after all. She’s got desires. Needs . . .’
Dan looks as though he wants to tell me where to go, but to his credit, gives it some thought. ‘Okay, then. I’d imagine if it had happened, then I’d feel pretty bad about it. Like I’d been betrayed. But I suppose, until it’s actually happened to you, it’s hard to tell.’
I look at him for a moment, and then decide to spill. ‘Well, it happened to me. Which is why I can tell.’
Dan nearly falls off his chair in surprise. ‘What? Sam? When?’
‘Of course not,’ I say, then realize the irony of that statement. ‘With Jane. Just before our last Christmas together.’
‘Jane had an affair? You’re kidding?’ says Dan, before realizing that my expression means I’m not. He leans over and rests a hand on my shoulder. ‘Poor guy.’
‘Thanks. I . . .’
‘Not you. The other bloke.’ He grins. ‘When? What happened? And more importantly, why didn’t you tell me?’
