This is Me

by Shari Low

  This was it. She was about to find out if her play had worked, if that whore had called it off or if she’d contacted him, told him what had happened, set him off on a rage that she knew would come her way.

  Her breathing shut down altogether as he opened the bedroom door.

  Silence.

  Then, just as she was about to cry, to beg him to stay, to swear her love for him, he spoke.

  ‘Baby, are you OK?’ he asked, crossing the room and perching on the side of the bed. She felt the soft touch of his fingers as he stroked her hair back off her cheek.

  Tears of relief began to fall.

  ‘Honey, what is it? What’s wrong?’ He sounded so worried, so alarmed, that all she wanted to do was cling to him, sob in his arms, hang on to him and never let him go.

  That wasn’t the way to do it though. She knew she must brazen this out, underplay it, do nothing that would arouse his suspicions.

  ‘Just a migraine, baby. I’ve had it all day.’

  ‘Oh, you poor thing. I’ll go make you a tea. And don’t worry about dinner, I’ll call something in.’

  He lifted her damp hand to his mouth and kissed it, then gently placed it back down on the duvet. Denise wanted to lift it back up and punch the air in triumph. It had paid off. She could feel it. He was totally devoted to her. His other woman had kept her side of the bargain. It was over.

  That night, for the first time in months, Denise slept through the night, knowing that her husband was hers, and hers alone.

  Thirty-Six

  Claire – 2019

  ‘I think that makes it mission accomplished and time to move, people,’ Josie said, draining the last of her wine in one expert motion.

  Claire was still staring at her reflection, like it was a portrait she recognised but couldn’t quite place. ‘Where are we off to?’

  ‘We’re going to Gino’s. We’ve got a table booked for six o’clock.’

  ‘Oh my God, is it that time already?’ Claire gasped.

  The day had flown by. It had been funny, sad, comforting, painful, touched almost every page on the encyclopaedia of emotions. More than anything, though, it had completely soothed her soul. It had closed one chapter and opened another. The way she felt right now was so far from the tense, devastated, pissed off person she’d been that morning. She felt… happy. Excited. Alive. And yes, a little bit drunk, but that was OK too. Oh, and ravenous. She was suddenly famished. Nothing, absolutely nothing, sounded better than a night at Gino’s, the little Italian restaurant at the end of the street.

  ‘I am so in,’ she blurted. ‘This hair and face deserve a public outing. I can’t thank you lot enough, I really can’t. I don’t want to get all mushy because Josie and Jeanna will throw up and Suze will stab me with an eyeliner pencil, but I just want to say I love you all. I really do. Today has honestly been one of the best days of my life, and it was nothing to do with a guy, or my kids, or anything else – it was all down to how you’ve made me feel. Thank you so much.’

  The last word was muffled by Val throwing her arms around Claire, tears glistening in her eyes.

  ‘You deserve it, pet. We all love you and this next stage in your life is just going to be bloody brilliant for you. I can feel it in ma water.’

  ‘You sure that’s not a wee infection?’ Josie interjected. ‘That can happen at your age.’

  Val released Claire, then batted Josie with her handbag. ‘Shut it. Right, let’s go.’

  ‘I’m just going to leave all this kit here and I’ll send someone up for it tomorrow. I’m not climbing up those stairs again,’ Suze decided, touching up her lipstick in the mirror, before joining the line of them trooping to the door.

  ‘Hang on, hang on!’ Claire bellowed, as it struck her that she wanted a souvenir of this moment. She pulled her phone from her bag, positioned herself in front of the gang and took her very first selfie. For years she’d been the one taking the pics of the boys. Time for change.

  With a couple of clicks, she sent it to her sons with the message, ‘New me!’ She wasn’t sure if it was her or the wine that was typing, but it made her giggle anyway.

  Claire quickly switched everything off, set the alarm and locked the door behind her. They moved downstairs like a synchronised swimming team, out the door, turned left and…

  ‘Going somewhere, ladies?’

  A male voice stopped them in their tracks. A familiar one.

  Claire turned to see Doug getting out of a car parked a few feet along.

  ‘Doug!’ she bellowed, throwing her arms wide and hugging her brother. In the excitement of the moment, Jeanna’s sexual revelations of the day were completely forgotten. ‘What are you doing here?’

  He stood back and held her at arm’s length. ‘I reckoned you’d be up there working out ways to hack a satellite so you could spy on the boys. Thought I’d come and cheer you up, but…’ He took in all the other beaming faces. ‘Clearly you’ve already got that covered. By the way, you look brilliant.’

  ‘That was me,’ Suze interjected. ‘Nothing to do with her at all. She just sat there.’

  Doug laughed, then let Claire go so that he could greet all the others with the customary kiss on the cheek. No one commented on the fact that he lingered a little longer when it came to Jeanna.

  ‘Hi babe,’ she crooned, adding a hug.

  Josie cleared her throat and the moment passed.

  ‘We’re just heading to Gino’s for dinner. You’re very welcome to join us,’ Claire offered, really hoping that he would. This day was getting more perfect by the minute. Having Doug here was the icing on the cake.

  ‘Sure, I’d love to. Only thing is, I brought a mate, so is it OK if he tags along?’

  ‘Of course!’ Claire exclaimed. She’d met all of Doug’s friends over the years and they were all lovely. She’d be delighted to have any of them join the party. ‘Who is it?’ she asked, peering behind him, just as his buddy got out of the driver’s side door of the car.

  She wasn’t sure if the gasp came from her or one of the women behind her.

  Either way, it was an exclamation of both surprise and delight to see him.

  ‘Sam!’

  He walked towards her, that very familiar grin in place, and she automatically reached up to hug him. He reminded her so much of the boys. Over six foot tall, Max’s thick dark hair and brown eyes, Jordy’s broad shoulders and contagious smile.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ she asked, for the second time in five minutes.

  ‘That’s the ex?’ Josie whispered to Jeanna.

  ‘Yup.’

  ‘Holy crap, I’d have hung on to him with a padlock and chain.’

  Thankfully, Sam didn’t hear that bit, still focused on Claire’s question. ‘This whole empty nest stuff isn’t just for the mums,’ he joked, before explaining more. ‘I was missing Jordy, and when Doug and I were going out for a pint, the car decided to detour to see if you needed company. That car never gets it right,’ he laughed as he kissed Jeanna and then gave an introductory wave to Val, Josie and Suze. ‘Good to meet you. I’m Sam. Claire’s ex.’

  ‘Really? Claire never mentioned you,’ Josie teased, making him laugh.

  Today was getting better and better, Claire decided. She had absolutely no idea how the stars had all aligned to make this happen, but she was thrilled that they had.

  Their group now two members bigger, they all headed along the street.

  ‘Hang on.’ As they passed CAMDEN, Josie opened the door and shouted in, ‘Caro, we’re heading to Gino’s for dinner. You two coming?’

  Claire couldn’t hear the reply, but Josie appeared satisfied with the answer.

  ‘Great, they’re going to come along after they’ve locked up,’ she announced.

  ‘Smashing,’ Val chirped. ‘Jen and Chrissie are going to pop along after closing too,’ she said, referring to her adopted daughter and the assistant manager in Sun, Sea, Ski – the third shop in the row, next to Suze’s Pluckers and CAMDEN.
>
  Gino welcomed them with open arms, hastily added two more tables to the one he’d already reserved, then got the wine flowing without delay. It was a small bistro, maybe twenty tables in total, but it was the perfect example of an authentic Italian restaurant. The aromas were breath-taking, the decor a combination of deep wood panels and exposed brick walls, one of them almost entirely covered in a wine rack containing hundreds of bottles. The ceiling was draped in fairy lights and the tables were thick mahogany slabs, surrounded by beautifully carved wooden chairs, upholstered in red leather, on one side and, in the case of their table, a long red banquette seat on the other.

  Claire ended up with Sam on her left and Doug on her right.

  ‘We need to talk at some point,’ she whispered to Doug, making sure that Jeanna, on the other side of him, couldn’t hear her.

  ‘Oh bollocks,’ he whispered back, amused. ‘You’re using that tone that scares the crap out of me. Did I break your Barbie again?’

  ‘Nope, you shagged my pal,’ she shot back, breezily.

  Doug almost choked on his wine, drawing everyone’s attention – the exact opposite of what Claire had been aiming for.

  ‘His antics with Jeanna?’ Josie asked, eyebrow raised.

  Doug turned to the woman on his right, the one he’d known for over twenty-five years, albeit more intimately than Claire had realised.

  ‘You told everyone?’ he asked, shocked.

  Jeanna shrugged. ‘Does the fact that I’ve got a big gob, I’m woefully indiscreet and didn’t think through the consequences of my actions surprise you in any way?’

  ‘No,’ he admitted.

  ‘Then you should have seen it coming. Do you want to share a focaccia?’ she finished sweetly.

  He was laughing as he accepted the offer.

  The rest of the night passed in a riot of wine, laughter and conversations that had tears of mirth trailing down Claire’s cheeks. Never had she felt so loved, or so content. Max was fine. Jordy was fine. Everyone else she loved was in this room and they were having a ball. It didn’t get any better.

  She wasn’t sure when she realised that her and Sam were the only two remaining in their party, but it was just after Jeanna and Doug had insisted on paying the bill as they left together, and just before she decided she was going to have to climb over Sam to get out to the loo.

  ‘No worries, I’m just going myself,’ he said as he rose and stepped to the side to let her past, then followed behind her.

  In the toilets, Claire felt the heady rush of the wine and the sheer giddy joy of the atmosphere. As she washed her hands, she danced along to the sound of Dean Martin crooning through the speakers. She was still walking with a shuffle in her step as she headed back out the door, bumping straight into Sam as he emerged from the Gents’.

  ‘I’d dance with you, but you know how bad I am,’ he joked.

  ‘Yep, don’t ever do that. It’s not safe for innocent bystanders. They’d be scarred.’

  It had been the running joke throughout their relationship that she was a terrible dancer, but he was even worse. He took it all in good humour.

  ‘Exactly,’ he agreed, with a self-deprecating grin. ‘You know, I was worried about you today. I know how hard it was to leave Jordy, but I should have known better. You always manage to sort everything out. Look at tonight. It’s been brilliant.’

  ‘I take no credit for this,’ she replied honestly. ‘This was all on my friends. They did it all without me knowing and I’m so grateful, because I was a frigging mess this morning. It’s hard saying goodbye, isn’t it?’

  He was suddenly serious. ‘It really is. More than you know.’

  She’d been talking about Jordy, but as their gaze met, even through the haze of way too much wine, she knew that now they were talking about something else.

  This wasn’t wise. And she never did things that weren’t wise. Time to get this right back on track. Past is the past. Enough of the sentimentality.

  ‘I miss you,’ she blurted.

  Fuck! Definitely not wise. But even as she said it, she knew it was true. When he’d first left, she’d been lost in grief, and fury, and worry about the future. Only when she’d battled through, come to terms with a world without Fred, found a way to block out her parents’ betrayal and got Jeanna well again, did she realise how much she missed and wanted him, how stupid she’d been to let him go. In the years since, she’d been so closed off to a relationship because, much as she suppressed it, she’d never got over losing the only man she’d ever loved.

  A tug of regret suddenly kicked in. She’d always been grateful for their friendship, figuring it was enough that they were still in each other’s lives. Now she’d just blown that by being woefully inappropriate. Bugger!

  ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…’ she began but didn’t get any further.

  His mouth was on hers, and he was kissing her, that long, slow, utterly intoxicating kiss that she’d locked in the back of her mind in a box with hazard tape and barbed wire wrapped around it.

  ‘Shit!’ she blurted suddenly, pulling away, a dart of guilt having made it through the cloud of bliss. ‘Oh God, Sam, we can’t. Nicola…’

  ‘Moved out last week,’ he said, then resumed his soft, tender lip lock for a few more moments, before he pulled back this time. ‘But if you don’t want to… Or if you think it’s too soon…?’

  Her arms were up around his neck and she kissed him until every last drop of Suze’s lipstick was well and truly gone. Only when she finally came up for air did she reply to his question. ‘Hell no.’

  ‘No?’ he said sexily, kissing her again.

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘So what’s next?’

  This time she didn’t even reply. She just took the love of her life by the hand and led him out of the door.

  Thirty-Seven

  Denise – 2019

  The only light in the room came from the bedside lamp that she’d switched on before she became too drunk to find the plug. She was way past that now. Her legs were heavy, her head was woozy and her fingers were now struggling to work the remote control that was operating the music system, so Adele had sung ‘Make You Feel My Love’ so many times that Denise had lost count. The minute she had heard that song she’d known that it perfectly summed up her feelings for Ray. There was nothing she wouldn’t do for him. She just hadn’t realised the line about not making his mind up applied too.

  Lifting the phone from the bed beside her, Denise squinted at the screen. Nothing. Still no text back from that woman.

  The irony was that she was now two bottles of wine in, trying to numb the pain, but all that had happened was that it was making her stomach churn and her mind run riot. She’d thrown up again – this time without making it to the bathroom. She’d grabbed a bowl that was on her bedside table, but it had still splattered across the carpet too. She didn’t even care any more. Fuck it. Who’d see it anyway?

  And lying here next to a pool of the liquid contents of her stomach was so much less offensive than the scenarios thundering around in her head and her desperate grasping for thoughts that could make sense of all this.

  She had to accept the inevitable. The messages on the phone proved that Ray had been having a relationship with Yvonne McTay again, going back at least a couple of years, since he’d upgraded his iPhone and put a different SIM card in this one.

  So what had happened? Had they met again, after more than twenty-five years, and rekindled their affair? Had she tracked him down? Or had he gone looking for her?

  He wasn’t on Facebook, but his mobile phone number was on his website, so he wasn’t hard to find. One call would have been all it took. Was that it? She’d phoned him and he’d gone running to her?

  Or – and this thought made her pause, swallow, force herself not to throw up again – had the affair never stopped? Had Denise been living a lie for more than two decades, with a man who had never been faithful to her?

  But if that was the case, wh
y would he stay? Why wouldn’t he just leave and go to her, start a new life there?

  It didn’t make sense.

  Neither did the money situation.

  Where had it all gone? There had to be a simple explanation, but she’d be a fool not to be concerned that the best part of £200K had been drained from their accounts. Had he really done that?

  Her first instinct would have been to brush that suggestion off as nonsense, but then how could she explain the call with the lawyer? Conflict of interest, he’d said. Did that mean Ray had done something that was going to be detrimental to her? This whole fucking day had been a conflict of interest.

  Maybe her whole life had been too.

  They’d been so young when they’d met and she’d been completely in awe of him from the first moment he’d asked her to dance. That had never diminished, not by a heartbeat. Later, when she’d realised that he expected to come before her family, her friends, her own children, she’d been more than willing to put him on that pedestal because he took her up there with him.

  He’d loved her. She knew he had. There was no way he could have faked it for almost forty years.

  But had he loved someone else too?

  The room suddenly turned cold, causing her to shiver.

  In her head, she heard Claire’s voice, that angry, indignant teenager who was determined to make her face what was happening. She could still remember every word. ‘Let me do you a favour and be the one person who tells you the truth for a change. He isn’t out working to support us. He’s out shagging that woman whose house he’s working on. She lives round the corner from Jeanna and it’s the talk of the scheme. So next time you’re worried about my pals being the wrong kind of people, maybe you should think about the fact that the real scumbag here is your lying bastard of a husband.’