The Woman At The Door

by Daniel Hurst

  ‘Thank you for what you just did then,’ I say to Maria. ‘You didn’t have to try and cover for me.’

  ‘I know I didn’t, but we’re teammates and we’ve got to look out for each other, right?’

  I smile and nod my head. ‘Right.’

  Maria gives me that dazzling smile of hers, the one that gets the rest of the men in the office all worked up when she shows it to them, before she reaches out for the handle to open the door again.

  ‘Can I ask you something?’ I say just before she can.

  ‘Sure.’

  I take a deep breath before asking the question, mainly because I’m a little nervous about what the answer might be.

  ‘What would you do if you thought your partner was cheating on you?’

  Maria looks surprised by the question, and I’m just about to tell her to ignore me and go for the door when she answers.

  ‘I’d get rid of them, I suppose.’

  That’s fair enough, and I’d kind of been expecting that answer.

  ‘But what if they hadn’t actually done anything wrong, and it just seemed like they had.’

  ‘You mean what if they weren’t cheating, but I thought they were?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘I don’t know. That’s a tough one. I guess it comes down to trust then, doesn’t it?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, if all the evidence is pointing in one direction, the only way I could ignore it would be if I trusted my partner more than I trusted the evidence.’

  I think about Maria’s words, but I don’t have to think about them for long because they seem fairly straightforward. If Rebecca has told me to leave, it means that she trusts the evidence over me. That’s either because the evidence is too strong, which I’m not sure it is, or it’s because her level of trust in me was not as high as it could have been to start with. My wife is looking at me like I’m the bad guy, but maybe she is to blame too because here I am, as innocent as the day we first met, yet she doesn’t trust me.

  What does that say about her?

  ‘What’s this about?’ Maria asks me after I have failed to respond to her. ‘Has something happened at home?’

  ‘At my home? No, of course not,’ I lie, trying to laugh to show how ridiculous an idea that is. ‘It’s just a friend. I’m trying to help him out with his wife.’

  ‘Oh, I see. A friend. That’s a shame. I hope everything works out okay.’

  Maria gives me that smile again before opening the door and leaving the room, and while I’m not entirely sure that she believes my question was about a friend’s marriage rather than my own, I appreciate the fact that she didn’t probe any further.

  I’m about to follow her out of the room when I decide to make a quick check on my phone to see if Rebecca has made any attempt to get in contact with me. I’m not going to call her again right now or send any more messages this morning, but I’m hoping that she has got back to me to at least let me know that she is okay. But there are still no notifications from her, which is not a good sign. But there is a notification from somebody else on my phone screen.

  I have a missed call from the private investigator.

  Closing the boardroom door, I put my phone to my ear as I call Erica back, my heart beginning to race in my chest as I wonder what it could be that she has to tell me. Has she made a breakthrough in her investigation into the mystery woman at the door? Does she have a name for me, or even better, does she know where I can find this woman right now? Or has she exhausted all avenues and come up dry, contacting me to simply say that she is not going to be able to help me track down that woman and that there is nothing more she can do?

  I hold my breath as I hear Erica pick up the phone and thank me for returning her call before she gives it to me straight.

  She has been doing some digging after using the footage of that woman to start her investigation.

  And now she thinks she might have something.

  30

  THE WOMAN

  It’s probably clear by now that I’m a woman who likes to take charge of her life. I did it when I wanted Devon, the man of my dreams, and I did it when I realised that I had stumbled upon a potential business that could make me a fortune. But even for a control freak like me, there are some things I have to rely on other people to do. One of those things is intrinsically tied to the success of my business.

  I need my clients to let me know if what I am doing is working.

  That’s why I am making a call to one of my current clients right now. I need to speak with her and get an update so I can assess the situation and decide if things are working already or if I am going to need to do more in order to achieve the desired result.

  My client picks up on the second ring, which is very quick and either means that she is desperate to hear from me or simply already had the phone in her hand when I called.

  ‘Hey,’ she says. ‘Is everything okay?’

  ‘Hi. I was just about to ask you the same thing. Is there any news?’

  ‘Yeah, I think there is, actually. It seems like there’s a few problems at home. I’m not sure how serious it is yet, but things are definitely happening.’

  ‘That’s good,’ I say, because it is. ‘We’ll let things play out for now, and I’ll check in with you in a couple of days. But feel free to give me a call if you make any progress yourself in the meantime.’

  ‘Will do. Thanks, Charlotte.’

  I hang up and put my mobile back into my handbag before taking another sip from the coffee cup that is on the table in front of me as I sit outside this quaint little cafe in the English countryside. Charlotte is not my real name, but it is the name that I gave to this particular client when I started working with her. If things go wrong and she ends up revealing what the pair of us have been up to then at least she has the wrong name to go off for starters. But I have no reason to think that things are going to go wrong.

  From what my client has just told me, it sounds like everything is going to plan.

  My client has told me that there are hints of trouble at home between the couple we are trying to break apart, and that’s exactly what I was hoping to hear after doing all the work I have done so far. As successful as my business is, there is no guarantee that any of the things I do will work. Knocking on a door and telling a husband or wife that their partner is cheating on them doesn’t mean that they are going to believe me over their spouse, nor does putting someone else’s underwear in a bedroom guarantee that they are going to kick that spouse out and start filing for divorce.

  All I can do is try to make things happen.

  But it’s ultimately up to the couple themselves to decide the outcome of all of this.

  I’m glad my client has given me a promising update because it means that I might be able to keep my feet up and let things go the way I want them to from here without much more work required on my part. If so, I will be getting paid the second half of the sum of money that my client owes me in good time. They only pay me half upfront, and the rest is dependent on how well my methods work.

  But what if my initial methods hadn’t worked so far? What other tricks do I have up my sleeve to bring about the destruction of a perfectly good marriage? Let’s just say that there are very few lines that I am unwilling to cross and very few things that I am incapable of doing to achieve my desired outcome and get my full payment from my client.

  Very few.

  With the warm glow of the sun on my face as I sit outside this cafe and enjoy a quiet Monday afternoon, it’s easy to think that everything is alright in the world. But it’s not. Not really. I’m still grieving the loss of Devon, the man I loved and the man I had successfully taken for myself before he was tragically taken from me by a drunk driver. There isn’t a day that goes by when I don’t think about him and how much fun we would be having together if he was still around. I seriously doubt I would be in this line of work if he was here. Instead, I’d just have a more traditional job
because I wouldn’t care about silly things like money, power and control if I was in love. I’d be too busy laughing, kissing and making memories.

  I wish he was here with me right now to enjoy this beautiful day and a lovely cup of coffee. But he would only have ordered a drink from this cafe if they had dark roast coffee beans because they are the healthiest type, and he was a very healthy guy. I had just figured that it was because he had to be healthy in his line of work as a personal trainer. But Devon didn’t just look after himself because he had to portray a certain image to his clients. He did it because he was genuinely interested in health and fitness and doing what was best for the human body.

  I guess it’s the same for me. My clients probably think that I portray an image of being a cold and calculating woman because that’s the type of work that I am in. I am a professional homewrecker, after all. But that’s not why I behave this way. I am cold and calculating, not because it’s my job to be, but because it’s the woman I have to be now in order to survive. If I let my emotions get the better of me, I would break down in tears every day at the loss of Devon and the state of my life without him. That’s why I keep all emotion out of it. I have shut myself off from the world, and nothing can get in now.

  I have no regrets. I have no conscience. I have no rules.

  There is no limit to what I will do these days, simply because I have nothing to lose.

  I’ve already lost the only person I care about in the world.

  So why would I care if somebody else loses that person too?

  31

  REBECCA

  In normal circumstances, I enjoy being back home with Mum and Dad. It’s a chance to relax in familiar surroundings, with a fully-stocked fridge and all the other comforts that one associates with the place where they grew up. But these are not normal circumstances, and I’m not enjoying being here. Neither are my parents enjoying having me home. That’s because instead of doing what they usually do when I visit, which is keeping me well-fed and watered, they are trying to get me to stop crying and explain to them exactly what has gone wrong in my seemingly happy marriage.

  I’ve been doing my best to give them the full run-down of events, from the woman at the door to the discovery in my underwear drawer, but I’ve been too upset to make much sense, and I realise that my parents are still a little unclear as to how and why I came to learn that my husband had been unfaithful. I need to start making more sense, but I also need to let my emotions out before I do, rather than keeping them bottled up because if I can’t be myself here then where can I be?

  My mother has her arm around me and is telling me that everything is going to be okay, even though she can’t possibly know that, while my father has gone into the other room to find me a box of tissues. He had brought me one a moment ago, but one is not going to be enough, so he has scurried away for reinforcements. I wipe my red eyes with my hand as I wait for him to return while Mum continues to tell me that everything is okay, just like she did when I was a child when I would burst into tears after falling over in the playground. But this situation is far worse than any of those innocent times because this isn’t about a scratched knee or a sore arm. I’m not crying because of a bruised bone or a bruised ego. I’m crying because somebody has broken the most important commitment to me that they could ever break.

  The man who chose to forgo all other women in favour of me has broken that word and left me looking like a fool.

  As Dad returns with more tissues, I thank him and take a handful before holding them over my face and weeping some more. If I was to look up, I’m sure that I would see my parents exchanging a troubled glance. But I don’t look up. I just keep my face in the tissues because it’s easier for me that way.

  After a few more minutes of letting my emotions run free, as well as several more useless platitudes from Mum about how I’m going to be fine, I get a grip of myself and stop the pity party. A couple of deep breaths later and I am finally ready to stop being treated like a child and start talking like an adult.

  I tell Mum and Dad everything. The surprise visitor at the front door. The shocking thing that she said. Sam’s theory about it being some kind of prank. How I had taken his word over hers. How I had then discovered lipstick on his shirt collar. The drunken argument. Sam’s move into a hotel. The reconciliation. The feeling that the worst was over. Then the moment I saw that underwear in my drawer, which has led to Sam going back to that hotel again and me being here right now on this sofa blubbing away.

  The only thing that I leave out is the near-miss I had on site last Monday. They don’t need to know that their daughter almost died because she was worried about her husband’s potential lies.

  They are going to hate Sam enough as it is without me throwing that into the mix too.

  By the time I am done speaking, Mum is no longer telling me that everything is going to be okay. How could she if she had listened to what I had just said? There is nothing okay about all of that, and not even a mum with the best will in the world could pretend that there is.

  ‘He still won’t admit to anything?’ Dad asks me after he has taken a seat in his armchair opposite the sofa where Mum and I are sitting.

  ‘No,’ I say, shaking my head. ‘He still maintains he is innocent.’

  ‘I’ll see what he has to say about that when I go and speak to him.’

  ‘Dad, no! I don’t want you getting involved!’

  ‘But I am involved! You’re my daughter, and he is my son-in-law, and look what he has done to you.’

  ‘Dad, please!’

  ‘I’ve got a good mind to go to his office right now.’

  ‘Christopher, that’s not helping!’

  Mum’s stern voice, as well as the use of my father’s full Christian name, lets both him and I know that the matriarch of the family has spoken, and her word is final.

  Dad wisely decides to stop talking for a moment and let his wife come up with a plan instead.

  ‘I can’t believe Sam would do something like this,’ Mum says with her arm still around me as if she is afraid to let go. ‘I know he’s not perfect, but I never thought he would do something like this.’

  When Mum says Sam isn’t perfect, she is simply referring to more innocent indiscretions of his, like how he is absolutely useless at DIY or the fact that he isn’t the best timekeeper and has often turned up late for family lunches whenever he has come straight from work. But those things are forgivable. I didn’t need a husband who could put up a shelf or who turned up for a meal on time every time. I just needed a husband who I could trust to never hurt me. Ever. But apparently, that was too much to ask for.

  ‘I just want him to admit to it,’ I say, looking down at the crumpled tissues in my hand. ‘It’s the fact that he is still lying to me that is the worst. It’s like he has even less respect for me by still trying to get out of it.’

  ‘I know, love. But he probably never thought he would get caught. He’s in denial, I suppose.’

  It’s pretty clear from what Mum is saying that she believes me and has taken my side instantly, which of course she should do in her capacity as my parent, but a part of me feels a little disappointed. I think that’s because I was almost hoping that she would have seen something in my version of events to offer me a glimmer of hope that it might not be as straightforward as it seems. Some way that Sam might still be innocent in all of this, perhaps. But just as I feared, the facts don’t lie, and they are not pretty. Sam is guilty as sin. He didn’t think that he would be caught, but he has been, and now it’s clear that I have a very simple choice to make.

  Stay with a man who betrayed me.

  Or divorce him.

  My father has not been quick to jump to Sam’s defence either, instead preferring to talk about going to my husband’s workplace and speaking to the adulterer face to face, which is a terrible idea, and I’m glad that Mum was able to nip it in the bud straight away. The last thing I need is everybody at Sam’s workplace seeing him and my fat
her rolling around in the car park punching the living daylights out of each other. They always got on so well, finding plenty in common, from football to politics, but it only takes something like this to bring an end to a friendship. Dad will always be on my side, just like Mum will, and Sam will now be an outcast from our family.

  Unless I decide to forgive him and let him back home permanently.

  But how can I do that?

  I’ll just have to try and move on because while it will be harder in the short term, it will surely be easier in the long term. I won’t have to worry about where he is or who he might be with whenever he stays out late or works away. I won’t have to find myself worrying whenever I hear him get a message on his phone that could be from some woman arranging another meet-up. And I won’t have to find myself staring up at the bedroom ceiling in the middle of the night while he is fast asleep next to me, wondering if he is dreaming about somebody else other than me and secretly laughing at me for allowing him back into our house.

  But I can’t think about divorce and separation right now. I just need to think about something that will make me feel better in the moment, and my mother’s suggestion of a cup of tea does just that. It’s only a small thing, but it’s the small things that I came here for.

  The big things can wait for the time being.

  I’m in no rush to deal with them today.

  32

  SAM

  I’m in a rush today, and it’s all because I’m on my way to meet Erica. But I’m not the only person rushing around. I’m in Central London at lunchtime, which means there are plenty of people with places to go and people to see. I grit my teeth as a burly man pushes past me as I reach the top of the escalator and walk towards the tube station entrance. I’ve managed to get out of the office and whizz across the city in order to meet Erica so I could find out what exactly she has been able to get on the woman I tasked her with looking into. To say I was excited when I heard her tell me over the phone that she had news would be an understatement because if the PI can help prove my innocence then she can help save my marriage.