Behind Her Eyes(53)

‘Oh, I doubt it.’ I laugh it off, but my eyes are fierce on Anthony and, realising that he’s making me uncomfortable, he has the brains to turn and go into a small corner shop. ‘He’s probably buying cigarettes.’ His adoration of me has been useful, but following me is simply not acceptable.

‘Maybe,’ she says, unconvinced. We both watch the doorway until he comes out, and I hope Louise doesn’t see the glance back of longing he gives me as he walks away, but she’s squinting in the sun and so I’m probably safe. Not that it matters. By tomorrow the last thing she’ll be worrying about is Anthony.

Once our lunch is over and I’ve hurried her back to her fictional broken boiler, I go to the gym. I’m there just before David makes his next call, but I’m not working out as I claim to be; I’m putting the next wheels of my plan in motion. David says he’s coming straight home after work because we have to talk, and then I speak to the receptionist about what I need and claim to be too busy to wait, but tell them to call us at home after six to confirm my request. I don’t doubt they will. This is a very exclusive health club, we pay for the full package, and more than that, I’m always polite and sweet. Polite and sweet is what I do when I’m not at home, and it always pays to be nice to service staff. Some of the other members here could learn that.

I’m breathless with excitement and my nerves are jangling with what’s to come. By the time I’m home and preparing dinner, my hands are trembling and I can barely focus. My face is hot, as if I’ve got the start of a fever. I try to take deep breaths, but they’re shallow and shaky. I keep focused on that second door and remind myself that I will probably never get a chance like this again in my entire life.

My sweaty fingers slide on the onion I’m attempting to dice and I nearly cut myself. I don’t know why I’m taking so much care with this dish. It’s all going to end up in the bin anyway, but I have to make things look as normal as possible, and cooking has become a surprising area of pride for me since I’ve been married. Careless onion slices could be a possible clue that I know what’s coming, and David is nothing if not suspicious of me these days.

I hear his key in the lock and my whole body fizzes with tension, and the kitchen lights are suddenly almost too bright. This time I do manage a deep breath. I see my mobile phone on the counter by the sink, sitting in no man’s land between where I am and the landline phone holstered on the wall. I look at the clock. Just touching six. Perfect.

‘Hi,’ I say. He’s in the hallway and I know he wants to go and hide in his study. ‘I bought you a bottle of Chateauneuf-du-Pape. Come and open it so it can breathe.’

He walks towards the kitchen like a reluctant wild dog being offered scraps of meat. How has our love come to this?

‘So, we’re still pretending everything is fine,’ he says, wearily.

‘No,’ I answer, wounded. ‘But we can at least be civil. We can be friends, surely, while we work on our problems? We owe each other that, don’t we?’

‘Look …’

The phone rings and, although it’s expected, I still nearly jump, and my hand tightens around the chopping knife. I step towards the phone, but David blocks me as I knew he would.

‘It’ll be the clinic,’ he says. ‘I’ll get it.’

I keep my eyes down, chopping at the onion, my skin burning with nerves, as I listen. It’s time for his blissful little secret relationship to get as fucked up as this marriage.

‘Hello? Yes, this is David Martin. Oh hi … You wanted to confirm what? I’m sorry, I’m not sure I’m following. An extended guest membership?’

I turn to face him then, I have to, my face all innocent worry that he’ll be angry at my spending, that I have a friend I haven’t told him about. He’s not looking at me. Not yet.

‘For whom?’ He’s frowning.

Then I see it. The shock as he tries to take it in. The confusion.

‘Sorry, did you say Louise Barnsley?’ Then he looks at me, but he’s still trying to put everything in place in his head. His world just turned upside down and then got shaken all over again. ‘And this is an extension on a guest membership my wife arranged?’

I shrug at him, pleading, and mouth She’s a friend I made.

‘Okay, yes, thank you. That’s fine.’ His eyes fall to my mobile phone, and he’s reaching for it as he hangs up, before I can even make the pretence of going for it myself.

‘I’m sorry,’ I say. ‘She’s someone I met. That’s all. Just a friend. I didn’t want to say anything. I was lonely. She was nice to me.’

He’s not listening to me, but scanning through the texts in the phone, his face like thunder. I’ve kept most of them. Of course I have. In preparation for this.

He stares at me then, for a long moment, and he’s gripping my phone so tightly I think he might crush it. Whose windpipe would he like to crush most right now, mine or Louise’s?

‘I’m sorry,’ I say again.

He’s pale, his jaw clenched tightly, his whole body trembling with pent-up emotion he’s fighting to contain. I’ve only seen him like this once before, and that was so long ago. I want to hold him. To tell him everything’s going to be okay. That I’m making everything better for him. But I can’t. I have to be strong.