Players, Bumps and Cocktail Sausages (Silence #3)(19)

“Yes. What’s not fine is her making the decision before discussing it with me. We were all set for Operation Knock Up, then she avoids the conversation and then she tells me it’s on hold.”

“Your anger is understandable but have you considered that it may have been difficult for her to tell you how she was feeling?”

“Maybe. I hadn’t thought of that. We’ve always been able to talk about anything though.”

“What is it?” Carol said, prompting me to explain what my deep frown was about.

“Recently I’ve not been feeling like I can talk to her either.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“I’m not sure. She’s been working a lot more. Sometimes I feel like she’s moving on and changing and I’m still the same guy I was when we got back together.”

“Back together?”

“Yeah, we went out when we were teenagers.”

“How did it end?”

Oakley looked up at me, and I could tell what she was thinking. Maybe Abby was distant because she was cheating again.

“She slept with my friend.”

“But you’re past that now.”

“I am.”

“Am or was? Is that why you don’t feel like you can talk to her any longer? The distance you feel as a result of her focusing on something else is creating doubt in your mind.”

I hated her for being able to talk me round and make me look at something in a new light. Or for just getting the truth out of me from what I didn’t say.

“I guess,” I replied, half sulking. “But it’s not because she’s concentrating on something else and not giving me enough attention. I’m not that self-absorbed.”

“That’s not what I was suggesting.”

“Then I suppose you’re right. A part of me does think she could be seeing someone else and I hate myself for it. When I forgave her, I made a promise to myself that I’d let it go and never throw it back in her face, and until now I haven’t.”

“Have you spoken to her about your fears?”

“No. She has no idea what I’m thinking, and I don’t want to tell her.”

“Why not?”

“Because if I’m wrong she’s going to be crushed.”

Carol nodded once. “And if you’re right you’re going to be crushed.”

“You have a knack for hitting the nail on the head.”

“I hope so,” she replied, “or I’m not doing my job right.”

“So is this the part where you tell me what to do?”

“I can’t do that. What you do with your life is entirely up to you, Jasper. I’m here to listen, help you identify the root cause of your issues and suggest ways you can address them. But I can’t do any of it for you.”

“Alright, what do you suggest?”

“Having an open conversation with your wife is a start.”

Oakley played with her fingers, and I knew she wanted to know Carol’s thoughts on what I should do about the man rotting in prison. He was locked away, so he wasn’t a concern. All I wanted was for things with Abby to go back to normal so we could be happy again.

My father was nothing. My wife was everything.





Chapter Eight


“I’m home, sweetie,” Abby shouted from the front door.

“In the kitchen.”

“Okay. I’m just going for a quick shower then I’ll be down. I’ve had a nightmare of a day, had to fill in for a double period of year ten PE. I’m sweaty and exhausted. Won’t be long.”

Her footsteps thudded up the stairs. I ran my finger around the rim of my mug.

What the fuck is going on?

She never ran straight to the shower from work. What the hell was wrong with me? She’d just explained why. Everyone wanted to shower after exercise. I would, although I would’ve said hello properly and given her a kiss before going.

Here I was all ready to take Carol’s advice and talk to Abby and hopefully get us back on track, and she was running off upstairs to shower.

Since I admitted out loud that I was worried she was cheating, it was constantly in my head.

All I could think was that she had to be cheating. And along with Oakley, Everleigh and my child’s terrified faces all I could see was my wife in the arms of someone else.

“What would you like for dinner?” she asked, kissing the top of my head as she walked by ten minutes later. I was so grateful for her coming back at that moment and stopping the mental images that plagued my mind.

“Since you’ve had a long day why don’t we order Chinese?” I replied.

“Sounds good to me. Shall I order?” she asked, ruffling up her damp, dark blonde hair.

I nodded.

She was being weird, acting as if we were practical strangers. I’d seen her be warmer towards traffic wardens. “Are you okay?” I asked.

“Yeah, fine. Sorry, I just need to relax and forget about work. Why don’t you pour me a glass of wine, and I’ll call the take-away.”

I stood up, eyeing her suspiciously as she unlocked her mobile. She used the house phone to call landlines. Why was she keeping that so close to her? I forced myself to look away and get on with making her a drink. Second-guessing everything she did made me feel like shit.