The Stepmother(27)

 

‘Yeah well.’ He finishes his beer. ‘It was only once or twice I think, but when I caught them at it…’

 

‘Caught them?’

 

‘Yeah. Came home early, that old chestnut, and found him upstairs. And afterwards she said she wanted a new life – as well as a new body.’

 

I feel sick.

 

‘Not my body anyway. So I told her to choose.’ He bangs the bottle down and looks at me. Is it a challenge? ‘And she did. She chose freedom.’

 

‘Oh.’ The word seems – discordant. Freedom. ‘I’m sorry.’

 

‘Don’t be.’ He stares at me for a moment. ‘Glad you asked now?’

 

‘It – it must have been very hard for you,’ I stutter. ‘I’m sorry to have, you know… opened a wound up.’

 

‘Oh, God, don’t be silly.’ Remorse creeps in apparently. He edges towards me. ‘I’m sorry, hon. I could have told you before, I suppose. But I also think it doesn’t have much to do with us and our future. It’s you I love, Jean.’

 

‘Were you gutted then?’ I have to know.

 

He sighs heavily. ‘Not really. I was pissed off, of course. But we hadn’t been getting on for a long time. She’d changed. I reckon she was just waiting till I got my next promotion. Holding out for a better settlement.’

 

‘Blimey.’ I laugh, but there’s not much humour to my tone. ‘You really think she’s that mercenary?’

 

‘Kaye? Bloody hell, yeah.’ His own laugh is hollow. ‘I know she is.’

 

‘I’m sorry,’ I repeat.

 

‘Stop saying sorry.’ Like the tide, his irritation ebbs and flows. ‘It’s not your fault, is it?’

 

‘No, of course not, but—’

 

‘Can we drop it now please?’ He grabs my arm and pulls me to him. ‘Let’s talk about something else. Like how nice you look in that blouse…’

 

I glance down. It’s totally unlike anything I’d normally wear – all fussy and lacy – but it was a Christmas present, and Scarlett helped him choose it (so he said). I felt I should wear it at least once.

 

‘Thanks.’ I’m ramrod stiff; I can’t relax in his embrace at all.

 

‘It’s very sexy,’ he murmurs into my hair, which normally would make my tummy go to jelly but this time has little effect. ‘Mrs Schoolteacher, you might have to reprimand me…’

 

‘What?’ I pull back. ‘Why say that?’

 

‘That’s what you remind me of, with your hair pulled back and that outfit. Very tempting!’

 

My chest tightens, and I have to stand. ‘I’ll get you another beer.’ I head to the door.

 

‘I’m fine.’ He looks puzzled. ‘What have I said wrong?’

 

He holds a hand out, and reluctantly I let him pull me down again, thoughts of him and Kaye buzzing in my brain like angry wasps. Kirstie’s saying goodbye now on the screen as Matthew nuzzles into my neck.

 

‘When was all this, Matthew?’

 

‘What?’ His breathing has quickened.

 

‘When exactly did you split up?’

 

He stops. ‘Early this year.’

 

‘What?’ I pull right back from him.

 

‘I mean last year. Just after Christmas really, in 2013.’

 

‘Oh,’ I repeat like a stupid parrot. Shit. ‘I see.’ But I still don’t see. ‘I’m sure you said it was longer ago than that…’

 

‘It was, in spirit.’ He moves away irritably. ‘In body it was last year. Now can you drop it?’

 

We spend the rest of the evening watching a terrible film about a prison break in Siberia, but I can’t concentrate. And for the first time when we go to bed, I turn over and away from him, listening as his breathing changes and he slips quickly into sleep.

 

I’m still awake when Frankie comes back a bit later and bashes around in the kitchen – leaving all the pots out no doubt – before going to bed himself.

 

I’m still awake when the old grandfather clock on the landing chimes midnight, then one, then two.

 

It has come home, properly, that I’ve married a man I hardly know. My own secrets seem far darker at this time of night. I didn’t even get near telling him anything I meant to.

 

How could I when he was already so annoyed?

 

I stare into the darkness, and I hear the walls begin to whisper again. What exactly is it in this house that’s being hidden?

 

Get a grip, babe, Marlena would say, and get on with it.