The Stepmother(50)

 

‘What?’

 

He grabs it back, propelling me through the kitchen towards his laptop, shoving me down in front of it like a naughty child. He brings up his email and the link…

 

And of course all the time I know really.

 

There is the headline on the article – and a big photo.

 

The photo of the two of us – me and Otto. The back of my head, my hair tied up. Otto leaning towards me…

 

An article about my affair with a fifteen-year-old called Otto Lundy, a pupil at Seaborne Academy – my star pupil. The photo that started it all.

 

‘It’s not true,’ I say immediately. ‘Why were you Googling me?’

 

‘I wasn’t.’ Matthew sits heavily at the table. ‘Someone sent me the link.’

 

‘Someone? Who?’

 

‘I don’t know. I don’t recognise the address.’

 

‘Can I see?’ I ask, but he shuts the computer.

 

‘It’s not really relevant. What’s relevant, Jeanie, is: is it true? And why didn’t you tell me?’ He looks like he might cry.

 

I’ve never seen him like this before, and it is physically painful. It is all my nightmares rolled into one. ‘Matt, please…’ I lean towards him, but he ducks away.

 

‘Why the hell didn’t you tell me?’

 

‘I did,’ I mutter. ‘Sort of. I tried, honestly…’

 

‘You bloody well didn’t.’ He is getting angry now. ‘You most definitely didn’t. You said you’d had a breakdown after an allegation of misconduct. You said you were cleared—’

 

‘I was cleared,’ I say. ‘Absolutely.’

 

‘So why didn’t you tell me the whole truth?’

 

‘I – I tried. I really did. And it’s not true anyway.’ I am speaking with an icy calm – born of terror, I think. ‘I swear it’s not.’

 

‘But I don’t understand. Didn’t you think I’d find out everything at some point?’

 

‘Yes. And I tried, Matthew.’ I try to take his hand, but he pushes me away. ‘Please! I swear I tried.’

 

‘Oh come on!’ He grimaces. ‘You’re a liar, Jean.’

 

‘I’m not.’ I hear my voice crack. ‘I tried to tell you months ago. Don’t you remember the email I sent? You didn’t read it, but I tried.’

 

‘That was a feeble attempt.’ He sits looking away from me.

 

There’s something very disconcerting about someone refusing to even glance at you whilst you’re pouring out your heart. But I ploughed on regardless. ‘I thought you knew, honestly. And when I realised you didn’t, I panicked. I didn’t want to lose you, Matthew,’ I say, my voice shaking. ‘I couldn’t bear it.’

 

Now he does look at me. It isn’t reassuring at all.

 

I cry. I can’t help myself. The tears are hot and strong and constant. ‘I couldn’t tell you because when I realised – too late – you didn’t know, I loved you so much by then; I was so in love with you, I couldn’t bear to risk anything.’

 

He still won’t look at me, though I go to him now, try to make him meet my eyes.

 

‘I was so frightened of losing you, Matt. I’m so sorry – really, I feel awful. I know I should have told you sooner – but apart from that, I’ve done nothing wrong – really. Not in the grand scheme of things.’ The sobs that have wrenched me are passing a little.

 

The thing I can’t say is that after the bloody devil that was Simon, I’ve never let myself love anyone except Frankie and Marlena the way I love Matthew. So the stakes were really high. So high. Too high. But I keep trying.

 

‘Can you see that?’ I am desperate for his approbation. For his forgiveness. For his understanding about what so nearly ruined my life. The thing that, until I met him, I thought was the end of me. ‘I didn’t do anything wrong at Seaborne. They just said I did.’

 

‘So tell me now,’ Matthew speaks at last, flatly, ‘exactly what happened. Explain it all please.’

 

The thing that may still ruin my life.

 

‘I need a drink.’ I wipe my eyes, dry mouthed with fear.

 

He pushes an open bottle of red wine across the table, but I want to stay sober. At the sink, I pour myself a glass of water, looking out into the darkness.

 

I don’t know if I’ll be packing my bags in the morning.

 

Once I’ve drunk the water, I turn to him, and in a low voice I tell him everything it would have been wiser to say before we made our vows. In a great long rush of a speech, I explain the series of events that led to the incident, in my last job but one, when Frankie and I still lived in Hove, near the sea that I both loved and feared.