One Small Mistake(97)

‘Well?’ I pressed. I was calm. I was so very calm as I waited for my husband to decide: tell his parents what they said was insensitive or don’t.

Ethan shook his head like I’d let him down, then turned his attention back to his cake.

That’s it then.

I shouldn’t have been surprised; Ethan very rarely went against his parents. Until right then, I’d accepted that, but Ruby was right, I was different now; your disappearance had changed me in more ways than I realised.

I stood. ‘Thank you for this evening—’

Ethan’s head whipped up. ‘Ada, sit down.’

‘—it’s been enlightening.’

I pushed my chair back and exited. Ethan followed me down the hall, catching up with me at the front door and grabbed my wrist, spinning me to face him. ‘If you leave now, I swear to god—’

‘What?’ I cut him off, not caring if his family overheard. ‘You’ll do what, Ethan? We aren’t happy. We haven’t been happy in a long time.’ I spoke the truth out loud, felt it crystallise in my hands and held it up in the weak winter sunshine streaming through the windows. ‘You spend more time at work than you do with me, you aren’t supportive, you go behind my back and try to manipulate me. Ruby and then this dinner with your family, it’s a set-up. It feels like all I’ve had for months, even with my sister missing, is people wanting to know when I’m going to let you knock me up!’

‘Oh sure, it’s all my fault. Everything is my fault.’

‘No. It isn’t. We got married without ever talking about children and you assumed I wanted them.’ I held up a hand to stop his protest. ‘Which isn’t an uncommon assumption to make, but neither of us ever brought it to the table to discuss. And when I did think I was pregnant, you were awful.’

‘It wasn’t convenient.’

‘For you. It wasn’t convenient for you.’ I sighed. I think, at one point, I did want children, then he reacted the way he did to the pregnancy and I realised if I did want them, it could never be with him. ‘We can’t do this anymore.’

I was expecting to be met with anger and insults but what I saw in his face was sorrow and resignation. He took my hand in his and just held it. We were both submerged in the quiet mourning of a relationship we knew was ending even though neither of us were ready to say it out loud, to discuss divorce lawyers and dividing up the house. Ethan wiped away tears from my cheeks before I realised they were there.

He let me go.

I took my coat and left the house, my heels clicking down the stone steps. I strode past the car, deciding instead to walk home, and come back for it tomorrow. It was cold, my breath streaming out in front of me. You can pour years into a relationship, pour into it hopes for the future, memories from your childhood, mix laughter and sex and love into it and with one conversation on a sunny, freezing afternoon in January, you pull the plug and watch it all drain away.

You’d be proud. I know you would. I couldn’t imagine how Mum and Dad would react. Even now, as I write this in my bed, I still can’t think about how they’ll take the news.

Anyway, I walked and walked without any idea of where I was headed. I wasn’t ready to go home, back to a big empty house I knew I couldn’t afford to keep without Ethan. I know so much about him, so much useless information which up until an hour before was as essential to me as air: the way he takes his coffee, how he likes to be touched, his plans for our future.

Then I looked up and you know where I was? Your house. Again. Only, it’s not yours anymore. The landlord has rented it out to someone else. Mum and Dad were horrified, worried the new tenants were morbidly fascinated by your disappearance, but there is a young couple in there now who moved from Bristol. Weeks ago, we had to pack up all your things and put them in storage because we are clinging to the hope you will one day return. I saved your vase though, the pretty green one Noah made for you. It’s safe on my bedside table.

I stood at the gate and stared at the house. The bedroom light winked on. If I cleared my mind of the truth, I could pretend it was you up there in that room, climbing into bed with a book and a tea, your stray cat curled up beside you.

I turned, searching, started making noises to attract your cat. I completely forgot to come back for her. I’d asked Ethan about taking Seefer in, but he was so disgusted by the idea, I dropped it. I spent another twenty minutes looking for her with no luck.

By the time I got home it was dark. Ethan had been and gone, taking with him a couple of suitcases and most of his clothes. I tried not to worry about what I’d tell him if he asked for the engagement ring and wedding band back; they were still missing. I know Jack has them even if I can’t prove it, just as I am sure he has you too.





Chapter Forty-Six


154 Days Missing


Elodie Fray

There’s a soft click.

I open my eyes.

There is no explosion of noise and fire. His chest does not rip open like a pomegranate. There is no blood splatter on my face.

There is only me and Jack and the hard barrel of a rifle between us.

He stares, a chilling mixture of amusement and rage, but his emotions are merely watercolours compared to the vivid ink of my disappointment and fear.

‘Safety’s on,’ he says, voice low and velvety, like he’s telling me a dirty, intimate secret.