The First Mistake(79)
‘What . . .? Yes, Josh – that’s what I said.’
He’s too drunk to get his story straight, and Alice is too tired to care. It’s not as if she needs any more proof that he’s up to no good – she’s got all that she needs. Now, she only has to decide what she’s going to do about it.
She wants to wait up for Nathan to come home, if for no other reason than she’ll be able to smell the cheap perfume on him, or see if his mouth is stained with someone else’s lipstick. It’s almost as if she needs to hurt as much as she possibly can in order to force herself to make the right decision. But try as she might, the argument with Olivia has left her exhausted and her eyes are battling to stay open as the bongs ring out for the ten o’clock news.
She can’t even remember taking her tablets, but she must have done, as the next time she opens her eyes it’s morning and she’s none the wiser as to whether Nathan came home at ten thirty or three thirty. It occurs to her as she reaches an arm across the empty bed that he still might not be home. She squints at the green digits reading 06.20 on the illuminated clock on the bedside table and lifts her head off the pillow. She can hear the shower running and is furious with herself for not knowing whether it’s Nathan coming in or going out.
She wants to go back to sleep so she can turn off the noise in her head that the new day brings. But try as she might, her senses are already alert to the problems that lie before her. Defeated, Alice throws the duvet off in frustration. There’s too much to think about now – her brain a whir of activity. There’s no point in lying in bed any longer.
The steam billows out of the bathroom as she opens the door. Nathan, naked and wet from the shower, turns towards the draught.
‘Morning darling,’ he says as he rubs a towel two-handed across his back.
‘How was your evening?’ she asks tightly as she stands in front of the mirror, putting her hair up.
‘Long and boring,’ he says, with a laugh. ‘It seemed like fun at the time, but now, in the cold light of day, when I’m tired and hungover, my memories are quite different.’
I bet they are, Alice thinks to herself.
‘How was yours?’ he asks as he comes up behind her, his hands reaching around to untie the belt on her robe. She pulls it tighter around her.
‘Come on,’ he pleads. ‘We’ve got time for a quick one.’
There’s no part of her that wants to have a ‘quick one’, especially when she doesn’t know where he’s been. And until she does, there won’t be any quick ones, slow ones or any other ones.
‘I need to get ready,’ she says, shutting him down. ‘I’ve got a busy day.’
‘We’ve both got a busy day,’ he says sulkily, as if it’s a competition. ‘I might need you to sign some papers for Japan.’
She manages a nod as he kisses her.
‘I’ll see you in the office,’ he says as he walks out.
She takes her time in the shower as a showreel of where Nathan might have been last night plays out in her head. The images are vivid – in high-definition and with surround sound. She sees his lips on somebody else’s, his hands tenderly holding her face as he professes his love. The unidentified woman calls his name out as his hands move lower, but Alice blocks out that image, preferring to focus on forming the woman’s face, as if doing so will provide irrefutable evidence of the encounter.
The tips of her fingers are beginning to wrinkle and her hair is squeaking as she plans the day ahead, skipping over the parts that she doesn’t want to acknowledge. I’ll blow-dry my hair; it’ll make me feel better. I’ll drive Olivia to school and try to find out who my daughter is bullying. I’ll work on the drawing room of Belmont House; I’m thinking the maroon crushed velvet with a gold accent. I’ll find out who my husband is sleeping with. I’ll make a nice paella for dinner tonight; I wonder if there are any king prawns in the freezer.
She works her way through the first items methodically, her day in the office going exactly according to plan until her self-imposed drawn-out lunch can’t be protracted any further. She knows the next item on her list requires attention and purposefully looks at the over-eaten core of her apple to see if just another second can be gleaned from nibbling at the remains.
She peers over the top of her computer screen, through the glass into the space beyond. She can just make out the top of Nathan’s head, sat at the desk in his office on the other side.
With her eyes flicking from him to the screen between them, she enters his personal email address on the log-in screen before confidently typing his password.
INCORRECT PASSWORD ENTERED
Her brow furrows. I must have hit a wrong key, she tells herself, already knowing she hasn’t. She types it in again, more slowly, more precisely.
Incorrect again. Alice feels as if she’s trying to hack Google.
She tries their other favoured keywords; insecure variations on birthdays and the girls’ names they’d made up together for online shopping accounts, when neither of them could imagine the other needing to spy on them. Nothing will open sesame.
Nathan is up out of his chair and heading in her direction, but she’s too busy trying to crack the password to notice.
‘Hey,’ he says, as he swings open the glass door.
Her ears instantly go hot, and his words are momentarily muffled. She tries to change screens as quickly, yet as casually, as she can manage.