The Other Woman(42)

I squeezed onto the 19.42. The Tube strike had clearly held commuters up as they made their way across town, as it was more like the 18.02, and everyone was packed in like sardines. I was held upright by the overweight bald man behind me, his breath so close to my ear that he could have licked it, and the young twenty-something woman in front of me who had had the foresight to get her phone out and in texting position before she got on the train. Now, stuck as I was, my upper limbs pinned to my sides, I had no chance of letting Adam know I was on my way.

Pinpricks of sweat jumped to the surface of my back, the rush to get the train catching up with me. I imagined a thin streak of dampness, the length of my spine, seeping through the silk of my emerald-green blouse, compounded by the heat of other bodies pressed up against me. Those nearest to the windows, the people who had had the luxury of sitting in their seats for the past ten minutes, waiting for the train to depart, were reaching up to close them as we crossed the river. They sank their faces further into their woollen scarves whilst I battled the oppressive heat that was engulfing me.

I shifted a little, angling my body away from the man behind me, his rotund stomach filling the concave of my back, and he grunted. I wondered if he could smell the deceit on me.

Adam was in the kitchen. A waft of frying onions and garlic hit me as I let myself in and hung my coat on the hook behind the door.

‘Hey, is that you?’

I could tell from the tone of his voice that all was well, and the heaviness in my chest began to lift. I didn’t know if I was going to be honest with him, but I wanted to be.

‘Who else were you expecting?’ I laughed.

‘You made good time,’ he said, kissing me, wooden spoon in hand. ‘It was murder a couple of hours ago.’

‘Thought it might be. That’s why I decided to wait a bit. Get some work done.’ So once again, without even thinking about it, I’d made the decision to lie.

‘Grab some cutlery and pour us some wine. It’ll be ready in ten minutes.’

‘Will do,’ I replied, ‘let me just get out of these clothes.’

I walked into the bathroom, unbuttoning my blouse and wriggling out of my skirt. I needed a shower, to wash the dirt, both real and imaginary, from my body. The water ran hotter than felt comfortable, but it numbed the nerve endings, stopped them from jangling. Eyes still closed, I reached for the towel on the hook, but a hand caught mine, making me jump.

‘Jesus Christ!’ I yelped, my heart thumping.

Adam laughed. ‘Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. Thought you might like this whilst you’re in here.’ He handed me a towel with one hand and a glass of red with the other. I smiled and sipped it gratefully, feeling its warmth as it ran into my chest.

He sat on the side of the bath as he watched me dry myself, his eyes roaming my naked body.

Suddenly self-conscious, I wrapped myself in a towel. ‘You really are quite something,’ he said, standing up and walking towards me. ‘Take it off. Let me look at you.’

I smiled and slowly held the towel open.

He took a sip of my wine before dipping his finger in the glass and offering it up to my mouth. He traced my lips and my taste buds sprang into life as I sucked the wine from his finger. I could feel a pulsing in my groin as he watched me, his eyes never leaving mine.

We shared the remains of the glass, and, as Adam passed it between us, some of it spilled, dripping down my chin and onto my breasts. He bent his head down to slowly lick them. My back arched as he came up to meet my mouth, his fingers running down my spine, sending goose bumps to my skin. I shivered involuntarily.

He picked me up, and I wrapped my legs tightly around him as he carried me into the bedroom and laid me down on the bed.

‘God, I love you,’ he said.

I cried as he entered me, hot tears of relief and wanting, but most of all guilt. How could I have risked losing this?





20

‘Tell me about Rebecca,’ I asked afterwards, buoyed by our renewed closeness.

‘What do you want to know?’

‘I want to know who she was, how you felt about her, and what happened between you.’

He pulled himself up against the headboard, his brow furrowed and eyes narrow.

‘It was a long time ago, Em.’

‘I know, but she was important to you – like Tom was to me.’

He raised his eyebrows and looked at me questioningly.

‘Oh, come on, we’re grown-ups here.’ I laughed. ‘Don’t go getting all jealous.’

‘Do you still think about him?’ he asked.

‘Occasionally, yes, but not because I wish I was still with him. Just in a “I wonder what he’s up to” way. Is he still with Charlotte? Was their deceit worth it? Do either of them ever think of me?’

He nodded, but his face was solemn. ‘I met Rebecca when I was twenty. We knew friends of friends and were introduced at a party.’

‘Down in Sevenoaks?’ I asked.

‘Yes, but she was from a little village just outside called Brasted. Anyway, we just clicked. Neither of us had been in a serious relationship before, so it was special. We were young, thought we were in love, and everything and everyone else just took a back seat.’

‘So, where did it go wrong?’ I asked, failing to understand how such an intense relationship could wither away and die.