The Soulmate(21)

The dance floor was pumping by then, but Max and I sat at the table, drinking coffee and eating petits fours. There was no denying that Max was an impressive man. Not handsome like Gabe, but commanding. Even the way he sat back, relaxed but upright, as if admiring his empire, which perhaps he was. Despite the constant interruptions and people coming to say hello, he made it clear to me that I had his full attention. It was rare that a man other than Gabe turned my head, but I had to admit, there was something about Max.

I’d discovered over the course of the evening that Max didn’t have children of his own. I wondered if, perhaps, he’d wanted children and couldn’t have them. In his pre-dinner speech, he’d discussed his passion for mental health – fuelled, apparently, by the loss of his mother and brother to suicide. It was now his mission, he said, to prevent as many needless suicides as he could.

As Max and I chatted, Gabe was telling Max’s wife the story of how we’d met. He told her about the broken leg, and how it had taken him six weeks to call (it had only taken three, but Gabe never let the truth get in the way of a good story).

‘I don’t know where he gets his energy,’ Max said, observing him.

I laughed. ‘Honestly, sometimes I wish he had a little less energy. I fear one day it may send me mad.’

I meant it as a joke, but Max appeared to take it seriously. ‘Some of the best creatives have that problem,’ he said. ‘It’s definitely something to watch.’ He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a shiny white business card. ‘If you ever find that you’re worried about it, don’t hesitate to get in touch. I mean that.’

I was disarmed by his kindness, even though I reasoned that it was likely tied up in his passion for mental health and suicide prevention. But as he pressed the card into my hand, it felt like a strangely intimate moment – and I felt an unmistakable frisson of electricity.





18


PIPPA

NOW



I told Gabe about Max and me immediately after it happened, eighteen months ago.

‘I understand,’ he said, when he’d recovered from the shock of it.

After everything he’d put me through, what else could he say? He had one job, and he knew it. It was the same thing he’d asked of me, time and time again. Loyalty. If he didn’t give it, how could he ask for it? And to his credit, he did. We’d put it behind us. Until now.

‘Amanda knew about Max and me?’

There’s something acutely familiar about the bodily sensations I’m feeling. The racing heart. The clammy hands. The velocity of my thoughts, so fast and strong it brings on an instant headache.

‘Yes.’

I turn towards Gabe. Bizarrely, he looks apologetic. As if he has a reason to be sorry. Preschool will be finished for the day in a few minutes, and parents are starting to line up at the gate with babies in tow. I hear Alice Williamson reminding people to contribute to Mrs Punch’s spa voucher.

‘How?’

‘She found a video on Max’s computer.’

‘A video?’

Gabe scratches at a piece of peeling paint on the bench. He is staring straight ahead at the playground. ‘I guess he must have filmed it.’

It takes me a moment to process this. Filming without consent sounds like something a teenager would do, or a pervert. Max, on the other hand, always seemed like a gentleman.

‘Seriously?’ I say.

It is, I realise, not an important detail, given what we are discussing. And yet my mind remains stuck on this ill-fitting piece. It causes a sudden shift in my entire recollection of that night, making it slippery and out of focus.

Gabe shrugs. ‘That’s what she said. Apparently she had the footage on a USB. She brought it with her because she didn’t think I’d believe her.’

I’m still trying to untangle this. ‘So she came to The Drop to tell you?’

‘Actually, it was you she wanted to talk to. She said that the video cut off at a crucial moment and she wanted to know what happened. If you and Max actually . . .’

A sick feeling builds in my belly.

‘And what did you say?’

‘I said you did.’

I think I might throw up. Amanda discovered a video of Max and me, then had her worst fears confirmed by Gabe. Moments later, she was at the bottom of a cliff.

And it’s all my fault.

Emily Kent hurries past on her way to pick-up. ‘Am I late?’ she asks. Gabe and I shake our heads, and she slows down. ‘Phew! Mrs Punch would kill me.’

We sit in silence till Emily is out of earshot.

‘What happened then?’ I ask, even though I don’t want to know.

‘She was so upset,’ Gabe says. ‘She said that fidelity was one of the foundations of their marriage.’

I think of the woman’s arms flailing. Suddenly it makes sense.

‘She said she couldn’t go on.’ His face twists in an ugly, silent sob. ‘When she leaped, I tried to grab her. My hands shot out. But there was nothing to grab. She was gone.’

The bell rings, indicating preschool has finished.

‘I didn’t want you to have to live with that, Pip,’ he says, as the singsong voices of children start up. ‘I hoped you’d never find out.’

The gate opens, and kids burst out of the gates and run towards their parents. Asha and Freya look around then, spying us near the playground, launch themselves at us at full speed. The timing is perfect because, after that, I can’t talk anymore.