The Wife Before Me(40)
‘Is he filling your head with this nonsense?’
‘I’m perfectly capable of forming my own opinions. You and I have depended too much on one another. It’s not healthy…’
The pause that followed felt like a missed heartbeat. ‘How is our relationship unhealthy, Amelia?’ he asked, quietly.
‘It just is…’ She paused, then blurted out: ‘I want you to stop coming into my bedroom at night.’
‘I don’t… what are you saying?’
‘You know what I mean.’ Shocked at the direction the conversation had taken, she folded her arms and stepped back from him.
‘Are you insinuating―’
‘I’m not insinuating anything. I’m just asking you to stop… stop making me feel so guilty.’ Unable to continue, she threw logs into the fire and watched the sparks scatter.
‘I’ve never… how can you even think— you are my life, Amelia.’ He swallowed, his Adam’s apple jerking. ‘Look at me when I’m talking to you.’
Reluctantly, she turned, her cheeks blazing.
‘How could such an appalling thought have even entered your mind?’ he demanded. His stance, ramrod stiff, reminded her of a wounded animal, shot but not yet feeling any pain. ‘This is his doing, isn’t it? He’s brainwashed you. I’ll never forgive him for that.’
‘Why do you keep blaming Nicholas?’ she shrieked. ‘I’m capable of thinking for myself.’
‘What are you thinking, then? Let me hear it. Spill it out to me so that I fully understand what you mean.’
She came to her senses then, drew back from the brink of an accusation that had no foundation. All he had ever offered her was comfort, love, protection. She had always known that and yet… and yet… a worm had entered her brain, creeping in unnoticed and burrowing deep enough to break the bonds that had held them close.
‘I didn’t mean anything.’ Stricken with guilt, always guilt, she sobbed into her hands. ‘I don’t know what possessed me to say that. It’s just… I want you to like Nicholas and I feel angry when you make him feel so unwelcome.’
‘I hate him.’ No mistaking the harshness of his statement. ‘I hold him entirely responsible for breaking the trust we have always shared.’ His face, so loved and familiar, looked old all of a sudden, the skin slack under his neck, his mouth clamped.
‘Just stop feeling you have to protect me.’ She was overwhelmed by conflicting feelings. ‘It has nothing to do with anything Nicholas said. All I wanted to do was bring the two of you together but now, I’ve only made it worse.’ She tried to stem her tears and John, seeing her distress, assured her all would be okay. He needed time to adjust to the changes that would come into their lives. Platitudes – she recognised their hollowness and the distance she would have to stretch to receive his forgiveness. In that instant, she realised with a startling clarity that she could never marry Nicholas.
His devastation was obvious when she called to his apartment to end their relationship. He demanded an explanation. She was unable to give him one. How could he make sense of something she could not even understand herself? The words she had spoken to her father, dredged from some dark place within her, would always be associated with Nicholas, even though it was she, not he, who had implied the unthinkable. Love at first sight, she realised, could not always withstand the chilling gaze of second sight.
Twenty-Two
Two o’clock in the morning, her screams falling into the fathomless ocean. Amelia struggled awake, the whimper dying. Her nightmares had become more frequent of late but she could no longer see the familiar shape of her father bending over her. Regret tore through her when she realised that something tender and fragile between them had been broken forever. She pushed aside the duvet and put on her dressing gown. He would probably still be awake, attuned to her night terrors as he always was. She tapped on his bedroom door. When he didn’t answer, she entered his room and whispered his name. The curtains were still open. His bed was empty, the bedclothes undisturbed.
She ran downstairs. Usually when he returned from the pub, he made tea and toast before going to bed, and left the clearing-up until the following morning. The kitchen was as tidy as he had left it before going out. She searched the other rooms without success. Her panic grew when she rang Billy and he told her they had parted as usual at his gate. The rain had started on their walk home. Billy had wanted him to shelter in his house until it stopped but John pulled up the collar of his coat and said he would keep going. That was two hours ago.
‘There’s probably a simple explanation.’ He sounded unruffled but Amelia knew he must be equally alarmed when he told her to phone Kilfarran Garda Station.
The guard on duty knew John did not waste time asking questions. He promised to alert a squad car immediately. Frantically, Amelia changed into outdoor clothes and rang Nicholas. A month had passed since their break-up but she needed him now, needed his reassuring presence to ease her fear. An automated voice told her to leave a message on his answering machine. She tried to slow her voice, unsure whether he would be able to make out her garbled explanation. She pulled a hood over her head as the rain, driven by a harsh wind, slanted against her face.
At the end of the driveway, she turned left onto Kilfarran Lane and shone her torch over the empty road with its zigzagging bends. Clouds hid the moon and the water reeds banking the ditch below the embankment swayed like the manes of ghostly horses. Her dread increased when she heard the sluggish flow of water wending its way over stones towards the Kilfarran River.