The Wife Before Me(45)
‘You’re wrong,’ she argued. ‘We can drive to Mark’s house straight away. He’s an expert at data retrieval―’
‘Shut up, you drunken bitch,’ he roared. ‘Have you any idea of the damage you’ve done?’
‘How dare you speak to me like that?’ She reeled back from his insults. ‘I had one drink and I didn’t knock it over deliberately. It was an accident―’
‘I don’t give a fuck what it was. I warned you not to touch my laptop.’ This time he avoided her face but he still brought her to her knees.
Later, she listened to his apologies, his pleas, his promises. The loss of his clients’ files meant nothing in the context of what he had done to her.
‘I’m sorry, so sorry… I love you so much, Amelia. You must forgive me. You must…’
As she had expected, Mark was able to restore the files from the hard drive and he also established a backup system that would prevent a similar accident occurring in the future. Amelia had become wary of Nicholas, though. How could someone who claimed to love her so passionately abuse her on a whim? She searched for reasons to explain his sudden mood swings, his ability to freeze the air around them with a word, a frown, a body movement that could signal anything. Was it fear that trapped her? Or love? She struggled with both and, at such times, he often ended an argument by carrying her to the sofa or the bed, pinning her beneath him until she stopped resisting his kisses. The lovemaking that followed had a charged choreography; edgy with pent-up passion, fear shivering through ecstasy.
Nicholas was particularly resentful of Leanne, who, he claimed, was in love with Amelia. She heard her voice rising defensively whenever she contradicted him but he knew he had picked up on something that Amelia was unwilling to share with him. She kept her silence. What she and Leanne felt for each other could not easily be defined by a jealous husband.
‘Our feelings don’t matter,’ Leanne insisted when Amelia discussed the growing tensions she sensed between her husband and her close friend. ‘Are you happy with him? That’s all I care about.’
‘Very happy.’ Amelia wondered how Leanne would react if she revealed her bruises. The arrogance that made her believe her love would vanquish Nicholas’s insecurity. Insecurity… the word has a soft sound. Not like violence, a word redolent with danger and a growing fear; a fear that she must force herself to confront. Yet, there were spells of tranquility, even happiness, and trapped her into believing he had succeeded in managing his anger, jealously, resentment, impatience. She was never able to figure out what provoked him most, but she welcomed those interludes when it was possible to dream that all would be well between them.
Twenty-Five
Amelia was aware of the many glances being cast in her direction as they entered the Capella Hotel where the annual KHM Investments Christmas party was being held.
‘Dazzling,’ said Nicholas, stopping to admire the Christmas tree in the foyer. ‘But it’s only a pale imitation of my beautiful wife. Everyone is admiring your dress. I knew it would be perfect on you as soon as I saw it in the window of Brown Thomas.’ He basked in the fact that he had chosen it, along with the shoes, the gauzy wrap and the make-up that accentuated her cheekbones, glossed her lips and nails. His arm encircled her waist as they entered the ballroom. The dress shimmered when she moved. Silver lamé; she wore it like a sheath. She knew he would have accused her of dressing like a tart if she had bought this dress but, in choosing it for her, he had found another way to dominate her.
The ballroom was ablaze with chandeliers and the tables tastefully decorated with long-stemmed winter roses. Christopher Keogh was seated at the main table. He had arrived on his own, the first time without his wife. Rita Keogh had cancer, Nicholas had told Amelia before they left Woodbine, and Christopher was talking about taking early retirement to look after her. As Nicholas’s future would be affected by this decision, Amelia must pay special attention to him. What about your insane suspicions, she had wanted to shout at him, but she kept this thought to herself, unwilling to start another argument before they had even left Woodbine. She had stopped making eye contact with men when they were out together. The change had happened so slowly that it had taken time for her to realise she was taking precautions to avoid provoking his jealousy.
Peter Harris, the other senior partner at KHM, was also seated at the main table. A debonair father of four, he had a mistress in New York who, according to Nicholas, ensured that his business trips were always combined with pleasure. His wife Lilian had the clamped lips of someone used to dealing with lost illusions. As she air-kissed Amelia, she glanced down at her flat stomach and said, softly, yet loud enough for Nicholas to hear, ‘No news, yet, I guess.’
Amelia had no idea if this comment was deliberate or unintentional but, with it, Lilian had touched the latest bone of contention in their marriage. Nicholas had changed his mind about starting a family and was talking persuasively about the joys of parenting together. She had not argued back, knowing that to do so would only harden his determination. Privately, though, she thought, if he was unable to endure her staying away on overnight business trips or dining with male clients how was he to cope with a baby, who would demand so much of her love and attention?
Finally admitting that what he called his ‘insecurity’ was harming their marriage, he had agreed to couples counselling. Amelia had had to cancel their first appointment when he was unavoidably delayed at work. She had made another one for next week and, afraid he would stop using condoms, she had also made an appointment, without his knowledge, at the Well Woman Centre to discuss alternative methods of contraception.