Just My Luck(65)

‘Of course I do.’ He pulls me into a hug and kisses my forehead, more or less in the spot he’s been staring at this entire conversation. ‘We’re struggling because there’s been a lot of change. That’s all.’

I bury my face into his shoulder. I don’t want him to see the tears that are threatening to out me. ‘There’s nothing else?’

‘No.’

‘Have you told Jennifer that they are not getting the cash for changing their story?’ It’s the closest I can bring myself to asking the question I want to ask.

Is it over?

‘I think they’ll work it out,’ he replies, pulling his face into something approximating a smile but he isn’t fast enough. I see the wince first and I know then one of two things.

Either it isn’t over.

Or it is, and he is sad that it is.

Both things break my heart.

Everyone wants something they don’t have. A few hundred years ago it was food and a long life. Now it’s Insta likes and other people’s husbands. My husband does not know that I know he is having an affair with my best friend and has been for at least two years. Two years is her husband’s best guess. I suppose it could be longer. I never used to keep anything from him. I’d have sworn that there was nothing he kept from me. Now we share the same secret, but he doesn’t know it.

It fucking kills me.





28


Saturday, 20th April

According to the rota, it was Jennifer’s turn to host supper that Saturday. Lexi wasn’t much looking forward to it but thought it was essential that the supper went ahead. Considering everything. They needed to keep things on an even keel just a little longer. She comforted herself with the thought that at least it wasn’t Carla’s turn to host. That would have been trickier. Lexi would never admit it, as she always tried hard to keep the delicate equilibrium of their threesome intact and therefore avoided drawing comparisons or expressing preferences, but the truth was she liked going to Jennifer’s home for supper more than she enjoyed going to Carla’s. Both women had incredibly stylish and comfortable houses. If anything, Carla’s should have been the most welcoming: there was more space, the kids had their own playroom to hang out in as soon as they were excused from the huge round table that comfortably seated everyone and was certainly designed to encourage conversation; they had a fridge especially for chilling white wine and a selection of cut-glass decanters to allow red wines to breathe. But the luxury and excess had become the problem.

Lexi had never been particularly hung up on the fact she was the least well off of her three friends. It was just a fact. Even when Patrick made the occasional snobby comment about the temperature of her house in the winter (too cold) or the wine in the summer (too warm), she let the jibes wash over her like water off a duck’s back. Lexi didn’t blame Carla for her husband’s boorishness. She actually felt a bit sorry for her. All the money in the world didn’t compensate for a husband who could behave like a prat.

But, over the past few months, Lexi’s perspective had changed. She had started to find Patrick’s flashy ways annoying, even cruel. He had so much, and she worked with so many people who had next to nothing. She tested him; talked in general, non-specific terms about her cases at work to gauge his reaction. He was dismissive, derisive. She hadn’t cared too much that the man was a snob but now she realised he was so much more dreadful than that. He was heartless, callous, pitiless. Now, she found his constant talk about his wealth, his profits, his business, actively repulsive.

An awkwardness had sprouted up between her and Carla as Lexi started to look at things differently. She used to be so good at compartmentalising, but now one thing bled into another. In these past few months Lexi’s work had become increasingly all-absorbing. Certain cases had burrowed their way into her head and heart. Toma Albu, for example, had leached into her home and social life. She knew very well that she shouldn’t have been investigating his claims privately and with such vigour. She was overstepping. She couldn’t tell her boss what she was up to because she knew Ellie would rein her in. Remind her of the proper channels that ought to handle the matter. But Lexi doubted the proper channels could go far enough; they didn’t have the resources. There was only ever a certain amount that could be done. Lexi had wanted to gather hard empirical evidence; she couldn’t let this atrocity go unpunished. And now she had it and didn’t know what to do with it. She hadn’t confided in Jake either. He wouldn’t approve of her casting aside the bureau’s guidelines, not that he was a stickler for rules himself, but he would be worried for her safety if he knew she was running around town with Toma, a desperate, emotional and vulnerable man.

A sexy, single and handsome man.

What would he say?

And because she hadn’t told Jake what she was up to, she hadn’t told Jennifer or Carla either. Lexi was self-aware enough to understand that the fact she was keeping quiet about something that was so important to her had probably contributed to the unease between her and her friends. The unpleasantness about the buying of the lottery ticket that had occurred last week hadn’t helped matters either.

Patrick had made things so unbearable for everyone.

It was complex. There was a web of criss-crossing relationships and a shared history that tied them all together. Their relationships and the children’s relationships were interwoven; the warp and weft of their lives had always been neat and regulated, now it was entangled, knotted. She needed things to go ahead as usual. She needed everyone to carry on until she’d thought this through, fully. Until she decided on her next step.