Two Kinds Of Truth(23)

The day out was all Callum’s idea. He’d brought a small picnic and a fishing rod, which he insisted only he should carry. We bobbed about on the water for at least an hour, eating our sandwiches and enjoying the sun on our backs. He’d appeared a little fidgety that day, and out of the blue, he sat poker straight and proclaimed his fishing line had a bite. I hadn’t seen it tug, but Callum insisted he’d caught something big and started reeling in the line. I sniggered when he told me the fish was going to be huge, and I played along and laughed even louder when he faked losing his balance and almost fell into the water. He was having a whale of a time acting juvenile and I didn’t want to spoil his fun.

To my surprise, the line suddenly shot out of the water, and I’m sure my mouth gaped wide open when I realised it wasn’t a fish at the end of the line, not of any size, but a small black box hooked onto the float. Callum reeled it in and then sat down, the box in the palm of his hand.

I inched closer. “How did that get there?” I asked, somewhat puzzled. When he looked up at me, I swear his eyes glistened, then he took my hand in his own.

“I love you,” he whispered and opened the box. Inside, sat a sparkling solitaire diamond ring. I pressed my lips together. I hadn’t suspected a thing. Callum pulled the ring from the box and held it up towards me. “Make me the happiest man alive. Say you’ll be my wife.”

I now twist the two gold rings on my wedding finger, one of which has adorned it since that very day, but then I drop my hand and let out a sigh. Opening my eyes, I wipe away the last of my tears and head for the stairs and my bedroom.

I undress, then get into bed. I lie awake, waiting for Callum to come home, surprised sometime later when I hear a car door slam. I glance at the clock. It isn’t even midnight. I listen for the downstairs door to open, but hear male voices heading towards the farmhouse, instead. And so I lie in wait as another hour passes before Callum finally makes an appearance.

I turn to watch him enter the room.

“Where the hell have you been?” I ask.

Callum lets out a deep sigh and sits on the edge of the bed. He kicks off his shoes and throws them into the corner of the room. The first thing that strikes me is that Callum isn’t drunk; not what I expected at all. Although I can smell alcohol on his breath, he appears relatively sober.

“Callum, I think I deserve some kind of explanation at least.”

He gets up off the bed and takes off his shirt and trousers.

“I’m going to take a shower,” he says and heads towards the bathroom.

“Callum?”

I’m infuriated by the way he dismisses me so easily, but try to keep a lid on my frustration. I’m struggling, though. The shower comes on and a loud screech announces that the cubicle door has closed. I listen to every sound he makes until I hear him switch off the water, then he walks back into the bedroom, a bath towel wrapped around his waist.

“So, are you going to explain what happened tonight?” I ask.

“What can I say? I needed fresh air.”

“And you had to go all the way to Camburgh to find some.”

“I guess. It can get pretty stifling around here at times.”

“And you’re not going to at least apologise for your behaviour?”

“You think I should?”

“Are you serious?”

He shrugs. “So, I felt like a night out with my brother. Is that really such a big deal?”

“Actually, yes. It is. How could you do that to me? Just piss off out without a word?”

He peels back the covers, pulls off the towel and throws it on a nearby chair. He gets into bed and turns off the bedside light.

“Callum,” I fume, “at least have the decency to answer me.”

He throws himself over onto his side. “What, exactly, do you want me to say?”

I reach over and switch on the light. “How about saying you’re sorry for leaving me in the lurch. Or better still, explaining why you felt the need to go into town with Jamie.”

“Okay, I’m sorry,” he grunts. “I’ve no excuse other than I wanted to share some quality time with my bro.”

“But all you had to do was say. I wouldn’t have stopped you.”

“Yeah, well, that thought never crossed my mind. I simply acted on impulse. I’m sorry, okay? And I promise it won’t happen again.” He punches his pillow and snuggles himself under the covers. “Am I forgiven? And if so, can we go to sleep now?” and he soon falls asleep.

I simply can’t speak, flabbergasted by his nonchalant attitude towards me. I lie there, in bed, wrapped in the luxury of the duvet, but feel no comfort from its warmth. The truth is chipping away at me, like a sculptor working tirelessly with his chisel. Bit by bit. Chip, chip, chip. And he’s revealed something I don’t wish to see, but I’m starting to face reality.

My husband is falling out of love with me.

My heart contracts as I stifle a cry. It’s as though my soul is twisted in barbed wire, caught and pierced until every last drop of blood flows out. Another soft whimper escapes and I stiffen, terrified he’ll awaken, but he turns in his sleep and mumbles something incoherent. Amongst it all, though, he says one word I do catch, a name, and my confusion deepens—“Ally.”

I catch my breath, unable to unhear what I just heard. Isn’t she the woman who visited the farm today? The vet? Callum has never mentioned that he knew her. I suffer a moment of uncertainty. She’s turning into an itch I can’t quite reach to scratch, and I picture her in my mind; long dark hair, luscious red lips, legs of a Goddess. There’s something about her that’s getting under my skin, and so I toss and turn all night, only falling asleep just as the farm’s cockerel proclaims the start of a brand-new day.