My Husband's Lies Read online

  The indignant resolve slips from his chest. ‘I know, I’m sorry.’

  ‘And you never talk things through. You’re so buttoned up at times that it’s difficult to know what you’re thinking. I’m not a mind reader, Nick. I try, but sometimes it’s impossible. And you know I’m a bit bossy. I’m a fixer, I like to fix things, but I can only help if you let me—’

  He slips out the photographs then, laying them out side by side on the kitchen table. ‘This is Susan,’ he says, pointing to the pretty fourteen-year-old girl. ‘She was my birth mother. How do we fix that?’

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  Jen

  ‘Hi,’ Jen says when Will arrives at her door.

  ‘Hi,’ he replies, coming in. His face is pale and serious, his jaw tight. He stands for a moment, looking down at the floor before recovering himself and following her into the kitchen.

  Jen sits and tries for a smile. Composes herself mentally. ‘Just tell me, Will. I’ll offer you a drink later.’

  He stares through the window, then sits, spreads his large hands on the table, looks at her briefly, then takes a breath. ‘You know we’ve been to this counselling—’

  ‘We?’

  ‘Yeah, I went with Penny last week.’

  ‘Yes, you said you might. How was it?’

  ‘Not my thing, if I’m honest.’ He pauses for a moment, as though reordering his thoughts. ‘Well, you know how counselling isn’t a miracle cure, how it’s all about the therapist helping you to help yourself? You know, looking to the future, making a doable plan and having coping strategies for when things go wrong. The sort of thing Geri used to do?’

  Jen nods. ‘Yes, and Ian with the kids at school.’

  She stares at his face. The conversation isn’t what she expects. She wonders where it’s going; wishes she could stop herself from interrupting.

  ‘Well, it’s all about identifying and then tackling the underlying cause of the problem – in Penny’s case, the anxiety. Remove that and life’s hunky-dory.’ He smiles thinly and looks at her. ‘That’s the theory anyway.’

  ‘So the underlying cause is?’

  ‘Penny’s mum.’

  ‘Ah, as we thought. Maybe try assassination?’ she quips, still wondering what Will is trying to say.

  ‘If only.’ He absently rubs the table with his hand. ‘So Pen and I had a long talk. She thinks her mum is narcissistic.’ He glances at Jen. ‘Not the guy who falls in love with his own reflection. It’s a personality disorder, a syndrome, apparently. Seems an extreme description to me and I can’t see it, but what do I know. It’s Penny who matters and she feels it so strongly that she needs to—’

  Jen remembers Ian mentioning high-achieving parents; he probably knows about this syndrome too. Her husband, who’s a star. ‘Oh, right.’

  ‘Anyway, the person with it doesn’t recognise it, apparently. They think they’re great …’ He smiles wryly. ‘Which is self-explanatory, I suppose.’ He takes another breath. ‘We can’t make her mum vanish into a puff of smoke or change her. Penny says there’s been no sympathy or love since … just more criticism. Turning up unexpectedly, on the phone every day. Hurtful, unkind comments. You know – Penny has embarrassed not only herself but the whole family, God knows what her fellow JPs on the bench would make of it if they knew, that type of thing. Basically that Penny has let her down.’ He places his hand over Jen’s, so hers completely disappears. Then he stares at her face. ‘Her mum won’t ever change, Jen. So, the answer is for us to remove ourselves from the problem – to distance ourselves. Penny can’t see any alternative but to move away—’

  Jen knows he hasn’t finished, but can’t help herself. She’s back in her eleven-year-old body. It’s the summer before starting St Mark’s and her daddy has told her he’s leaving, that he’s going back to Ireland, not just for work, but forever. There’s shock, disbelief, desperation.

  ‘You can’t move away, Will! You love your house. Seb’s here, your mum’s here …’ Not able to voice the real reason why she needs him to stay, she urgently searches for humour. ‘Manchester City are here for goodness’ sake. You can’t move down south. That’s betrayal!’

  Will curls his fingers around her palm. His eyes are on hers, dark and sad. ‘An opportunity came up. Pen was really keen for me to apply for it. Same firm, new position. She can work pretty much anywhere. She’s really enjoyed writing, so she’s thinking of a book. She’s eager to go, thinks it would be good for us both …’

  London, Jen thinks. Will’s going to bloody London.

  She comes back to his gaze. His eyes are welling. Oh God, they are welling.

  ‘The job’s in Grand Cayman, Jen.’

  She tries to withdraw her hand, but Will grasps it tightly.

  ‘But,’ he says, staring at her intently. ‘But, just say the word and I won’t go. Tell me you want me to stay and I will.’

  Pulling away from his grip, she stands, her chair clattering to the floor. ‘That isn’t fair, Will. You’re not being fair. Don’t ask me to decide.’

  The volume of Will’s voice makes her jump. ‘Do you ever think about how I feel?’ he bellows. ‘In all these years you’ve never said, “I love you, Will”. How do I know how you feel, Jen? We get on like a house on fire, we have sublime sex, but what does that mean? I’ve been your bit on the side for twelve or more years and while I wouldn’t change that for a moment, have you ever wondered how that’s made me feel? Going back to an empty flat, sleeping with some casual acquaintance just for a bit of company? Wanting to wake up with you next to me, getting drunk with you, going for a meal or on holiday? Marrying someone I love, but not the way I love you? Wanting kids, not with Penny or anyone else, but with you?’ He stares helplessly at her face for a moment before gathering her in his arms. ‘Oh God, Jen. Don’t cry, please don’t cry.’

  She shoves him away. ‘Of course I love you. I’ve always loved you. How could you possibly think otherwise?’ She pushes him again. ‘Go away. I need to be alone.’

  Will doesn’t move. He stands there, strong and solid, pulling her back into his arms. ‘I’m not going anywhere until we’ve talked this through.’

  ‘You came this time,’ Will says, later in bed.

  ‘How did you know?’ Jen replies with an embarrassed laugh.

  ‘I didn’t at the time. It was only when I thought about it afterwards. Like I always think about it afterwards.’ His face clears and he grins. ‘Still, I was touched you’d made the dramatic effort.’

  She feels herself blushing. ‘I did nearly—’

  ‘Yeah, but today you did big-style. Apart from the clues of noise and pink cheeks, you’re exhausted; you can’t move, can you? You’re not hopping out of bed to make posh sandwiches and tea.’

  ‘Hmm, am I so transparent?’

  ‘Just the once, and only in retrospect.’

  They fall silent and Jen wishes she could doze, sleep all day and all night spooned by Will’s sturdy warm body. But today is a swansong. She hopes God will forgive her.

  ‘We both know you have to go to Grand Cayman,’ she says eventually, still turned from his face. ‘When will it be?’

  ‘A month, maybe two, I suppose. I need to say yes to the offer, then arrangements will have to be made, accommodation and so on. Penny’s work too. I guess she needs to give notice, wrap up whatever she’s working on.’ Pulling her hair to one side, he kisses her shoulder. ‘Will you look after Mum for me? Keep an eye on Seb?’

  She’s desperate to cry. ‘Goes without saying.’

  He twists and releases her hair for some time. ‘Will you visit us?’ he asks eventually.

  She’s glad she’s turned away; her face would betray her. ‘Damn right we will. You need a big enough pad for all five of us, and a swimming pool is compulsory.’

  Will strokes her arm softly. ‘I’ll miss you though, terribly. Your soft skin and your smile. And I’ll miss this, us.’

  She tries to breathe back the tears. You can’t have your c
ake and eat it, Jennifer, she thinks. The words repeat in her head, but like an oncoming tremor, she can feel the quaver in her false positivity. She badly wants to be greedy, wants the best of both worlds. But she holds onto her firm voice by a thread. ‘I will too. There’s FaceTime and texts and the telephone. We’ll be OK.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘I am sure.’

  Will is silent again for a while. ‘Deal.’ He gently turns her body towards him. ‘But before I go …’

  Jen lifts her lips to his, the tears silently falling. She takes in his smell, that mild combination of deodorant and sweat, wishing she could bottle it. ‘Yes please, one last time,’ she whispers.

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  Dan

  Dan opens the sunlit agency at eight, stumbles to the back office, sits at the desk and drops his head to his arms. His brain feels fluffy and weightless, but his legs are leaden. He eventually lifts his head, yawns and turns on the laptop.

  His eyes sting as he stares at the screen; he’s never felt so tired and drained before. For the past two weeks he’s been incredibly busy at work, barely stopping for a bite of lunch, then the moment he gets home, Geri passes him the baby, saying she needs a break for half an hour. She disappears into the lounge, turns on the television and closes the door, or sits in the garden if it’s warm enough, puts on huge headphones and listens to music on her iPod.

  Dan understands; it isn’t a problem. Geri needs time out to relax, and he loves his one-to-one stretch with his boy, but by the time she gives Teddy a last feed and puts him to bed, he realises he’s only had a sandwich at the office all day. So he cooks them some shepherd’s pie or a lasagne, which takes far longer than he anticipates. He brings it through to Geri on a tray and they watch a half-hour programme or the news. They’re both shattered, go to bed, hurtling into deep sleep. Then Teddy wakes them for a feed in the night, sometimes two. As he watches Teddy suckle, he longs to sleep, but he can’t drop off. That’s when his mind drifts.

  After the initial flurry of hands-on assistance from family, it feels as though everyone has abandoned them. Dan could ask his mum to help with the cooking and cleaning, but can’t bring himself to do it. Besides liking his peppery-smelling house as it is, she’d fuss and worry, calling on his dad or Father Peter at the drop of a hat. He’s not sure if Geri would see it as interference. He’s not sure what she thinks about anything anymore. Since he returned to work, they’ve barely spoken.

  ‘You look shattered,’ Maya has said every morning this week, and today is no exception. She bursts into his office at nine and stares. ‘Blooming heck, Dan. You look even more knackered today than you did yesterday.’ She opens his diary, reads for a moment, then sits in the chair opposite and folds her arms. ‘As I thought. Even though it’s a Friday, we’re pretty quiet today. No completions and I can sort Mrs Herring. And we have mobile blooming phones! I’ll call if I need you. So, why don’t you turn around and go back home? Chill out, have a nap, a day out in this lovely weather?’

  Dan rakes his hair, thinking back to last weekend. Geri went out for several hours each day with her mum and her sister who were staying. She’s been able to express her breast milk, which is great. The pleasure of feeding his child is immeasurable. He loves cradling his son, smelling him, talking to him, walking him to his parents’ house in the pram, but at times he can hardly keep his eyes open. When he fell asleep for a few moments in the armchair on Saturday afternoon, he awoke with a jerk, dashing with a racing heart to Teddy’s cot to check he was breathing.

  ‘Going home would be more demanding than staying here!’ he wants to say, but that would sound disloyal and unfair to Geri who has Teddy eight to six every weekday. Instead he smiles faintly, ‘I might put my head on the desk, sleep and dribble. Don’t wake me if I do.’

  ‘Right you are,’ Maya says, taking his attempt at humour seriously. She starts to leave the room, then turns back with a small frown. ‘What about escaping to your mum’s for a few hours? Or a friend’s house? I’ll cover for you if Geri calls. My lips will be sealed!’

  ‘How come you’re so wise?’ Dan asks with a small smile, feeling he’s said those words before.

  Maya smiles back, looking pleased. ‘Cosmopolitan magazine?’ But then she blushes. ‘And maybe because my kid brother is only four. My stepmum is white and my dad couldn’t cope with all the hands-on dad stuff. Culture shock big time. She didn’t understand his … distress, I suppose, when she was the one who had to push the baby out and do all the hard stuff, but I could see how difficult it was for him, even though I usually stand up for the women.’ She smiles shyly. ‘But he is my dad, after all.’

  He looks at Maya thoughtfully. Father love and forgiving their weaknesses; that he understands. ‘You’re a good kid, you know that? I’m lucky to have you.’

  ‘I’m not a kid, I’ll be—’

  ‘Twenty-four in a week. Huge present expected.’ He summons a smile. ‘See, I was listening.’

  He stares at his diary. A couple of hours wouldn’t hurt. A bed would be brilliant, but he hasn’t slept in his parents’ house since he left for university. God knows how his mum would react if he turned up on a Friday morning with a ‘don’t tell Geri’ when he’s supposed to be at work.

  Maya’s still hovering, a small frown on her face. Perhaps he could drive to Wilmslow Park and have a nap in the car. He stands, slinging his jacket over his shoulder. ‘OK, you win. I’ll go out for some air, a walk or a drive. Call if you need me.’

  A sudden April shower begins halfway to the car. Stopping to look to the sky, he debates whether to run on or go back to the office. By the time he climbs into the car, his shirt plastered to his chest, he feels wholly awake. What the hell, he thinks, Seb said to call anytime.

  Driving on autopilot, he decides to text Seb at the traffic lights to check if he’s in, but red lights turn to amber then to green each time he approaches. He hasn’t had chance to think about Seb properly, at least not his words: ‘it wasn’t what you thought.’ Now time has passed, he’s having difficulty remembering why he was so angry, why he acted out of character, getting blind drunk on his own when his baby was imminent. But other things about that afternoon he does remember, the things he contemplates in the dead of night.

  He parks at the side of Oak House, climbs out of his car and inhales the fresh smell of mown grass. With a warm nostalgic surge, it takes him back to cricket matches at St Mark’s. He stretches his hamstrings with a smile, then glances around. The neat flower beds and the trees are glossing into life and lit up by bright sunshine, the handsome red building looks welcoming. The rain has finally stopped, leaving the pebbles with a multi-coloured gleam.

  As he goes to press the intercom at the entrance, a woman opens the door with a wide white-toothed smile. She holds it for him. ‘After you,’ she says. ‘Thank goodness it’s stopped. Looks like you got caught.’ She’s very attractive, Dan knows, and possibly flirting, but finds he’s stopped noticing the way he used to.

  He walks to the lift, wondering if he’ll ever be able to stand in an elevator without the same thought. It used to be a fart scene from a film, now it is something a great deal less funny, but pleasurable all the same. He feels a stirring of anticipation break through the fatigue. It’ll be nice to see Seb. Only as a friend, but he likes his company, he’s missed him.

  He rings the bell and waits for several moments at the apartment door, then looks at his watch, registering for the first time that it’s early, far too early for Seb if he’s home. Feeling a mix of disappointment and relief, he strides to the waiting lift, then he hears the door open.

  A woman is standing at Seb’s doorway.

  Holding his breath, Dan stares. Not really a woman; tall, freckled and skinny, she’s more a girl. Her blonde hair is tousled and she’s wearing a vest top and knickers. For a second he wonders if he’s come out of the lift at the wrong floor; for another, he reasons Seb’s moved out, a new tenant moved in. But he knows he’s kidding himself.
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  The girl is still looking at him, her dark eyebrows raised.

  ‘Sorry,’ he says. ‘I was looking for Seb Taylor.’

  ‘He’s still in bed,’ she replies. ‘Come in. I’ll tell him you’re here.’

  Dan wants to bolt; to make excuses and leave, but he knows it would look odd. An older man in a suit turning up at your boyfriend’s door and then running away again isn’t normal. He doesn’t know what Seb tells his girlfriends about his sexual proclivities; he didn’t know Seb had a girlfriend.

  ‘Sebastian, there’s someone for you,’ the girl calls. Then, turning back to Dan, still looking at him inquisitively, ‘I’m just making a cuppa. Do you want one?’

  ‘No, you’re fine, thanks. I won’t be …’ But the girlfriend lifts her hand and disappears in the kitchen.

  Rubbing his face, Seb emerges from his bedroom, then stops abruptly. Like the girl, he’s wearing a white T-shirt and underpants. ‘Dan,’ he says, raking the short fridge from his forehead.

  ‘If this is a bad time—’ Dan starts, not knowing what else to say.

  The girl appears from the kitchen with a mug and heads to the bathroom. ‘I’ve made three,’ she says over her shoulder.

  Dan follows Seb to the kitchen. He feels foolish and needs to leave.

  ‘It’s not a bad time,’ Seb says, handing him a mug. ‘She’s going in a few minutes. Her lectures start at half ten.’