‘Wow, you look amazing,’ he said, aware that he had resorted to the kind of rhetoric that would appeal to her. He would use her tonight, for once. People used him so it was payback.
She primped her hair, smiled, handed over a glittery gift bag with number 65s all over it. ‘It’s for Nigel. I forgot to drop it off before I left for the hen do – idiot.’
‘I’m sure he’ll be delighted.’ He bent to kiss her cheek and was enveloped by her scent – Tara’s scent – and it made him feel sick. ‘Coffee?’
‘Love one. Been dashing about trying to catch up ever since I flew in this morning. Had to go in to work straight from the airport. That’s the problem with having time off from your own business. And staff always miss something in your absence that you have to sort out as soon as you get back.’
He boiled the kettle, prepared two mugs.
‘How was Tenerife?’ he asked.
‘Hot.’ She fanned her face as if the sun had followed her home.
‘I can tell.’
She beamed. ‘How did the party go? Did Nigel have everything he should have for his special day?’
Dear God.
‘Well, he had cake, a crowd, champagne . . . fireworks.’ He couldn’t resist.
‘Oh I love fireworks. Eek.’ She shrieked as Pong leapt up on the table, seeking attention. ‘Go away, Pong. Go on, shoo.’
Pete lifted the protesting Siamese and put him in the lounge and closed the door. He never would have done this usually, but he could be forgiven once. He didn’t want Pong ruining Ria’s expensive jumper, he needed her on side.
‘Here you go,’ he said, passing a mug to her while trying to ignore Pong’s pitiful yowling and glowering at them through the glass panel of the door.
‘Thank you,’ said Ria. Her teeth looked ultraviolet against her tan.
Pete tried to dredge up some small talk even though he wanted to lean over the table and bawl in her face, ‘WHO WAS MY WIFE SCREWING BEHIND MY BACK, RIA?’ He needed to keep his powder dry, shock her into revealing what she knew. Tara would have been desperate to show off to someone, share the salacious details with them.
‘It was lovely of you to invite me over,’ said Ria.
‘Well I always seem to be too busy or knackered to talk so I thought I’d remedy that,’ he replied. ‘I’ve been having some counselling.’
‘Jackie Crawford?’
‘No, I didn’t go to her. I was told about a group, quite informal and that sounded more up my street.’
‘Oh, how many of you go there?’ She lifted her mug, sipped daintily.
‘Five of us. Three older people and a woman my age who lost her partner at the same time as I lost . . . Tara.’ Her name came out in a near-spit.
‘Oh.’
He’d poked her jealousy button, which was easily depressed and he would keep his finger on it for a touch longer. Play with her, like a cat tormenting a mouse.
‘We have a lot of common ground, being younger than the rest. It’s helped me a lot talking to her. She’s a solicitor.’
He smiled wistfully, saw Ria’s mouth contract as much as her enhanced lips would allow.
‘Oh I see. And have you got . . . close to this woman?’
‘God no,’ said Pete, ‘that would be a disaster. I’m not looking for anything like that. Not outside my familiar circle anyway.’
He watched relief break through her clouded expression, saw her eyes blink as her brain tried to decipher what he meant by the phrase ‘familiar circle’.
‘So she didn’t go with you to Nigel’s party?’
‘No, I went alone. Well, with Lucy and Griff.’
‘Ah, Lucy and Griff, how are they? It was lovely to see them the last time I was here.’
He couldn’t hold off any longer. Pete felt his foot step on the travelator that would take him to the conversation he wanted to have. Needed to have.
‘Not great, if I’m honest.’
‘Oh, why’s that?’
‘They had some really bad news recently. Griff can’t have children.’
Ria put down her mug, her face creased in sympathy. ‘I’m so sorry to hear that. Tara told me last year that they were going to be checked out because they were having problems. We both hoped they’d find a simple fix.’
Pete felt his jaw tighten, his mouth dry up as if all his salivary glands had suddenly pulled down their hatches and closed their doors like townsfolk in a cowboy film did before a gunfight.
‘Yes, he has a birth defect. Tests have shown it up so there is nothing they can do about it.’
‘Oh my, that’s awful. The poor loves.’
Now.
‘And the thing is, because we are identical twins, I can’t have children either.’
‘Oh Pete, I’m so sor—’
He watched the realisation dawn on her face. Saw the sympathy segue to confusion, then something akin to horror. Even her tan seemed to pale. He held her gaze, defied her large doe eyes to leave his.
‘So, Ria. The big question is – who was the father of my wife’s baby?’
Chapter 42
Pete thought it would be much harder work to winkle something out of his sister-in-law than it was. She wouldn’t have held up well in a serious interrogation. He watched Ria’s mouth move over words unformed and when she eventually said, ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ the denial came far too late to be credible.
‘Ria,’ his voice soft, pleading now, ‘it might make no difference to anyone else, but it does to me. I can’t live not knowing.’ He reached across the table, took both of Ria’s hands in his, felt her jerk a little at the contact and he hated himself for having to manipulate her like this. ‘I know she was seeing someone else. She’d been in trouble at work for not being where she should; in fact she told me she was in Leeds on the day she died and she wasn’t and that’s been playing on my mind since the accident. She lied for a reason. Did you know she was having an affair?’
Again that denial after a telling pause. ‘No, I didn’t.’ Then she added. ‘Not really,’ and he wanted to shake her and ask what ‘not really’ meant, because it could only mean that she did know but didn’t want to tell him.
‘Ria, who was he?’
‘I don’t know, I honestly don’t.’
‘So there was someone?’
‘Yes . . . no . . . I mean no . . .’
Pete let go of her hands, pushed himself to his feet, leaned against the kitchen work surface, turned from her, tried another way into this maze, a brave one.
‘I’m sorry, Ria, but I think you should go. And I don’t want you to ever come back here.’
‘Oh Pete, don’t say that.’
‘You have no idea how much my heart is breaking about this. Just go.’
He was lying. His heart was strong and pounding with anger. It would break when he stopped being angry so he needed to keep the fire inside him stoked.
He turned back to her when he heard a hiccup of a sob. Ria’s hands were shielding her face from his view.
‘I’m so sorry. I told her she was being stupid and cruel and an idiot.’ Her shoulders were shaking but no teardrops were landing on the table top. Fake tears, but he wouldn’t call her out on them now because the dam had burst on her words if not her eyes.