Sarah seemed confused. “That’s not how he came across when I met him.”
“No, he could put on a great mask.”
“Yeah, they’re never the same in company as they are when you’re on your own with them. But are you sure it wasn’t just because you were in love with Harry and you were comparing them?”
I shook my head. “I almost left a couple of years ago, before I even started working with Harry. I’d just about had enough. And then my mum fell over and broke her arm, so that took me out of the house some, and things were a bit easier. But then a couple of Christmases ago it was awful.”
“What happened?”
“Just an argument,” I said. It had been more than that, though. You know when someone says something and it cuts you to the quick? I was naked at the time and Tom was clothed, which made me feel so much more vulnerable. It wasn’t something I was going to talk to Sarah about.
She reached out and touched my wrist. “Don’t you wear your Fitbit now?”
We both looked down at my wrist. I was wearing a bangle instead; it felt too odd to have nothing there.
“I’ve never seen you without it,” she said. “Where is it?”
“I gave it back to him. He . . .” I knew she wouldn’t understand me, but I’d had enough gin to keep going. “He tracked me all the time.”
“What, where you were?”
“No, it didn’t do that, thank God. He tracked my footsteps.”
She frowned. “What?”
“He would check it, see how many steps I’d taken.”
“Oh, Adam does that,” she said. “We both wear one at the weekend and he’s always checking his against mine. When we went to New York in the summer I did twice as many steps as he did, even though we were together all the time.” She laughed. “That’s the advantage of being so much shorter than him. He never got over it. Said it was much easier for me to do ten thousand steps.”
I knew this story. She’d told me about it ten times. “It isn’t like that, though. He’s always trying to catch me out. Let’s say I go to the shops one Saturday. I walk there, buy the newspaper, walk back again. Then the next Saturday I’ll do it again and he’ll check the steps against the first trip. And then he’ll cause a fight, saying I didn’t go to the shop I said I’d gone to. And one day I didn’t wear it to work. He was convinced I hadn’t gone to work at all. He kept a check of everything I did, Sarah. Every step I took. I couldn’t bear it.”
I didn’t tell her about the times I’d try to fool him. I always parked in different spots in the office car park, to confuse him. He seemed to think I should be doing roughly the same steps each day. I could tell he was comforted if the figures matched his expectations. A few weeks ago I gave the Fitbit to Harry, who put it in his pocket when he was going to a meeting in Manchester; he knew he’d walk for a couple of miles. He told me he’d gone up and down the stairs several times instead of using the lift, just so that the figures would be skewed. That was after I’d told him about it, of course. When I knew I was leaving. He’d been horrified and wanted me to throw it away, but by then I just wanted to hand it back to Tom when I left. He’d know what I meant.
“Honestly,” said Sarah, “you’re reading too much into that. He’s just trying to keep you healthy. Anything else he’s supposed to have done?”
I bristled. “It would take too long to tell you. Maybe another time.” I couldn’t have coped if she’d told me that she thought his behavior was normal. I’d spent years being told one thing but believing another. I couldn’t bear her telling me that Tom was right all along.
“Okay,” she said. She reached out and touched my arm. “Things will be all right. Once there’s a buyer for your house, I’ll come with you and look for someplace of your own.”
I smiled, relieved. “I’d love that. I’m not sure where I’m going to move to, though.”
“It doesn’t matter. I’ll help you.”
“Sarah,” I said. “I hate to ask you this, but will you give Harry a letter from me? Or ask him to call me?”
From her expression I could tell she really didn’t want to. “Can’t you send him an e-mail?”
“I’m worried one of the tech guys might see it. And I don’t want to text in case Emma sees it.”
She hesitated. “I don’t really want to get involved, but yes, okay. Send it to me and I’ll make sure he gets it. He’s back at work on Monday.”
“And you’ll ask him to call me?”
“Yes.” She drank some wine, then leaned forward and gave me a hug. “Of course I will.”
CHAPTER 19
Ruby
I spent most of the weekend alone, just me and a notepad and pen, trying to write a letter to Harry. It was hard to write, imagining his expression as he read it.
He and I had talked all the time. We worked hard, too, but between us was the ease of age-old friends. It had been like that since I first met him. It was as though I’d been existing in some sort of half-life, living the smallest possible version of myself. When I met him I could feel myself growing, blossoming. I could say anything to him and he’d understand. Not that we sat debating serious topics all the time, of course. We talked about anything and everything. Our favorite wine. The first person we kissed. The books we couldn’t be without. The songs of our youth. Our conversations would be piecemeal throughout the day, then at the end of the day we’d almost always have time for a proper talk. And the more we talked the harder we worked; Sheridan’s had done really well in the last year and Harry had told me again and again it was because he was invigorated by me. Revitalized.
And now Emma was having his child. I couldn’t let myself think about how that had come about. I thought of his face as he found out. I could only guess at his expression. Had he given me a second thought? Had he just forgotten about me in the joy of discovering they would have a child together? In the pit of my belly was a growing fury that he thought so little of me that he couldn’t even be bothered to tell me it was over.
* * *
• • •
On Saturday afternoon it was windy and raining outdoors, and I stayed in my flat, looking out of the living room window at the river beyond. And I thought of Harry on his sofa right now, his hand stroking Emma’s belly, making plans together, thinking of names and their baby’s future. They might go out later and look at paint for the nursery, at cots and cute little outfits. Any day now, they’d go out for the afternoon and come back laden with bags and wallpaper and furniture, all for the new life they were sharing.