His face became still and his eyes flickered away from mine. “Yes, I think so,” he said. “But I’m not sure whether we’re flying together. I’ll have to check her flight time.”
I think that was the first time Harry had ever told me a direct lie. Though how would I know? But this was a lie; I knew it.
* * *
• • •
I worked hard all day but I couldn’t stop thinking about Harry. Why was I just lying down and taking this? I was his wife and I didn’t want to lose him. I looked up at the clock. It was nearly four. Time to act. I would go to Paris, too. If I did that, nothing could happen between Harry and Ruby. I knew I’d feel a fool, gate-crashing their little party, but what was the alternative?
I took my laptop from the office; I would work in the hotel room. I drove home and quickly packed an overnight bag. Minutes later I was in my car, heading toward Manchester airport.
I hurried from the car park to the terminal building. The check-in line was pretty long and I stood against a wall, away from the crowd, waiting for Harry to arrive. I didn’t want to buy a ticket until I was certain he was definitely taking that flight. I knew he wouldn’t have arrived before me; he was never early for anything.
I waited and waited, scouring the crowds for Harry. I didn’t want to send him a message, I wanted to surprise him. Deep down I knew he’d be shocked, rather than surprised, but I’d gone past caring about that. The line at the check-in grew shorter. I looked at my watch impatiently. It was now after seven o’clock, prime time for traffic problems around Manchester. He needed to get a move on. I took my passport and credit card out of my bag, realizing I should get a ticket now rather than wait for Harry to turn up. If he only just got there on time I might be too late to buy one. I went over to the ticket office and stood in the short queue there. The woman in front of me had emptied her handbag onto the desk in an effort to find her passport and I turned away, exasperated.
Then I saw him. He sauntered through the departures concourse carrying his bag as though he had all the time in the world. He looked much more relaxed than I would be if I was arriving that late for a flight. He reached the stand for Air France and stood at the back of the queue. I thought he must be taking a different flight from Ruby’s and my heart lifted with relief. He took off his jacket and rolled up his shirtsleeves, revealing his forearms. They were tanned and muscular and even at that distance made me weak at the knees. His hair was tousled and when his face broke out into a huge grin I felt myself respond. I smiled back and was just about to wave, when I realized he wasn’t smiling at me. He hadn’t even seen me.
Just when I’d taken a few steps toward him a woman brushed past me, darting through the crowds. She was tall and slender, with dark brown hair and that pink complexion that blushes easily. She was blushing now and laughing, too. She went up behind Harry and did that thing where you tap on one shoulder but stand on the other side. He swung one way and didn’t see anyone, then turned the other way and saw her. His face lit up in a huge smile. He reached out and put his arms around her, hugging her so hard he almost lifted her from the ground.
And still I was persuading myself, well, okay, they are friends and he’s hugging her. He can have a female friend, right? I can be a cool wife. I took another step toward him. But then he cupped her face in his hands and gave her the sweetest, most gentle kiss on her mouth. She was wearing a little silk vest and blue jeans and as she raised her arms to wrap them around his neck, I saw her back, pale and soft, and watched his hands slide around her waist, under her vest, to stroke her skin. A woman nudged Harry to indicate the queue was moving on. He and Ruby blushed and I saw them apologize. He took Ruby’s passport from her and opened it. I saw him smile and say something to her, then she reached up to whisper in his ear. He kissed her hair and pulled her to him.
I couldn’t take my eyes from them.
They were called up to the desk and one by one they showed their passports, had their bags weighed, and were given boarding passes. They turned away from the desk and I saw her touch his arm and ask him something. He pointed down the concourse to the security exit and, hand in hand, they walked off toward it.
My face was stinging as though I’d been slapped. I took out my phone and called Harry. I had no idea what I would say to him. It rang three times. He pulled his phone from his pocket and looked at it. I was about fifty yards behind him, now, following them. The ringing stopped. He’d cut me off! He didn’t say anything to Ruby—if he had I wouldn’t have been responsible for my actions—but put his phone back into his pocket. I don’t know whether I imagined that slight hesitation before he put his arm around her shoulder.
I looked from him to her, at the way she reached up to touch his hand, the way she nestled against him, and I thought, Enjoy it while you can, Ruby Dean. I am going to blow up your life.
CHAPTER 24
Emma
I have never been the kind of person who’ll just sit and take whatever someone chooses to dole out. Why would I do that? No. No. Better to preempt them. Get in first. Fire the first bullet. That’s more what I’m like.
And Harry should have known that.
So that night I went straight from the airport to Ruby’s house, to tell her husband that my husband was having an affair with his wife.
* * *
• • •
By the time I parked on the road by their house, ready for a quick getaway, I was feeling pretty nervous. I looked at the house; it was a good size. Well kept. A large magnolia tree sat in the corner of the garden, still in bloom, its graceful fragrant flowers just starting to shed. Everything here seemed so respectable, so normal, that I had a moment of panic in case I’d got it wrong and Ruby answered the door. What would I say? And then I pulled myself together. She wouldn’t be here. That was definitely her at the airport. I recognized her from the Sheridan’s website, though there her face was pale and serious. There was clearly more to her than you might assume from that photo. No, she wasn’t here. She was boarding her flight around about now, snuggling up to my husband. I’m sure they’d had a quick celebratory drink while they were waiting, clinking glasses at the prospect of a naughty weekend away, thinking they’d fooled everyone. Well, not me.
I walked up their driveway. It was nearly dusk and lamps were lit in their living room. I could hear the faint sound of a television. Someone was home. My stomach clenched with stress but I knew I had to go through with this. I took a deep breath and rang the bell. Through the colored glass panels in the front door I could see someone moving in the hallway. He came closer, his body blocking the light, and I took a step back and braced myself. The front door opened.
A man stood on the doorstep. He was tall and dark, about my age. He was wearing a gray T-shirt and soft denim jeans. Nice-looking, really. Put it this way: he didn’t look like a good-enough reason for Ruby to be sleeping with my husband. Not that you can always tell, but still.