I thought of him saying that to Ruby and felt sick. And yet, why wouldn’t he? He’d known it had worked with me. Maybe it was his party piece, something he said to all the women he’d been with.
I looked at Tom and wondered whether he was going through the same thing.
“Are you going to confront him?” he asked. “Now that you know for certain.”
“I don’t know.” I desperately wanted Harry to stay with me. To choose me. I knew that if Tom and I challenged them both now, there was a huge chance they’d run off into the sunset together. I couldn’t cope with that. “I think I’ll bide my time. How about you?”
He looked unsure. “I don’t know. I want to call her now. I won’t, though.”
“No,” I agreed. “Don’t do anything just yet.”
He got up and went into the kitchen. I heard a tap running and when he came back in, his face was damp and there were splashes on his T-shirt. “I think you’re right,” he said. “We should bide our time.”
“See what happens.”
He hesitated, then shrugged. “I don’t want to think about this now.” He poured me another drink. “Tell me about yourself. What do you do?”
And so I curled my feet up on their soft velvet sofa and I had another sip of wine and started to talk to Tom about my life. What it was like to be me. It was more intoxicating than the wine, I have to admit. For a while there’d been a barrier between Harry and me; I knew now he’d created that. I realized when I spoke to him nowadays it was as though there was a brief pause where he had to stop thinking his own thoughts and acknowledge mine, but then he’d forget mine immediately afterward and go back to his own. It was more than that, though. It was as though I was speaking another language and he needed time to translate. And the distance had grown greater as time went by. So that night it was the first time in months that I felt someone was really listening to me. Speaking my language.
And then it was quiet and when I looked at Tom, I saw he was looking at me, too. His expression was serious, as though there was something he had to say.
“What?” I said. My mouth was suddenly dry. “I’m sorry. I’ve been talking too much.”
He shook his head. “You haven’t. I just wanted to say . . .” He sat up, put his glass on the coffee table. “You’re really lovely.” His gaze was so intense and I just couldn’t look away. “I don’t know how Harry could do that to you.”
I swallowed, suddenly close to tears. He leaned forward and put his hands in my hair, just as I imagined Harry was doing to Ruby, probably right at that moment.
And then he kissed me.
CHAPTER 26
Emma
I know, I know. I shouldn’t have done it. We shouldn’t have done it. There’s no excuse. None at all.
Except I wasn’t the only one behaving badly, was I?
I woke before dawn the next morning, my eyes snapping open to see the fluorescent digits of a bedside clock blinking at me. My head banged with a red wine headache and my mouth tasted foul. I must have been asleep for three hours, I reckoned. The room was dark, but light spilled in from the lamp on the landing, and I could see Tom, sprawled out on the bed beside me. His face was in the pillow, his breathing deep and regular. He’d drunk as much as I had. More, perhaps. I think he’d had a few drinks before I got there. It’s no excuse, but there it is.
I lay as still as I could, letting my eyes scrutinize the room. We were in their spare room; I don’t think either of us had had the stomach or the sheer gall to sleep together in their marital bed. The bed was large and comfortable, with deep pillows and a huge feathery quilt that he’d pulled up over us just before we slept. It wasn’t that that made me feel uncomfortable, obviously. His clothes were on the floor, where I’d thrown them the night before. I winced and looked away. There were pictures on the wall—I wished they were generic, so that I could feel superior—God knows I needed to claw back some self-respect—but they weren’t. They were clearly chosen by someone who was interested in art, who loved the pictures and had spent ages deciding on frames and positioning and the way the light would shine on them. The huge bookcase held so many books that were in my house, too, and I knew, I just knew that they were Ruby’s.
I closed my eyes. What an absolute bitch I was. In that moment I hoped that Harry was in bed with Ruby. I hoped he was having a good time and wasn’t giving me a second thought. I felt grubby and tawdry and just like the most antifeminist person I could imagine. I was in another woman’s house and in her bed with her husband. I hadn’t thought I could sink so low.
I needed to get out, to go back home. I cringed as I realized I’d be leaving Ruby’s house where I’d betrayed her so absolutely, to go back to Harry’s where I’d done the same thing to him. I felt ashamed of myself.
The last thing I wanted to do was to talk to Tom, so inch by inch I slid silently out of the bed. I was naked and couldn’t see any of my clothes in that room. I made sure I didn’t open the door any farther—I didn’t want the light to waken Tom—and found my underwear on the landing floor. Quickly I scrambled into it.
Down in the living room the lamps were still lit and two wineglasses stood on the coffee table, one half-full, the other empty. I looked away, disgusted. My dress lay crumpled on the sofa, just where Tom had removed it, and I put it on, trying to ignore the scratches on my back and the soft, tender bruises that were starting to bloom on my wrists and thighs. My shoes were just where I’d left them; I’d kicked them off before I curled up on his sofa.
I swallowed. Their sofa.
When I was dressed, I grabbed my bag and put my jacket on. The night was still warm but my body felt chilled to the bone. My car keys were next to my handbag on the table in the hall; when I put them there the night before, I thought I’d be staying for only a few minutes. I picked them up without making a sound, then let myself out of the house, closing the door quietly behind me.
I crept down the driveway, glad that there was no automatic lighting that would have exposed me. The night was still, the sky the darkest blue. Nobody was around. All the lights in the houses nearby were off, the cars safely parked in their driveways. It was as though I was the only person awake.
My car was parked on the road next to their house. I left my lights off when I started the engine and only put them on when I drove around the corner and onto the main road.
The car was cold and I rubbed my arms to warm up. As I did so I realized I’d left something behind. Harry had given me a heavy silver bracelet for my last birthday and I’d been wearing it the day before. For a second I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t go back into the house to ask for it back, yet Harry would notice if it was missing. Then I shrugged and carried on driving. I knew Tom would see it, would hide it from Ruby. I’d tell Harry I’d lost it. I’d feign innocence. Shock, even.