It was empty now; even the curtains had gone. Nothing of ours remained. I took one last walk around the house. Everything looked light and bright, bearing no marks of our life together. I thought of the day we’d come to view the house and the hopes and dreams I’d had for our future. It was our first home together; we’d bought it after we’d been together a year, and we married just before we moved in. Tom had held my hand as we walked around and we’d talked about which room would be ours, which would be Josh’s. Those early days were lovely and even now I don’t know whether that was his true self or whether the man he became was the man he’d always been, deep down.
I called a taxi, then opened the door to the shed and saw my handbag and suitcase standing there just as I’d left them early that morning so that the removal guys wouldn’t take them by mistake. The sun shone in, flooding the little room with light, and instantly I was taken back to the day I’d left Tom. So much had happened in those few months; I wasn’t that woman anymore. I didn’t know who I was, that was the trouble, and when I found out, I wasn’t sure how much of myself I could reveal to anyone I met.
I put my bags by the front door and locked the shed and the front door and put the keys into an envelope. All I had with me now were some clothes and my passport and purse. A box of papers was at my parents’ house. Nothing else mattered.
There was a beep of a car horn. The taxi had arrived. My car was gone, sold to my local garage, but when I looked up and saw the black taxi, parked at the side of the road in the spot I’d always had to park in, it reminded me so much of those years living with Tom that I leaped up, ready to get as far away as possible. The taxi driver came to pick up my suitcase.
“Going on holiday?” he asked.
I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know where I was going or how long I’d be there. “Yes,” I said in the end. “I’m going away for a while.”
* * *
• • •
Before we headed to the airport I asked the driver to stop at the estate agent’s so that I could hand over the keys to my house. They were handling the sale for me. He had to double-park and warned me to be quick, so I ran into the little office. Outside the sun was bright and when I entered the dim, cool reception area it took a moment for my eyes to adjust. In that moment I heard a familiar voice say, “How soon can the For Sale board go up? I really want a quick sale.” I stopped in my tracks.
Sitting at a desk, chatting to one of the estate agents, was a woman I recognized. A woman I’d betrayed and who’d rescued me when I needed it most. Her face looked strained and pale. Her hands rested on her belly; it still looked flat but I knew that would change soon. My face burned with embarrassment. She lifted her chin and gave me a cool nod, then turned away.
I tried to smile, but I couldn’t, and handed over the envelope to the woman behind the other desk. I hurried from the office to the taxi as though Emma might chase after me.
“Okay, love?” asked the driver. “Manchester airport now?”
I nodded. “Yes. Thanks.”
“What time’s your flight?”
“Oh, I’ve got a few hours.”
I pretended I was sleeping on the journey to the airport so that the driver didn’t talk to me. I couldn’t stop thinking about what I’d overheard. Emma was selling their house. Were she and Harry having a fresh start, too?
We drew up at the airport ninety minutes later. I climbed out and paid the driver and took my bags into the terminal.
I was just looking at the flights leaving that afternoon, trying to decide where to go to, when my phone rang in my bag. I couldn’t think of one person I wanted to speak to right then. By the time I found it, deep in my shoulder bag, it was silent again.
On the screen was a number I recognized. It was a number I’d said over and again to myself on the day I left home. Why was Harry calling me? And then there was a beep. I had a voice mail message.
As soon as I heard his voice I felt my knees shake and found a seat nearby.
Ruby, it’s me. I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I made the biggest mistake when I let you go. Please, please will you forgive me? Can we meet up today? I have so much to tell you. I just want to be with you. His voice softened and automatically my body responded. When I saw you in the café that day, I knew I couldn’t let you go. I must have been crazy to lose you. I love you, Ruby. Call me. Please.
I listened to the message again and again, remembering his voice as he talked to me in the dark in our bed in Paris about his plans for our life together. All the promises we made. For a moment I felt as I always had, that Harry was a prize that was just out of reach, and felt a jolt of disappointment that I couldn’t be with him.
But then I remembered the humiliation of being fired and how I hadn’t even considered he’d had anything to do with it. I’d trusted him. Yet he had. I knew that now. I think I’d known it before Sarah told me. It had been his decision; he wanted to get me out of his life. Then when he realized I hadn’t received his e-mail, he’d lied to me and pretended he knew nothing about it, to save his own skin. I couldn’t trust him now.
And I thought of Emma’s face in the estate agent’s office, brave and proud and so sad, and the way she was devastated when I told her how long my affair with her husband had lasted. She’d stood by me. I could never forget that. I would never betray her again.
I started to tap out a message to explain, to tell Harry that he’d hurt me too much. It could never happen. But as my finger hovered over the Send button, I knew I had to stop thinking of him as my friend. He really wasn’t. I remembered how I’d waited for him to turn up at the hotel that night. He’d written one e-mail and hadn’t even waited for a reply. He hadn’t given me another thought.
I knew the torture of waiting, of not knowing what was happening, what my future held, and so I deleted his voice mail message and blocked his number and switched off my phone. Then I turned back to the departures board to decide where I should go.