She is silent for a moment, and then she turns to me. ‘But there was no reason for you to attack me yesterday.’
‘Yes, and I apologise for that,’ I say. ‘But I wish you hadn’t posted those things about Holly. She’s not a criminal in the making,’ I add, fully aware of the irony.
‘Do you accept that I genuinely thought the email was from you?’ Diana asks.
‘Yes. I do accept that you thought I’d sent it. But that doesn’t mean it was okay to share it with the world. It’s not right to do that to Holly.’
‘I see that. I apologise for what I said about Holly. I didn’t realise it was a lie, but regardless, I shouldn’t have been talking about Holly on Facebook. I’ll post something to say it was a hoax.’
I take a deep breath. ‘Thank you.’
Mike, who hasn’t said a word during this whole exchange, rubs his bald spot. ‘Wonders never cease,’ he mutters.
40
Outside Mike’s office, a group of children comes running down the corridor. A little girl accidentally bumps into Diana with her enormous backpack. Or I should say, Diana bumps into her because Diana can’t see where she’s going.
‘Sorry, Mrs. Sorry,’ the little girl says before running off.
When I turn to Diana, her glasses are crooked. She mumbles something under her breath and pushes them back up her nose, and I stop.
Oh, God. ‘Are you all right?’ I ask.
‘Of course!’ she says, walking briskly ahead of me. But I’m sure I saw the faintest outline of a black eye. Did I do that to her yesterday? I’d remember if I did that, wouldn’t I?
At this point, who knows? I’m losing my mind, so anything is possible.
I let it go, pretend I haven’t noticed, and we both walk back out to the car park.
‘Thank you again,’ I say as we reach her car.
She fiddles with her keys.
‘I really appreciate what happened back there,’ I say.
‘Yes, well. I was a bit over the top with everything. I know that. I’ve been through a lot.’
I nod. ‘I’ve been through a lot, too.’
She stops fiddling with her keys and turns to me. ‘I gather your husband hasn’t left you? That was another lie?’
I hesitate, but I may as well tell her. I rub my forehead with my fingertips. I don’t know when I picked up this habit but if I don’t stop soon, I’ll be scratching my skull in no time. ‘He has, that part is true. We had a huge fight, and he walked out.’
‘Walked out?’
I nod. ‘He’s done it before. I thought he was going to come back, but he’s stayed away. I’m actually really worried about him.’
In a way, this is practice for when I tell my story to the police. And judging by the look on her face, even with the sunglasses, I need all the practice I can get.
‘When did that happen?’ she asks.
‘Some time ago,’ I say vaguely. ‘I found out the woman he was having an affair with had been in touch, you see.’ I may as well throw that one in. Diana Ashford-Wells is a known gossip. She may not publish that titbit on Facebook, unfortunately, but she’s bound to tell everyone.
‘How awful,’ she says.
‘Yes. It’s been a lot.’
I notice she’s still toying with her keys and that her hand is trembling.
