At the back of her mind, the words from the Instagram comment section ran through her mind, again and again, in a nauseating loop. Could they be true? Please. Please god. Let them not be true.
She lugged the suitcases down the stairs. Put them by the front door.
She went into the kitchen. She opened the fridge for some reason. Closed it again. Her charger was there, plugged into the wall. She unplugged it and wrapped the cable into a neat circle. The fruit bowl was half full. Her iPad was on the kitchen table. She picked that up too. Lachy’s football boots were on the floor in the corner.
Oh god. God. Her heart was breaking.
Enough. Enough or she wouldn’t be able to do it.
She went into the living room. Robert was sitting on the couch, blindly staring at the television. The match was over. He was staring at an ad for life insurance. There were six empty beer cans on the table in front of him, and he held a seventh in his hand.
‘Robert.’
He looked up. ‘You’re home.’
He looked almost pleased. There was something vulnerable about his expression. Something terribly human.
‘I tried to call you,’ he said. ‘Three times.’
‘Sorry. It was a crazy day.’
‘The clinic told me not to come in. Paul Sawyer called. Said it would be better for everyone, including me, if I took some leave. That bastard. He was all apologies and understanding but he was delighted. I’m going to sue them. I can’t fucking wait. I talked to the lawyer. He’s filed a formal complaint with Victoria Police. That woman was a complete fantasist. She’s not even a student at the university. It’s insane that a detective even interviewed me without confirming the basic details. Even more insane that the clinic isn’t standing by me.’
His eyes were too bright, his face too flushed. The more he spoke, the more self-righteous his tone became. He was convincing himself. Vanessa could see it happening.
Had he done this too, every time he’d touched a girl who came to him for help? Convinced himself that he was helping them? That they wanted that from him? Her skin felt clammy. Sweat broke out on her lower back.
‘I’m leaving,’ she said.
His brow creased. ‘But you just got in.’
‘No. I mean I’m leaving you.’
It took a moment, then everything came crashing down. She saw understanding bloom slowly in his face, followed by distress, followed so quickly by anger that she wondered later if she’d imagined the hurt she’d seen so briefly.
‘You’re throwing me to the wolves.’
She couldn’t argue with him. Couldn’t claim to be doing anything else. Maybe their relationship was over. Maybe the love was long dead. But there was no doubt that she was leaving him when he was at his lowest.
‘I can’t do it, Robert. I can’t play the role of the dutiful wife. Not in the face of what’s coming. It would be different if we still loved each other.’ It wouldn’t be different, if he had done these things. She needed to know for sure. He was either an innocent man under attack, or a horror who was getting what he deserved. If he was that kind of man, a predator, how could she possibly have been married to him all of these years, and not have seen it? If he was guilty, wouldn’t she too bear some of the blame? She’d propped him up, been his wife, his financial support, contributed to his position in society, his appearance of respectability and reliability. Oh god. She couldn’t live with the uncertainty. She needed to know the truth.
He shook his head, laughing cynically. ‘So now you don’t love me? How convenient for you, Vanessa. What excellent timing on your part.’
‘Robert, you haven’t loved me for years.’
He was going to argue the point. She saw him think about it, and decide not to bother trying. She closed her eyes. Whatever was left of the bond between them broke in that moment. And the break was raw, jagged and painful.
‘Did you do it?’ she said.
Outrage and fury bloomed in his eyes. ‘Itoldyou. That girl—’
‘I’m not talking about her. I’m talking about the others.’
‘What others?’
Vanessa’s mouth was dry. She wanted a cool glass of water. A cool glass of wine, and a quiet apartment where she could sit by herself. She felt panicky. She wanted to run away from this conversation, for all of it to be over, for it to be part of her distant past. ‘Have you ever touched a patient? Massaged their shoulders? Made a... made a move?’
She saw the answer in his eyes. A tiny, almost hidden hint of fear, before he began to bluster.
