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‘We did, thank you.’ Flora smiled to herself, counting her blessings to have friends with whom she could talk about nothing or everything, depending on what was needed.
She crept into the house and up the stairs, got undressed in the bathroom and slid quietly under the duvet into bed.
‘Nice evening?’ Johnny turned to face her.
‘God, sorry. I thought I was being really quiet.’
‘You were,’ he lied.
She curled into his body, the warmth of his skin warming her own. They lay in silence for a moment.
‘You know I mentioned finding that woman?’
‘Yes.’ He couldn’t help but sound sceptical.
‘Tilda’s going to find her address for me. I’m going to write her a letter.’
‘Are you sure that’s what you want to do?’
‘I’m absolutely sure.’ She nodded into his chest.
‘OK. Now, can you stop talking so I can do this?’ He kissed her gently on the mouth.
‘I can.’ She tried to speak, laughing.
‘I said, stop talking.’ He kissed her again, his hand running softly, slowly up and down the length of her torso. She moved in closer and closed her eyes, letting her body respond and her mind drift upwards.
33
Kate looked out on to the garden, a thin frost covering the ground. The December sky was grey, the wind whipping the tops of the waves on the river in the distance below. She had slept heavily, without help, for the first time in a while. Her head didn’t pound as it usually did at this time in the morning.
She switched on the kettle, let Monty out into the garden and returned to the table a few moments later with a cup of tea. There, propped up against an empty vase on the table, was a letter. Just a simple piece of paper, folded in half, with her name written on the outside in Robin’s handwriting.
She reached over to pick it up. Unfolding it with one hand, she held it out and pulled her glasses down from her head with the other. His words swam in front of her eyes. He was sorry. He didn’t know why he’d done what he’d done. He wished he could take it all back. He loved her more than anything, more than ever. His affair had been a temporary madness and it would never, ever happen again. He hoped she would forgive him but he would understand if she couldn’t.
Kate put the letter down on the table and slowly sipped her tea. She thought of him, sleeping upstairs in the spare room where he’d been ever since she had confronted him in the garden. He’d done as she’d asked, not asked her to change her mind. But now, seeing his words down on paper, she knew something had to change. They couldn’t carry on living in limbo. She’d asked him to leave but sitting there, his words in front of her, she knew deep down she didn’t want him to, not really.
But could she really stay with him knowing what she knew? Did that not consign her to a life of feeling like she was second best? Monty scratched at the door. Kate let him in and he trotted straight across the kitchen to his bed by the foot of the Aga to warm himself, settling down with a contented grunt.
She thought of Billy, the familiar pang of pain in her heart at his not being here. Flora’s words came back to her, pleading with Kate not to give up on her marriage. Outside, snow started to fall, slowly at first then faster until flurries of snowflakes danced outside the windows. She sat for a while, letting her mind wander down old alleyways full of memories of her life together with Robin. When they’d met, they’d had barely a penny between them but their dreams had matched in size and shape. How they’d married against all their parents’ wishes, so young but so sure. How he’d encouraged her at every step to become the successful interior designer she wanted to be; she in turn supporting him through his professional life, attending endless company dinners, charming everyone as she went. How he’d been the most present of fathers, certainly compared with many of their friends back when the children were small.
Most of all, she thought of how they’d always been so happy in each other’s company. When the children had grown up and moved away, it had felt like they had a whole second act to enjoy together.
So why had Robin decided to throw years of marriage away for someone else? Kate had to know. She stood up and went to boil the kettle again, taking two fresh cups of tea up the stairs.
* * *
The phone rang, waking Denise from her sleep. Or rather, from her nightmare. In it, she could see Stephen, but she couldn’t hear him. He’d been in a room, at the end of a long corridor, calling to her.
She sat up in bed and switched on the light, then reached for the phone.
‘Hello, Mrs Hirst?’
‘Speaking.’
‘I’m sorry to ring so early. It’s Mr Sawyer.’
‘Oh, hello, Mr Sawyer. Is everything all right?’ Her heart was immediately hammering in her chest. ‘Has something happened to Stephen?’
