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It feels as though I’m in a fugue state as I step inside the pub. While my life is crumbling by the second, everything out of my grasp, normality flitters around me. A Saturday night filled with casual conversations and laughter. And I’m here to meet a stranger. I don’t know what this man wants or what I’ll say to him. All I know is that whatever conversation takes place won’t be good. He knows something. About Max? My stomach lurches as I scan the room.
He’s in the corner, with a pint of beer in front of him, staring at his phone. Under the table, his leg taps. He only looks up when I approach, and he slips his phone into his pocket.
‘What can I get you?’ he asks, standing.
‘I don’t want anything.’
He looks around. ‘Might look a bit weird if you don’t have a drink.’ He shrugs. ‘Water even. I’ll get you one.’ Without waiting for a reply, he makes his way to the bar. He’s left his gilet hanging over his chair, and for a fleeting moment I consider checking his pockets.
But then I remember what happened when I checked Max’s that night. And how I’d be living in oblivious bliss if I had never done it.It’s better to know, though. Whatever the cost.
It’s busy in here tonight, and I’m grateful for the loud hum of chatter. It makes this encounter I’m about to have feel less menacing. Whoever this man is, surely he wouldn’t do anything in front of so many witnesses.
I watch him closely, making sure he doesn’t slip anything into my water.
‘Who are you?’ I ask, before he’s even sat down.
‘My name’s Taylor Stone.’ He holds out his hand, but I don’t take it. He shrugs and sits down. ‘I already know who you are. Hannah Chambers. Your daughter’s called Poppy, and your husband is Max. He works for IBM. You own Whispering Pages.’
Beads of sweat coat my palms and chest. I unzip my coat, but leave it on. ‘That stuff isn’t hard to find out anywhere. What do you want?’
‘Sorry, I know it must make you anxious that I know all that, but I make it my business to know everything about anyone who impacts my life.’ He lifts his glass.
I glare at him. ‘I don’t even know you. I’d never seen you before that day outside the River Walk.’
Resting his elbows on the table, he leans forward. ‘It’s interesting how people can be connected without even knowing each other. Brought together by events out of their control.’ He takes a sip of beer. ‘Ah, I see you’re confused. Sorry. I’m just a stranger who’s turned up in your life, so I don’t blame you for not trusting me. But you’re here.’ He lifts his arms up. ‘Why did you come?’
I don’t answer.
‘Is it because you know that your husband is linked to Alice Hughes? That’s why you were at the hotel that day.’
My body becomes a furnace and I reach for my water, glugging it down so fast it scratches my throat. ‘Who are you?’
‘I’m Alice’s friend. A good friend. Turns out, her only real friend.’
Even though I’ve expected this conversation to be about Max, these words floor me. ‘What?’ I ask, though I’ve heard him loud and clear.
He takes a sip of beer, and stares into his glass when he puts it back down. ‘Alice was one of my closest friends. She had issues,’ he says. ‘Lots of them. But she was a good person. And I was the only one she could talk to.’ He turns away, but not before I notice the tears pooling in the corners of his eyes. ‘She didn’t deserve this. All she did was fall in love with the wrong person.’ He lifts his glass again, this time taking a longer drink.
My stomach tightens and I grip the edges of my chair, fighting the urge to flee.
‘You know who I’m talking about, don’t you?’ he says, his words laced with accusation. ‘Did you know your husband was having an affair with Alice?’
A scream dies silently in my throat, and I can’t find any words to replace it. Haven’t I suspected this since I found the key card? And since Ivy said she’d seen Max with Alice? It simmeredon the edge of my consciousness, but I wouldn’t let it fully in. Icouldn’t.
Taylor stares at me. ‘Ah, I see maybe you didn’t. Unless you’re a good actor.’
‘I didn’t know.’ My words are drowned out by the cacophony of other voices in the pub. But I know he hears me. I pull my arms out of my coat, and let it fall.
‘Then I’m sorry. I know this is a lot to digest, and you might have trouble believing me, so let me show you this.’ He pulls out his phone and scrolls through it, handing it to me when he’s found what he’s looking for. ‘It won’t be easy to look at.’
I take the phone, and stare at the picture of Max. His arms wrapped around a woman who isn’t me. Their bodies so close it’s hard to tell where one ends and the other begins. My husband and Alice Hughes.
Without a word, I rush to the toilets, only just making it to a cubicle before I throw up. My throat aches by the time I emerge, and I head to the sink and rinse my mouth. Once. Twice. The urge to keep rinsing is powerful. To rid myself of the toxicity surrounding me.
My reflection in the mirror is ghostly, drained of my usual colour. I stare at it for a moment, wondering who the woman staring back at me is.
Max, what have you done?
