AllFreeNovel
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We pass the Common, and the Tesla ambles on through Wimbledon Village, eventually pulling into Denmark Road. My instinct tells me to hang back, and I’m right to do this; the car stops outside a Victorian terraced house divided into two flats.
I’ve been calm driving over here, safe in my car, knowing exactly where Max is. But now fear grips hold of me. I have no idea what Max is doing here, or who he’s come to see.
I pull up further down the road and watch Max get out of the car and walk up the steps to the first-floor flat. I slip out of my car, quietly closing the door behind me.
My chest constricts, and I force myself to take deep breaths as I get to the narrow garden path, just as Max slips inside.
I jog up the stairs and press the buzzer. After a moment, the door clicks open, and I’m torn between wanting to run as far away from here as possible, and staying to face Max and his lies.
I think of Poppy. How I need to see this through for her sake. I step inside.
When the door opens and Max stares at me, his jaw hanging and his eyes wide, I almost change my mind.
‘How did?—?’
I push past him, fearless in my pursuit of the truth. Whatever awaits me, I will deal with it. Yet my legs feel weak, my body fighting against my mind.
I spin around and face my husband. ‘What is this place? Why are you here?’
Silence, so palpable it feels as though I’ll be able to reach out and touch it, wraps itself around us. We’re frozen in a moment, and both of us know there’s no going back once we’ve crossed this line.
When Max finally speaks, everything changes. ‘You followed me.’ It’s not a question, and his words are fused with regret. ‘Why did you come here, Hannah? You shouldn’t have come here.’
He walks through the hallway, into a large, bright living room. It’s empty other than a sofa and a coffee table. There are no pictures or ornaments. Nothing personal. Just an empty shell of a place. ‘Who lives here?’
He ignores me. ‘We need to talk. Sit down.’ His voice is louder this time, harsher.
‘No. You haven’t answered my question. What are you doing here, Max? Who lives here?’
He studies me for a moment. ‘That’s not how this is going to work,’ he says.
It’s funny how quickly I’ve got used to his bruised face. The scars that might never fade. I can barely remember how he looked before. And I’m scarred too, though mine lurk beneath my skin.
I reach into my pocket and feel for the smooth and reassuring glass of my phone.
‘Please sit down,’ he says slowly, as if he’s talking to a child.
I’m glad Poppy’s not here to see him like this. Would he hide it from her? I no longer know.
After a moment, I sit down. It doesn’t mean he’s won. I keep my hand in my coat pocket. ‘Where’s Sarah? Does she know you’re not at home?’
‘I don’t have to answer to her. She’s not there. I told her to go.’ He sits down, far too close to me. ‘We need to talk, Hannah.’
Max is my husband, yet I want the physical space between us to be as large as an ocean. ‘Yes,’ I reply. ‘We do.’
I won’t take my eyes from him, even though it’s hard looking directly into his. How can those cold, harsh eyes belong to a man I vowed to spend my whole life with? The father of my beautiful child.
A murderer.
‘I don’t know who lives here,’ he says. ‘I found the keys in my desk drawer.’
Incredulous, I shake my head. ‘I don’t believe you.’
‘They had the address on them.’ He holds them up. ‘Look.’
He’s telling the truth – at least about that much.
‘I thought they might be yours.’ He slams his fist on the arm of the sofa. ‘Do you remember on our honeymoon?’ he continues. ‘You said we should always be honest with each other. No matter what. That we’d get through anything, as long as we keep communicating.’
