That gives him a jolt. He opens his mouth to argue, but she is right. At the thought of Anya he feels another shot of shame. She doesn’t deserve this extra act of betrayal. The state of their marriage shouldn’t be analysed in her absence, even when he has no doubt they are in trouble. When he thinks of Anya nowadays, he realises, it is usually with a vague feeling of annoyance, and yet, now, after he does the unimaginable, he is desperate to defend her. What is happening to him? How has he let things get this far out of control?
He remembers what it felt like when he and Anya had first fallen in love – that passion was one he wanted to shout out to the world, not this furtive, uncomfortable thing that he’s managed to build up in semi-ignorance with Danielle.
‘I don’t know much about your marriage,’ Danielle continues softly, ‘but I know that there are the blokes who are happy to race off home as soon as we get back to the depot, and there are the ones who hang around a bit longer. And then there’s you.’ She doesn’t break eye contact as she talks, but she gets up and sits on his lap, her legs straddling him while her hands find his own. She moves them up to her face, kisses them gently and then slides them down her neck and over her collarbone, until they are resting on her breasts. He can feel the hardened tips of her nipples beneath the soft fabric, and he sees her bite her lip. There is no escape, she can feel him responding, even though he doesn’t want to. He lingers a fraction longer than he should, but then he breaks eye contact, pulls his hands away. Undaunted, she begins to undo the top button of her pyjama top, and he grabs hold of her wrists a little more forcefully than he intended.
‘Danielle,’ he says, while she tries to wriggle out of his grip. ‘Danielle,’ he says louder, ‘stop it. You’re better than this.’
She freezes at those words. She climbs off him, goes to sit on the chair opposite, and to his alarm she puts her hands over her face and begins to cry.
His instinct is to move across to comfort her, but he stops himself. ‘Danielle,’ he tries, ‘this is exactly why nothing else can happen. I don’t want you to feel like this. I’m not the right bloke for you, we both know that. I should have been stronger. I’m sorry.’
He realises he’s not doing any good by being here. He stands up, and Danielle reacts to the movement, looking up at him, her face pink and tear-streaked.
‘That’s it, then, is it, Callum? All these months, and then last night – for this?’
She spits the last word at him and he recoils, finally realising how different their perspectives are. While Callum saw the flirtation as inconsequential and last night as an aberration, Danielle has taken part in a long, slow build-up to a night that was only the beginning of something bigger.
He had hoped he could come here and resolve everything, but a part of him had known it wouldn’t turn out like that. It’s why fear has carved a cold chasm along his spine. He suddenly longs for solitude; he wants to escape to the fells, to stand at a summit and breathe in the peace and space of that quiet, benign other world. Standing at the highest peak of a mountain never fails to sweep him up into a precious place beyond time and troubles. When there was only clear, fresh air above him and so much of life was hidden in the valleys, it was easy to watch his troubles slide away down the hunched, broad backs of those giant slopes like the smallest of pebbles. Perhaps there he might figure out what, if anything, he could do. Being here is only making it worse.
He checks his watch. He should go to the hospital and support Liam, forget his own troubles for a while.
‘I’m sorry,’ he says again, the word sounding idiotic rather than meaningful now, thanks to overuse. ‘I have to go. My brother’s waiting for me.’
He heads through the living-room doorway, quickening his pace for the exit, for somewhere the air might be easier to breathe, when he hears her voice behind him. ‘I think I’m in love with you, Callum.’
His hand is on the door handle. He is almost out, he’s so tempted just to keep going, but those words make him feel terrible.
He turns around. She is standing there, desperation on her face as she waits for his response. He takes a long, slow breath. ‘Whoever you think you love, it isn’t me, I can promise you that. You’ll find someone far better.’
She marches up to him and he thinks she is going to slap him, but instead she spits words into his face. ‘One day you’ll stop lying to yourself. This isn’t over yet, Callum, whatever you think. We’ve come too far for that now.’
Her words leave behind a sting of horror, because he realises he doesn’t really know this girl at all. And suddenly he is afraid of what she might do next.
7
ANYA