At Tatiana’s request, he’d said nothing to Jason or anyone about her losing her baby. She wanted some time to grieve, alone, and she wanted to tell people herself. But the emotional trauma of his week in New York still weighed heavily on Brett. Part of him longed to share the burden with Angela. But somehow he found he couldn’t talk to Ange about Tatiana. Nothing had happened between them, nor would it. Whatever feelings Brett harboured for Tatiana, she’d made it clear over many long years that they were not reciprocated. Even so, her very existence on this earth cast a shadow over Brett’s marriage. As if his love for his wife were a plant that hadn’t quite died, but could no longer grow or thrive. There was no more light for it to reach towards. However much Brett watered or tended it – fresh starts, beautiful homes, more time together – it remained stunted, a sad remnant of what it might have been.
Brett had got back to Furlings this afternoon. Angela had made him tea and he’d dutifully sat down and drunk it, laying out pictures of the Hamptons house on the kitchen table and talking to her about plans. An agent from Savills was coming in the morning to run through the inventory at Furlings before the big move-out. Life, their life, was marching on.
Brett splashed cold water on his face. I have to get a grip.
Angela was already in bed. Sitting propped up against two large pillows, her blonde hair brushed out and her reading glasses on, it struck Brett that she looked tired too. She was wearing an ancient Laura Ashley nightdress with pink rosebuds on it and reading a book about art history, but she put it aside when he came in.
‘I think we need to talk.’
Brett perched on the edge of the bed. ‘All right.’
Angela took a deep breath. ‘I want a divorce.’
Brett stood up again, shocked. ‘Are you serious? Why?’
Reaching for his hand, Angela pulled him back down onto the bed. She didn’t look angry. And when she spoke, her voice was calm.
‘Because I want to stay here and live here. And you don’t.’
Brett said dismissively. ‘Come on, Ange. We’ve been through this a hundred times.’
‘I know. And I know I said I’d move to New York. But the fact is, I’ve changed my mind.’
Brett exhaled slowly, turning her fingers over in his hand. ‘Fine,’ he said at last. ‘Then we’ll stay. Together.’
Angela shook her head. ‘It wouldn’t work.’
‘Of course it would work,’ said Brett. ‘It’s worked for thirty-odd years, hasn’t it?’
Angela raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
‘This is crazy, Angela. Where we live is just geography. You don’t divorce over geography.’
‘No,’ said Angela quietly. ‘You don’t.’
‘Well what then?’ He could hear the desperation in his own voice. Every word he said sounded like please don’t leave me. ‘I’m not cheating on you. I swear. Since we got back together there hasn’t been anyone.’
‘Brett.’ Reaching up, Angela gently touched a finger to his lips, shushing him the way a mother might a child. ‘We don’t have so many years left that we can afford to waste them. I want to live a quiet, uneventful country life. And you’re in love with someone else.’
‘What? I … that’s not true,’ said Brett on autopilot.
‘Yes it is. I think you loved Tatiana even before she married Jason. But ever since then you’ve been obsessed, and you know it.’
‘You’re wrong,’ Brett insisted.
‘You launched a takeover for Hamilton Hall without telling me.’
‘Because I knew you’d be upset. Take it the wrong way,’ said Brett. ‘And you have. That was business.’
‘Darling.’ Angela looked at him reproachfully. ‘Come on. And what about Jason? Was that business too? Tatiana told you about him being gay, but you said nothing to me.’
‘I didn’t believe her.’
‘Even if that’s true, she still came to your office to see you. Why did you keep that a secret?’
‘Because I didn’t know what to say!’ Brett blurted.
‘Because you didn’t want me to know you’d seen Tatiana. That you’d spent the last three months trying to buy out her company because you can’t help yourself. You can’t stay away.’
‘That’s not true.’
‘You can’t even mention her name to me, Brett! I don’t know why you’re denying it.’
Brett pulled away and began pacing the bedroom, running his hands through his hair. ‘Look,’ he said eventually. ‘Nothing’s happened between me and Tati.’
‘I believe you,’ said Angela truthfully.
‘Then why are you doing this? Why are you leaving me?’
Peeling back the bedclothes, Angela got up and walked over to him. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she kissed him on the cheek then leaned her head against his chest.
‘We won’t be happy in America if we aren’t happy here,’ she said. ‘I’ll always be here if you need me, Brett. We’ll always be friends. Dear friends. But friends tell each other the truth. It’s over. It’s been over for years.’
Brett opened his mouth to protest, but realized he had nothing to say. Instead he wrapped his arms around her and held on tight. He wished he could freeze the moment. Stand there for ever and never let go. But he knew he couldn’t.
It was too late.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE