‘What’s going on, Adele?’
I look up at him, my stomach in knots. He’s not worried, he’s cold. It’s all part of my plan, but it’s not what I want. And I certainly don’t want it yet. I try to think of something to say, but my words have dried up. I only hope I look beautiful in the candlelight, even with the mottled bruise he’s trying not to see. He puts his knife and fork down.
‘What happened before we moved, that was—’
‘That was your fault.’ I find my voice now, even though it’s almost whiny, nails on a chalkboard. ‘You know it was. You said it was.’
‘I said it to pacify you. I didn’t mean it. You wanted a fresh start and I’ve tried to give you one.’
I can’t believe he has the audacity to say that. He’s fucking his receptionist. Some fresh start. I lower my own knife and fork, carefully placing them on the edge of my plate. My efforts over dinner are going to be wasted.
‘I admit I’ve made some mistakes,’ I say. ‘And I’m so sorry. You know I have problems. I think moving unsettled me.’
He shakes his head. ‘I can’t contr— I can’t look after you any more. I’ll ask you one more time. Where did you go last night?’
Control. That’s what he meant to say. He can’t control me any more.
‘I went for a walk,’ I say. ‘I lost track of time.’
We stare at each other and I try to look innocent, but he’s not buying it.
‘Honestly,’ I add and immediately regret it. It’s the word everyone uses when they’re lying. Honestly, she’s just a friend. That’s what David had said when we lived in Blackheath. And okay, he might not have fucked her, but she was more than just a friend.
‘This can’t go on,’ he says.
Is he talking about us or me? Does he want me locked up somewhere? Another residential home where people can help me, but this time on a long-term basis? While he swans off with my money and his freedom? It makes me want to cry.
‘I think I missed a few pills,’ I say. It’s a risk. I don’t want him popping back from work to make sure I take them. I need a clear head and my mind is working just fine anyway. ‘I’ll level out. You know that.’
This is like the early days all over again, but now he doesn’t have the wealth of love for me that sustained him before I got myself together. That well has run dry.
‘You know you can never leave me, David,’ I say. It’s good to say his name aloud. ‘You know that.’ It’s a threat. It’s always been a threat.
And there it is, the past sitting between us alongside my untouched roast and creamed leeks and glazed carrots and three types of potato, and I know that, despite everything, I’m doing the right thing to save my marriage.
‘I know,’ he says, pushing his chair back. ‘I know.’ He doesn’t look at me as he walks towards the door. ‘I’m going to have a shower and an early night.’
‘I’ll repaint the bedroom,’ I say, to soften my last words. ‘If you’ll come back to it.’
He glances back then and nods almost imperceptibly, but the lie is in his eyes. There’s only one bed he wants to share, and it isn’t mine. I wonder what Louise is doing. I wonder if she’s thinking of me or him. I wonder if all my planning is going to go to shit.
Dinner, it would appear, is over. I watch him leave, and then, once I hear the heavy tread on the stairs, I get up and drain his wine. I look at the china. The leftover food. This life I fought so hard for. My bruise throbs hard as I fight tears. I take a deep shaky breath. I never used to cry at all. I don’t know what’s happened to me. I’ve changed. I almost let out a weepy laugh at that. At least I still have my sense of humour.
I’ve got the roasting pan soaking when the doorbell goes. A short, sharp, burst. I go into the hall and glance up the stairs, but the shower is running and David hasn’t heard. I feel breathless. Who can it be? We don’t have passing visitors. We don’t have friends. Only Louise. She wouldn’t come here. Would she? This is not the time for her to confess. That would complicate everything.
I open the door an inch or two and peer out through the gap. The young man stands nervously on the second step to the front door, as if almost afraid to come right up.
‘Can I help you?’ I ask quietly, opening the door wider.