‘I love you,’ she whispered, and it did not come as a surprise.
It seemed only fair I should reciprocate, as saying anything less could put a dampener on what was to come. ‘I feel the same. You’re the only one for me,’ I said, and at that moment it was true. Pressing my lips upon hers, I kissed her hungrily on the mouth, my hands claiming her face, her neck, her shoulders. Her eyes were misty when we drew back for air and I questioned her a second time. ‘Are you sure? Really sure?’ I said, and felt a swell of satisfaction when she replied with a sudden nod of the head. ‘You haven’t done this before, have you?’ I said, stilled by the fear lighting up her eyes.
‘It’s what I want. More than anything,’ she replied. And that was how we progressed from our first kiss to something so much more.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
EMMA
2002
Cycling home from the beach hut, I struggled to see the road. I didn’t know why I was crying. My relationship with Luke had been sealed. We were a couple. It was too late to turn back now. I blinked hard in order to clear my vision. My tears were hot with frustration and shame. I had wanted Luke to treat me as an adult and he had. I wanted to keep him and this way I would. Nobody had put a gun to my head. So why did I feel so used?
Slipping into my room, I quickly undressed before pulling my long white nightdress over my head. Theresa had not followed up on my mention of meeting my teacher out of school, and there was no way I could tell her what had happened now. She still treated me like a twelve-year-old for starters. She’d be mortified if she knew what I had done. I kicked my clothes under the bed. I didn’t want to see them, the memory of my intimacy with Luke invoking further shame. It was no fairy-tale moment as I had imagined; indeed, it was over before it began. Tugging my clothes to one side, he had bitten my shoulder as his excitement mounted, and I had held on to the cold hard table, shocked and bewildered as he took control. Afterwards, the awkwardness between us was crippling, our professions of love a tainted memory. I had fixed my clothes, Luke checking his watch as he told me I should hurry home. My fold-up bicycle could have fitted in the boot of his car, but I was too embarrassed to ask for a lift. We were OK, weren’t we? Once again, I found myself wondering what I had done wrong.
I lay in bed, listening to the wind creeping through the old fireplace, staring at my mobile phone. After ten minutes of willing Luke to text, I took things into my own hands. It was a one-line text, in the hope of further communication.
Goodnight, love you xx
But no response was returned. Thirty minutes later I pulled back the covers, wishing I could have a bath to ease the physical discomfort. Pacing the floor, I wished my sister were here to comfort me. I missed her so much it hurt. It had been so lovely earlier in the week, when we’d met up in town for my sixteenth birthday dinner. But a pizza restaurant was hardly the place to bare my soul. I touched my sunflower necklace, trying to comfort myself. I had Luke now. We were a couple. I would never be alone again. Lifting my feet on to the chair, I hugged my knees, waiting for a reply.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
ALEX
2017
After my conversation with Luke, everything I did was on autopilot. Leaving the pub, finding my key and sliding it into the hotel room door, even getting undressed. I didn’t remember anything because all my attention was on my son. Ever since Luke mentioned his relationship with my wife, suspicion had lurked in the back of my mind. Those blue eyes . . . they had triggered a spark of recognition. I could not focus on who was telling the truth because something far more troubling was plaguing my thoughts. I kicked off my duvet, allowing the air conditioning to chill my bare skin. I thought about Emma and Luke together and imagined our family being ripped apart. I didn’t want to believe Luke’s story and felt disloyal for its presence in my thoughts. Emma had not mentioned a sexual liaison between them, but there was an undercurrent of tension when she talked about that day. Luke’s parting shot was in the forefront of my brain. October 2013. It suggested just one thing. Betrayal.
I rose from my bed. There was no point in trying to sleep tonight. I switched on the kettle on the hotel room desk, tearing open the decaf coffee sachet into a cup. As I emptied the capsules of milk I saw Jamie’s face, the child we never thought we could have. Our fertility problems had consumed our marriage, and the strain on our relationship had been immense. It was nature, part of the driving need to reproduce. But it was my fault, not Emma’s. My weakness.
I thought back to when she fell pregnant. It had felt like our marriage had been given a reprieve. We would have done anything to make it work. She had gained weight, turned her back on her eating disorder, at least for a while. Wearily, I took a sip of coffee, briefly closing my eyes as I remembered the argument we’d had about a sperm donor at the time. I’d found her searching for clinics and donors online. When I’d snapped the lid of the laptop shut she had jumped as if it were a crocodile about to bite her. I desperately wanted a child but she simply could not see how small the suggestion of a sperm donor made me feel. Then, like a miracle, we conceived and Jamie was born the following June. Had she instigated contact with Luke? Slept with him just one more time? She knew every inch of her fertility cycle – but only because I had piled the pressure on. I could not accept the doctor’s prognosis of a low sperm count. I took another mouthful of coffee, trying to commit Luke’s words to memory. He instigated the injunction, not Emma, as she had implied. Why would she lie about such a thing? Backgrounds could be checked – couldn’t they? The same could be said for being in trouble with the police. Luke’s version of events was similar to Emma’s – but turned on its head. I felt disorientated, as if I was walking through a hall of mirrors. Had Emma gone off the rails after her mother left? Or was Luke lying, deliberately playing me to turn me against my wife? Wasn’t that what stalkers did? Tore apart their victims until there was nothing left? My thoughts tortured me.
I checked my watch. Jamie would be sleeping now. I pictured him dressed in his Superman onesie, his tousled blond hair falling over his face as he slept. Everybody said he looked like his mother. But I couldn’t see any of Emma in him. And his eyes . . . as blue as the sky. A throwback from a grandmother who had long since passed. At least, that’s what Emma had told me. A wave of nausea made itself known. I sat up on the bed, planting my bare feet firmly on the floor. The world felt like it was tilting, and I dug my fingers into the mattress as I clung on for dear life. I had to get to the bottom of it. Grief swept over me, pre-empting the results. In my mind, I had lost a child and a wife. What if Emma left me? My name was on the birth certificate but what rights did I have? Could I live with not knowing? If a DNA test proved Jamie wasn’t mine, where did that leave me then? I thought of my relationship with my father, his steady influence on my life. Jamie needed his dad. Emma was troubled at times – how would she cope on her own? Despite it all, I still loved her.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
EMMA
2017