That’s great! Yes, no problems. Up to my eyes in it. Speak soon. XXX
My husband was lying to me. Slowly I slipped through the Odeon cinema entrance so as not to be spotted as I cast an eye over the coffee-shop patrons. The two businesses worked in tandem. Alex and I’d had many happy dates here before Jamie was born. But today’s visit was one he had not seen fit to disclose to me. He was taking a chance coming here, relying upon my routine of opening the bridal shop on time. I peeped around the corner to find him sitting on the sofa, his back turned to me as he sat with a blonde woman in an armchair. I tried to make out her features, but from my vantage point, I could only see the top of her head. As their hands touched from across the table, I felt bile rise in my throat. He did not touch colleagues like that. This was too intimate a meeting to be work. My insecurities grew. Was he having an affair? Why else had he lied, saying he was at work? Had my inadequacies pushed him away into the arms of another? Just how long had this been going on? Questions fired in my mind like poison arrows, making me feel sick to the core. Picking up a free newspaper, I slid into a nearby seat. Time was against me. Customers would complain if I opened up late. I peered over the paper, fury blooming inside me as I watched Alex lean in for a hug. It was only as the woman leaned forward that I realised the mystery date was my sister. What was she doing with Alex? Confusion wormed its way into my brain. She hadn’t mentioned this to me. I watched transfixed as they parted, she patting him on the shoulder then Alex touching her arm. I lowered the paper and checked my watch. It was time for me to go.
I had to get to work and act as if it were a normal day. I would decide what to do once I had listened to what she had to say. I did not know which was worse: the thought of them plotting about what to do with me behind my back or finding comfort in each other’s arms. Slipping outside, I could not stop myself from following a little longer. Swerving busy pedestrians, I kept my distance, wondering if Alex and Theresa were making a detour to the shop. Perhaps I had got it wrong. Maybe they were planning a surprise, to take me out for the day. Theresa linked Alex’s arm through hers as she tottered down the street in her new trouser suit and heels. My face soured as they walked the path to Colchester Castle. The place I used to go with Luke. The lilt of laughter carried on the air, and I realised that it was coming from Alex. I had not heard him laugh like that with me in such a long time. I turned away, tears stinging my eyes. Why were two of the people I loved most in the world meeting behind my back? My arms swinging by my side, I strode towards my shop in haste. I would put on a brave face, pretend nothing had happened and wait for them to come to me with the truth.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
ALEX
2017
A sudden stab of guilt hit me as I replied to Emma’s text. I hated deceiving her, but it was nothing compared to the web of lies that she had spun around me. A web I was trying to battle my way through. I told myself that my secret meeting with Theresa was for her own good. All I wanted was to get to the truth. It was my job to help us move on and rebuild our lives. I knew that parenthood meant more than DNA and bloodlines, but I could not bear to discover that someone else had more claim on my son than I. Reaching across the table, Theresa had offered a sympathetic hug, having only an inkling of the tangled mess my marriage had become.
‘Do you mind if I take your arm?’ Theresa said, wobbling slightly as she got to her feet. ‘It’s these daft heels. They’re far too high for me.’
As we made our way down the winding cobbled path, she recalled stories of Emma and the lengths she used to go to when sourcing her bohemian look. Such comments brought comfort, and I laughed as she reminded me of the unique young woman I had fallen in love with in Leeds.
‘It’s all down to Mum, you know,’ Theresa said. ‘Whether she knows it or not, Emma’s emulating her style. I remember, growing up, Mum used to wear lots of tunic blouses, floppy hats, maxi-print dresses, all that stuff.’
This was news to me. ‘But why would Emma want to copy your mum if she gave her such a hard time growing up?’
‘It wasn’t all bad,’ Theresa said sadly. ‘Emma only focuses on the bad bits because she punishes herself for Mum leaving. Mum was difficult to live with, and when she got drunk things would get a lot worse. But she could go weeks without a drink. She used to bring us crabbing down the beach, show us how to paint. Dad used to go away on his digs for weeks at a time. That’s when she’d get lonely and hit the bottle. I wish . . .’ Theresa sighed, our conversation taking on a more serious tone.
‘Go on,’ I said, as we turned into Colchester Castle.
‘I wish I could tell Emma that Mum leaving isn’t her fault. Maybe if she realised that, she wouldn’t feel so tormented by the past.’
‘It’s not your mum she’s worried about,’ I said. ‘It’s Luke Priestwood. Right now I’d like to focus on what happened with him.’
‘Well, this is where it all started,’ she said, relinquishing her hold as she found a bench in the expansive grounds. Sitting here, with the birds singing and the sun warming our backs, it could almost be taken for a spring day. But my time in the sunshine was short lived, as Theresa opened up the wounds of her past.
‘After Mum left, Emma went through a rough patch. I wasn’t at home very much. Neither Dad nor Emma were coping very well. Then one day Dad told me Emma had a new art teacher, and he had really turned things around.’ She stared into the distance as a cool breeze played with loose strands of her hair. ‘He was in his twenties, good looking, the sort of man that girls swooned over back then. I think that’s why he liked Emma. She was quiet and cautious. He befriended her and she began to open up to him. If you ask me, their problems began the moment he agreed to meet her here.’
I glanced around at the castle grounds, busy with visitors making the most of the sunny day. I tried to imagine a younger version of my wife, sitting on this bench, pouring her heart out to Luke. The image would not come. ‘For a teacher to meet a pupil after school . . . it was very reckless of him. She was young and vulnerable. I can’t help but think he took advantage.’
‘You’re right,’ Theresa said, her voice tinged with regret. ‘And I blame myself for not picking up on it earlier on. She told me she was seeing him outside school, but when I brought it up with Dad, he said their meetings were above board.’
‘But they weren’t,’ I said. ‘Were they?’
Theresa shook her head. ‘Emma fell for Luke very quickly. I’d moved out and Dad was so distant . . . it was hardly any wonder she attached herself to him.’
‘Luke shouldn’t have agreed to it in the first place. Any fool can see that.’ I tried to keep my emotions in check. Meeting with a pupil was nothing compared to Emma trying to kill him.
‘He must have got a kick out of it, somewhere along the line.’ Theresa sighed at the memory, her gaze distant. ‘I only had to mention his name and she would turn bright red. It was obvious she had a huge crush on him. I thought it was harmless. Dad made it sound like Luke was counselling her and, for a while, she seemed happier.’
My heart sank as she echoed Luke’s words.
‘I knew something had happened because a few months later he cut off all contact with her. Suddenly, all she wanted to do was to follow him around. I had no idea how long it had been going on for, until it all came out.’
‘So you’re saying that she followed him? What about the flowers that were sent to the house?’