‘So, am I forgiven?’ Dom stares at me, with a hesitant smile, clearly thinking he’s won me over.
‘I found your sunglasses,’ I say, stony faced, watching for his reaction.
‘My sunglasses?’ He breaks into a proper smile. ‘Oh, amazing. I’d thought I’d lost them for good. It’s not that they were expensive or anything, but they’re my favourites. Where did you find them, anyway?’
‘They’re at Melinda’s house,’ I say. ‘I went over there to clear the air and saw your sunglasses in her fruit bowl, of all places.’
‘What are they doing over th—’ He stops for a moment and clears his throat. ‘What are they doing over there?’
‘You tell me,’ I say, folding my arms across my chest.
‘What does that mean?’ he says, eying me over his bottle of beer. ‘You’re looking at me like I’ve done something wrong.’
‘I asked Mel why your glasses were at her house, and she told me it wasn’t her place to say. She told me to ask you. So, I’m asking you.’
‘Shit. Bloody Mel. I told her not to say anything.’
Tears sting the back of my eyes and I can’t hold back the question burning in my throat. ‘Are you two seeing each other?’
‘Seeing each other?’ Dom’s eyes widen. ‘No! Did you think…? Have you been thinking that she and I were…? Oh, Kirstie, no. Come here.’ He puts his bottle on the counter and tries to hug me, but I push him away.
‘Well, what am I supposed to think?’ I cry. ‘Mel was all tight-lipped and telling me to talk to you about it. What would you think if you were me?’
He nods. ‘I know. I’m an idiot. But she really shouldn’t have said… Oh, never mind.’
‘So? Why were you over there? What’s the big secret?’ I suddenly have the awful thought that it might not be Mel who’s having an affair with Dom – what if it’s Tamsin? What if she’s been seeing Dom again, and Mel knows about it? That she’s keeping it a secret and that’s why Mel said it wasn’t her place to tell me. Please, please, don’t let it be that.
‘You’re not going to be happy,’ Dom says.
I’m already not happy. ‘Just tell me, Dom.’ All I want is for him to spit out the truth.
He sighs and takes another sip of beer. ‘Mel sent me a text last week, asking me to go round there. She said she had a favour to ask. She wouldn’t tell me on the phone, so I nipped over to her place last week after training.’ He looks at me, waiting for a response.
I don’t speak. I’m waiting for him to go on.
‘It was the usual thing, Kirst – she’s skint. She’s maxed her credit cards and her overdraft is up to the limit. So she asked if I could lend her three hundred quid to tide her over until Chris sends through her next maintenance payment.’
I wasn’t expecting that. But I immediately wonder if this is simply a convenient story they’ve concocted to keep me in the dark. ‘How do I know you’re telling the truth?’
‘Jesus, Kirstie. Why would I lie? I’m your husband.’
‘If you’re having a thing with Mel, or anyone else—’
‘I am not having a thing! Mel’s not even my type.’
‘She’s everyone’s type,’ I snap.
‘She’s too high-maintenance, too in-your-face. I love her to bits, but not like that. She’s our friend, and that’s all she is. I’m married to you! If you don’t believe me, then I can show you my bank statement – I took out three hundred in cash last week to give to her.’
‘So she really was asking you to lend her money?’ I sit down heavily on one of the kitchen chairs, letting his explanation sink in.
Dom nods, his face flushed.
‘And you lent it to her.’
‘What was I supposed to do? She’s our friend, she’s in a jam. She said she’d pay me back next month.’
I exhale.
‘I knew you’d go mad,’ he continues, ‘so I told her not to tell you about it. I’m so sorry. I’m such an idiot.’
‘It’s not the money, Dom. It’s the lying. It’s the fact that I’ve been at home stressing for two days, thinking you and Mel were sleeping together. You’ve made me look like a fool in front of my friend. And you’ve made me doubt our marriage. I mean, forgive me for suspecting you of an affair, but it’s not like you haven’t done it before!’
‘Kirst!’ He gives me a wounded look.
Maybe I shouldn’t have brought up his one-night stand with Tamsin – it’s ancient history that he spent months apologising for early on in our relationship, and I chose to forgive him. But his lies have made me doubt him again. And right now, I’m too keyed up to feel anything but pissed off.
‘No, Dom. It’s like you’re deliberately trying to ruin our relationship at the moment.’
‘I am so sorry, Kirstie. I know I’m screwing everything up. What can I do? How can I make it up to you?’
‘Maybe you could start by not having secrets from me and not lending money we don’t have to my best friend.’
Dom nods, his body hunched, his expression one of remorse. But then he drops his shoulders and tilts his head. ‘Um,’ he says.
‘Um, what?’
‘Well,’ he says, ‘it’s just, you’re telling me not to go behind your back and lend Mel money, but isn’t that exactly what you were doing before?’
‘Yes,’ I reply, ‘but I came to you and told you what was going on, and we agreed together that we wouldn’t lend her any more. Now you’ve gone behind my back and made me look bad. You’ve basically driven a wedge between me and Mel.’
‘You and Mel will be fine.’
‘You don’t know that. At the moment I’m pissed off with the pair of you. You lent her money after I called her out on not paying me back. You’ve made me look like the bad guy.’
Dom chews his lip.
A wave of exhaustion hits me. I should be happy that Dom isn’t having an affair, but my body is itching with irritability and disappointment. Of course I’m relieved my husband and Mel – or even worse, Tamsin – aren’t seeing one another behind my back, but there are still so many other issues we need to work out. I thought Dom and I were a team, a tight unit. But we seem to be drifting further and further apart, and I don’t know how to fix it.
Twenty-Eight
I stand before the bathroom mirror, carefully applying my makeup. I desperately need it to cover up the suitcases beneath my eyes. After our bust up earlier in the week, Dom and I have reached an uneasy truce. It’s Saturday, the day of Jimmy and Rosa’s barbecue. To be honest, I’d much rather go for a family picnic on the beach, or a walk in the countryside, or maybe stick some rusty pins in my eyes, but Dom thinks this will be good for us. And if I don’t go, it will be another reason for us to argue. So now here I am trying to make myself look presentable for the neighbours, who all know about the humiliating episode where I thought Daisy had been snatched.
The music from number two has already been cranked up, and I recognise a muffled version of some chart tune I can’t remember the name of. The thump of the bassline has the added effect of quadrupling the number of butterflies in my stomach. But as long as I show my face over there, I won’t have to stay long. An hour tops, then I can say I have to get back to feed Daisy, or make some other excuse. It’ll be fine.
‘You nearly ready, Kirst?’ Dom calls from the landing, giving a short rap on the bathroom door.
‘Two minutes!’ I reply.