‘Oh?’ Mel turned to glare at him. ‘And you’ve decided that for him, have you? Clearly you’re a mind reader now, as well as perfect in every other possible way and a genius when it comes to women’s feelings. I mean you’re just so flipping clever, I’m in awe. Particularly at how you cleverly managed to text Lisa about the little secret between you while she was sitting in my kitchen!’
The silence that followed was profound, made more obvious by all the diners in the restaurant seeming to stop clattering cutlery as one and turn heads in their direction. Mel didn’t care about that either. Was she at fault here? For what, exactly? Making a monumental effort to have a good time when the man she’d thought she could trust implicitly had betrayed her? Did he really expect her to believe Lisa’s feeble attempts to convince her they’d done no more than swap intimate texts? Hah!
Swiping a tear from her face, she snatched the new bottle of wine from the ice bucket as the waiter brought it across. ‘Come on – cheer up, everyone, for goodness’ sake,’ she said, topping up her glass. We’re supposed be celebrating Emily’s birthday.’
Glancing at Mark, who wouldn’t meet her gaze, and then at Adam, who averted his in favour of studying his phone, she leaned across to refill Emily’s glass. ‘We should leave these killjoys here and go clubbing,’ she suggested, casting another meaningful look in Mark’s direction. Obviously, they’ve forgotten how to have a good time.’
Emily, though, placed her hand over her glass. ‘Actually, I think we need to go, Mel.’ She smiled apologetically. ‘Kayla’s not so happy with her babysitter. You know what eleven-year-olds can be like.’
‘Oh.’ Reminded of the fact that she had children of her own, Mel dropped her gaze. ‘Yes. Of course. Sorry, I… wasn’t thinking.’
‘The taxi’s outside.’ Emily reached to squeeze her arm. ‘I’ll give you a ring tomorrow, Mel. Take care, hon.’
Giving Mark a pointed look, Emily got to her feet and walked around to give Mel a firm hug. The two men stood simultaneously, leaving Mel feeling bewildered, still seated at the table. She had spoiled her friend’s birthday. Spoiled everything. No! It was Mark’s fault, not hers. She was only trying to be cheerful. What was the matter with everyone?
‘I’ll give you a ring. About that holiday chalet,’ Mark said, shaking Adam’s hand.
‘Do that.’ Adam smiled. ‘We have some new log cabins being built by the river. It would be great to have you and Mel over to dinner one evening. I’ll give you the guided tour.’
Emily went around to Mark then, giving him a hug. A very firm hug. Mel watched, jealousy and incomprehension warring inside her. Incomprehension at her own volatile emotions. Mark wouldn’t. She knew in her heart that he wouldn’t. His family were the world to him. So, why was she hurting so much? Why did she want to hurt him? Because it had been too good to be true? He’d been too good to be true? Her white knight had probably got tired of the battle. Tired of her. And who could blame him?
Adam and Emily left, and Mark rushed to settle the bill before she disgraced herself completely.
‘Okay?’ he asked her, slipping his wallet back into his pocket as he walked back to her, then leaning down to wrap an arm around her shoulders. He tried to make eye contact, but she looked away. She didn’t want to see the pain in his eyes, the humiliation that would undoubtedly be there. She’d only been trying to have a bit of fun. It wasn’t her fault. He’d caused all this, not her.
Her heart, which had been sinking steadily all evening, settled like a cold stone in her chest. She reached for the bottle of wine, drawing it proprietorially closer. People were looking. She could feel the prickle of their disapproving, hostile stares. But she didn’t care.
‘Go then. I’m staying,’ she announced, getting precariously to her feet as the too-handsome-not-to-be-gay waiter came over. ‘I’m going to dance on the tables with Miguel.’
Stumbling forward, one leg decidedly shorter – it turned out she was missing a shoe – she snaked the hand still clutching the wine around the startled waiter’s neck. ‘Dance with me, Miguel,’ she said breathily, attempting to lock come-hither eyes on his, but found she couldn’t quite focus.
‘Mel?’ She felt a hand slide around her waist. Another trying to ease her arm from around the man’s neck. ‘We need to go home, Mel,’ Mark said, close to her ear, as the room tilted and shifted. His voice wasn’t angry. It was soft. Concerned. Frightened.
Oh, dear God. She was frightened.
Mel felt the floor shift violently beneath her, saw a thousand slivers of green glass shoot across the floor in slow motion as her legs melted, like soft butter, beneath her.
Twenty-Nine
MARK
Mel didn’t speak as Mark helped her into the car. She’d been subdued since the doctor at A&E had suggested that he might like to make sure his wife didn’t drink so much in future. She’d looked out of it as they’d dressed the cut to her arm, which fortunately hadn’t needed stitching. She still looked out of it, as if her mind was wandering to some dark, lonely place he couldn’t follow. Mark had seen that look before. Guessing it would be fruitless to try to talk to her now, he made sure she was comfortable and went around to the driver’s side. Climbing in, he reached gently around her to fasten her seatbelt, then took a breath, mentally steeling himself for what might be to come. ‘All right?’ he asked her, not sure what else to say, what else he could trust himself to say.
Mel nodded, a small uncertain nod, but kept her gaze fixed on her hands, which were resting lightly in her lap. Sighing inwardly, Mark started the engine, wondering where the bloody hell they went from here.
As he flicked the wipers, which swiped hopelessly against the sudden deluge of late spring rain, Mel spoke. ‘Are the children all right?’ she asked him, her voice barely a whisper.
You’ve finally remembered you have kids then? Mark thought, his emotions swinging from despair through anger to immense guilt. In truth, he felt like resting his head on the steering wheel and weeping. He had no idea what to do next. How to fix this. Bitter experience told him he couldn’t, but he needed to. God help him, he couldn’t let Mel sink so far down he was unable to reach her again. How had this happened? How hadn’t he noticed the signs until now?
His jaw set tight, Mark gripped the steering wheel hard, reversed sharply and swung out of the car park. ‘They’re fine,’ he said, after a pause, during which he’d had to work at composing himself. It would do no good to heap guilt on her shoulders, which would only add to the wretchedness she would undoubtedly be feeling. ‘Jade has everything under control. Don’t worry.’
She didn’t look at him. Couldn’t or wouldn’t. Swallowing back a tight knot in his throat, Mark hesitated, and then tentatively reached across to squeeze her hand. ‘We’ll talk tomorrow,’ he said gruffly. ‘Let’s just get you home for now. You need to rest.’ He resisted saying that things would look better in the morning. He had a feeling that they wouldn’t. That things wouldn’t look better for a long time to come.
Mel didn’t answer. Turning her gaze to the passenger window, she fell silent instead, watching the bleak night pass by as they drove.