I am nothing but a cliché. Let sleeping dogs lie.
Except I knew I was going to tell Rob when I got home. I had to, because while my friends may have said they weren’t going to breathe a word to anyone, I knew they would each gossip to their husbands about what I’d done pretty much the second they got back. I would have, too, if I were them. I wouldn’t have been able to resist. And then a dozen people, at least, would know I had kissed another man. That was bad enough. I trust Rachel implicitly, but she’d learnt the truth, and when it all came out eventually – because these things always do – Rob would not be able to handle the humiliation of being the last to know and feeling like a fool.
Anyway, I wanted to tell him. He deserved no less.
* * *
Rob must have been watching for the car, because the outside light switched on and he opened the front door the second I pulled up in front of the cottage. He waited on the step for me, framed in the doorway, wearing a stripy shirt I bought him years ago, his old jeans and slippers. Behind him was a tantalising glimpse into our house as a nosy stranger looking in would see it: cosy and comfortable – a properly lived-in home. It was made all the more enticing by the unseasonable early September rain and high winds gusting in the dark as I staggered towards the door clutching my suitcase, my hair blowing all over my face, shivering in my too-thin coat and sandals.
‘Here,’ he reached out as I made it, ‘let me take that. You didn’t bring the weather back with you then? Must have been a bumpy flight?’
‘A bit.’ I passed the case over the threshold, stepped in and watched as he closed the door gently behind me and placed the case quietly down on the floor.
‘The girls are both asleep then?’ I asked foolishly – as we wouldn’t be tiptoeing otherwise – and slipped my arms out of my coat.
He nodded and kissed me briefly. I tensed as we touched, but he didn’t seem to notice.
‘Cup of tea?’
‘Yes, please.’
‘Have you eaten?’
I thought about the numerous chocolate bars and plastic-tasting tuna sandwich at the airport. ‘I might have a bowl of cereal in a minute, or something. Don’t worry for now, but, thank you.’
‘Why don’t you go through to the sitting room and I’ll bring your cuppa in? You look shattered.’
‘I am.’ I swallowed. ‘We went to Pacha last night.’
He laughed. ‘Bloody hell. No wonder you look like you’re about to die. Go on – sit down. I’ll be right there.’
I did as I was told and once I was in the living room, eased gingerly down onto the sofa. My head was absolutely thundering. For a moment I considered waiting another twenty-four hours before confessing, and just going to bed. I only wanted to close my eyes and sleep… although – I looked around me – the room was a tip. Toys everywhere. Rob had made no attempt whatsoever to tidy up once the girls had gone down. There was a half-full cup on the side and a squashed-in Coke can on the floor next to the sofa, alongside a dirty plate and the ketchup bottle. He’d had fish fingers and chips for tea. I got up again and placed the can on the plate, knowing that there would be enough sticky liquid in the bottom to be a complete pain in the arse when it got knocked over by one of the girls in the morning.
‘Just leave it.’ Rob appeared, holding my tea, and a plate with a couple of chocolate digestives on it. ‘I’ll do it in a minute.’
He placed them down on the side, crossed to the sofa – moving the remote and his laptop – and sat back down, opposite me. ‘So, did you have a good time? What was the weather like?’
‘Very hot.’ I reached for my tea and sipped it slowly, holding it with both hands. ‘I got burnt yesterday.’
He rolled his eyes. ‘Quelle surprise. What was the hotel like?’
‘Nice. Bit too cool for school. It had a weird seventies feel to it. Lots of retro clocks and chairs. Bright rugs, that sort of thing.’
He wrinkled his nose.
‘The food was good though.’ I cleared my throat. I had sex with a bloke I met in Pacha last night. I momentarily widened my eyes at my silent confession. ‘How are the girls?’
‘Fine. Bored of me though, they kept asking when you were coming back, and Maisie made you this.’ He reached over to the sideboard again and picked up a heavily glittered picture of a mummy, daddy, and two children, all smiling. A very happy picture.
To Mummy. I love you so, so, so much!
I read.
You are my best mummy and I have got you a treat! Love from Maisie xxx
‘She saved you a Percy Pig,’ Rob said. ‘She kept saying, “what about Mummy?” Tilly just carried on scoffing them, but Maisie thought of you. She missed you. We all did.’
I nodded, and my eyes filled with tears.
Rob looked at me carefully and frowned. The atmosphere was suddenly heavy, all the promise and potential of my return cooling faster than the comforting tea in my hands. He opened his mouth to speak. ‘You seem to be—’ but I got there first.
‘Rob, I slept with someone last night.’
He jerked his head back like I’d just thrown something dangerous near his eyes. He didn’t say anything for a moment, but then unexpectedly moved forward on the sofa, widening his legs so he could rest his elbows on his knees, and put his hands over his mouth. I could only see his eyes, staring ahead. He blew out slowly through his fingers.
I watched him, frightened. Now the words were out there, I was uncertain of how it was going to go and what I’d just risked on behalf of our daughters, how badly I’d let them down. Now, nothing was ever going to be the same again. Everything we’d worked so hard for – gone, in an instant.
‘You wanted to hurt me,’ he said – not a question, a fact. ‘Were you drunk?’
‘Yes. I wouldn’t have been able to go through with it otherwise.’
‘Fucking hell, Alex!’ He grabbed a section of the Sunday newspaper and scrunched it up so tightly I could see the veins in his hand standing out as he flung it to the floor. ‘You didn’t have to go through with it at all! Were you even in Ibiza?’
That confused me. ‘What? Of course!’
‘Who is he?’
‘It doesn’t matter.’
He flushed and clenched his jaw. ‘OK. You’ve made your point. Yes, it does matter. Who is he?’
‘No one you know. I met him in the club.’
He looked appalled. ‘A complete stranger? You went back to someone’s hotel?’
I faltered slightly. ‘No, I took him back to my room.’
‘Christ, Alex.’ He was furious. ‘He could have hurt you; he could have killed you.’
I thought of the boy. ‘That’s a bit melodramatic, Rob. I was safe.’
He ignored me. ‘Please tell me you used something.’
This was not going how I had imagined it. I coloured. ‘Of course.’
He nodded, as if that was something at least and stood up suddenly. ‘I’m going to bed. I don’t want to discuss this any more.’
‘No!’ I said desperately. ‘We need to talk about this. We owe it to the girls.’
He half laughed. ‘You’re thinking about them now? Wouldn’t it have been better to do that last night?’
‘Like you did?’ I asked him immediately. ‘When you fucked Hannah after her leaving party?’
He looked up at the ceiling, eyes wide open, and breathed out again – as if preparing to do yet another exhausting lap of the track – and sat back down. ‘All right. What is it you want me to say, Alex? That this hurts? Because yes, of course it does. Which was the point, surely? Do I have the right to get angry after what I did? No. Does that make what you’ve done OK? No.’
‘So suppose you’d discovered I’d had a brief fling with someone at work – let’s say David.’ I deliberately picked the colleague of mine I knew he didn’t like. ‘Can you can look me in the eye and tell me you absolutely wouldn’t have thought – at any point – “Fuck you, Alex”, and looked for someone else to validate you?’