The Wife – Part One

The Wife – Part One ML Roberts For fans of Doctor Foster and The Affair. A chilling new four-part series. Michael and Ellie are that couple. The ones who have it all. Success, charm, trust…but no relationship is perfect and the events of the past cast a shadow over their charmed life together. When lecturer Michael starts to mentor a new student, Ellie fears that history is repeating itself. As paranoia takes its ugly hold, it’s clear some things just can’t be forgotten…or forgiven. A division of HarperCollinsPublishers www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk) HarperImpulse an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk) First published in Great Britain by HarperImpulse 2017 Copyright © M L Roberts 2017 Cover photographs © Shutterstock.com (http://Shutterstock.com) Cover design by Ellie Game © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2017 M L Roberts asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work. A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library. This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins. Ebook Edition © September 2017 ISBN: 9780008259860 Version: 2017-08-09 Table of Contents Cover (#ub380da25-2ee6-5729-a61a-c2bec8ffd6af) Title Page (#ud660dc7f-13f9-52d3-937f-8e4bf314ba32) Copyright (#u768980e7-1947-5e8f-96ac-162c7210574b) Dedication (#u52658ce4-1cc8-5fb6-943f-d3da90fa949b) Prologue (#uf68e7fba-9d11-5b38-a393-49909eb31c93) Chapter 1 (#u7a41d2cf-653b-5385-b6a2-1a8bd1ebda7e) Chapter 2 (#ud7669909-710c-58ad-a131-5331fbd669d7) Chapter 3 (#u9de05214-c5bc-55fb-a5e2-bbbc84dbe6be) Chapter 4 (#ua54ac5e0-2eec-5c74-a31c-9322f67736b9) Chapter 5 (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo) Keep Reading … (#litres_trial_promo) Acknowledgements (#litres_trial_promo) About the Author (#litres_trial_promo) About HarperImpulse (#litres_trial_promo) About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo) For my husband. His constant support has been everything. Prologue (#u2ed06125-15cf-559d-98e6-c5c71def3220) Sometimes you look at people and you think their life is perfect. You envy them, what they have, what you assume they have. The perfect marriage, perfect careers, perfect home. They have it all, or that’s how it seems to those on the outside. But sometimes, behind those closed doors of that seemingly perfect home, secrets live in the shadows, just waiting to reveal themselves. Secrets that make that perfect life more fragile and fractured than anyone could imagine. Secrets that cast a darkness over everything, even when the sun is shining. I had secrets. And my life wasn’t perfect, even when I thought it was. We all had secrets. We all told lies. We all had a darkness that blocked out the sun. No … my life wasn’t perfect … Chapter 1 (#u2ed06125-15cf-559d-98e6-c5c71def3220) ‘Come on, Michael. Dance with me.’ ‘When was the last time you saw me dance, Ellie?’ I lean back against the wall, the edge of my mouth twisting up into a smirk. ‘Our wedding.’ ‘Almost fourteen years ago.’ I put down my gin and tonic and reach out and grab him by his belt, pulling him towards me, smiling as my mouth almost touches his. ‘But they’re playing our song.’ ‘We have a song now?’ He arches an eyebrow and gives me the kind of grin that made me fall for him in the first place, all those years ago. ‘For a supposedly intelligent man you can be such a dick sometimes.’ He laughs, a low, husky laugh and I close my eyes as he kisses me, just a small kiss, his lips barely graze mine, but it’s enough. ‘We don’t have a song, Ellie,’ he whispers. I let go of him and pick up my drink, taking another sip as my eyes scan the room. I’m not the biggest fan of Michael’s work gatherings, but as one of the university’s leading professors, a respected academic and head of the English Studies Department, it’s my duty, I suppose, to be by his side at these events. And I’m used to them now. In the beginning I’d always felt slightly out of place, as if I didn’t belong in this world. I never went to university, I wasn’t born into a family with those kind of aspirations. My family was nothing like Michael’s. My family was a mess, but I was determined not to go down the route everyone expected me to take. I was determined to become successful against all the odds, and so far I’ve been very lucky. I’ve achieved that success. Michael leans back against the wall next me and I turn to face him. ‘We do, actually. We have a song. You just never remember what it is.’ He frowns and I look into his eyes and I can tell he genuinely wants to remember what that song is, but he can’t. And it doesn’t matter anyway, not really. I just like bringing it up, watching him squirm slightly as he tries his hardest to recall something that, in his world, isn’t all that important. ‘Liam’ll dance with me.’ I smile, and Michael returns it. ‘Any of the men in this room would dance with you, Ellie. You’re like a breath of fresh air around here.’ ‘You’re hardly stuffy professor material yourself … Oh, hang on, there he is … Liam!’ I wave frantically across the room at Liam – Dr Liam Kennedy BS, MSc, PhD, to give him his full title, although, there are probably half a dozen letters I’ve missed off there – one of our closest friends and a visiting lecturer here at the university. He turns to acknowledge me, throwing me a wide smile before he takes a drink from the tray of a passing waiter and makes his way over to us. ‘He still won’t dance with you, huh?’ Michael rolls his eyes and holds up his hands in a gesture of defeat, shaking his head, but he’s smiling too. ‘I know when I’m beaten. You two go light up the dance floor. I need to have a word with Laurel about Monday’s department meeting.’ ‘Still using your charm to kick-start that research project, huh?’ Liam smirks. ‘Works every time. Oh, and don’t wear him out, Ellie. We’re playing squash tomorrow, and I need him at his best if we’re going to have any hope of beating Harry and Ed. I swear those two are taking something …’ I watch him head off in the direction of Laurel Greene, another colleague; watch the way her eyes light up as he approaches, because that’s the effect my husband has on people, especially women. He’s handsome, charming and fun, even if he doesn’t dance. Popular with both students and staff, he’s a big part of this university, deeply committed to his work, sometimes a little too committed, but that’s who he is. And I knew that the day I fell in love with him. ‘You okay?’ Liam’s voice drags me back from my thoughts and I look at him. ‘Yeah, I’m fine. A little tired, but it’s been a busy week.’ ‘Another drink?’ I nod and follow him to the bar, waiting until I have a fresh gin and tonic in my hand before we resume our conversation. ‘So, how’s the new spa coming along?’ Liam asks as we commandeer a quiet table near the back of the room and sit down. ‘Well, thankfully, the grand opening is going ahead next Friday, as planned. Bob, my builder …’ Liam’s face breaks into a grin. ‘Bob the builder? Seriously?’ ‘I know, believe me, I’ve been listening to the same joke for two months now. I’m as sick of it as he is. Anyway, he’s due to sign off on the work Monday morning, meaning we can now start moving things in and get everything organised ready for Friday.’ ‘Your fourth business, huh? You’re killing it, Ellie Travers.’ ‘Well, I might not have any letters after my name, but I haven’t let that hold me back.’ ‘Three salons and now a day spa, what’s next for your empire?’ I take a sip of gin and quickly glance across the room. Michael’s charming the Bridget Jones pants off Laurel Greene. I can see, even from over here, how much he’s got her wrapped around his little finger. ‘If there were degrees given out for flirting, huh?’ Liam smirks. ‘It’s just who he is, you know that. Besides …’ I turn back to face Liam, leaning back in my seat and crossing my legs. ‘I’ve never really been Little-Miss-Wallflower, have I?’ He laughs, a louder, slightly more raucous laugh than Michael’s, but even though there are some distinct differences between the two men, they’re more like brothers than best friends. They met, as students, at this very university – Michael studying English Literature, Liam Biochemistry. They both became lecturers here, until Liam left to focus more on his work as a research scientist, but he’s retained visiting lecturer status here at the university. At a couple of universities across the UK, actually. He’s a very well-respected figure in his field. ‘No, Ellie, you could never be described as a wallflower.’ He leans forward, clasps his hands together on the table. ‘So, are we going to have that dance, or not?’ I cock my head, smiling slightly. ‘You know what my and Michael’s song is, don’t you?’ ‘Beyonce. ‘Crazy in Love’. Your first-dance wedding song.’ ‘I knew that.’ I feel hands on my shoulders and I tilt my head back to see Michael behind me. ‘No you didn’t. Are you done schmoozing Laurel now?’ ‘I wasn’t schmoozing anyone.’ He joins us at the table, stealing a sip of my gin. ‘I thought you two were going all “Saturday Night Fever”?’ ‘Yes, well, the moment’s passed.’ I retrieve my drink and throw Michael a smile. ‘Besides, I didn’t want to tire him out.’ I jerk my head in the direction of Liam. ‘You’re both on the wrong side of forty now, so …’ ‘You let her get away with talking to you like that?’ Liam winks as he gets up, leaning over to plant a quick kiss on my cheek, slapping Michael’s shoulder as he slides past him. ‘I’ll leave you guys to it. I’ve got a meeting first thing in the morning, before that squash game, so I’m calling it a night. See you both tomorrow.’ I watch him stride through the crowd of people, stopping every now and again to say a few words to old colleagues and friends before he disappears from sight. ‘Maybe we should call it a night, too,’ Michael sighs, checking his watch. ‘You must be shattered, the week you’ve had.’ ‘I’m okay.’ He looks at me. ‘Are you?’ ‘Michael, I’m fine. Really.’ He stands up and holds out his hand and I take it as we head towards the exit, his fingers curling around mine, and I squeeze his hand a little tighter as we walk. ‘I’m really proud of you, Ellie.’ He stops and pulls me into his arms, kissing the tip of my nose. ‘And I don’t think I tell you that enough. You deserve the success you’re finally getting. It’s been a long time coming. After everything you’ve been through …’ His expression changes, for the briefest of seconds, a fleeting moment that only someone as close to him as me could possibly have noticed, before he pulls it back and his smile returns. ‘Potential Local Businesswoman of the Year, huh?’ I smile back, tugging gently on his shirt collar. ‘Hey, slow down, okay? There are only rumours of a nomination at the minute, let’s not get too excited.’ ‘Ellie!’ A loud, deep voice aimed in our direction cuts through the noise and I look over Michael’s shoulder to see Ernie Waterford approaching: Michael’s predecessor as Head of Department and a lifelong mentor to my husband, not to mention a good friend. ‘Looking stunning, as always.’ Michael moves aside, allowing Ernie to envelop me in a big bear hug, the scent of cigars and port filling my nostrils. ‘Flattery will get you nowhere, Professor.’ His booming laugh almost drowns out the music and I glance over at Michael, who throws me a knowing smile. ‘Persistence is in my blood, Ellie. I’m still trying to work out how that man there snared a woman as beautiful as you, but if he ever leaves you …’ He winks at me and I laugh, too. Ernie’s harmless flirting has been part of our lives for as long as I can remember now, ‘he’d be an idiot,’ he adds, throwing me another wink before he heads off in the direction of the bar. Michael slips an arm around my shoulders, gently kissing the side of my temple. ‘I don’t think that’s something we need to worry about, do you? Neither of us is going anywhere. Are we?’ I slide my fingers between his and I smile, turning my head so my mouth catches his, and I taste gin on his lips as he kisses me quickly. ‘I hope not.’ Chapter 2 (#u2ed06125-15cf-559d-98e6-c5c71def3220) I used to love early mornings. That time of day when it can feel as though you’re the only person awake, when everything is calm and peaceful. I used to crave those snatched hours alone – it’s the perfect time to think, when all those thoughts that may have felt jumbled before suddenly start to make sense. But now – now things are different. Things have changed. Nothing makes much sense any more, there’s too much to think about, too many thoughts crowding my brain and it doesn’t always make for those calm and peaceful hours alone I was once so fond of. I found myself waking early this morning; found myself down here, in the orangery that stretches the entire length of the back of our beautiful home on the outskirts of the County Durham countryside, drinking tea and thinking, about all those things I’d rather forget. Nights like last night; parties, dinners with friends, they help push the memories to one side, for a little while, but they’ll never go away. They always come back. Curling my legs up underneath myself I settle back into the comfortable couch that looks out over our sprawling garden. A neat, raised decking area leads out on to a perfectly manicured lawn, its flat, green surface interspersed with patches of shrubbery and strategically placed pot plants. There’s a magnolia tree near the centre of the lawn, two apple trees to the side, and at the back of the garden there’s a small vegetable patch, which is – was – very much Michael’s baby. My fingers don’t even come close to being green. Next to that is a sky-blue painted summer house, its front porch decorated with various terracotta pots, all housing an array of multi-coloured pansies. That summer house is my office. Was my office. I used to love working out of that summer house, it was my haven. Once. Now my office is in a side room next to the small indoor swimming pool we had built onto the back of the orangery a couple of years ago. A room that used to house towels and robes, but they’re now kept in a large storage box at the back of the pool area. I needed that room. I wanted that room. A strange choice, maybe, given that we have three spare bedrooms upstairs, but I wanted that room. I stare back outside, watching as the sun starts to break through the early morning cloud, casting shadows over the summer house. Casting shadows. Something I’ve become all too familiar with. Shadows. Darkness. Even my beautiful garden feels different, now. Over the years we’ve turned that garden from nothing but grass and wasteland into a rustic, colourful space. We worked hard to make sure it was perfect, for us. For what we needed - wanted it to be, and I look over towards the back of the garden, to a corner adjacent to the summer house. It’s empty now, that corner, we don’t need what used to stand there, not any more. I wanted it gone. I don’t go out into the garden all that much any more. I don’t have the time. I’m too busy. I’m about to open another new business, a day spa, and that’s taking up a lot of my time. Too much of my time, some would say, but keeping busy is important. Over the past year and a half I’ve opened a third hair and beauty studio – I already have one in Newcastle and another in Durham – as well as taking on this day spa. I’ve never really been one to take it easy. I find that even harder to do now, despite people telling me to slow down. It isn’t that simple, it never has been. It’s even less so, now. I close my eyes for a second, just for a second, and then it’s almost as if the silence suddenly hits me, making me aware of its presence, and they spring open. I walk over to the French doors in front of me, and I know I won’t be able to stop myself from doing what I seem to do on an almost daily basis now. But they say we all have a touch of OCD inside us, somewhere. I just need to make sure that door is locked. What’s so strange about that? And as my fingers close around the metal handle I inwardly scold myself for being so paranoid. Of course it’s locked. I check every night, before we go to bed. Every morning, when I come down here. Every time someone goes outside, I check the second they come back in. Leaning forward, I rest my forehead against the cool glass door, my fingers tightening around the handle as I close my eyes. The sound of birds chattering out in the garden brings a smile to my face. I find their noise quite calming. I love to hear them out there, starting their day. The peace and quiet these early mornings bring is something I never take for granted. But that peace is suddenly rudely interrupted by the doorbell ringing, and I glance up at the clock on the wall. It’s just gone eight-thirty. I wrap my robe tighter around myself and head out of the kitchen, into the hall. There’s only one person comfortable enough to visit us at this time on a Saturday morning and, sure enough, when I open the door he’s there on the step, a wide grin on his face as he holds out a box of something that smells very much like freshly baked pastries. I smile and lean back against the doorpost, folding my arms. ‘Didn’t you have a meeting this morning?’ ‘Cancelled. Rescheduled for Monday, so, as I was up and about and on the road I thought I’d stop by and bring breakfast.’ I take the box of pastries from him and stand aside to let him in, nudging the door shut behind me before heading back into the kitchen. ‘Michael not up yet?’ ‘It’s eight-thirty on a Saturday morning, Liam, so no. He’s still in bed. Do you want some tea?’ He nods and leans back against the island in the centre of the room, glancing behind him into the orangery, where my pot of tea and crumb-scattered plate are sitting on the table next to the couch. ‘You didn’t much fancy a lie-in yourself, then?’ He looks at me, but I don’t answer that. I know what he is getting at. ‘Are you thinking of hanging around here until you and Michael leave for your squash game?’ ‘If that’s okay?’ I smile slightly and flick the switch on the kettle. ‘It’s okay. You can make the tea. I’ll go see if Michael’s awake.’ I head back upstairs, back into our room, and Michael’s very much awake. He’s sitting up in bed with his laptop open, his reading glasses perched low on the end of his nose as he types away. And he doesn’t hear me come in at first, he’s that engrossed in whatever it is he’s doing. It’s not until I’m almost right there beside him that he looks up and smiles. But I also don’t miss the speed at which he slams shut his laptop. ‘Where’d you get to? I woke up and you weren’t there.’ ‘You were in a hurry to come and find me, then?’ I jerk my head in the direction of his laptop as I fling open the wardrobe and search for something to wear. ‘Just thought I’d get a jump on Monday’s meeting. Get some notes down.’ I loosen my robe and let it fall to the floor, and I flinch slightly as I feel Michael come up behind me, feel him slide his arms around my waist, his mouth brush my shoulder so lightly his lips barely connect with my skin. ‘Come back to bed,’ he murmurs. ‘I can’t.’ I shrug him off and turn around, reaching for the dress I’d dropped to the floor when he’d touched me. ‘Liam’s downstairs. His meeting’s been moved to next week, so he decided to swing by here early. He’s brought breakfast.’ Michael sighs and drags a hand through his hair, and then he reaches out and wraps his fingers around my wrist, causing me to drop the dress again. I raise my gaze and look at him, and the expression on his face – it’s one I’ve become all-too familiar with these past few months. ‘Last night, Ellie – last night, at the party, you were fine. We were fine, we were good. We had a nice time, right?’ ‘Yes. We had a nice time. It was good to get out. And I’m still fine now, Michael, okay? I’m just tired. These last few weeks have been crazy, what with the new salon and the spa, so, you know? I’m just tired.’ ‘Look, I know we haven’t …’ He leaves that sentence hanging, loosens his grip on my wrist and drops his gaze, dragging a hand back through his hair again. And then his eyes meet mine and he smiles at me, just a small smile, but I needed that to happen. He pulls me into his arms, kisses the top of my head, and for a few seconds he just holds me tight and I cling onto him, breathing him in. I look up at him, and his mouth catches mine, just a quick kiss. But I take it. ‘We’re going to be all right, Ellie.’ He lets go of me and steps back, and I watch as he pulls on his jeans, looks in the mirror, running both hands through his hair to tidy it up. I turn around and crouch down to pick up my dress, stepping into it, but as I reach behind me for the zipper I struggle to pull it up, and he’s there; he takes my hand and he pulls it away, slowly sliding the zipper up, and as he does that he gently kisses the back of my neck, and I shiver. The first time he ever did that, kiss the back of my neck, I shivered. ‘I’m sorry, Ellie.’ I know he is. I’m sorry too. I turn around and pull him to me by his shirt collar, quickly kissing his slightly open mouth. ‘Go see Liam. Go on. Go plan your squash strategy or whatever it is you do before one of your games. I’m going to finish getting ready. I need to stop by the spa later, make sure everything’s going to plan.’ I smile and I cup his cheek and kiss him again, stroking his skin with my fingertips. ‘Go. I’ll be down in a few minutes.’ I let go of him and I watch as he leaves the room, waiting until I hear both his and Liam’s voices echo up from the kitchen downstairs before I head into the en suite. I’ve got a busy day ahead. And maybe that’s just as well. Chapter 3 (#u2ed06125-15cf-559d-98e6-c5c71def3220) Long hours are something Michael and I are used to. Sometimes we can be nothing more than passing ships in the night. Days can blend into weeks before we realise we haven’t spent any real time together. We both love our work. We both need our work, now more than ever. But over the past few months the hours we work are increasing, the days are becoming longer. Our life, it’s changed. It had to. We changed. What happened, it was always going to change us. It would have changed anybody, but for us – Ellie and Michael Travers, the perfect couple, because that’s how people saw us, how people still want to see us – for us, those changes are something I’m still trying to cope with. I switch on the kettle and start laying out the breakfast things just as Michael comes into the kitchen, his head down as he sorts through the post. ‘Anything for me?’ I ask, leaning back against the counter, wrapping my arms tighter around myself. He looks up, his eyes meeting mine for the briefest of seconds before his gaze drops back down to the letters in his hand. He shakes his head, keeping his eyes down, and I drop my own gaze, catching a glimpse of my bare feet, the shocking-pink nail polish I’m wearing – courtesy of some last-minute product testing yesterday at the spa – a sharp contrast against the dark tiled floor. And as I raise my head and check the time I realise I’m running late. I need to be at the spa in an hour and I’m not dressed yet. I pour myself a mug of tea and make to leave, but I stop as I reach the door. I turn back around to face Michael but his head is still down. He’s checking over some papers he’s just taken from his briefcase. This is what it’s like now. Sometimes. The silences, the heavy atmosphere. Painful memories engulf us, both of us, constantly, but we’re finding different ways of dealing with them. I still need to talk about what happened, but Michael thinks we’ve talked enough. He’s wrong. ‘Will you be home for dinner tonight?’ He slowly raises his head, his eyes once more meeting mine, and he holds my gaze a little longer this time, but not long enough to make me feel as though anything’s changing. We haven’t really moved forward, we haven’t yet got past what happened. We’re not the same people we used to be, not behind closed doors anyway. We used to be happy, we used to be close, we had everything. Now I don’t know what we have any more. ‘I’m not sure. I have a department meeting at five, and then evening tutorials. I’ll probably just grab something in the pub. I said I’d meet Liam for a quick drink after work, so …’ He trails off and looks down again. That’s it. He’s severed that communication, and I watch him slide those papers back into his briefcase, slip on his jacket, grab his keys from the dresser. As he heads towards the doorway I’m still standing in. I feel my stomach jolt as he comes closer, and he stops, turning his head to look at me. ‘I’ll try not to be too late.’ I nod, and I take the small smile he gives me, close my eyes as he leans in to kiss my cheek. And I watch as he strides down the hall, without looking back. It wasn’t always this way. Not so long ago we could barely make it out of the house on time because morning sex and breakfast together was an all-important part of our day. We had it all, we were that couple. Ellie and Michael Travers. Happy. Successful. So fucking perfect that our friends used to tease us incessantly, claim that nobody could ever live up to what we were. Or so we thought. I glance at the clock again. I’m pushing it, timewise. I really need to get ready, so I head upstairs, but I’m only halfway up when I stop, turn around and come back down. I need to check that Michael locked the door behind him. Our home, it’s quite isolated. A converted barn set in its own grounds, our nearest neighbours are within sight but not walking distance. It’s all very private. So, I just need to check that Michael locked that door. But of course he’s locked it. He’s as paranoid as I am. Now. Chapter 4 (#u2ed06125-15cf-559d-98e6-c5c71def3220) If somebody had told my thirteen-year-old self that one day I’d be a successful businesswoman running three beauty salons and a day spa; that I’d be married to a gorgeous, brilliant professor, I’d have laughed in their faces. My thirteen-year-old self had no ambition. No prospects. I was brought up by my grandparents in a small mining village in County Durham. The kind of place where everyone knows everybody and nobody’s business is private. Mine certainly wasn’t. I’d just turned thirteen when I went to live with them, an angry, disillusioned teenager who fought against everything. I had my reasons. People didn’t think I’d amount to much, not even my own family. They assumed I was too damaged, and maybe I was. I certainly spent the first few months I was with them proving everyone right. I didn’t try hard at school. I didn’t think there was any point. My grandparents had done okay, they didn’t have much but they had enough. They’d spent their life ‘getting by’. Managing. And for them that was fine. For a while I thought that was fine, too, and nobody encouraged me to try otherwise. By the time I’d turned fifteen I’d realised I wanted more than that. ‘Getting by’ wasn’t enough. I wanted to buck the family trend and be someone. Do something with my life. I wanted to show the small, insular community I was growing up in that the damaged kid I once was could be something more than just another casualty of a fucked-up family. I stared working harder, grew a thicker, tougher skin, learnt how to look after myself. I channeled all my anger and frustration into proving everyone wrong. Nobody thought I could do it. But I did, do it. I became someone. I did something. And I did it all on my own. When nobody else believed in me, I had to. Michael believed in me. Michael was the icing on the cake, so to speak. To have a man like him – a handsome, clever, successful man, from a background the complete polar opposite of mine; to have a man like him fall in love with me, that’s when my world became complete. But now – now my world is becoming increasingly less certain. My world is changing. My world has changed … ‘It looks like you’re all set for the opening on Friday, then.’ I swing around at the sound of his voice, my heart beating hard against my ribs. I’d been so deep in thought there, he gave me a shock. ‘Jesus, Liam, don’t creep up on me like that! What are you doing here anyway?’ ‘I’m on my way to a meeting in Newcastle, so, I thought I’d pop in, see how it was all going.’ I walk back behind the front reception desk and switch on the computer. I need to check all our booking systems are up and running before we open the spa in just a couple of days’ time. ‘It’s all going fine.’ I raise my gaze and smile slightly, but I’m too busy for his company this morning. I can do without any more distractions. I already have enough. ‘Good.’ He rests his forearms on the counter and leans forward, clasping his hands together. ‘So, are you going to show me around?’ ‘I’m really busy, Liam. There’s so much to do before Friday, and I’m swamped here, so …’ He steps back and holds up his hands, an apologetic smile on his face. ‘It’s okay, I get it. Michael said you were snowed under.’ ‘You’ve seen Michael?’ He slides his hands into his pockets and I grab a pile of folders from the desk and walk back out front, quickly glancing down at my scribbled, handwritten schedule for the day. I haven’t had time to print out a neater, more detailed, version. ‘Just for a few minutes. I needed to stop by the university to sort out a few things. I’m giving a lecture there tomorrow afternoon.’ ‘Is he okay?’ ‘He’s fine. Any reason why he shouldn’t be?’ I look at him, and I frown, because he’s been through enough himself to know that seeming okay and actually being it are two completely different things. ‘Are you okay, Ellie?’ ‘I’m fine … shit!’ A handful of papers slip from the folders I’d bundled into my arms, landing on the floor in a scattered heap and I crouch down to retrieve them. ‘Here. Let me get those for you.’ Liam crouches down too, but I hurriedly grab the papers myself, shoving them back inside the folders. ‘It’s okay, I can manage. Thank you.’ His hand briefly but gently brushes against mine, and he pulls it away, sliding it back into his pocket as he stands up. ‘You should take things a little easier, Ellie. You’re working yourself into the ground.’ ‘I don’t want to take things easy, Liam. This is what I do. I work hard.’ ‘At the expense of everything else?’ I narrow my eyes as I look at him, leaving a couple of beats before I respond to his comment. ‘Not everything.’ He drops his head and laughs quietly, smiling slightly. ‘No …’ He raises his gaze, his expression slowly changing, and then I suddenly realise something, and a wave of guilt washes over me. ‘Oh, Jesus, Liam, I’m sorry. The divorce …’ ‘Finalised this morning. It’s all official now.’ I go over to him, and I reach out to touch his arm, squeezing it gently. ‘So it should be me asking you if you’re okay.’ ‘It’s not like we didn’t know it was coming, Ellie. Keeley left me a long time ago. This is just the paperwork. Our marriage, that was dead before she even walked out.’ ‘Yes, I know, but …’ ‘It’s a divorce, that’s all.’ He fixes me with a look, he’s shutting me down, ending that conversation, and I understand. He doesn’t like to talk about it, says it doesn’t matter any more. But everything matters, in some small way, even if you try to convince yourself that it doesn’t. It all matters. ‘I’m still sorry.’ ‘Don’t be.’ He smiles, and I pull my hand away and clutch those files closer to my chest, returning his smile. ‘Well, I’ll leave you to it. Like I said, I just wanted to see how things were going here.’ ‘Are you sure…?’ He holds up a hand and I stop talking. ‘Ellie, I’m fine. I’m fine.’ ‘Okay.’ ‘And you need to remember what I said, all right? Take things a bit easier. Make some time for yourself.’ I throw him a small smile. ‘Is that an order?’ ‘Maybe …’ He smiles too and turns to leave, walks away, but I wait a few seconds; wait until I hear his car drive off before I go outside. I need some air. I’ve been cooped up inside ever since I got here a few hours ago, and the smell of fresh paint and cleaning fluid is giving me a bit of a headache now. ‘Is there anything you need me to do, Ellie?’ I turn my head to see Carmen, the spa’s manager, join me outside. ‘Actually, yes. Could you give the linen suppliers a call? We need to make sure those towels Libby put through on a last-minute order yesterday are going to arrive before Friday.’ People told me I should never have taken on this spa, that I should have stuck with the salons, concentrated on those. The timing wasn’t right to start something like this. They were so wrong. The timing was perfect. This hasn’t just been a new business venture for me, it’s been the distraction I needed to get me through the past few months. Distractions. They’ve become such a big part of our life, and they never used to be. We didn’t do distractions, before. We hadn’t needed them. Michael and I, our work has always been important to us, we’ve always been busy people, but now – now I think he’s using work as an excuse to prevent himself from being alone with me for too long, that’s his distraction. One of them, anyway, because I fear he has others. It’s a creeping fear that’s been bubbling beneath the surface for a while now, but I don’t think it’s unfounded. And he has no idea how much that hurts me. ‘I’ll get straight on to that.’ Carmen’s voice drags me back from my thoughts and I smile at her. The last thing I want is for anyone to think that Michael and I aren’t okay. We’re fine. It’s just that we used to be so much more than fine. ‘Thanks, Carmen. That’ll be a big help. Anyway, if you could also keep an eye on what’s happening out here for a little while I’d be really grateful. I’ve got a few things I need to be getting on with, so I’ll be in my office if anyone needs me.’ I head back inside, back to my office just behind the reception area. Closing the door behind me I open a window, just wide enough to let in some air, and I sit down at my desk, leaning forward to pick up the photograph I’ve got standing on it. It’s a photograph of Michael and I, taken about three years ago on holiday in southern Spain. We love Spain. It’s been our go-to destination for years now, ever since our honeymoon in Valencia. We’ve travelled throughout most of the country, stayed in some of the most beautiful and unusual hotels, met the most incredible people; made plans to buy a holiday home out there, one day. Maybe. But that was before. We haven’t spoken about those plans or even mentioned the prospect of another holiday over there, not for a long time. I reach out and run my fingers lightly over the photograph as I remember how happy we’d been, back then. I know he feels guilty for what happened. I know that’s partly the reason why he distances himself from me in the way that he does now. It’s because he still feels that guilt. But he shouldn’t. I don’t want him to. I put the photograph down and spin my chair around so I can look out of the window. It’s a beautiful spring day, warm for the time of year, the kind of day when everything should feel pretty much perfect. I used to think we were pretty much perfect, it certainly felt that way, at times. And then I drop my gaze, my eyes focused on my hands clasped together over my stomach and I know that we were never perfect. Even before everything changed, before the guilt and the doubt, before all that happened, we still weren’t perfect. There’s a niggle in my mind. My gut is trying to tell me something. Swinging my chair back around I pick up the phone and punch in the number for Sue, Michael’s secretary. She answers after a couple of rings and I lean back and swing my chair around to face the window again as I wait for her to speak, and when she finally does her tone is crisp and businesslike. Конец ознакомительного фрагмента. Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес». Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/pages/biblio_book/?art=48668766&lfrom=688855901) на ЛитРес. Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.