TALIA
He trusts me far too much.
The phone unlocked. She moved her fingers to the Outlook icon and clicked to open his emails.
Since the power outage had taken down the Wi-Fi again and so far from network range, no new emails could be downloaded – but she wasn’t looking for those, anyway.
It was the ones he’d already got that she was interested in – whatever it was that he’d been worrying about before the squall started.
There were a few recent emails with Rosenberg in the subject line. She glanced through those; it seemed like everything was under control. Rory had responded to one just before the squall started, setting up a time for a meeting when he got home.
She was about to put the phone away when she remembered what Lucy had said. What was it she just mentioned – a care home?
She typed care home into the search bar at the top and waited for the results to show. Nothing. She scanned down the folders in the sidebar, looking for a pertinent label – perhaps the right emails just weren’t coming up in the main search for some reason.
Nothing seemed relevant, but then something else caught her eye: a folder labelled INTERNAL DEALINGS – PRIVATE AND CONFIDENTIAL.
She hesitated; she shouldn’t really be looking at anything confidential, should she?
But the words had piqued her curiosity. And perhaps it would be helpful to Rory for Talia to be fully up to speed with any work matters, especially with an injury likely to set him back for a few days – maybe she could bring him some useful information when she went to see him.
He’d appreciate that – and Lord knew, she needed to make things up to him somehow, even if he’d never know why.
She double-tapped to open the folder, and a series of emails filled the screen. Talia frowned. All of them were from the same sender, but they all had different subject lines. Some of them sounded innocuous – Following up and Thanks for the meeting. But some of them sounded … unusual.
One by one, pulse quickening now, she clicked on the emails and began to read.
A few minutes later, Talia dropped the phone into her lap and stared straight ahead, frozen in muted shock.
Audio recordings … Transcripts … Inappropriate behaviour … Harassment … Young women …
The words swam in front of her eyes in a swirling, nauseating mass.
Accusations – shocking, disgusting claims – made against Rory by his colleagues, female colleagues specifically, all gathered in one revolting folder of emails and used as a way for someone to blackmail him.
And worse: the blackmail attempts were working.
According to the emails, Rory had been crossing the line with his co-workers for months – possibly longer.
He’d asked a gay colleague if she ever missed ‘the ramming of a real dick’, among other comments.
He’d told a new starter he’d give her ‘a good spanking’ if she didn’t fill in her timesheets properly.
In another email, there was the claim that he’d repeatedly stared at a senior colleague’s breasts in team meetings.
Tears collected in Talia’s eyes. How could he?
And how will we ever move past this?
No; she knew it already, with horrible certainty: she’d never be able to forgive him.
If it had just been a one-off, she might have found a way to work through it.
They had decades of history – a family together.
She could have urged him to make a public apology, perhaps, and go to therapy to work through some of his internalized misogyny.
She was hardly the perfect spouse either; they’d both made mistakes.
And she’d learned it from her mother: you don’t give up on a marriage.
You turn a blind eye or bury your head in the sand – you just do whatever it takes to stay together.
But this wasn’t just one time. There were a number of incidents outlined in detail, and still more were hinted at.
This was a pattern. There were attachments and links in the emails to further evidence – recordings and statements from the women involved.
She couldn’t access them now without the internet, or get onto the Ashworth network, but Talia didn’t doubt her husband’s guilt, not for a second.
Because if Rory hadn’t done the things he was being accused of here, he wouldn’t have given in to this despicable extortion so easily, would he?
Her husband was clearly desperate enough to do pretty much anything to keep these accusations from getting out.
If it were only unsubstantiated rumour, he wouldn’t have been so scared by the threat of the recordings being leaked.
Talia picked the phone back up and forwarded each of the emails in the folder – attachments included – to her own email address.
She would need this evidence for whatever legal battle was to come.
The emails wouldn’t be sent until the power came back on, but she had no intention of allowing Rory anywhere near this phone until well after that happened.
She put it away again, feeling the tears dry on her cheeks, listening to the swell of the sea.
‘Are you all right, Talia?’ Eleni was leaning forward, looking at her from along the sofa; her eyes weren’t the only ones she’d felt on her the entire time she’d been reading.
Talia got to her feet so quickly she felt a rush of dizziness, and stumbled towards the toilets adjoining the salon.
She stepped inside and locked the door behind her, catching sight of her reflection in the mirror. Clearly, she wouldn’t have been able to hide her distress in the salon: streaks of mascara stained her cheeks, her eyes were red and her face blotchy.
She collapsed into heaving, breathless sobs. My marriage is over.
Perhaps, deep down, she’d already known that.
Maybe that was why she’d been drawn to another man.
Not that she wanted to be with her lover now, either.
She’d seen things, on this trip. He wasn’t who she thought he was.
No; perhaps she wouldn’t be with any man.
And maybe that wouldn’t be so awful. Hadn’t she only recently read a piece in the Sunday supplement about how women who lived alone tended to not only be healthier and happier, but were able to actually rewire their entire nervous systems for the better, because their brains and bodies could finally relax?
She picked up the hand towel and dabbed gently under her eyes.
I can survive this. She’d manage without Rory’s financial support if she had to.
She had some savings of her own, and the inheritance from both her parents that she’d tucked away.
Perhaps she wouldn’t be able to keep up the lavish lifestyle she’d been accustomed to, but she’d be all right.
She could ask for more days at work; cut back on some of her luxuries.
She could start shopping at Sainsbury’s rather than Waitrose.
See? She still had her sense of humour. This wouldn’t be the end of her …
She looked at herself in the mirror. I’ve just got to get through the next few hours. She could hide in the cabin, keeping her distance from both Rory and her lover, under the pretence of a migraine perhaps, until tomorrow. Then she could go home and start making plans for a formal separation.
Talia knew she needed to leave the bathroom. But he was still sitting out there – the man who’d been blackmailing Rory all these months.
It all made such horrible, perfect sense now. His hatred towards Rory; his keen interest in Talia – and now that she thought about it, his attempts to get closer to the other women here too.
The evil, scheming bastard.
Sam never really cared about Talia. He wasn’t interested in protecting her from Rory’s occasional harsh words and condescending comments. He didn’t really think she deserved ‘so much better’ than the marriage she had.
All along, Sam had only wanted more evidence to keep blackmailing her husband.