Erin
It always went the same way.
Phase one: Jason gets a job he loves and everyone there loves him.
Phase two: plans and promises, a certainty that this is it.
Phase three: before any of it can become a reality, the complaining begins.
He’s frustrated. Surrounded by idiots. If they just listened to him, everything would be better.
Phase four: start talking about quitting.
‘How do you feel about Australia?’ he asked one evening, out of nowhere. ‘About moving there?’
‘What are you …?’ She already had a headache. ‘What are you saying?’
‘Well, I’m not saying it’s happening. It’s just an idea. But it seems like T and I are never going to agree on the direction of the business, so we might split it. He stays here with the Irish arm and I was thinking I could go abroad to start a new franchise.’
She was thinking of the time she wanted to go to Paris for a few weeks, and her long-dead dreams of working in the States. How he’d said he’d never live anywhere else because Ireland was his home, where he wanted to be.
And what about their plans? The house? Was that why he’d been dragging his feet with it? Because he’d been thinking about this?
And Australia? Why so far away?
‘What about Northern Ireland?’ she asked. ‘Or the UK?’
Jason threw her a look. The look, his unique brand of smug bemusement, the signal that she’d said something monumentally stupid and he was about to enjoy having to point out that she had.
‘Brexit, Erin,’ he said. ‘They’re going to vote for it.’
Patronizingly, like it was obvious. As if that in itself were a full explanation.
In a way, she was relieved. Because that explained everything, didn’t it? His behaviour. The weirdness. Her anxiety, sensing something was going on but not knowing what. He wasn’t having an affair, or preparing to leave her. He was preparing to leave Shreddr, Thomas, maybe even the country.
She didn’t have much time to consider how she felt about possibly having to leave it too, because the very next morning, minutes after Jason had left for work, the buzzer went.
It was so soon after his departure that Erin assumed it was him, having forgotten something, and she pressed the release for the door lock without even looking at the video screen.
She looked very different to how she had the morning Erin first saw her in the shop.
It was as if they’d swapped roles, traded costumes.
This time, it was she who was pale and tearful, wearing no make-up to temper the blotchy redness on her face or counter the purple shadows under her eyes.
She was the one dressed in an ensemble of loose-fitting, mismatched things that looked like she’d found them in a heap under the bed.
‘Do you remember me?’ she asked. She was nervous, wringing her hands, picking at her already-chipped nails.
Erin nodded. ‘Curated.’
‘My name is Hannah. Can I come in?’
‘What for?’
‘I need to talk to you.’
Down the corridor, another door opened, and Erin hurriedly motioned for Hannah to come in before anyone could see her. The hallway was narrow; she let Hannah go ahead of her. She didn’t need to be told which doorway led to the living room.
They stood facing each other. Erin wasn’t about to invite her to sit down.
‘Why did you come into my shop?’ Hannah asked. ‘That day?’
‘I don’t remember.’ Erin didn’t want to play her hand until she knew exactly what game they were playing.
‘Do you know why I’m here?’
‘I presume you’re about to tell me.’
‘I don’t want to, but I think I need to.
I don’t want to upset you but … Well, if the tables were turned, I’d want to know.
And I want you to know that I didn’t know, not at the start.
If I had, I wouldn’t have …’ She swallowed hard.
‘Look, there’s no easy way to say this, so I’m just going to come out with it.
I’m sorry, but your husband and I – Jason and I – well, we were …
’ Hannah closed her eyes and then pushed it all out, in a rush.
‘We were together. We had a relationship. For about six months, this year.’
Erin closed her eyes, but Hannah kept going.
They’d met at the Chamber of Commerce event in November, she said.
Nothing happened then, but in January, Jason started coming into her shop.
He asked her out; they went to dinner. Weekends spent holed up here, in this apartment.
Sometimes in hers, in Grand Canal Dock. The old stone cottage in Doolin that Thomas’s parents owned. A trip to Paris. The house in Dundrum.
Erin opened her eyes again. ‘Dundrum?’
‘He bought a house. Off the main street. One Delaney Row. In January.’
That wasn’t possible. That would mean that, while he was telling her they couldn’t afford it yet, he was buying his own house. House-hunting in winter when he said it was pointless to do it before the spring.
And if he’d managed to do something that seismic without her knowing …
What else had he managed to do without her finding out?
‘It’s over,’ Hannah said. ‘It ended weeks ago. But it’s been eating at me and I … I thought you should know.’
Or maybe she wanted Erin to leave the marriage, because Jason wouldn’t, so she could have him for herself.
Erin felt at sea, helplessly floating on churning waves, close to drowning. She just wanted this woman to go so she could think.
‘Thank you for telling me,’ she said.
‘You don’t believe me,’ Hannah said.
‘It’s not—’
‘I can prove it. Here.’
Erin wanted to say, Please, don’t, but Hannah was already unlocking her phone, jabbing a finger at the screen, thrusting the device at Erin. Text messages. Words Erin didn’t want to see, describing explicit desires, making plans to give into them.
But, oddly, it was the xxx signing off every one that stung her the most. Jason didn’t even put those in her birthday cards.
‘I’ve been in this apartment,’ Hannah said. ‘I can describe the bedroom, tell you about the sheets.’
The sheets that Erin had chosen, bought, washed.
‘You need to know,’ Hannah said.
‘I do know. You just told me.’
‘But you don’t believe me.’
‘I don’t know what you expect me to say.’
‘Everyone at Shreddr knows about it too.’
Bile, in Erin’s mouth.
‘He told me he didn’t love you,’ Hannah went on, ‘that he never did, that he was going to leave you. That he was already doing that, back in January. And now he’s saying he can’t, because he’s afraid you’ll take the business, because you might actually be able to, if your money is what started it.
’ Hannah reached out and grabbed both of Erin’s hands, shook them a little.
‘That’s why I’m here. That’s why I’m telling you. You can ruin him.’
Erin yanked her hands away. ‘You don’t understand,’ she said. ‘We’ve been together since I was a teenager.’
‘That’s not a reason to put up with this.’
‘No, no, I mean … It’s not that. It’s that … I know him better than you do. And Jason always has an answer for everything. He makes you feel like … like you’re crazy for even asking the question.’
Hannah nodded, finally understanding.
‘Then let me help you,’ she said. ‘I’ll call him, tell him I need to see him at the house. The one he bought. I’ll say I miss him, want to see him, that maybe we can start things up again.’
Erin flinched at the idea of Jason hearing this and thinking, Yes, let’s.
‘When we’ve agreed on a time, I’ll tell you, and you come too. He can’t deny it with us both there, standing in front of him.’ Hannah exhaled. ‘Don’t let him do this to you, Erin. We can get him. We can bring him down.’
It happened that very night.
Hannah sent Jason a message asking to see him, to meet her at the house in Dundrum, that she missed him and needed to talk. Jason had responded immediately, saying he could go there right now, that he’d leave work and drive straight to her.
If Erin hadn’t been sent a screenshot of the exchange, she might not have believed it of the man who, whenever she tried to tie him to a weekend away or even just a dinner out, would insist that he couldn’t possibly, he was just too busy, work was too important.
Hannah said she was at work and had an event afterwards.
They arranged to meet that evening, at ten.
It was almost the longest day of the year; the sky was still bright. Erin parked a five-minute walk away, outside the library, then headed for Delaney Row on legs that felt as if they were, with each alternate step, made of jelly and then made of lead.
As she walked up Main Street, she wondered how many times Jason had done the same thing, how much time he’d spent here, what had made him choose this place.
About this whole life he’d been having without her, without her even knowing about it.
Yet another space he’d managed to completely carve out for himself when she still felt like she’d never once been able to get any purchase.
Delaney Row looked like a narrow laneway until, unexpectedly, it widened and revealed a terrace of three red-brick Victorian cottages.
A car was parked parallel to the closest one, facing Erin, as if it’d been backed into the road.
Hannah was standing beside it, arms folded.
Jason was standing in front of her.
It was clear from their body language and facial expressions that an argument was already in progress; Erin had timed her arrival so she’d be a few minutes late. Jason saw her first, and she saw the mechanics of his reaction, the gears switching from shock to confusion to confidence in real time.
‘This is my wife,’ he said.
My wife.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d heard him say that.
Saying it now, he sounded nervous – but knowing him, that was only a performance of nerves. He reached out an arm, both indicating Erin and beckoning her to him. Hannah swung around, saw Erin and smiled. Turned back to him to say, ‘I know. I invited her.’
There was a moment when you could actually see the confidence slide off his face.
But it was only a moment. Blink and you’d miss it. The swiftness of his recovery was terrifying.
‘Erin, here.’ The keys were hurtling through the air, on track to hit her in the face, before Erin realized that Jason had thrown them at her.
She caught them not with skill but out of self-preservation.
‘I’m parked across the road, outside the supermarket.
Get in my car and lock the doors. Wait for me there, OK? I’ll take care of this. Go.’
‘Oh, for God’s sake,’ Hannah said, shaking her head.
‘I didn’t want to stress you out,’ Jason said to Erin, ‘so I didn’t tell you about this, but I’ve been …
I’ve been dealing with this for months. Her.
She’s not very well, Erin. I’ve tried to get her to go away.
I tried to sort this out myself, but … but this is a new level.
’ He looked at Hannah. ‘I’m sorry but, after this, you’ve forced my hand. I’m going to have to call the guards.’
Hannah started laughing. ‘Are you actually …?’ To Erin, ‘Is he for real?’
‘It’s true,’ Jason said to Erin.
Calm. Assured. Confident.
‘Whose house is this, then?’ Hannah asked. ‘Tell her.’
‘Erin, I’ll explain everything when we’re safe. Go. Please. Get in the car.’ Jason pulled out his phone. ‘I’m going to call them now.’
‘Jesus Christ,’ Hannah said. ‘Give it up! I’ve already told her everything. I was at the apartment this morning. I showed her the text messages. The ones from today. Arranging this. She knows, Jason. It’s over. You’re done. I told her everything.’
‘I’m calling them now,’ he said, putting the device to his ear. ‘I just hope you get the help you need.’
Hannah scoffed, then looked at Erin with a face that said, Can you even fucking believe this guy?
But Erin looked away.
Not because she didn’t believe what Hannah was saying now or had told her earlier – she believed her completely.
But because this was her plan.
She’d spent the afternoon rifling through paperwork, having found much more of it in the apartment in Cherrywood than she ever had in their house in Kildare. That was evidently where he’d been storing it. She’d seen bank statements. Payslips. Receipts.
Nothing that proved he’d bought a house, but plenty to give her ideas on what she should do next.
Which was, in short, take everything.
Jason had ruined her life. Stolen her life, the one she should’ve had. Embarrassed her.
Letting him go would just be letting him get away with it.
He needed to feel what she’d felt. The complete loss of control. The realization that you had been lied to, manipulated, betrayed. To feel the ground beneath your feet disappear, to start to fall.
It would require her to stay a little while longer. To pretend. To act as if she believed him. She needed time to get organized, to arrange everything, to secure everything, before she pulled the trigger and crushed this little prick into dust.
It would take time, but it would be worth it.
But now she thought maybe she should’ve sent Hannah a message back, explaining this before she’d come here.
Erin needed Jason to think she was still on his side, so she said his name, uncertainly, looking from him to Hannah, as if not sure who or what to believe.
Then she took a step closer to him.
And saw it on his face: triumph.
I win.
Hannah saw it too. She shook her head, disbelieving. She threw Erin a look of devastating disappointment, before Jason got one of pure disgust.
‘Fuck you,’ she spat. ‘Fuck you both. You deserve each other.’
As soon as Hannah moved for the driver’s side of her car, Jason beckoned Erin again and this time she went to him, tucking her body behind his, putting him between her and Hannah, acting afraid.
‘I’ll get her arrested,’ he said under his breath. ‘This just has to stop.’
Hannah’s brake lights glowed. Her engine ticked over, roared. The dashboard flooded the interior of the car with a bluish, silvery glow.
Jason walked out into the road, stood behind the car.
Erin didn’t see their eyes meet in Hannah’s rear-view mirror, but she did see what Hannah saw.
The look.
The one that said, I’m right and you’re wrong. You’re stupid and I’m clever. You lose and I win. That smug, toothless grin, drenched in condescension. The one Erin had never really got over seeing on her wedding day. The face that, countless times, had made her think, I want to fucking kill him.
But Hannah hadn’t suffered all those years of Jason’s slow and steady poisoning.
Erin watched, mouth open in horror, as Hannah saw the look – and actually did something about it.
The engine revved and roared.
The tyres squealed.
And then the car jerked backwards, knocking Jason off his feet and swallowing him up, disappearing him under the wheels.