Chapter Seventeen #3
Maura dabbed at her face with her hands. ‘It’s not Liam’s fault. I’ve had some bad news, that’s all.’
‘I know,’ the stranger said. ‘And his delivery of that news was terrible.’
Liam subsided, shoulders slumping as he glanced at Maura. ‘Probably. I didn’t want to be the one to tell you, but like I said, I thought you needed to know.’
Part of her wished he hadn’t told her; an hour earlier she’d been…
not happy, perhaps, but happily unaware.
And now the rug had been yanked from beneath her feet and she felt as though she had broken on impact with the floor.
In some far-off corner of her consciousness, she understood that this crash had been necessary, that in time she would be able to put herself back together, but right at that moment all she felt was pain.
‘Thanks.’ She didn’t manage to imbue the word with much gratitude, but Liam seemed to take it at face value.
He pushed his chair back and got to his feet. ‘You’ve got my number,’ he said, nodding at her phone. ‘Message me when you’ve had time to process this. If there’s anything you want to know.’
To be perfectly honest, she couldn’t imagine wanting to ask him anything. But even in her distress, she couldn’t be so brutal. She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
Liam ran a hand through his hair. ‘What are you going to do?’
Mechanically, she reached for her bag. ‘I’m going to the bathroom.’
‘After that,’ he said, with patience she wouldn’t have suspected he possessed.
Her head dipped. ‘I don’t know.’
Clearing her throat, Giulia took a step towards them. ‘We’re closing now,’ she told Liam, her frown no less severe than it had been a few minutes earlier. ‘You need to settle your bill.’
Liam acknowledged the instruction with a nod. ‘Okay,’ he said, and glanced at Maura. ‘Will you be all right?’
Would she? Maura wondered, and found she couldn’t offer him any reassurance. ‘I don’t know. But I—’ She made an effort to pull herself together. ‘I’d rather you went.’
He hesitated for a moment, then stood. ‘Sure, I understand. Take care, Maura.’
She said nothing as he left, kept her gaze trained on the dregs of cold coffee in the bottom of her cup, heard the bell jingle on the door and willed herself not to cry.
After another minute, she rose and made for the bathroom, where she ran the cold tap to let the water run across her wrists.
The chill barely registered. She splashed some on her face, noting her puffy eyelids and chalky skin with detached indifference.
Her eyes had a glassy sheen, brought on by the threat of further tears, and her nose was red.
She looked how she felt – a mess – but that was hardly a surprise when her life had been uprooted and tossed skyward with hurricane force.
Some women exuded a fragile beauty in such circumstances.
Maura had to concede she was not one of them.
‘You want me to call someone?’ Giulia asked when she finally emerged to an empty café and made her way to the counter. ‘I don’t like to think of you leaving on your own.’
‘No,’ Maura said quickly, because she could only think of Kirsty and facing her sister was the last thing she wanted. ‘I’ll be fine. Don’t worry.’
‘But I am worried,’ Giulia said, frowning. ‘You’ve had a terrible shock and you’re clearly very upset. At least let me find you a taxi.’
A wave of shame engulfed Maura as she realised the other woman knew all about the grenade Liam had tossed her way. ‘No, thank you. I don’t want to go home yet. I need to walk a bit, try to clear my head.’
It looked for a moment as thought the barista might argue, but she sighed instead and pushed a white box tied with ribbon across the counter towards Maura. ‘These are on the house. You’re going to need them.’
Her compassion almost sent more tears cascading down Maura’s cheeks but she dug deep for her self-control and managed a very wobbly, watery smile. ‘Thank you. How much do I owe you for the coffee?’
‘Nothing,’ Guilia said. ‘The young man at the table beside you paid for it when he left. He said he hopes it shows not all men are arseholes.’
Just my bloody boyfriend, Maura thought bitterly, but the small, unexpected generosity smoothed the edges of her distress. ‘That was kind of him,’ she said, blinking hard to retain what little composure she had left. ‘Will – will you say thank you, if you see him again?’
‘Already done,’ Giulia said. ‘But he’s a regular, so I’ll be sure to pass on your thanks the next time he comes in.’ She paused, eyeing Maura with sympathy. ‘What will you do?’
She meant about Jamie, Maura supposed, but it wasn’t a question she could answer – not right at that moment.
The bullet of his betrayal was too fresh; it lodged in her stomach, radiating cold and subjecting her to endless ripples of shock.
She needed time to come to terms with this new reality, to absorb the damage, before she could even begin to fathom what came next.
But before that, she had to make certain that what Liam had told her was true.
‘Confront Jamie, I guess,’ she said. ‘Hear it from him.’
Giulia raised her eyebrows. ‘Will he admit it?’
Maura thought back to the silent hours she’d spent in Jamie’s company of late, the unmissable increase in his drinking, the sense that he was somehow elsewhere even when he was at home. She swallowed hard against the painful lump that rose in her throat. ‘I think he wants to.’
‘And you?’ Giulia asked. ‘What do you want?’
‘I…’ Maura looked down at the box of pastries, her eyes swimming. ‘I don’t think there’s any coming back from this.’
The other woman reached out to squeeze her hand. ‘Then do it tonight. Look him in the eye, hold firm and tell him it’s over.’
The thought made Maura’s head swirl but she managed to nod. ‘Okay.’
Giulia took a notepad and pen from the pocket of her apron and scrawled a number on it. ‘Call me if you need to. I’ll bring more pastries.’
Again, Maura nodded, although it felt as though her head might fall off with the effort. ‘I will. Thanks.’
She wasn’t sure how she got home. She knew she’d walked – her aching muscles proved that – but she couldn’t have told anyone where she went.
For a time, she contemplated not going home at all.
Catching a bus to her parents’ house and immersing herself in their love and support.
But Giulia’s advice rang in her ears – do it tonight – and the small part of Maura’s brain that was still functioning rationally knew she was right.
Even so, when at last she opened the door to the flat and climbed the stairs, she found herself hoping Jamie was not there.
But luck had deserted her, or perhaps it hadn’t, because he was slouched in the furthest armchair, an open bottle of wine on the coffee table and an empty glass beside it.
He looked up from the papers in his hand, his expression irritated. ‘You’re back late. Where have you been?’
Heart thundering, she slid her bag from her shoulder and began fumbling with the zip of her coat. ‘I went for coffee.’
‘At this time of night?’ His lip curled. ‘I don’t believe you.’
Maura shook her arms free of her coat. What was that saying about every accusation being a confession? ‘I went for coffee,’ she repeated and met his gaze with level frankness. ‘With Liam.’
His expression was suddenly wary. ‘With Liam? Why?’
‘Because he wanted to tell me the reason Zoe broke up with him,’ Maura said, maintaining eye contact.
Now that the moment of confrontation was here, her head felt oddly clear of the cotton-wool fuzziness that had clouded her thoughts since leaving the coffee shop.
It still hurt – really hurt – to look at Jamie, but her voice was steady. ‘I think you know what I mean.’
He picked up the wine bottle, filled his glass, and leaned back in the chair. ‘I know what he thinks happened. The bloody idiot got himself suspended for it at the weekend.’
‘So he told me,’ she said. ‘Why didn’t you tell me about the fight? Why did you say it was someone on the other team who gave you that bruise?’
Jamie shrugged. ‘I didn’t want to embarrass Liam. He’s done a good enough job of that himself.’ He eyed her over the top of the wine glass. ‘So what exactly did he tell you? Some rubbish about me and Zoe, I suppose.’
Maura’s stomach began to churn. She forced herself to stay calm. ‘That’s right. Except it’s not rubbish.’ She took a deep breath, reached inwards for her spine and gripped it hard. ‘You and Zoe are having an affair.’
To his credit, he didn’t summon up an expression of mock outrage or the blustering denial she was expecting. Instead, he simply stared at her, eyes glittering. ‘That’s not—’
‘Don’t bother, Jamie,’ Maura said, moving forward to rest her hands wearily on the sofa. ‘I know. What I don’t understand is why.’
He opened his mouth to speak but she waved him into silence.
‘Not why you did it – it’s been obvious for a while that you’re not happy with me, or our life together – but why you didn’t do the right thing and tell me you wanted out.
’ She raised her chin. ‘Honesty, Jamie. You owed me that, after all these years.’
‘Honesty?’ he echoed, his tone quietly incredulous. ‘You’re a fine one to talk. You can barely look at me, have no interest in what I want or how I feel. If we’re being honest, Maura, how about admitting it’s been a long time since you were in love with me?’
The words stung, slashed at her heart like shards of glass, but even as she flinched, she knew the truth. She wasn’t in love with him, hadn’t been for – well, she didn’t know how long. But that didn’t mean she deserved this betrayal. ‘I’m not the one who slept with someone else.’
She saw him weighing his options. Would a denial now do him any good? Could he somehow talk her round? ‘Maura—’
‘Don’t,’ she said, running a hand over her suddenly too hot eyes. ‘Don’t try to make this my fault. I admit there have been problems – maybe I haven’t tried as hard as I should have to put things right – but you’re the one who’s hit the self-destruct button. It’s over.’
Jamie didn’t move, didn’t speak. He simply watched her until at last a sob escaped her iron determination not to cry in front of him. ‘Okay,’ he said.
His acceptance caught her off guard. She’d expected him to fight, to rail against Liam and accuse him of trying to blacken his name.
She’d thought, even in the face of the affair, that he wouldn’t just walk away.
And for the first time, she got a sense of how unhappy he truly was.
She took a breath to steady herself, gripped the cloth back of the sofa. ‘Where will you go?’
He lifted one hand, pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘Right now? To a hotel, probably. I’ll sort something out.’
Maura’s gut twisted at the speed with which the world was spinning.
She supposed she should be grateful he hadn’t said Zoe’s, even though it was probably the truth.
‘Obviously you can leave your stuff here,’ she said, and her lips felt suddenly stiff, as though they belonged to someone else.
‘Until you find somewhere more permanent.’
‘Okay,’ he said again. ‘I’ll pay you for the storage space.’
She shook her head. ‘You don’t have to.’
He sighed. ‘Be sensible. You don’t earn enough to pay the bills, Maura. You never have.’
‘I’m earning more now,’ she said, raising her chin. ‘The ghosts are doing well.’
He glanced at her then and she knew he was about to say something poisonous about Fraser. But he seemed to think better of it. ‘All the same, I’ll pay you until I’ve moved everything out. Like you say, I owe you.’
Not money, she wanted to cry – he had always been more than fair on that score. But she didn’t have the resilience to argue the point. Instead, she simply nodded.
Placing his half-full glass on the table, Jamie levered himself out of the armchair. ‘I’ll go and pack a bag.’
She watched him go, a sudden black hole of panic yawning where certainty had been only minutes before.
Now that he was leaving, she wasn’t sure it was the right thing.
Perhaps his affair with Zoe was merely a symptom of his unhappiness, not the remedy.
Maybe there was something she could do to put things right, get back to where they had once been.
But even as dread tried to overwhelm her, she remembered Giulia’s parting words. Hold firm and tell him it’s over.
The sentiment kept her upright when Jamie came back with a black holdall in one hand and an armful of coat-hangered suits and shirts in the other.
It sustained her as he passed by, not pausing to meet her gaze or speak, and swept down the stairs to the front door and the cobbled street beyond.
It propelled her to the kitchen, albeit in stilted fashion, on legs that barely bent at the knees, and allowed her to fill the kettle, make a pot of tea.
And it carried her back to the sofa with the tray, where she retrieved the box of pastries and stared down at it with dull, barely seeing eyes.
Only then did it give way, taking with it the last remnants of Maura’s brittle self-control.
With an anguished sob, she dropped her head into her hands and let the pain pour out.