Chapter 3
Chapter Three
O ur night out comes to an end earlier than expected. Instead of the usual birthday ritual of hitting the cheesiest club we can find and dancing ’til our feet can’t take anymore, we make the conscious decision to avoid spending our spa day like the walking dead. That is, all of us except Amber.
‘ Come on, you lightweights! You’re nearly thirty, not drawing your pensions.’
I roll my eyes at the others. ‘You may not get hangovers the size of Ben Nevis, but I’m afraid the rest of us do. If we’re old and boring for wanting to enjoy our spa day headache-free, then fine.’
‘Bunch of losers, the lot of you,’ she mutters.
After quickly agreeing our meet up plan for the next day – my birthday eve – we each get our revenge by treating Amber like a small child with a quick goodbye kiss on the top of her head.
While meandering home to the Quartermile apartment I share with Dave, my mind wanders to the rest of the weekend, and what he might be planning for my birthday. I’m not expecting anything elaborate, but there’s a tiny part of me that’s hopeful of a different surprise…
I allow myself to lapse into my well-rehearsed Hollywood-esque fantasy. Dave taking me to one of Edinburgh’s best restaurants, ordering Champagne, and then instead of saying cheers, getting down on one knee in front of all the other diners. I, of course, feign complete surprise, squeal my assent and jump into his arms, even though I’ve been waiting for this moment for ages. We kiss passionately while the diners around us clap and cheer, the women wiping tears from their eyes. It would be so perfect.
I mustn’t get ahead of myself, though. We have our France trip coming up, and that would be an even better setting for the ultimate romantic proposal.
Emerging from my daydream, the gap in my mind is instantly filled by Amber’s tirade about Dave. I try to chase it away, but it buzzes round my brain like a tiny relentless fly. OK, so our relationship isn’t perfect, but I don’t expect it to be – I’m not deluded. Why does she have to be so hard on him?
On reaching our exclusive apartment building on Simpson Loan, I take the lift to the third floor, let myself in and wander along the art-bedecked hallway, towards the spacious modern kitchen living room. I’m expecting to find Dave glued to his laptop, but the room is empty and the only thing suggesting his presence is that the lamp next to his spot on the sofa is on. Wondering if he’s in bed already, I go through to our bedroom, but he’s not there either. That’s strange. He had no plans this evening. Surely, he would have let me know if he was going out.
‘ Dave? ’ I call out. ‘ Dave, are you here? ’
There’s no reply.
I initially settle myself with the thought that he’s nipped out to a late-night shop, but after twenty minutes that no longer seems viable. My mind starts to tick. Where is he? And why is the lamp still on? An uneasy feeling creeps over me. What if something’s wrong?
Grabbing my phone from my handbag, I try to call him but he doesn’t answer. Then I try him again. This time, he answers on the fourth ring.
‘Dave, is everything ok?’
‘Yeah, babe, I was grabbing a beer from the fridge.’
I look at the fridge. ‘Sorry… what?’
‘I was grabbing a beer, that’s why I missed your first call. How’s your night out? I hope Amber’s behaving herself.’
‘What fridge?’ I’m still stuck on his first statement.
‘What are you talking about? Our fridge. You know, the big silver thing with the water dispenser in the—’
‘Yeah, I know it. I’m looking at it. And unless I’m in some kind of parallel universe, you’re not here.’
There’s silence at the end of the phone.
‘Dave, where are you?’ I start to feel anxious. Why is he lying to me?
The silence continues.
‘Dave?’
‘OK, don’t get all paranoid…’ There’s an air of irritation to his voice. ‘I’m at Melissa’s. Her dad’s been rushed to hospital and she needed some support. What are you doing back so early anyway?’
Alarm bells clang in my head. He’s with Melissa ? His stunningly beautiful, ex-university sweetheart. And he’s mopping up her tears? Really? Don’t panic, Emma. You have to stay calm.
‘Emma?’ Dave has clearly picked up on my insecurity. ‘I said, don’t get paranoid.’
‘I’m not… I’m… really sorry to hear Melissa’s dad’s not well . It’s just that I’m wondering… would she not be better with her mum and sister, or at the hospital?’
This is a dangerous move but I can’t help myself. The insecure teenager from years ago has taken over. I can hear her desperation-fuelled voice, and I hate it, but I’m no longer in control.
‘I’m not saying you shouldn’t be there for her,’ I rush to add. ‘But isn’t it a bit… convenient that she called on you for support?’
It’s out before I can stop myself. I brace myself for the inevitable.
‘ Excuse me ?’ Dave’s voice is incredulous. ‘What the hell does it matter who Melissa called? She’s in bits and all you can think about is yourself.’
‘No, it’s not like that… I’m not—’
‘And you wonder why I didn’t tell you where I was.’ The acidic tone of Dave’s voice makes me squirm. ‘You’ve always had issues with Melissa. It’s pathetic, Emma. You need to get a grip.’
‘I’m not thinking about myself, I promise.’ I feel hot with embarrassment. ‘I’m just… I don’t know… I’ve had a few drinks. It’s late. If you’d let me know where you were going—’
‘So, I have to tell you my every move now, do I? You want to know every time I take a piss too?’
This is turning really sour. I’m desperate to avoid an argument but it’s gone too far.
‘Of course not. But maybe in certain circumstances it would be helpful to know where you are. Like maybe this one?’ My voice tails off almost to a whisper.
‘Let me get this straight,’ says Dave. ‘You want me to read your mind, work out what you might and might not be comfortable with, and then pander to your paranoia? Sure, I’ll do that – and you carry on as you are.’
I so badly want to quell this unbearable confrontation, but the insecure teenager in me needs reassurance.
‘I know I’m not perfect, Dave.’ My voice is trembling. ‘But she’s… your ex-girlfriend. And… well, you did lie about where you were.’
‘ For god’s sake, Emma , Melissa’s a friend. I don’t need to explain myself, and I’m not going to ditch her because you can’t deal with it.’ He cuts the call, leaving me staring at my handset in shock.
This is bad. I’ve never vocalised my mistrust of Melissa, although it’s been fairly evident. But Dave’s never lied about being with her either – not that I know of anyway. Tears of hurt and disbelief start trickling down my cheeks.
I spend the best part of the next hour crying and checking my phone to see if Dave’s been back in touch. Unsurprisingly, he hasn’t.
Then suddenly, I hear his key in the door.
Half full of dread, half hoping he’s ready to make up, I wait for him to enter the living room. He walks in and stares at me, his normally alluring blue eyes cold as ice, and I recoil into the large plush sofa, my immediate instinct to avoid another confrontation at all costs.
‘What was that all about before?’ he says.
I avoid eye contact while frantically trying to think of a response that will ease the tension. ‘I’m really sorry… I just panicked. You said you were at home when you weren’t… and honestly? I don’t trust Melissa. I see how she looks at you. I mean… you proposed to her.’
‘You just had to bring that up, didn’t you?’ He towers over me menacingly, though he doesn’t lose his temper. ‘ Yes , she was important to me, yes I proposed… and she said no. It was five years ago.’
‘I know. But surely you understand why I feel uncomfortable about your friendship with her. Like, if you really think about it from my perspective.’
Dave takes off his jacket and appears to soften slightly. ‘I suppose I can kind of understand it. But you’re imagining all this, you know. There’s nothing going on between us.’
‘Promise?’
‘I shouldn’t have to promise, Emma. You may not trust Melissa, but don’t you trust me?’
‘I do,’ I say automatically, without giving his question any real thought.
‘There you go. So, you don’t need to worry about me hanging out with Melissa – and that means I won’t need to hide it from you.’
I frown at this. ‘You’re saying you only hid it from me because you knew I’d get upset?’
‘Yes.’
‘So, it’s my fault that you did it?’
‘That’s not what I meant.’ Dave becomes visibly irritated again, sweeping a frustrated hand through his chestnut brown hair. His patience is wearing thin – I can see this – but I’m still not comfortable with his explanation, despite having told him moments before that I trust him.
‘You have no feelings for Melissa whatsoever?’
‘None.’
‘You’re fully committed to me?’
‘ Yes .’ This response comes through gritted teeth.
‘If that’s the case, why does Melissa still have to be such a big feature in your life?’ I ask. ‘I’d never keep an ex that close out of respect for you. Especially not one I’d previously wanted to marry. ’
Something unrecognisable flashes across Dave’s face. Is it guilt? Acceptance of what I’m saying? He exhales heavily, then emits an emotionless laugh.
‘You know what? This is never going to be OK. You’ll never accept that I’m friends with Melissa, and I’m never going to end our friendship because you want me to.’
‘But that’s how relationships work, Dave. We have to consider each other. I’ve made plenty of compromises on my side.’ I’m more or less begging him to see my point of view.
He scoffs and shakes his head. ‘Yeah, well, maybe I don’t want to compromise. I’m sick of being tied down. I’m barely thirty and I feel like I’m in a stale marriage already.’
‘ Dave … that’s not… what are you saying?’
‘I’m saying it’s over, Emma.’
I’m completely winded. ‘You don’t mean that. You can’t mean that. I’m sorry. I can find a way to be OK with you and Melissa being friends. This is just a rough patch. We’re probably due one – you know what they say about the four-year itch—’
‘I thought it was the eighteen-month itch.’
‘Does it matter? It’s the principle.’ I’m aware that I’ve lost every last thread of dignity, but I’m desperate not to lose him like this. ‘Couples have difficult times, but they work through them together. We can do that and come out even stronger than—’
‘ Enough .’ Dave silences me with a look so ferocious that I cower away from him. ‘You’re doing my head in. I don’t want to work through things. I want you to move the fuck out.’
I take in his contemptuous expression, tears tracking down my cheeks. He means every word he’s said. A million panicky thoughts tear through my mind. What will I do without him? Where will I go? I have no place of my own. This is meant to be my home – with Dave .
Without knowing what else to do, I snatch up my jacket and handbag, and rush out of the room, my heels clattering along the echoey hallway. On nearing the front door, my eyes land on Dave’s wine cupboard, and for no other reason than being in survival mode, I yank open the cupboard door, grab the first bottle I see and stuff it in my handbag.
Dave appears at the living room door, unaware that I’ve taken it.
‘I’ll pack up your stuff and you can collect it next week when I’m away for work,’ he calls to me. ‘Post the keys through the letterbox when you’re done.’
I stare back at him, heartbroken and unable to believe how ruthless and unfeeling he’s become.
‘OK, Dave,’ I choke, through endless salty tears. ‘Whatever you want. I just don’t get where this has come from. I mean, if you’ve been this unhappy, why all the nice gestures? Like the trip to France?’
I’m not actually looking for an answer, but Dave’s sterile response, just before I close the door behind me, is the knockout punch.
‘There was no trip to France.’