Chapter 18
EIGHTEEN
TASHA
My heart pounds in my chest as Marc’s hand squeezes mine. For a horrible second, I think he’s going to tell me he’s having an affair. He’s going to tell me he’s leaving. My throat starts to close, but I force myself to speak.
‘What do you mean?’ I ask, barely recognising my own voice.
‘I wasn’t in Brussels last week,’ he says.
I shake my head, not understanding. ‘But the client—’
The words spin in my head. Not landing. But already I see another truth – my husband was lying to me but not to his friend because Jonny knew.
‘There is no client,’ Marc says. ‘There’s no job. I… was made redundant.’ The devastation contorts his features, making him look smaller somehow.
‘Oh, Marc,’ I breathe. ‘I’m so sorry.’ A shaky relief starts to weave through me. He’s lost his job. It’s awful for him, but he’ll get another. He’ll—
He squeezes my hand gratefully, and the movement causes my thoughts to catch on his words. ‘I’ve made a terrible mistake.’
My gaze fixes on him, trying to read every flicker of emotion in the face I have loved for twenty-five years. The man I thought I knew as well as myself. ‘They flew you out to Brussels just to let you go?’ I ask, knowing even as my thoughts spiral that my question is dumb. He wasn’t in Brussels.
There’s a long pause. Then, slowly, he shakes his head. ‘I was made redundant in July.’
‘July?’ I repeat. ‘Three months ago?’
‘I couldn’t tell you,’ Marc replies in a strangled voice. ‘Not until I had something else lined up and a plan. I didn’t want you to worry.’
My stomach twists. Three months of getting up early, running around with the girls, juggling Lanie and school drop-offs and playdates and dinner.
Three months of rushing to after-school clubs and swimming lessons, cooking dinners, caring for my parents, driving back and forth, and back and forth.
All while he pretended. All while he kissed me goodbye and came home talking about a job he didn’t have.
‘But you’ve been going to work. I’ve been ironing your shirts.’ My voice rises, like the shirts are the important thing here and not the lies beneath them.
His hand is suddenly too hot, squeezing too tight. I yank mine away, hugging my arms to my body. Sitting back, trying to gain some distance. Three months of lies on top of lies.
‘Where have you been going?’ The question flies out.
Suddenly, all I can think about are those shirts I ironed, and all the times Marc stepped through the door, tired and strung out, and I felt terrible for asking him to help me with the girls because I was tired too.
All those times he made me feel bad. All those times he was back late when the girls were already in bed.
‘I… I’m sorry,’ he says, tears pooling in his eyes. ‘I didn’t mean for the lie to get so big, Tash. You have to believe that. I only meant to pretend for a couple of days while I got my head around the redundancy and came up with a plan. And then it just spiralled.’
‘Where?’ I don’t recognise the ice in my voice.
He drops his head and shrugs. ‘Lots of places. I went to the library a lot. And to cafés. I was still working,’ he says quickly. ‘I was trying to find a solution.’
‘The library? Cafés. And what about when you were back late? Where then?’
‘A pub in town,’ he admits.
I close my eyes, unable to look at him. ‘So all those nights when you knew I was struggling with getting the girls to bed, you were sitting in a pub?’
‘I… I didn’t want you to get suspicious. And then I really was going on business trips. I found—’
I stand suddenly. I can’t be here. I can’t listen to this. The chair scrapes against the tiled floor. ‘I can’t do this right now. I need to go to my parents’.’
Marc reaches out, grabbing my arm. ‘Tasha, please. Just wait.’
‘Last week, when I got back from the pub late,’ I say, snatching back my arm. ‘You were so angry. So worried you’d miss your flight. But you didn’t even have a flight to catch, did you? You made me feel terrible.’
‘I know. I’m so sorry. The lie just kept growing, and I didn’t know how to unpick it all.
I was just… I didn’t know how to tell you, and I was just so desperate to fix it.
I know I don’t deserve this, but please hear me out.
’ He looks up at me, eyes pleading. For a moment, I think of storming out anyway, but there’s a rawness in Marc’s gaze that makes me sink back into my chair.
‘No more lies,’ I whisper.
He gives a fierce shake of his head. ‘I won’t lie, I swear.’
Marc sits forward, his energy changing. It’s not guilt I see in his expression now; it’s hope.
‘There’s a vineyard,’ he says. ‘In Devon. It’s small, but there’s a house for us and a single-storey annexe for your parents. I could run the business – make wine like we always talked about, Tasha. A real family-run vineyard. There’s a school in the next village with a good reputation.’
I shake my head. I can’t keep up. ‘What are you talking about? What vineyard? The girls have a school here.’
‘It’s for sale,’ he pushes on, sounding excited now. ‘The girls could grow up outdoors, in the fields and fresh air. We’d have space. Peace. Isn’t that what we always dreamed of?’
‘What you always dreamed of,’ I correct, my anger pushing through.
How can he be talking about a vineyard now?
‘It wasn’t real. It was something we’d talk about like winning the lottery.
It wasn’t like the extension we planned.
My parents living here. That’s real. That’s what we should be focusing on.
You getting another job and applying for planning permission again now that Jonny is—’
‘I’ve already bought it,’ Marc says, voice strangled. The guilt is back on his face, but I don’t miss the spark of hope just beneath it.
‘What?’ I cry, confusion and anger warring inside me. ‘How?’
‘I’ve already spoken with your parents, and they’re happy to move—’
‘What? Marc! You spoke to them without telling me first? You’ve made them lie to me too. Who else knew?’
‘Just them.’
‘And Jonny,’ I correct him, as something else clicks into place. ‘He knew, didn’t he?’
Marc nods, his expression paling. ‘Jonny lent me some money for the deposit. He saw the potential in the vineyard. He was going to become an investor. It was such a good deal, Tasha. I know I should’ve spoken to you first, but I knew you’d react like this, and I couldn’t wait. The deal was too good to miss.’
I don’t answer. Instead, I stare past him, through the kitchen window to Magnolia Close beyond.
The tidy, manicured gardens. The sense of safety, of belonging.
Our community. Our home. Marc has bought a new home and a new business on the other side of the country without telling me.
He’s forcing us to leave this behind for something we talked about as a faraway dream.
It was only ever a fantasy. Never a real plan. At least that’s what I’d thought.
Tears swim in Marc’s eyes. ‘I’m sorry, Tasha.
I’m so sorry.’ The apologies keep coming.
Pleading and begging until I don’t hear him anymore and I stand again.
He doesn’t reach for me this time, and when he looks up at me, his expression is sad but lighter, like he’s unburdened himself, shifting the weight onto me. I don’t know how to carry it.
‘It’s a lot to take in,’ he says. ‘But please, Tasha, just think about this. Think about the life we could have.’
‘I have to go to Mum and Dad’s,’ is all I can say.
He nods, squeezing my hand again. ‘Leave Lanie with me today and I’ll cook dinner tonight,’ he adds.
It’s not the answer. Not a way forward, but it’s something.
I stand, kiss Lanie goodbye and walk out of the house without a word.
All day, Marc’s lies sit heavy on my chest, shoving against the plans he’s made. The lies he’s told. The future he’s promising. It feels like there’s no room for both. But whichever way I look, everything has changed.
The one thing I know for certain is that I can’t tell Georgie or Beth.
They’re my best friends. But so was Lily Gallagher.
Lily, who once hosted the summer garden party every year.
Who brought brownies to every PTA meeting.
Who was one of us. Part of our friendship group.
Right up until the moment she said she was moving to Brighton and everything unravelled so fast. She wasn’t the kind, honest woman I thought she was.
By the time the moving vans pulled up to number two, no one in Magnolia Close was speaking to her or Kevin. No one said goodbye.
If I tell Georgie and Beth what Marc has done, if they realise I’m leaving, will they push me out the same way we did to Lily? We said we’d say nothing to the police. Just tell them we were all at the quiz night together. We’re each other’s alibis. If I’m pushed out, will they still protect me?
It’s a question I don’t want to know the answer to. Whatever happens, they can’t find out what Marc has done and the plans he’s made for us.