Chapter 23
TWENTY-THREE
TASHA
Where the hell is Sofia’s reading diary?
I had it in my hand last night. I really don’t want to have to explain to her teacher, Mrs Pepperbridge, that I’ve lost another one.
It’s her second since the start of the new school year.
I mustn’t forget to reschedule Mum’s hospital appointment so it’s not in half-term week.
We’re out of bananas. And the good bread.
If I’m popping into a supermarket, then I really need to get something different for dinner.
I swear we had fish fingers and potato waffles nearly every night last week.
I abandon the hunt for the diary and grab a pen to make a shopping list. Even as my mind races, I wonder how I have the capacity to think about anything other than Marc buying a vineyard without telling me.
It’s all I’ve thought about over the weekend.
Through cleaning and tidying the house on Saturday and cooking his parents a lunch yesterday, pretending everything was normal for the sake of the girls and his parents.
At least I wasn’t the only one Marc lied to.
‘They’ll be devastated with us moving away,’ Marc said on Sunday morning. ‘Let’s not upset them today.’
I’m devastated, I wanted to reply.
Three months of juggling bath times and school trips and the summer holidays and Matilda’s clingy nights, and Marc’s been chasing a fantasy.
Lying to me. Drinking coffees in cafés and sitting in pubs, letting all those quiet hours slip away while I was doing everything. How could he have lied to me like that?
I can’t decide if I’m angrier with him for the lies or the fact he’s made this huge life decision for all of us. Spent our savings and decided to move us across the country, without a single conversation.
Why didn’t he just tell me at the start of all this when he was first made redundant in July?
I rake over the events of the summer. It’s a blur.
Writing and rewriting the planning application.
Long days of trying to entertain the girls.
The heatwave that didn’t seem like it would ever end.
My dad’s radiotherapy. Yes, I was stressed.
But I still would’ve listened and supported Marc.
There’s a niggling voice in the back of my mind that questions if that’s true. If Marc had asked me to pause the planning application, would I have done it?
I glance up as Marc walks into the kitchen. He’s holding something in his hand. He lifts it wordlessly. Sofia’s reading diary. I breathe a brief sigh of relief. That’s one thing at least.
‘It was under the sofa,’ he says. His voice is cautious as though he’s not sure what he’s walking into. Tears and hurt or anger and accusation. I don’t know myself half the time. It’s been six days since Jonny’s murder. Only four days since Marc confessed his lies. I need more time.
‘Thanks,’ I murmur, taking it from him and setting it on the counter.
He lingers. Not moving. ‘How are you?’
It’s not the question he’s really asking. He’s asking where my head is at. It’s the same gentle prod he’s given me every day since his confession. He’s lied for three months, but I’m not allowed three minutes to process them.
I sigh and lean back against the worktop, retying my hair in its ponytail. It needs a wash. ‘I know you’ve already bought the place, Marc, but—’
‘I did it for us,’ he cuts in. ‘I know the vineyard was my dream, but I did it for you and the girls and for your parents. This is the solution, Tasha. This is a life of outdoors and calm. No more manic mornings and rushing around. You’ve seen the photos.
Imagine all that space for the girls to play in.
Imagine Christmases with your parents in the annexe, walking into the village for carols.
This is a whole new kind of life we can have. ’
I fight back the tears as I think of the property description Marc showed me on his phone last night in bed.
The house and the annexe need freshening up, but they’re not in bad condition.
And the views… they’re breathtaking. I want to want it.
I really do. There’s a longing in me for exactly what he’s describing. But it’s been built on lie after lie.
‘I’m trying,’ I tell him. ‘But I can’t get past all the lies.
It isn’t just that you went ahead and bought a property without telling me.
It’s that you deceived me for three months, Marco.
You made me think you were exhausted from long hours in the office when you weren’t.
Then you asked Jonny of all people for a loan when it was him who blocked the planning permission for our extension here. ’
Marc freezes, his expression morphing into guilt once more.
‘What is it?’ I ask, already dreading the answer.
He swallows hard. ‘Jonny objected to our extension because I asked him to.’
The world tilts. Hurt cuts through my chest.
‘You were so fixated on getting the extension,’ Marc continues, speaking fast now.
‘But then I was made redundant, and I wasn’t sure I’d be able to get another job, or if I even wanted to keep being a project manager.
I knew if we got the planning permission, we’d be locked in.
Deposits paid, work starting, and I wouldn’t have time to figure out another option.
I didn’t know how to tell you. I just needed time to think. ’
‘So we don’t have the money for an extension, but we do have enough for you to buy an entire vineyard? How is that possible?’
His face pales. ‘Because the vineyard is a business. Jonny helped me put a business plan together for the bank, and they agreed the loan. With that and Jonny’s loan, I scraped it together. Selling this place will give us a cushion while we get the business up and running.’
Hurt cuts straight through my chest. He’s thought it all through. Business plans and meetings and loans. I hold up my hand, and he stops talking.
‘All you had to do was sit me down and explain, Marc,’ I say. ‘I’d have understood. You make me sound like a monster.’
His eyes shine with tears. ‘I wanted to show you I was still worth something when I got made redundant. You never pursued your career, Tash, but supported me in mine. I promised you when you gave up your degree to make our relationship work that I’d always look after you.
I felt like I’d failed you and the girls.
I wanted to tell you, but I wanted to give you something better when I did.
Because you have to see, you’re not happy.
And I haven’t been either. I know we can be so much happier than this.
I asked Jonny to delay the planning permission.
That’s all. But his buddy said he’d need an objection to delay things, so Jonny objected. ’
I close my eyes. I can’t grab hold of the emotions flying through me.
All those hours I cried and raged about Jonny and what he’d done.
All the blame I put at his feet for making my life harder, impossible.
And it wasn’t him at all. It was my husband.
The man who was supposed to stand by me, support me, no matter what.
I stare at Marc. I don’t know what to say any more.
‘Is there anything else I don’t know?’ I ask. ‘Anything at all you haven’t told me. Because now’s the time, Marc. I can’t take any more lies. So if there’s—’
He shakes his head. ‘That’s everything. I swear it, Tasha.’
We stare at each other for a long moment. I wish I could believe him. But the trust of twenty-five years has been shattered, and I don’t know how to rebuild it or if it’s even possible.
A thud and scream from the living room wipes everything out of my head. I move fast, holding my breath, waiting for the crying that usually follows, but there’s only another shout and laughter.
I poke my head into the living room. It looks like a tornado has hit it.
Frustration grips me. It took me an hour to tidy it last night.
Matilda and Sofia are playing another high-stakes game of ‘The Floor is Lava’ that involves jumping from the arm of one sofa to the other while squealing with delight and dread every time their feet touch the floor.
Lanie is sitting in the middle of the chaos, drooling happily over my phone, swiping at the screen with sticky fingers. If she stays distracted for five more minutes, maybe I can get the girls ready for school.
‘Mum, I need a new lunch box,’ Matilda calls out as she flies onto the sofa with such force it nearly topples back.
I gasp. ‘Matilda, please don’t jump onto the furniture like that. And why do you need a new lunch box?’
‘I dropped mine in the playground on Wednesday and it broke, remember? You said you’d buy me a new one. Can I have a football one like Henry?’
Damn! I’d forgotten the broken lunch box.
‘Yes. But only if you stop playing right now and get your shoes on please. We’re going to be late to meet Oscar and Henry.’ Again.
‘We can’t,’ Sofia shouts. ‘We can’t touch the floor.’
‘Please, girls.’ The urge to cry suddenly wells up, lodging in my throat. A weight squeezes my chest, stopping me from drawing in my next breath. It’s the feeling that makes me want to change something – to escape.
I was so desperate for things to change, and now everything has.
The detectives haven’t visited again. I should be relieved, but I’m not.
I’m scared. Is DS Sató building a case against me?
Is the next time she visits going to be to arrest me?
I had the biggest motive. It’s what the neighbours think, ignoring the fact Beth and Georgie said I was with them all night.
I blink hard, force the tears back and take a deep breath. It would be so much easier if I wasn’t so tired. My thoughts feel stretched too thin.
A loud shriek breaks my thoughts.
‘That’s not fair,’ Sofia shouts, stomping her foot on the floor. ‘You said the game was finished.’
‘Tricked you,’ Matilda sing-songs, causing another cry of injustice from Sofia.
My gaze catches on the clock. Eight thirty already.
Beth and Georgie will be waiting. I glance at the girls.
They haven’t even got their shoes on, and Lanie’s not strapped in the pushchair.
I have half a mind to text and say we’ll catch up, but they’ll know something’s wrong.
They’ll prod and ask questions I’m not ready to answer.
Then Marc is by my side, scooping Lanie into his arms.
‘OK,’ he says, and in that one word, the girls stop shouting and turn to him. ‘Last one with their shoes on and ready and out the door is a rotten tomato.’
And just like that, we’re all bundling to the door. I make a grab for the pushchair, but Marc stops me and passes me my phone. ‘I’ve got Lanie.’ He kisses me lightly on the lips, and I try not to flinch. Try to be grateful instead of still so angry.
I throw open the front door and hurry out. Drizzle clings to the air as we run, the girls rushing to greet Oscar and Henry. I wrap my cardigan tight, shivering, wishing I’d grabbed a coat but not wanting to run back.
When I glance over my shoulder, I see Marc is still standing in the doorway, watching us leave.
He’s tickling Lanie, making her giggle, holding her close.
Something in my chest softens, and I know that no matter how furious I am for all the months he’s lied, and for what he did, I know I will eventually forgive him.
Because that’s what families do – we survive.
We’ll survive Marc’s betrayal. We’ll start our new life together.
But I’m not leaving like the Gallaghers – cast out and shunned.
I won’t do that to the girls. Oscar and Henry are like brothers to them.
Beth and Georgie like aunts. It would shatter their trust forever to see these people turn their backs on us.
Georgie and Beth are my best friends. And right now, I need them.
We have to protect each other during Jonny’s murder investigation. Be each other’s alibis.
But if it comes down to it – if I have to choose between my friends and my family – there’s no choice at all.
I’ll protect what’s mine.