Chapter 19
NINETEEN
Ellen sank down onto Robert’s side of the bed, the notebook trembling in her hand. Dear Ellen.
Robert’s handwriting was almost as familiar as her own.
The oversized capital letters, the slight lean to the left.
Even though this letter was clearly meant for her, it felt invasive to be reading it.
It had been hidden, after all. Not ready for her eyes to see the contents.
But the time for reticence was over. She took a deep breath and started to read.
Dear Ellen
This is the third time I’ve started writing this.
I have something to tell you and I’m not sure how to put it into words.
I’m going to get it wrong. Writing it down seems the best option.
Didn’t you always say you used to like it when I wrote you little notes?
But this one isn’t very romantic. I’m afraid.
As she read, the hairs on the back of her neck rose.
Robert’s voice came through so clearly in the way that he wrote that he could almost be beside her.
So, why wasn’t he beside her? Why had he written this down rather than just telling her to her face?
Yes, there’d been a distance between them lately, but surely not enough that he couldn’t just speak to her?
Before I begin, you have to understand how much I love you. You might question that once you find out what I’ve kept from you, but it’s true. I couldn’t have asked for any more from you. You’ve been a wonderful wife to me and an even better mother to our girls.
Though she tried to swallow, Ellen’s throat was too tight, too dry, to comply.
There actually was a secret. A reason that he had been behaving so strangely.
Was she right? Was it Charlotte? Her whole body began to tremble, her heart knocking at her ribs.
Was Robert really having an affair? How long had it been going on?
Like a torch in a dark room, her eyes swept across the page, racing to get to the ‘terrible secret’.
Why was he dragging this out so slowly, so painfully? Just tell me.
I also want to say that I am sorry. Deeply sorry.
What I’m about to say is going to blow our lives apart, but there’s nothing else for it.
I’ve tried so hard to keep it from you, not wanting to cause you pain.
But I can’t hide it any longer. I wasn’t made for a double life.
I would have made a terrible spy. And you know as well as I do how bad I am at keeping secrets.
It was becoming difficult to breathe, the air in the room so thick with her own fear.
Robert was terrible at secrets. There hadn’t been a birthday gift in nearly thirty years that she hadn’t guessed.
If she wanted to keep something from the children, she’d have to keep it from him, too.
Memories of family celebrations flashed across her mind and these fleeting portraits of Robert – her Robert – made her heart ache.
Palm pressed to her mouth, in an attempt to stop the pain from escaping, she forced herself to take each sentence slowly, preparing herself for the decimating blow.
For days now, I’ve been planning to tell you.
Ever since we dropped Abigail at university.
Once it was just us, I thought I could do it.
Each morning I would wake up and decide ‘Today is the day. I’m going to be honest.’ But then you’d open your eyes and smile and the day would begin and I just couldn’t do it.
Couldn’t tear a hole in our lives and destroy everything we’d built together.
You deserve the truth. But I don’t know if there’s any coming back from this, Ellen. And I’m terrified that you won’t ever forgive me. Charlotte says that
And that’s where it ended. With icy fingers she flipped through the pages of the notebook to find more, but there was nothing.
Where was the rest? Why had he stopped? And when had he written this?
Today? Yesterday? On the plane on the way out here with her sitting next to him oblivious to the guillotine above her neck?
Wrapping her free arm around her own waist, she clutched the notebook in the other hand and tried to hold herself together as she reread each line, looking for something she’d missed, the panic rising higher and higher in her chest. Despite everything she’d suspected, she hadn’t really believed that Robert would do this to her.
That she wasn’t imagining the whispers and the glances and the obstructions she’d faced since the moment they’d arrived.
There really was something going on. Robert had been keeping secrets from her that he wasn’t brave enough to say to her face and she pretty much knew that one of those secrets was outside in the kitchen speaking to her mother. Enough was enough.
Tearing the letter from the notebook, she threw open the door to the bedroom and strode through to the kitchen.
Behind the counter, Lucy pulled dry leaves and dead petals from a vase of red blooms. Charlotte watched from a bar stool, legs swinging like a young child’s.
They looked so effortlessly wholesome and innocent. Ellen couldn’t bear it.
‘What the hell is going on?’
Charlotte’s face paled in front of her. ‘Sorry?’
Did this girl think she was stupid? As naive as her own daughter? She waved the letter in the air. ‘This is from Robert. I know he’s been keeping a secret. And I know you know what it is.’ She glared at Lucy who had stopped pruning and was holding onto the side of the work top.
Lucy’s voice was aggravatingly calm. ‘Let’s slow down here. What has Robert said?’
Ellen looked at the letter in her hand, prepared to read from it. But there weren’t any details to share. ‘He says he has a secret and he’s sorry and he mentions Charlotte. So you clearly know what’s going on here.’
She stared at Charlotte, challenging her to tell the truth before she had to ask outright. Would she just lie again and say she knew nothing?
Charlotte’s hands fluttered to her mouth, then dropped to her sides where she formed them into determined fists. ‘I can’t tell you. It’s not my place. Robert has to?—’
‘Are you having an affair with my husband?’ The words came out in a roar and it was all she could do not to lunge across the counter and grab Charlotte by the arms, shake her until she told the truth.
As if she sensed this, Lucy stepped closer to her daughter. ‘That’s enough, Ellen. This is between you and Robert.’
Charlotte’s shoulders slumped as she started to cry softly and – in that moment – she looked like a frightened little girl.
What was Robert thinking getting involved with someone so young?
Still, Ellen couldn’t muster any sympathy for the woman who was tearing apart her marriage.
Her voice was pure steel. ‘Tell me the truth. Are you having an affair with my husband?’
‘No. No. I’m not.’ She glanced at her mother, who put an arm around her. ‘But I cannot tell you any more than that. You have to speak to Robert.’
She wasn’t going to get anything out of the two of them while they presented this united front. She didn’t believe for a second that one or the other of them didn’t have something to do with this. ‘Don’t worry, I’m going to speak to Robert and then we’ll all know the truth.’
With every ounce of strength she could muster, she turned on her heel and made for the front door. Slamming it closed behind her, she managed two steps forward before her legs threatened to give way beneath her and she was forced to bend her knees until she crouched close to the ground.
All alone in the centre of the sweeping driveway, heart racing, hands shaking, her whole body wound as a tight as a vice, she bent her head forward onto her knees and sobbed.
Whatever Robert said when she found him, whatever his reasons for what he’d done, their lives – their family – had been ripped into a million tiny pieces.