Chapter 23
TWENTY-THREE
‘So run this past me again. She did what?’ Drawing furiously on his vape, Jamie power-walked down the street so fast I had to scuttle to keep up.
‘Wrote him a… look, would you slow down?’ My pointy ballet flats weren’t up to the pace, and the last thing I wanted was to face-plant in the middle of a busy Mayfair street. ‘I can’t tell you what’s happened if I feel like I’m doing a spin class.’
‘We’re here anyway.’ Jamie came to an abrupt stop and pushed open the door of the sandwich shop. ‘I’ll grab a table. Get me a pastrami on rye, extra pickles and a full-fat Coke, please, babe.’
I joined the queue at the counter. It was lunchtime on Monday, and I’d only just had the chance to reveal the weekend’s events to my colleague – or, at least, the very briefest precis because as soon as I’d mentioned Ava’s letter, he’d said, ‘What the actual fuck? Come on – we can’t talk about this here,’ and hustled me out of the office at top speed, which turned out to be on target to beat my Parkrun personal best.
The relief of having someone I could confide in was overwhelming.
Throughout Saturday evening and Sunday, I’d tried to pretend to Sam that everything was okay, having simply no idea when or how to reveal to him what I knew.
Our reconciliation had brought me so much joy – for those few hours, I’d been reassured that we loved each other and everything would return to normal.
But Ava’s letter had brought that crashing down again. I couldn’t talk to Sam – I could barely look at him. In the end, I’d faked a migraine and gone to bed, where I’d remained for most of Sunday.
I’d tried to call Molly, but her phone had rung out, and she’d responded a few hours later with a brief text message saying that Arthur had colic and had been screaming the house down all weekend, it was taking all she had not to scream too and she hoped I was okay.
There was no way it was the right time to tell her just how not okay I was; she had enough on her plate. There was only one person left for me to turn to now, only one person who’d understand.
I reached the front of the queue at the sandwich shop counter and ordered Jamie’s lunch and a smoked salmon and cream cheese bagel for myself, although I wasn’t hungry. Then I joined the queue on the other side of the counter, waited for our food to be ready and carried it back to our table.
Jamie was watching me expectantly, twiddling his vape in his fingers.
‘Right,’ he said, when I’d sat down. ‘What’s all this, then? Hit me with it.’
Miserably, I gave him a rundown of the contents of Ava’s letter.
‘They’ve slept together,’ I choked out. The words felt as jagged as razor blades in my throat. ‘Honestly, I never thought it had got that far. But it has.’
‘Are you sure? Like, it could have been a letter she wrote him years ago and she only gave it to him now, or he’s kept it or something like that?’
I shook my head, remembering the crisp, expensive paper, the bright purple ink. ‘It wasn’t old. It looked like it had just been written.’
‘And you haven’t said anything to him?’
‘I just don’t know how I should play it. I mean, obviously it’s over. Either he’s going to end it, or I’ll have to.’
Jamie took a huge bite of his sandwich, looking for a second like a hungry shark – if sharks had perfectly trimmed beards.
‘Not necessarily,’ he mumbled.
I waited for him to finish chewing, lifting the top off my bagel and forking up a fragment of smoked salmon. ‘How do you mean?’
‘He might be playing the long game. Having both of you going at once. It’s been known to happen.’
It had indeed been known to happen – and not that far from home. Just a few months ago, Jamie had been dating three different women he’d met on the apps, each of whom believed they were exclusive. The fallout when they’d found out was epic – even Jamie had been rattled.
‘This is different, though,’ I said. ‘And even if it wasn’t – I’d have to let him get away with it. And I’m not going to do that. I can’t.’
‘What a player.’ Jamie sipped his Coke, his tone almost respectful. ‘I’d never have thought your Sam had it in him. What a bastard. I can’t believe he’s doing this to you, Georgia. The absolute fool.’
‘Me neither. I… Until this all happened, I trusted him. I never thought he’d do something like this.’
‘No tears.’ Jamie passed me a napkin. ‘Come on, your mascara will run. You need a strategy, not a cry.’
‘I do need a cry,’ I protested. His sympathy, overlaid as it was with brusqueness, made my eyes prickle and my throat close up.
‘Well, don’t have one now. You’ll set me off.’
It was impossible to imagine Jamie ever crying. The thought was so absurd that I found myself smiling.
‘So what are you going to do?’ he asked.
Helplessly, I nibbled a bit more salmon. ‘I don’t know. It’s all so complicated. I can’t just tell him he’s a cheating ratbag and I’m leaving. There’s the mortgage and the cat and all our stuff and…’
I trailed off. When we’d bought the flat, it had seemed like such a wonderful opportunity – the money I’d saved up from my years in yachting, mine and Sam’s combined salaries and his savings just sufficient to gain us a toe-hold on the property ladder and a home we both loved.
A safe place where I could put down roots at last – roots that would grow deeper and more stable with time and the nurturing of our love.
It had seemed so simple – sixty per cent mine, forty per cent his, and if it all went wrong, we’d just take out what we’d put in and go our separate ways.
Not that I’d ever expected it to go wrong.
And now that it had, untangling our shared life felt impossibly complex.
What about the new bathroom we’d had installed thanks to a generous gift from Sam’s father?
What about the furniture we’d chosen together and the paint we’d put on the walls over the course of one exhausting, messy weekend?
What about us? What about the future I’d imagined us having together?
‘I know I’ll have to tell him,’ I said at last. ‘Then I suppose we’ll have to put the flat on the market. Neither of us can afford it on our own. Unless she…’
A horrible thought burst into my mind. Ava, moving into my home.
Ava making her morning coffee in my kitchen (although she’d have to prise the coffee machine out of my cold, dead hands).
Ava’s clothes in the wardrobe. Strands of Ava’s copper hair clogging up the plughole in the bathroom.
Ava waking up in bed with Sam, every morning forever, just like I’d thought I would.
‘It’s just a flat,’ Jamie said gently, pulling me from my thoughts. ‘It’s just bricks and mortar and – you know. Stuff.’
‘I know. But it’s our bricks and mortar and our stuff.’
‘Maybe it was just the one night?’ he suggested. ‘Just a one-off. Maybe he’ll say he’s sorry and it’ll never happen again. Then what? He loves you; you love him. You could get past it.’
I tried to imagine that scenario. Sam confessing, tearfully admitting that it had been a moment of madness, a never-to-be repeated mistake. Could I put it behind me, move on, forgive him?
Part of me would want to, I knew. But I also knew, in a moment of blinding clarity, that it wouldn’t work. I’d never be able to be truly happy with Sam again, never rebuild the trust that had been destroyed, no matter how much I wanted to.
‘I don’t think it would make any difference,’ I said sadly. ‘It’s done now.’
Jamie finished his sandwich. ‘Are you going to eat that bagel or just goad it with your fork?’
I pushed my plate across to him and sipped my fizzy water. He put the top back on the bagel and took a bite, cream cheese squishing out of the sides.
‘Where does this Ava bitch live anyway?’ he asked. ‘Tell me and I’ll go round and break her legs.’
I managed a smile. ‘I don’t know. And you wouldn’t do that anyway. It’s Sam’s fault just as much as it is hers.’
‘I’ll break his, then. He can’t hurt you like this and get away with it. I know where he lives.’
‘You stay away from Sam.’ I was surprised by the intensity of my reaction. ‘He might be a cheating dickhead, but he’s my cheating dickhead.’
Jamie grinned, happy that he’d managed, albeit briefly, to cheer me up.
‘You know,’ he said, ‘it might seem all doom and gloom right now. But there’s one good thing that might come out of this.’
‘What’s that?’
His eyes rested on my face. ‘I shouldn’t really go there. Not while you’re all broken-hearted and distraught.’
‘Go where?’ I couldn’t resist asking.
‘If you kick Sam to the kerb, I get to have a crack at you myself. I mean, look at you. Who wouldn’t?’
Now I laughed. ‘Come on, Jamie. Don’t be mad.’
‘If you can’t even see the appeal of that,’ he said grumpily, ‘then clearly you still love him.’
‘I never said I didn’t.’
‘Then keep your powder dry. Don’t do anything rash just yet. We’re going to come up with a plan – at least, I am.’
He pushed back his chair and stood up, and after a moment I followed him. My situation seemed every bit as bleak as it had that morning, but still, Jamie had made me feel slightly better. I had no idea what plan he could possibly think up – things had surely gone beyond salvageable.
But in my wildest nightmares, I could never have imagined what was going through his mind as we walked slowly back to the office.