Molly had unpacked, thrown a wash on, and was sitting with a mug of tea before she heard the front door open and Jack’s irritating off-tune whistle.
Her eyes were glued to the kitchen door. She hadn’t bothered to ring him, so he wasn’t expecting to see her. He wouldn’t notice that the alarm was already off, he’d assume he’d forgotten to set it, as he often did. She was shocked when the door opened and he stood staring at her with his mouth slightly open… he looked terrible. She’d not noticed before but absence, no matter how short, highlights change; she’d thought he’d lost weight recently but now she could see it, his face was full of angles and planes that were new. There was a greyish tinge to his skin, and dark circles rimmed his eyes
‘Molly,’ he said, faltering in the doorway.
She attempted a laugh that fell flat. ‘Don’t sound so surprised, I’m only a couple of hours early.’
‘It’s great… great… just unexpected, you should have phoned to let me know,’ he said, stumbling over his words. ‘That’s great,’ he said again, his smile looking as false as the heartiness in his voice. He dropped the holdall he carried and closed the distance in two swift steps, dragging her into a hug, burying his nose in her hair.
She could feel his breath damp on her neck and the slight tremble that ran through him. Pulling back abruptly, she looked at him. She saw confusion sweep across his face and… was that a trace of fear?
‘What’s wrong, Jack?’ she asked, reaching a hand up to his cheek and holding it there.
He shook his head. ‘Not a thing,’ he said, putting his hand over hers, ‘although I might have overdone it at the gym.’ He patted his stomach. ‘I’ve lost a bit of weight recently and thought I’d better tone up. Haven’t been in ages.’
‘Oh, I see,’ she said, wishing she believed him.
‘Yes’ – he patted his stomach again – ‘I swear I feel more toned already. A good workout, you can’t beat it.’
She sat and picked up her tea. ‘It’s still hot if you want some.’
Nodding, he reached into a cupboard for a mug. ‘Are you okay?’ he asked, lifting the teapot. ‘You look pale.’
‘I’m fine,’ she said, with a reassuring smile. ‘Amelia wasn’t as much fun to go away for a weekend with as I’d expected, so I made an excuse to leave early.’
‘Really? I thought you said you were having a great time.’
‘It was okay.’ It would have been nice to share her humiliation, to have him laugh over it. But of course, she couldn’t – couldn’t tell him about her moment of weakness where she had lusted after a young man so much that she would have followed him into the fields and revelled in him like an escapee from a Thomas Hardy novel. ‘But I’m glad to be home and looking forward to having lunch with you.’ She caught Jack’s puzzled look. ‘You did remember to book a table for lunch, didn’t you? Remember, we discussed trying that new Lebanese restaurant.’
Jack shook his head as he poured tea and added milk. ‘It went out of my head. I’ll give them a buzz, I’m sure it won’t be a problem.’ The tea was too hot, he slurped it noisily. ‘You’ve already unpacked?’ Putting his mug down, he went to the cupboard for biscuits, rummaging through a selection of packets before deciding on one. He took it out and struggled to open it. ‘Damn things,’ he muttered and tore the top with his teeth.
Taking his seat, he shook out a handful of biscuits and slid the rest over to her.
Shifty. It was the only word Molly could use to describe the way he was looking at her. ‘Yes,’ she said finally. ‘I’ve been home about an hour.’
‘Did you see?’ he said, taking a sip of his tea.
She blinked in confusion. ‘See what?’
His mug went down with a clatter and he threw his hands up in the air. ‘What? The bed I made so perfectly. Weren’t you surprised?’
He’d made the damn bed. He hadn’t put on the laundry or emptied the dishwasher. But she knew the easiest course was to give him the praise he was seeking. ‘I was pleasantly surprised.’ She didn’t mention that it looked as if it hadn’t been slept in. She still wasn’t convinced it had.
‘I knew you were unhappy about losing Rebecca, I thought I’d show you that I could help out more.’
‘Great,’ she said, trying to sound enthusiastic, knowing by the tightening of his mouth that she hadn’t succeeded.
He drained his mug, left it on the table and went into the study to check emails before they headed out to lunch. With a sigh, Molly picked the mug up and put it into the dishwasher with her own. There was a beep as the washing machine finished the cycle. She went into the small utility room, opened it and transferred the clothes to the tumble dryer.
With the idea of putting Jack’s gym clothes in for a wash, she went back to the kitchen. But he’d taken the bag with him. So much for being helpful. She scowled; she wasn’t going to go looking for it.
Despite Jack’s assurances, the Lebanese restaurant didn’t have a table free for lunch. Instead, they went to an Italian that, although excellent, was too traditional, conservative even, for the Instagram-obsessed customers who frequented the restaurants in their area. No flowers, no fantasies, just food.
‘So, tell me about the weekend,’ Jack asked her. ‘Amelia wasn’t much fun, you said.’
‘I was mostly on my own, Amelia vanished somewhere. I think she was having a fling with one of the waiters.’
One of Jack’s eyebrows disappeared into his hair. ‘Seriously?’
Gossip, it was never kind. She laughed. ‘Of course not, I was kidding. Amelia likes her own space, that’s all. She wasn’t expecting to have to babysit me, she thought you were coming, remember?’
Jack, in the middle of lifting his pasta-laden fork, stopped and stared at her. ‘So, you’re blaming me for the weekend not being up to your standards?’
‘No,’ she said, ‘I’m trying to explain why it was a bit of a washout.’ She put her fork down, her appetite suddenly gone as she thought about the weekend.
‘You and Amelia have been friends forever, but you’ve hardly spent any time with her in the last ten years. People change, Mol.’
What about in a year? She wanted to ask him what had changed between them, because something had. It was easy to blame work or to imagine he was cheating on her with Amelia or any number of women. Too easy perhaps. The dim light of the restaurant emphasised the shadows and shades on his face.
Was the distance that had grown between them her fault? She’d been so caught up in Remi and Freya’s departure, the organising and arrangements, invoices that needed to be paid. All of it had fallen on her shoulders. She hadn’t minded but maybe he had. Maybe, not only did he miss the children but also resented her total immersion in them and felt left out.
The grip on her fork tightened. So maybe he had looked elsewhere for attention. Maybe he’d been tempted to cheat on her, the same way she’d been tempted to cheat on him – only with more success. Was that why he’d looked so shifty and spun her that crazy story about making the bed? She was convinced it hadn’t been slept in, so where had he spent the nights? She dropped her fork and pushed the plate away.
‘You’ve hardly touched it,’ he said in surprise, reaching over with his fork and jabbing it into a piece of her chicken.
‘I ate a lot over the weekend,’ she said, pushing the plate closer to him. ‘The food in the hotel was excellent.’
After lunch, they walked the short distance to St Luke’s Gardens. This late, the flower borders held little interest, but it was still a pleasant, quiet place for a stroll. Molly was conscious of the silent man at her side, of the need to make conversation that before would have flowed. Since when had they struggled for words to fill the gaps… since when had there been gaps?
A sideways glance told her he was lost in thought, a set look to his profile. She slid her hand into his and saw his quick look of surprise – she’d never been the hand-holding type. But she could change; now that the children were settled, she could concentrate on him. If there was one lesson she’d learned from the calamitous weekend, it was how easy it was to be led astray. If Jack were having an affair, she’d fight for him.
‘Let’s go away for a weekend,’ she said, squeezing his hand tightly. ‘Maybe to Venice for a few days. What do you think?’
He pulled his hand away and bent to retie his shoelaces. They didn’t look to Molly as if they needed to be retied and when he stood, and they’d resumed their walk, she noticed he didn’t reach out to take her hand. On the contrary, he moved slightly further away as if to prevent her doing so.
She felt a weight in her chest. They were in more trouble than she’d thought.
He hadn’t answered her question.
‘Well?’ she said, trying to keep her voice light.
She saw him turn toward her, a puzzled lift to his eyebrows. ‘Well, what?’
‘About my idea of a weekend away,’ she said, unable to prevent the trace of exasperation.
‘Oh, that? Maybe in a few months, I’m way too busy to take time off work now.’
There it was, work again. Maybe it was at the root of it all. There was no point in asking him; if there was a problem at work, he’d not talk about it. He became stupidly macho about things like that. To her, it was simple, if there was a problem, he needed to sort it out… sort it out or leave. He was an experienced finance investment manager; he’d easily find something else. And if he didn’t, they’d cleared the mortgage on the house a few years ago, they’d easily manage for a while on her salary. But she knew his stubborn pride wouldn’t accept that situation.
She needed to find out what was going on. Her friend, Petra, knew someone who worked in a different department in the same company. She’d get her to do a bit of digging.
After a leisurely walk around St Luke’s, Jack wanted to go for a drink. She’d have preferred to go home, chill in front of the TV and have a glass of wine. Instead, she forced her lips into a smile and nodded enthusiastically. ‘Good idea,’ she said, wondering at how easily lies came these days.
O’Dea’s was a popular pub, and always busy. If she’d hoped Jack might open up over a pint or two, her hopes were dashed when they were greeted by an acquaintance of his, a man she’d met a few times and found amusing when sober and a bore when drunk.
Luckily, this time he was sober. ‘Jack, Molly,’ he greeted them, drawing them into the group he was with, making introductions, names fired around, forgotten as soon as heard.
Molly smiled at everyone, accepted the drink bought for her and perched on a stool. She’d stay for one, then make her excuses. She saw the signs; these men were there for the long haul.
Apart from the occasional nod and smile, she wasn’t called to contribute to the conversation and was able to concentrate on her own thoughts. When she got home, she’d ring Petra.
It was time to take the first step and find out what was going on.