‘I don’t think I can,’ Michelle says.
We are still sitting at the kitchen table, me now on the same side as her, chair pulled close, arm round her shoulders. She’s cried out for a while, although I imagine she’ll get her second wind soon.
‘It’s only for a couple of days.’
Of course, I completely understand that every fibre of her being wants to run straight to Patrick and accuse him. I’d be the same. She wants answers.
‘He’ll just keep lying to you. This way he won’t be able to. Think of it – how’s he going to explain the fact that he’s leaving a hotel with a woman when he was meant to be wherever he told you he was meant to be? And even if he does try to make out he was having a meeting or she’s a colleague, we can ask reception about the room. In front of him.’
I know, of course, that it’s unlikely Patrick and Bea will leave together. They are far too careful for that. If last time is anything to go by – and I can imagine they have a well worked out and rehearsed plan – she will leave first, followed by him a few minutes later.
Even though I’ve been nervous about Michelle finding out it’s Bea who Patrick has been seeing, I now see that this is a way to let her know without implicating myself at all. Bea will spot Michelle and I waiting in reception. She’ll be forced to stop and say hello. I’ll keep her talking – I’ll think of something – so that she has no opportunity to warn Patrick. He’ll emerge a few minutes later and bingo. One of their faces will give them away, I have no doubt. And then I can act as shocked as Michelle by the realization that my assistant is her husband’s mistress.
Of course they will try to throw me straight under a very big bus, but I can bluff it out. Unless they both announce in perfect unison that they met when I sent Bea to try to trap Patrick, or that I have a history with him myself, then I will be able to persuade Michelle they’re clutching at dust.
‘There’s no way I can act as if everything’s normal. I just can’t.’
‘Is he likely to call you tonight?’
She shakes her head. ‘He always says he gets back to the hotel too late, he doesn’t want to disturb me. He texts at some point in the evening usually. When he can sneak off to the loo or …’
She trails off, remembering that everything Patrick has told her about his nights away, including this, is a lie.
‘… anyway …’
She wipes away another tear. Blows her nose on the tissue I find somewhere in my pocket.
‘What are you doing at the weekend?’
Michelle shrugs. ‘I’m going to see my mum and dad on Saturday morning …’
‘Just you?’
‘Perfect. Make an excuse to stay the night. Tell Patrick your mum’s not feeling well or something. That way it’ll only be tomorrow night and Sunday afternoon. I’m assuming you don’t talk much during work time?’
She shakes her head.
‘If we do this you’ll know for sure. Then it’s up to you what you decide to do. Otherwise you’ll always have doubts. Either way.’
‘You’re right. I’ll try. But I don’t know if I can pull it off. How could he do this? I just don’t understand. Am I a running joke at his work then? Poor old Michelle. She has no idea we’re all laughing at her behind her back.’
‘No one’s laughing at you.’
‘Do you think Verity knows? Oh God, this is so humiliating.’
‘I don’t know. She might suspect … maybe. You can’t start worrying about that.’
‘I feel so stupid.’
‘If anyone thinks anything it’ll be that Patrick is a huge bastard and he doesn’t deserve you.’
‘Poor stupid little wifey at home while her husband runs round with some young thing. Is she young?’
‘I don’t know. I told you I didn’t really see her.’
‘What did Adam say, though? He must have described her to you. Is she pretty?’
‘He didn’t. I didn’t ask. I was in too much shock, I think.’
‘Look at the cliché I’ve turned into already. It matters, though. If she’s younger … if she’s gorgeous … it makes it so much worse somehow.’
I think about Bea’s model looks. ‘Or maybe it would be better. He’s just gone for the superficial. It makes it more mid-life crisis and less about how he really feels about you.’
‘How am I going to tell my mum and dad?’
‘Worry about that later. Let’s just get through the next few days first.’
Eventually I persuade her to go to bed and I sit next to her, stroking her hair away from her face while she cries.
‘I don’t know what I’d do without you,’ she says at one point and I try to ignore the knot that forms in my stomach.
‘Get some sleep,’ I say, and I feel like the worst person in the world. ‘I’ll be here if you need me.’