They say that when you're drowning your life flashes before you. Becca wasn't drowning but suddenly every detail of her relationship with Paul flashed before her. She hadn't realised before how fast her brain worked. It buzzed with calculating exactly what Suzy knew, what she might have said, what Martin would believe.
What Suzy knew: nothing, unless Paul had said anything. And she couldn't believe that he'd suddenly spill the beans. No, Suzy was acting on her own suspicions. There was nothing concrete to go on - unless Paul had confessed to their brief relationship, and his subsequent pursuit. So, assuming he hadn't, Suzy was going on guesswork.
What Martin would believe: the thought of Martin believing what Suzy may have said made the room spin for a dizzy second. We haven't done anything wrong, she thought wildly. Whatever Suzy has said, it isn't true. We haven't made love, or, or, or... that steamy moment in the back of the people carrier flashed into her imagination. No, that didn't count. She needed time to think.
'You're joking,' she said in what she hoped was a calm and reasonable voice.
'No.' Martin was terse, tight lipped. She'd never seen him look at her like that.
'I'm confused,' she said truthfully. 'Did you just say Suzy Fitzwilliam has rung to say I was having an affair with her husband?'
'Yes.'
'But that's preposterous! Why would she say anything like that?' Maybe Suzy had discovered the flowers and notes Paul had been leaving her. But to call it an affair - an affair meant hotel bedrooms and candlelit dinners. Not a handful of kisses. For a second she remembered Paul kissing each finger in turn and telling her she was beautiful.
'Is it true?'
'No! No! No!' The words gushed out of her. She paused to get her breath back, horrified that for even one minute, one second, he could think that she, Becca, had... But you wanted to, her conscience said. I haven't done anything wrong, her heart countered. 'It's laughable.'
'I'm not laughing.'
'Nor am I.'
They stared at each other. Perhaps she should tell Martin the truth: I was feeling low and we met a couple of times before Christmas, and then I finished it. She could imagine Martin wanting to know what she meant by saying they'd met. What do you mean? Did you sit and talk? Hold hands? We kissed, she'd have to say. And then the real interrogation would start: What do you mean by kissing? How often? What sort of kissing? Did he touch you?
She couldn't tell Martin. Paul had run away with her heart, her mind, had taken over her soul. She'd believed she loved him - perhaps she loved him still. The fact that their relationship had never got further than kisses didn't make it any better. She had been emotionally unfaithful. She looked at Martin and saw the hurt on his face, the way his eyes had crumpled, and felt it was essential to repair the damage that had already been done, and protect him from any further harm.
She took Martin's hands and spoke clearly. 'I know Suzy Fitzwilliam is a lawyer, and I expect she knows all about libel and slander and things like that so she probably believes whatever it is she's told you, but you have to believe me, because I am telling you the truth: I am not having an affair with Paul Fitzwilliam.' The truth, but not the whole truth. Nothing about kissing, nothing about the notes. She held Martin's gaze. She could discern the struggle that was going on behind his eyes as she willed him to believe her.
'Why would she say such a thing?' His voice held the edge of defeat.
'I don't know,' she said, feeling defeated too.
Martin slumped into the chair, his face drawn with misery. She stroked Martin's hand. Martin turned her hand over in his as if examining it for telltale signs of something or other. Her rings neatly stacked up on the fourth finger of the left hand: engagement, marriage, eternity. There wasn't one for infidelity.
'I can see he's exciting to be with,' Martin began, but she stopped him.
'I'm not having an affair. I'm simply not,' she said. She could hear the shake in her voice. 'I don't know how I can prove it, but I'm not.'
Martin hesitated, then gave her a hug. She clung to him, burying her face in his chest, trying to work out why Suzy had rung Martin. What did she hope to gain? It was like throwing a bomb into a shopping centre, as if she simply didn't care who gets hurt. She hugged Martin tightly and they stayed like that for a few minutes, clinging to the wreckage together.
'Perhaps I shouldn't have said anything,' Martin said eventually.
'Of course you should. It's a horrible thing to have accused me of.' Becca sniffed loudly, and rummaged in her pocket for a tissue. 'It's better it's out in the open, it would have been awful if you'd felt you had to spy on me. What exactly did she say?'
'It's a bit jumbled up.' Martin squeezed her hand tightly. 'She said something about, did I know what you'd been up to, and how you'd been seeing her husband. Something about a workshop last week.'
'I haven't a clue what she could be talking about.' Becca thought hard. Perhaps Paul had told Suzy as a way to get revenge for Becca's rejection of him after the workshop. But that seemed far fetched. 'Yes, there was a workshop last week that Paul did for the college - it was very good - but it was work. Everybody was there - Bill, Crystal, all the students.'
'She said...' He took a deep breath as if it hurt his lungs to breathe. 'She said you were having sex with her husband.'
'What? She's gone mad.' Becca now felt more confused than ever. Why would Paul confess to something that he hadn't done? Images of being in the people carrier swept over her, Paul pressing against her, his hand on her. But that didn't count as having sex, surely. Maybe for someone of Lily's age, but not for an adult. Or was that the Clinton defence? She shook her head with bewilderment. 'I really don't understand this - I've never "had sex" with Paul Fitzwilliam.'
Martin was sitting at the end of the table, his hands clasped. One thumb nervously massaged the base joint of the other. She recognised a comfort gesture and realised he was wavering. She could see that this was going to be how it was from now on. Suzy had destroyed his innocence. Even if he accepted Becca's word, there would be a tiny piece that would question her actions and wonder: was there any truth in them. Why had Suzy done it?
She realised she was shaking slightly, her heart racing. She felt sick and elated at the same time. I want to tell him the truth. I don't want to lie. How sordid it was in the car, but how elating the romance. I want to tell Martin about how I feel, how Paul keeps saying he loves me, and how it's so hard to keep fending him off.
'I need a drink.' Becca grabbed a bottle of rioja from the rack and began opening it, her fingers clumsy. To love Paul meant hurting Martin. She couldn't hide from that. It meant lying and cheating and being deceitful and all those things she so despised in others.
She poured out a glass and took a swig, her heart pounding as she tried to look calm. What would an innocent person do? Carry on as normal. Becca couldn't think what normal might be. Load the dishwasher, wipe the kitchen surfaces. If only they'd got a dog, she could take it round the block.
'Are you all right?' Martin said. He was looking at her in a puzzled way.
'Yes, yes. Fine,' she said, smiling brightly. No, that must look too much like covering up. 'Actually, no. This Suzy business has upset me. I can't think why she'd do such a thing.' And then it hit her. 'Of course!' she said, grinning. 'Why didn't I think of it before? She's got the wrong person!' Becca got up, unable to sit still. 'Don't you see - he must be having an affair with someone else and -'
Becca stopped, suddenly thinking about the implications of what she'd said. Paul was having an affair with someone else. All the time he'd been saying he loved her, he was seeing someone else. Having sex with someone else.
Martin stood up too. 'Come to think of it, I don't think she asked for me by name, she just launched straight into what she was saying. I'm sure that's right, I don't think she said my name, just hers, and then I said yes, and she said the stuff about my wife. She didn't say your name either.' He started to laugh. 'I can't believe it. She must have made a mistake. Or even phoned the wrong number, yours might have been next to his mistress's in his phone directory or on his mobile or whatever. I've done that before, think I'm phoning one number, and I'm actually phoning the person below them. What a stupid thing to do. And to think I -' He stopped suddenly.
'Believed her?' Becca lightly finished his sentence.
Martin came across and held her. 'I'm sorry, darling. Just for one second I did. I'm so so sorry. I should have known. I should have trusted you. I should have known there would be some simple explanation. I'm sorry.' He kissed her hair. 'Forgive me.'
And what could she say but whisper, 'Yes'?
- ooo -
' "O beware my lord of jealousy; it is the green-eye'd monster which doth mock the meat it feeds on." ' Becca looked up at her class. 'What's Iago doing in act three scene three?'
'Telling us that jealousy looks like Shrek,' Eddie said.
'Very funny,' Becca said drily. 'Anyone else?' Tamsin had her hand up, so Becca nodded to her.
'He's telling Othello to watch out for jealousy, but he's also feeding it.'
Becca smiled at Tamsin. 'And how's he doing that?'
'By telling him that if Desdemona could deceive her father, to marry Othello, it also means that she could deceive Othello.'
'Good. So we could say that in this scene, Iago feeds the monster while ironically warning him about it. Do you think there are any other examples of jealousy in the play?'
They were more experienced now, more forthcoming. They knew what was expected of them. They talked about Rodrigo's jealousy of Desdemona choosing Othello over him, and lago's jealousy that Othello had chosen Cassio to be his lieutenant. They discussed the meaning of the word, and although she hid it well, directing the discussion back and forth, all the time Becca's own green-ey'd monster grumbled and stirred. Had Paul really been seeing someone else? Surely not. He couldn't have. That would imply he was some sort of horrible lothario, taking advantage of women. Not Paul, the sensitive man who'd been so sweet and understanding. On the other hand, there was his urgency in the back of the car. Perhaps he was after only one thing, like men were always supposed to be, according to old-fashioned comedians. Who could it have been? Angela? Unlikely. Then who? The questions whizzed round inside her head like angry bees swarming, but getting nowhere.
- ooo -
'It's Becca.'
There was a pause. 'Becca,' Paul said, turning her name into a caress. He sounded delighted to hear her.
'You know why I'm ringing.' She leaned back against the door of the stationery cupboard, just to make sure no one would come in.
'If you're pregnant it's not my fault,' he said jauntily. 'Though not for want of trying.'
'Suzy rang up Martin and accused us of having an affair,' Becca said cutting across him. She stared at the multi-coloured files stacked up on the shelves next to the boxes of paperclips. Bill liked to recycle as much as possible, she could see the corners of the top file were inked in by some bored student.
There was silence at the end of the phone. Then a long drawn out sigh. 'Shit. Why?'
'You tell me.' Becca pressed her lips together. 'Didn't you know?'
'No.' He sounded stunned. 'When was this?'
'Yesterday evening. Why would she do that?' Becca helped herself to a bulldog clip from the box next to the paperclips and snapped it together.
'I don't know...look, we need to talk face to face. I can't do this over the phone. Are you at school now?'
What if Martin found out? It would look suspicious. Becca attached the bulldog clip to the green file. 'I don't know about meeting. I don't think it's a good idea.'
'No one will know. Meet me in the park after school, and we'll talk then.'
- ooo -
'Becca.' He kissed her cheek in greeting, that faintly elusive lemony scent filling her nostrils. She thought his face looked leaner, taut with strain perhaps.
'I haven't got long,' she said, digging her hands into her coat pockets. 'What the hell is going on?'
'I've no idea. Honestly.' He twisted a dog lead in his hand. 'Tell me what happened.'
'Suzy rang Martin and said you were having an affair with me. Or rather, we were having sex. Hasn't she said something to you?'
He shook his head. 'I was away over the weekend, didn't get back until late last night, then she went to work early this morning. I expect I'll hear all about it this evening.' He sighed, then put his arm around Becca. 'But what about you? Are you OK? How did Martin take it?'
'He wasn't best pleased, as you can imagine,' Becca said, moving forwards away from Paul's arm. She was only too conscious of his physical presence as it was. 'But we talked it over, and sorted it out.'
'That must have been rough.'
'It was.' Becca pulled her coat around her. 'She didn't actually use my name. I thought it might have been a mistake, I thought she might have meant to call someone else.'
'Someone else? Who?'
Becca shrugged. 'How do I know who you see?'
'Oh, Becca.' He laughed. 'Do I detect a touch of the green-eyed monster?'
'Certainly not.'
He turned to her. 'Darling Becca, you are the only woman I want.'
'Apart from your wife.' Becca walked on, her feet tapping out her annoyance. Annoyance at him, annoyance at herself for giving him the idea she was jealous.
'So you told Martin it must have been a mistake of some sort, and he believed you.' Paul whistled, and the dog ran over, before darting off again.
Becca nodded. It was disturbing that Martin hadn't believed her at first. But of course, she hadn't been entirely faithful. Life was becoming a series of grey gradations, not black and white. How faithful was faithful? She supposed each couple worked out for themselves what was tolerable. Trust was a fragile thing, easily broken. She looked up at Paul, and for the first time wondered if she could trust him. 'I don't know what's going on, but I don't want to be part of it. I want you to stay out of my life.'
'Becca -'
'I mean it, Paul.' Her hands were trembling. 'Stay away from me.'
He put his arms gently around her, and she allowed herself the luxury of relaxing against his chest. 'We'll sort something out,' he murmured.
It took everything she had to extract herself. 'No. No sorting out. I can't pretend I don't have...some feelings for you, but I don't want this. I want to go back to where I was, before I met you.'
'Sad? Lonely? Anxious? No one to talk to?' Paul's eyes were clear. 'You were like some neglected treasure tucked away and forgotten about when I met you. Don't you remember?'
'It wasn't like that.' Becca tried to remember. She'd thought she was getting her life together, was being positive, getting on with things. Coping. Obviously not coping as well as she'd thought. 'And even if it was, it was better than this.'
'Better than being loved?' He tilted her head. 'Because I do love you.'
'Don't say that to me.' She turned her head away to look at the dog, tail wagging happily as it investigated some smell at the foot of a chestnut tree.
'I know you better than you know yourself. You want to come with me but you're afraid. Don't be. We could be so happy.'
'At other people's expense?' She shook her head. 'You don't know me at all. I'm going back home now. I don't want me or my family disturbed by you - or your wife - again.'
'Suzy's a law unto herself.'
'That's as maybe. I'm serious, Paul. No more cards, no more letters, no more flowers. Go back and make things up with your wife - you loved her once.'
'He doesn't love you,' Paul said suddenly. 'He doesn't appreciate you, not the way I do or -'
'Don't talk about Martin like that,' Becca said. 'I won't listen to you.'
'I love you. I'd do anything for you.'
'Then leave me alone.'
They had walked right through the park, and had reached the children's playground and skatepark. A group of skateboarders were swooping up and down the half tubes watched by a gaggle of boys and girls in school uniform. One had a familiar shock of black hair.
'Lily!'
Lily turned, registered her mother, then sheepishly detached herself from the crowd. 'Hi, Mum.'
'What are you doing here? You should be at home by now.'
'I came to see the guys practising.' The dog bounded up to her, and Lily knelt and stroked it, undeterred by dog breath. 'Is this your dog?' she said to Paul. 'He's gorgeous.' The dog rolled over on to its back, presenting a soft black furry stomach. Lily gave it a vigorous scratch. 'What's he called?'
'Oberon.' Paul glanced at Becca, whose lips twitched despite her shredded nerves.
'Come on, Lily, I'll give you a lift home. Where's your school bag?'
'Over there.' Lily left the dog with obvious reluctance and went over to her friends to collect her bag.
Becca quickly turned to Paul. 'Goodbye.'
He held her hand. 'Don't say it.'
She took her hand from him. 'Goodbye, Paul.'