CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

 

‘What a tosser!’ was Marvin’s verdict when I’d finished telling him what had happened and how I’d ended up in this position. ‘What an absolute tosser!’

It was one of the many descriptions for Alex which had run, like a loop, through my head since the day he left without me. After keeping what he’d done to myself for all this time, part of me revelled in hearing it out loud in somebody else’s voice – a validation of my anger, not that one was needed after the way my so-called husband had treated me. A small, sad part of me had, at first hoped Alex would realise his mistake and that he loved me after all. Now a bigger, vengeful part of me hoped he would, but only so I could shove it right back in his face with several bells on it and see how he liked it.

‘I’ll go first thing in the morning,’ I said. What I really wanted was to beg him not to tell his brother about me being here, but that would be too pathetic and I’d decided I was done with being pathetic. ‘Unless you want me to go straight away.’

‘Don’t be silly,’ he jumped in. ‘Bloody hell, after the way your husband’s treated you, the last thing you need is another man making you homeless. Bugger me,’ he chuckled. ‘I’ve got to hand it to you. I can’t think of many women who would have the nerve to do what you’ve been doing. You’ve got some balls, Beth – although I don’t know that Henry would see it quite like that. Look,’ he said, possibly having registered the look of panic I could feel rolling across my face, ‘you must be tired, you go on back to bed in the spare room. I’ll kip in Henry’s room until he comes back.’

‘What are you going to tell him?’ I heard my mouth ask, even though my brain had specifically instructed it not to.

‘Don’t you worry, Beth. We’ll think of something.’ He drained the cup of tea laced with whisky he’d made himself – I hadn’t wanted one – looking like a man more at home with a big, chunky mug, a tankard, or maybe even a foaming flagon in his hand. ‘It’s all right. I’m not going to drop you in it.’ He yawned and stretched. ‘Time I was crashing. And you too,’ he nodded at me. He stood up and started for the stairs, stopping briefly to call back, ‘First one up makes the coffee, eh? Strong, black, and sweet for me.’