TROY HELD OUT his hands. “I couldn’t Steph! No chance to get to the phone.”
“I was worried.”
“There was nothing to worry about. She never said a thing.”
“I didn’t know what was happening.”
“I sent you a text after we saw you.”
“Three words. For all I knew you’d made everything all right with her and I was never going to see you again.”
“Don’t be silly! You know how much I love you, Steph. There’s no way…”
But he didn’t meet her eyes. And she knew. “Did you have sex with her?”
“What?” Troy looked startled. Then wary.
“Did you make love to your wife? Your wife you have such a bad relationship with? That you hardly ever have any sexual contact with any more. Did you have sex with her?”
Her heart felt all swollen. She couldn’t bear the idea of their bodies entwined, of his hands – hands that belonged to Stephanie – running their way over her body. Stephanie touched her stomach. It still physically hurt.
This was what being with Troy had always been about. Deep, biting jealousy that shrivelled all your good, generous parts until you were dry and bitter and empty. She felt in a flash every old pain she’d ever had. The fear of never being enough, having to watch other women blossoming in his attentions. Most of all she couldn’t bear that. Another woman thinking – knowing – Troy wanted her.
“Steph, I had to!” Troy’s voice was appealing. “Do you realise how odd it looks if a bloke refuses sex?” Stephanie stood quite still.
“It was the last thing I was expecting! I mean she’s never interested any more. But she went and had a bath and I thought, Good! She’ll go to bed and I was just about to text you and then she suddenly appeared down here all dressed up and…”
He stopped and looked uncomfortable at the same time as the words hammered home.
“Dressed up? What do you mean dressed up?”
He was shaking his head, not looking at Stephanie, “She had this teddy thing on.”
“Jesus Christ! First you say you hardly ever have sex, then it transpires that in fact you do it at the first available opportunity, now you tell me you have fucking dressing-up sessions.”
“It’s not like that. I think she does it for herself – she says she wants to feel sexy sometimes.”
And when she did, his eyes would come alight. ”Mmmm!” he’d say, “This is nice,” cross the room, stroke a finger down between her breasts, let his hands trail softly across the lace… The pain was exquisite.
“Where did it come from?”
“What?”
“This teddy thing,” She spat the word out.
He shrugged, “A shop?”
“Don’t be bloody clever! Did you buy it for her?”
He looked sullen now. He put his head in his hands, a gesture of weariness, and sighed.
“Was it like mine? Was it black and red? Was it the same style? Was it?” Stephanie was shrieking, hurt and rage rattling in her throat. She wanted to kill him. Kill her. Kill herself.
“When did you buy it? Since you’ve been down here pretending to be in love with me?”
And then he looked up and she saw his expression.
“Oh no. It was mine wasn’t it? You let your wife put on my underwear that you bought me, you let her put it on and then you made love to her in it.”
He jumped up, tried to take her hands, “Steph I couldn’t help it. She found it – I had to say I’d bought it for her. I had to.” His voice was pleading.
Stephanie pulled away from him. “Didn’t she think that a bit odd? That you’d bought her sexy lingerie when you never ever have sex?”
“I said –”
“What did you say Troy? Oh Christ, you are so disgusting!”
He shook his head sorrowfully. “I’d have rather made love to you. I wanted it to be you – I kept thinking…”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
She let him make her tea. He brought it to her as she sat woodenly in Cora’s big chair, then he settled himself at her feet, put his arms around her knees, rested his head on her lap.
She felt frozen and detached.
“Look,” he said. “We agreed to keep the status quo for the moment. You said – no big announcements. Don’t upset the children. We keep things going at home until we’re ready. That’s what we agreed. Steph? Listen to me. I was just keeping the peace.”
“Would you have told me if I hadn’t asked?”
“I didn’t want to hurt you.”
“Were you sleeping with Lucinda?”
“What?” his head shot up. “That was fifteen years ago!”
“Did you? I need to know Troy. I need you to tell me the whole truth.”
He shrugged. “Only a couple of times.”
“You bloody bastard,”
He gave a forced laugh. “Oh come on, Steph. I can understand you feeling jealous of Tanith but why do you care about Luci now?”
“I don’t.” She did. All these years later she hated the idea of him on top of Lucinda’s bony body. The girl’s smug pride in the knowledge that she could tempt Troy to be unfaithful.
“Rose always said I should watch you two.”
He exhaled on a long sigh of disdain. “Rose would.”
“Well she was right, wasn’t she!”
“Oh it was nothing. We were drunk or stoned or something. She never came close to you. Nobody,” he sat on the arm of the chair and tried to hug her, “has ever come close to you.”
She stood up, knocking the teacup out of its saucer.
“I must have been mad to think you’d changed,” she said, her voice tight with pain. “I couldn’t trust you then and I can’t now.”
She started for the front door but he wrapped his arms around her. “I love you Steph. I love you so much. Please don’t cry.”
Please don’t cry. He said it over and over again.
As if he thought she might be able to stop.
She called in sick. George took the children to school. “Go back to bed,” he said. “Get some sleep.”
He’d been kind the night before too. She’d told him – truthfully – that she had terrible stomach pains and needed to lie down and he’d gone for fish and chips, stood over Charlotte while she did her homework, read with Toby.
Now, lying beneath the duvet, huddled in her dressing gown, she felt dirty and ashamed. She’d heard George’s voice floating up the stairs when he was on the phone to the dairy, complaining about over-filled bottles and the inconvenience of milk spilt down trousers at 8am and something deep inside her had smiled in spite of it all. She needed George. She couldn’t ever lose him. She would miss him marching about, being in charge, getting things done.
While Troy would let endless chaos wash over him and befall her, sleep through an emergency, be in the wrong bed when she needed him most. George had always looked after her, protected her.
Protected her. She would never forget that phone call. Her looking at George appealingly. “I have to go…”
“No,” he’d said. “You should be here. Looking after us. Looking after your family.” And he’d pointed to Toby. Curled with his tiny red thumb deep in his mouth.
“I was trying to protect you,” he’d said later. When she fell asleep she dreamt of Rose…
She awoke suddenly and looked at the clock in fright. For a moment she thought she’d slept too long to collect the children. But it was only half past one. Kelly was barking downstairs.
She got out of bed and walked slowly downstairs. She felt as thought she’d been in an accident or undergone some huge ordeal. It all seemed deeply unreal now. Troy had always represented pain – he’d caused her enough to last a lifetime and yet she’d walked straight back into it for some more.
Kelly was making a racket at the front door. Stephanie tightened the front of her robe and went towards it. She glanced in the mirror as she went. She looked deranged.
“Steph! Aren’t you well?” Sue stood on the doorstep looking concerned.
“Oh Sue!” She’d forgotten about the Reflexology session completely. “Sorry, come in.”
Sue was wearing her white coat, her hair tied back, carrying her folder and smiling. She waited while Stephanie settled herself on the sofa and positioned herself on a chair opposite. “How have you been?”
“Just an upset stomach that’s all.”
“Did you feel any after-effects from last time?”
“No.”
“No drowsiness? Increased need to pass water? Did you sleep well?”
“I can’t remember.”
“OK.” Her pen hovered over the page. “We’ll see what we find today. “Are you sure you’re OK, Steph?”
“Yeah, really. Just a few things on my mind you know.” Like the affair I’ve been having. Nothing much.
“Right.”
Sue’s hands began to move over her feet, massaging, loosening, warming. Stephanie relaxed a little. She still felt drowsy.
Sometimes things happened and you really never thought life would be normal again. Like when Troy had finally moved out, when Rose had gone. When George came home with Kelly and she chewed everything…
“Ouch! Which bit’s that?”
Sue fingered Stephanie’s big toe. “Head and neck – bit of tension there maybe.” She smiled. “Or you’ve been thinking too much.”
She’d feel better when he’d gone. And surely he’d go soon now. Tanith would want him home.
“Is this tender?” Sue’s fingers circled the centre of the sole of her foot. Stephanie nodded, suddenly close to tears.
“What does that mean then?” she said, forcing herself to speak.
“It’s the solar plexus – centre of emotions.” Sue’s voice was soft and soothing. “It doesn’t always follow, but perhaps you’ve been worrying about something, holding some feelings in…”
It was funny who you revealed things to. Millie used to say that friends were like horses for courses, that the one you spilled the beans to about your drunken encounter with the scout master was never the one you went to when you had piles.
Stephanie, tears now falling, was finding the people you tell the unexpected to could be very unexpected indeed.
She liked Sue. Sue was lovely. But she was the sort of round, warm girl you made quips with in the playground about eating too much and wondering what it would be like to be married to Jeremy Partridge, father of Kieran in year six. She was the sort of friend who you only ever saw at PTA dos or children’s book parties. She was not the sort of friend you’d imagine being there while you cracked apart.
Stephanie couldn’t stop it happening. Chin shuddering, shoulders heaving, the tears just kept coming. Words were tumbling out of her mouth. She could hear them but she couldn’t stem them. She was talking about Rose and Troy and George, on and on like a crazed woman, telling Sue who knew nothing of any of it about the voices and the pains and dark hours in the middle of the night when she knew she was heading for some black place she couldn’t go…
“I’m going mad,” she sobbed, frightened, horrified by her lack of control. “I’m going mad”
“It’s all right.”
Sue had let go of Stephanie’s feet and wrapped her arms around Stephanie’s shoulders. She felt solid and warm and dependable and Stephanie cried even harder. Stephanie could hear her own sobs in the distance as if they belonged to someone else. And above them, dimly, she heard Sue’s voice.
“I don’t know much about this, Steph,” she was saying as she held her tight. “But it doesn’t sound like madness to me. It sounds like grief.”