Her car was parked at the end of the narrow road that led all the way up to the small village green. The pub where she had stayed for the last two nights had bookings for the weekend and she couldn’t stay there anymore. There were other hotels nearby, but she needed to pick up some clothes anyway, and now was as good a time as any. It was late, and Daniel would be at work. If she was going to go home to collect her things, she was unlikely to get another opportunity as good as this one in the next few days. Closing the car door, she realized that Harry already felt too far away.
As she drove to the place she called home, she thought about what life used to be like when she was Harry’s girlfriend. Simple things like how he had her favorite prints framed and hung, and how he had once ordered a glass display cabinet for the collection of fossils she had been curating since childhood. How, when she explained what each one was, he never said they were just rocks like some people once had. How, when she woke up at night, he would already be awake, checking that she was okay, ready to listen to whatever was on her mind. That because he spoke so little, everything he said seemed vital. There had been so much to unite them then, that even now, ten years after he had left to take care of his mother, it seemed inexplicable that she was married to another man.
After a short drive back to her house she climbed the steps, standing at the door of her home. Everything seemed quiet as she listened for the sounds of life coming from inside. Pushing thoughts of Harry aside, she reached into her pocket. There it was again, that tightness in her chest, the one she always had when she reached this door. That voice in her head, the one person still on her side, who believed in her enough to try, shouting for her to run. Trembling, she held on to her key, wondering how a place so familiar could invoke such a sense of fear. How had she lived this way for so long?
She couldn’t hear a thing coming from inside. Moonlight shone against dark windows. At this time in the evening he had to be out, didn’t he? She pulled the key from her pocket and inserted it into the lock. But as soon as she opened the door, she heard his footsteps on the wooden boards they had sanded together, quickening toward the door as she fought to retrieve the key. Turn around, that voice implored her, but logic was usually ruled by fear, and she froze. For a moment when he pulled the door wide open, he seemed so pleased to see her that she almost let herself believe it. But common sense prevailed, and she pushed her left hand into her pocket to fiddle on her wedding ring before he could see that she had taken it off.
“Where the hell have you been?” he said, pulling her into a tight embrace. “I’ve been worried sick.” Held tightly in his arms, his fingers brushing her shoulders, needling into her as they always did, she realized that he had been waiting for her. It didn’t matter the day, or time. Whatever time she dared come back he would have been there, waiting to claim his possession. Knowing there was no choice but to see this through, already aware he was reaching out to close the door behind her, his eyes resting on her face, she dropped her bag onto the ground. The door gave off a clunk as it closed, and with it she felt herself shrink. They were alone, behind closed doors, something she promised herself would never happen again. She wondered if she smelled of Harry’s house, whether Daniel would be able to smell it on her, like pheromones, or the scent of betrayal.
Clues sparked in her sight line like spurs of fire from a lit log. That beer bottle in his hand; was it the first? The fifth? Were his shoulders relaxed, or wound with energy waiting to be expended? Was his jaw soft, or tight with anger? How this reunion might play out depended on factors like that. The simplest of things could turn a pleasant evening sour, but there was always a clue. They had been together long enough for her to realize that.
“I’ve been working,” she lied.
Tipping the bottle back he took a long slow swig from his beer, draining whatever was left. It rang out like a warning bell as he dropped it against the tile floor. Taking a step closer to her he sighed. What thoughts were going through his mind, she wondered. What did he expect from this meeting? Glancing past him then, she saw a few more bottles on the floor of the living room, scattered like bodies after a massacre. Only then did she realize the slight stumble in his gait, affecting the hairs on her arms, rising vigilant and ready. Her heart rate quickened at the realization he was on his way to being drunk.
“Have you seen the time?”
Of course she’d seen the time. She’d been very careful not to come home before ten. The idea of this house being empty, the certainty of it as a chance to claim her things, was matched only by the disappointment to realize it was not.
“Yes, I know. I’m late. Sorry,” she said, angry at her apology, her words scratchy because her mouth had run dry. “You know how it’s been with all the new pieces and the new collection.” Angered by her trembling fingers, which attested to her fear, she clenched her fist shut tight. How could he do this to her so easily? Why did she feel so helpless in his presence? Why had it always been so hard to leave? “There are so many demands on my time, and I had to travel to bring back a really important piece.” Sometimes she did this with him, spoke when it wasn’t necessary, and she knew all the extra details shook the credibility of her defense.
Reaching up he brushed her hair away from her face, his touch cold yet firm. “And you couldn’t call?”
“Sorry,” she said, shrugging. “It was a last-minute thing.”
“That place doesn’t deserve you.” Peeling her fingers loose he took her hand, pulling her into the hallway. Following his lead, she tried hard not to think about the irony of his statement. “You know, I called the museum.” Letting that information linger for a moment, he let his fingers weave in and out of hers, almost gently, a trick to confuse her. “That girl Jenny on reception said she hadn’t seen you.”
If she had been thinking clearly, she would have thought of that. Harry had made her forget herself, as if the last ten years hadn’t happened. Like the rest of the world didn’t exist. Four days with him and her strategy for Daniel was slipping. “I’ve been working out of the office,” she said, unable to look at him. She went to pull her fingers away only to find them locked in his grip. Mustering all her courage she looked up to find he was smiling. “You know how that can be.”
“No,” he said, his grip tightening. Or was that just her fear she could feel? Perhaps she was tighter. She wasn’t sure anymore. “Actually, I don’t.”
She couldn’t tell where this conversation was going. The door was still in view, and she couldn’t shift the idea of the road, the cars, the thought of the other houses nearby filled with people that could help her. Run, she heard that voice say again. There’s still time. “Aren’t you going to be late for work?” she asked.
“Took some time owed to me,” he said, beginning to lead her into the house. “Wanted to see you once you got back. I knew you’d have to come back eventually. All your stuff was still here.”
With her hand held tightly in his he led her to the settee, through the littered bottles. Inviting her to sit, he patted the cushion beside him. But as she went to sit down he shifted, so she landed in his lap, him laughing, her smiling to hide her discomfort. It was automatic now, she didn’t even have to force it. Strong arms that had once given her a false sense of security slid around her waist, beneath her jacket, and up the length of her back. A love bite that she hadn’t given him blushed like a plum on his neck as she felt his fingertips bobble down each of her vertebrae.
“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” he said, moving in close. “All this work you’re doing, paving your way to heaven.” Just for a moment he stopped, his fingers woven into her hair. Gripping it, he turned her head so she had no choice but to look at his face. Their eyes met, his breath stale as it brushed warm against her lips. For a beat he said nothing. “You’re such a good person.” How was it that the simplest of sayings could sound to her ears like a threat? He kissed her cheek and stroked her hair. “You make me a better person just by being here with me. I’ve missed you,” he whispered in her ear. “Have you missed me?”
“Of course I have,” she said, her voice frail and small, and as the last words slipped from her lips he pulled her down and rolled himself on top of her, all in one fluid movement. His hands began moving across her body, his lips along her neck. He kissed her and she kissed him back. It’s not the first time, she told herself. It’s just like it was before. But this time the truth didn’t help. Because now she saw another face in her mind’s eye, and the one before her felt wrong.
“You’re back now. Back where you belong,” he breathed hard into her ear. But then Daniel stopped. His hand brushed her side to the jangle of jewelry. Reaching into her inside pocket he pulled out the small plastic bag that Harry had given her. He sat up, peered inside, and then began to smile.
When he pulled his hand out of the bag, a tangle of necklaces dripped through his fingers. Appendages of rubies shone red and bright. “What are you doing with these?” When she didn’t answer he rummaged in the bag again, his eyes widening along with his smile. “Someone’s been a very naughty girl.”
“I didn’t steal them.” A thousand explanations came and went, out of reach like stars in a night’s sky. “They are pieces ready to go on display,” she finally said. “I’ve only got them because I’ve been asked to get them valued tomorrow. Insurance purposes.”
“And they let you take them all knotted together like this, in a cheap old plastic bag?” he said, never once taking his eyes away from the contents of his hand.
“Yes,” she said, although she realized the implausibility of her ruse. “If I don’t take them back to the museum, they will notice they are missing.” Close to ten years together, she could read his thoughts easily enough.
“Didn’t before, did they?” The 1940s Rolex on his wrist was a classic. Every time she thought about taking that watch from a passing collection, she felt sick. He had been to the gallery, seen the timepiece, and then spent the duration of the exhibition convincing her to ship the collection back minus the piece he wanted for himself. She had wanted to impress him, that was all. At the last minute she had agreed and spent every moment since regretting what she had done.
Just for a second, she felt a false sense of relief as he stood up and his weight disappeared from her body. But reality was soon racing toward her as he stuffed the bag into his back pocket. He cupped her chin in a firm grip, just enough so she understood. “I’ll get them valued for you. You work hard enough already, not back here until half past ten at night.” He stepped back, grabbed his coat. “You put your feet up instead.”
“Are you leaving?” she asked as he moved toward the door.
“Going to head into work,” he said, smiling. He moved back, kissed her once more.
“I thought you had some time off?” It was a strange balance. The worst thing was being near him, but now, with those necklaces in his pocket, the idea of him walking out that door was unimaginable. “Please stay.”
The sneer that she once took for a smile crossed his lips. “You wouldn’t have a clue what to do without me, would you?” In just a few steps he was standing over her, his hand on her chin, moving her face so they were looking at each other. “This time, don’t go disappearing on me again, all right? Next time you go,” he said, a finger tapping her chin, “I won’t wait so long for you to come back. I’ll come and find you instead. Wherever you are.” Just moments later she was back in the house, alone.
Not that it made any difference, but she rushed to the door to pull the security chain across. His exit, the sound of his feet, the heavy, imposing tread of his movement, made her long for the simple, easy steps that Harry had taken earlier on that day. Everything about Daniel made her feel weak. Small. But this time as she lay against the door, panting through a mix of fear and apprehension of what could have but ultimately hadn’t happened, she found herself hoping for the first time in a long time that he would come back.
She thought of the note she had left for Harry on the fridge and wondered now how she could ever return if she didn’t get those necklaces back. No, she said to herself. That wasn’t an option. First, she would get the necklaces back, and then she would leave for good. It didn’t matter where to, because anywhere was better than that house. But then a possibility filtered into view, something that felt right and secure. She’d go to Harry, because she knew he would keep her safe. He always had when they were together, which was why it was so hard when he had left. Ten years ago she had tried to save what they had, but had lost it anyway. Now she knew about his secret history, it was almost possible to reason what had happened before. It wasn’t necessary to like something first, in order to understand. But was there now a chance that this time he could save her? Then, as she really thought about the idea of leaving this house for good, of leaving to stay with Harry, she wondered whether, just maybe, there was a chance they might be able to save each other.