Her eyes puffed up and red raw from crying and lack of sleep, Claire was attempting to put on a brave face. Her father would be completely destabilised if she did what she felt like doing, breaking down and crying like a baby. She was managing, just, until Luke turned up. As she settled her dad in his armchair, she glanced out of the lounge window and saw him approaching, and her heart reeled inside her, turning over nauseatingly in her chest.
‘I’ll get you some tea, Dad,’ she said brightly, working to keep the insane edge from her voice. She handed him the TV remote and dashed into the hall, her heart going into downward free fall as she caught sight of herself in the mirror. She looked like she felt: broken, frightened; a complete mess, on the outside as well as the inside. Wiping the heels of her hands across her eyes, she reached to scrape her mass of bedraggled hair back, and tried for some level of calmness as she walked to the front door.
She expected him to use his key. He didn’t. He knocked and waited instead, reinforcing the fact that what they’d once had together was no more. She felt desperate, had no idea how she would cope with everything that was coming at her, how she would ever fill the deep, lonely void inside her, but she couldn’t just take him back, even assuming that was what he wanted. She felt sick contemplating the possibility that it might not be. That she might have been living a lie. Might have? Of course she had. His emotions had shifted before he’d felt compelled to kiss another woman, no doubt have sex with her too. Hadn’t it been obvious from his moodiness, his absence, that he was growing tired of Claire, of their life together? How long it had been going on, she didn’t know. Rather than see it, she’d closed her eyes, despite a nagging little voice in her head, and waited for him to spell it out, issuing her with his damn ultimatum.
Marshalling her defences in readiness for him to blame her for his infidelity – the situation here, her neglect of him, the way she looked, who she was – she pulled the front door open, and immediately felt her resolve weaken. He was wearing some kind of support boot, and he looked so very tired. His eyes full of remorse, he appeared to be as desperate as she felt. Was she overreacting? All marriages hit a blip, didn’t they? Could she take him back if he begged, swore it was a moment of madness, that he loved her? Or would she be sad, weak and pathetic to even consider it?
‘Hi.’ He glanced nervously down and back, as Claire debated whether to let him in. ‘Is it okay if I, er…?’ He nodded past her to the hall.
Claire hesitated, and then nodded shortly and stood aside.
‘Thanks.’ Clearly relieved, Luke offered her a small smile as he limped past her.
‘That’s okay,’ she said, forcing the words past the tightness in her throat. ‘We don’t want to do this on the doorstep, do we?’ She wanted to ask about his injury, but how could she show that she cared for him when he clearly didn’t give a damn about her?
He nodded, his expression one of resignation, as if he’d expected her hostility. He should. Did he realise, she wondered, how hard she was working to keep her emotions in check, to stay strong for the people who needed her when she felt like breaking down? Her heart was tearing apart inside her, seeing him here, feeling this sudden vast distance between them. She didn’t feel strong. She was terrified about facing the future without him. Without anyone.
‘We’ll talk in the kitchen,’ she said, leading the way, ‘assuming you have anything to say worth listening to.’
In the kitchen, she turned to face him, her arms folded, her stomach twisting with painful apprehension.
‘Where’s Ella?’ he asked.
‘You remembered she exists then?’ Claire couldn’t help herself.
Luke swallowed. ‘Don’t, Claire,’ he said quietly.
‘Don’t what?’ She stared at him, unable to comprehend the hurt in his tone. ‘Remind you it’s not just my heart you’re breaking?’
Luke fixed his gaze on his shoes and said nothing.
‘She’s with Gemma. I didn’t feel well enough to look after her this morning. Gemma offered to take her for a couple of hours.’ Seeing his obvious guilt, Claire relented. If he didn’t care about her, he would always care about Ella. She was sure of that. He would need to know she was with someone who knew about her condition.
Nodding, Luke looked up.
Claire didn’t miss him clocking the empty wine bottle on the table. Was he judging her? After he’d been out nightclubbing, picking up women? ‘Well?’ she said, her sympathy waning fast.
He drew in a long breath. ‘Nothing happened, Claire,’ he repeated. ‘I swear it didn’t.’
‘We’ve done that bit, Luke,’ she pointed out, looking at him coldly. ‘And this nothing happened even though you stayed with her?’ she added, before he had time to insult her with yet more lies.
Luke massaged his forehead, looking as shamefaced as it was possible to be. ‘There was an incident in the nightclub,’ he said. ‘I intervened, and—’
Claire’s heart hardened. ‘So you went back to her place presumably, had a chat about the weather over a nice cup of tea, and then what? Played fucking tiddlywinks?’ she spat angrily.
Luke winced as if she’d just slapped him. She wanted to. It was taking every ounce of her willpower not to. He really was going to do this, wasn’t he? Stand there and tell her barefaced lies.
‘I didn’t sleep with her, Claire,’ he insisted throatily, locking earnest eyes on hers. ‘Please believe—’ He stopped as his mobile beeped with an incoming text.
Claire noted the look of panic that flitted briefly across his face. ‘Prove it,’ she challenged him. ‘Let me see your phone.’
‘What?’ he said, now clearly alarmed.
‘Your phone.’ Keeping her cool, though her heart was beating so rapidly she felt it might burst through her chest, she nodded towards where it was beeping again from his jeans pocket. ‘If you’re telling the truth, then you’ve nothing to hide, have you? I’d like to see it, please.’