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IT WAS AS DAN PULLED out of the Railway Museum car park that he remembered his other life, which at some point, he’d completely forgotten about. They’d spent the morning chatting about mundane, everyday things – work, family, childhood friendships and the Vulcan bomber – and for a few hours it had felt as if that was his real life. How easy it would be to walk away from the rest – except Tamara.
Michelle was right; he’d started to take stupid risks. He should care, but he didn’t. Over the years, he’d had to discipline his men for having affairs. If he was caught, it would blow his career out of the water. And what about Tamara? The whole reason for not leaving was Tamara. If he was suddenly exposed, without having made any preparations, he could lose her. Yet if he was found out, his hand would be forced, and he’d have no choice but to leave.
Dan remembered he’d told a lie about a flat tyre – he was rubbish at this. He’d have to make it look convincing, just in case his boss cottoned on. Spotting a sign for a retail outlet, Dan took the next slip road off the dual carriageway. He continued to stress about everything as he parked up and strolled into a B&Q store.
The split would be traumatic enough, but if it happened too soon, Tamara’s studies would be affected and her future ruined. He imagined Penny’s public breakdown, and the resulting misery she’d dump on Tamara’s shoulders. The effects of his adultery on his daughter would be there for all to see. Penny’s family would have a field day. And his brother would be straight there to ‘support’ his poor, abandoned sister-in-law.
He knew he should end it with Michelle before it went any further. But he couldn’t. His mobile pinged as he headed back towards the car. Penny.
Could you put off going down to see Ian and Claire for a week? I want to take Tamara to London with the girls. Shopping and theatre break.
‘That woman makes me look like a bloody idiot.’
He lifted the spare wheel from the boot, tore open the packet of nails and positioned one on it – just far enough from the side of the tread to make it look as if it had been driven over. Damaging a perfectly good tyre didn’t sit easy with him, but what was he supposed to do? He gave it a single whack with the heel of his boot, shook his head in disgust as air hissed out, then threw the wheel back into the car. He tapped out a text.
Michelle, are you still free on the Friday we originally organised? Sorry, I got the dates wrong again. Must be getting old, Lol! It’s the weekend after that I’m at my brother’s. Dan x.
