I’m stunned into silence, my mouth hanging open. Could I have got this so wrong?
‘Samantha?’
Saskia nods. ‘It’s been … I’ve known for a while.’
I think about the way she always questions me about how things are with Robert. Could that be because she was trying to gauge if I knew? To work out if she should say something or not?
‘How did you find out?’
She’s looking anywhere but at me. ‘I walked in on them once.’
I actually hear myself gasp.
‘I’d gone to her dressing room to borrow something, I can’t remember what. The lock is broken on hers so it’s always unlocked – ever since that actor who played Ryan, do you remember him? Anyway, he used to be in there and he locked himself in once and wouldn’t come out. They had to break the door down. ’Roid rage it was, apparently. He didn’t get those muscles from just anywhere …’
I wait, willing her to get back to the point. She must pick up on my impatience because she shuts up about Ryan and his steroid habit.
‘Anyway, there they were on the sofa. It must have been early days, I think, because they were taking such a risk. I suppose most people would knock but it didn’t even occur to me.’
‘Were they actually …’
‘Pretty much. Anyway, I backed straight out again and they didn’t see me. But a few weeks later he was being really annoying at a party – you know how pompous he can get? So I told him what I’d seen, just to burst his bubble. He denied it at first but he’d had a few drinks and eventually he admitted it was true. I think he regretted it immediately because he begged me not to repeat what he’d said to anyone else. And, of course, I didn’t. And then you and I became friends …’
‘You knew when I first met you?’
She nods. ‘I did. I’m sorry. I wanted to say something to you – I was cheated on in my first marriage and I know how awful it is to find out you’ve been completely deluded – but I didn’t think it was any of my business. And, besides, I’d promised Robert. But then you started saying how well things were going and how he seemed to be a changed man and it started to niggle away at me. Because it’s still going on.’
That doesn’t explain the text message, though. I try to recall exactly what it said.
As if she can read my mind, Saskia says, ‘I even covered for him once. When you phoned. Do you remember? He’d left his phone in the green room and when I saw your name I answered because I was afraid if anyone else spoke to you they would go looking for him in his dressing room. I knew they were in there together.’
It all comes back to me. ‘Jesus! That was too close for comfort last night! WAY too risky! Hope Paula bought it!!! Didn’t feel comfortable having to lie to her face! Love you xxx’
It’s possible. The ‘Love you’ is a bit over the top, but Saskia is the kind of person who blurts out endearments to waitresses she’s known for five seconds. They don’t mean anything to her.
It doesn’t make sense to me why Robert would confide in her though. He’s always telling me they don’t get on. So much so that I thought it was a smokescreen.
‘Why would he tell you? It doesn’t make any sense.’
She shrugs. ‘I think – and forgive me if this sounds crass – I think he wanted to make a point that he was attractive to a woman like her. I mean, you’ve seen Samantha – younger, you know. Beautiful. I think he was showing off. He really was quite drunk.’
‘Shit,’ I say, and Saskia, thinking I’m upset because I’ve just found out my husband is seeing someone else, puts her hand over mine.
‘You deserve much better,’ she says.
I can’t tell her that what I’m really upset about is that I just kissed her husband.
Her husband, who wouldn’t even have considered kissing me if I hadn’t just persuaded him that his wife was having an affair.
I can hardly look at her. I make an excuse about having to get home. I need to process what’s going on.
‘The only thing I’d ask,’ she says as we say goodbye, ‘is that you don’t let him find out it came from me. He could make my life a misery at work.’
‘Of course not,’ I say. ‘I’m not just going to storm straight home and accuse him. Not until I can work out a way I could plausibly have found out. I’d never drop you in it.’
‘I really am sorry, Paula,’ she says, for the hundredth time. ‘I agonized about whether it was the right thing to do or not.’
‘It was. Stop worrying. It’s much better that I know.’
She hugs me and I hug her back, feeling like the worst person in the world.
All the way home, I toss it around in my head. Was I so convinced that I was right about Robert and Saskia that I twisted the evidence to fit the prosecution’s thesis? I try to look at it rationally.
– If she wasn’t trying to probe into the status of our marriage, why did she meet up with me in the first place and then keep on meeting up with me?
Maybe she genuinely liked me? Maybe it’s hard for her to make new friends because of who she is, so she seized on the opportunity when it came along?
– If they weren’t having an affair, why would Robert reply to her message telling her they shouldn’t text?
Because he was afraid she would say something about Samantha and I would see it? Because he was worried about her accidentally giving stuff away? Because he can’t stand her and it was an easy way to get her off his back?
– If they weren’t meeting up, why were they out at the same times? Why did their moods seem to mirror each other’s?
Coincidence. That’s all I can think of. That and the fact that I was so keen to see the signs you would probably have read anything into anything so long as it supported your theory.
When I look at it like this, there’s nothing concrete. Nothing that would convict her. Nothing that would justify me running to her husband and announcing that she was cheating on him. Nothing that would justify me allowing him to think his marriage was over.
And, of course, it’s all too obvious to me now that there’s more than one woman in Robert’s life whose name begins with an S.
Shit. By the time I reach home I’ve convinced myself I’m the most loathsome human ever. When I see Robert I almost start offering up apologies for ever doubting him, until I remember he’s just as guilty as he ever was. It’s only Saskia I should apologise to.
Saskia and Josh.
I can’t even think about what I’m going to say to Josh yet. He’s going to hate me, and rightly so. Not only have I sown a huge seed of doubt about his marriage, I’ve also encouraged him to do things that could jeopardize his career. I think about how funny I thought we were coming up with Saskia’s weight-gain storyline and I feel sick. What seemed like karma now strikes me as nasty, petty and bitchy, all qualities I despise. Terrifying though the thought is, I have to put this right as soon as I can.
Robert is droning on about work but I’m only half listening. I’m wondering whether it’s too late for Saskia’s character to suddenly conceive. The weight gain could be explained by her being pregnant. They could stuff padding of ever-increasing proportions up her dress and the real Saskia could lose the pounds that I know are making her so unhappy. I can suggest it to Josh once he’s got over what I have to tell him. If he ever does.
Something Robert is saying jolts me back to reality.
‘What did you just say? Sorry, I was miles away.’
‘I was saying we got the next batch of scripts. And now they’ve got Hargreaves having a fling with Marilyn! I mean, I’m not saying it couldn’t happen, but he’s always been devoted to Melody. It’s as if they have no idea who he is any more.’
Oh crap, I’d forgotten about that. Our plan to put Saskia’s nose out of joint. I don’t imagine for a second that Robert is really upset about this storyline. I imagine it’s all his Christmases come at once.
‘Isn’t she, like, twenty-two?’ I can’t help myself. Even though I’m preoccupied with the mess I’ve created, I can’t let him get away with that.
‘Sorry?’
‘What’s her name? The actress who plays Marilyn. Isn’t she really young?’
‘Samantha? About that, I don’t know. Why?’
‘Because you said it could happen. Her and Hargreaves. And it just seems really unlikely to me, that’s all. It’s not as if he’s meant to be stinking rich or anything. I mean, he’s in his forties and she’s twenty-two …’
‘He’s forty-one,’ he interjects and, for the first time this afternoon, I almost laugh.
‘Whatever. He’s way too old for her. It’s tacky.’
‘It’s not that it’s tacky. Plenty of young women find older men attractive. It’s just that Hargreaves wouldn’t do it.’
‘Trust me, it’s tacky. He’ll look like a dirty old perv.’
‘Well, that’s not making me feel any better, thanks.’
‘I’m just agreeing with you. It’s a terrible idea. If the old ladies don’t hate you for becoming a conman, they’re going to hate you for chasing after a woman young enough to be your daughter.’
‘Him, not me.’
‘Of course, that’s what I meant. But we all know they won’t see it that way.’
‘For Christ’s sake, Paula. I’m worried about this enough already. You’re not helping.’
I can tell that, deep down, even though he’s worried about the reaction this story will get from the public, he’s a bit proud of this one. The world will see that Robert Westmore aka Hargreaves is still attractive enough that a gorgeous young woman finds him irresistible. And sadly, that does seem to have come true in real life. Although I’m sure that the fact that this is probably Samantha’s first job and Robert has been a well-known face for a few years must have helped. He’s a big fish in a medium-sized, banal, mainstream pond and I imagine she found that impressive.
‘Why don’t you talk to Josh if it’s really bothering you?’ I say, knowing what the response will be.
Robert huffs.
‘What’s the point?’
I shrug. ‘At least you’d know you tried, I suppose.’
Later in the evening, to try to take my mind off Josh, I Google Samantha. I know that I have to do the grown-up thing and tell him the whole truth as soon as I’m able. I keep thinking about him and Saskia at home and her not understanding why he’s changed towards her. Why their happy, near-perfect marriage seems to have suddenly taken a turn for the worse. I’ve managed to convince myself this isn’t something I can do over the phone and I’ve sent him a text saying we need to meet up urgently. I got a reply within minutes:
‘Of course. When? X’
I try not to think what he thinks I want. A repeat performance. That I’ve changed my mind and I’m happy to dive headfirst into a relationship with him and to hell with keeping the moral high ground?
We make a plan to see each other tomorrow. I have to push it. He claims a busy schedule (which I don’t doubt for a second) and I reply offering to meet him anywhere (apart from the studio, obviously) any time (sorry, Myra). I get a couple of concerned messages back – ‘Everything OK??’, that kind of thing. I try to reassure him as best I can without getting into specifics. Because everything is most definitely not OK.
To try to distract myself, I decide to go for a run. An actual, legitimate run, not a run disguised as a chase after a bus. When I announce my intentions to Robert, dressed in my new, form-fitting, sweat-wicking sportswear, I notice his eyes flicking up and down. I’d forgotten he’s never seen me like this. I wait for the sarcastic ‘What? You?’
‘Have you lost even more weight?’ he says and, actually, there’s no hint of sarcasm.
There’s no point me denying it. ‘I think so. I’ve been trying.’
‘You definitely have. Are you working out?’
For some reason, I find this embarrassing to admit to. ‘Kind of.’
‘Blimey. What? Running?’
‘Walking, mostly. Weights. I joined a gym …’
‘Ha! What’s brought this on?’
I can feel myself going red.
‘I just thought I should get fit, that’s all.’
He jumps up. ‘I’ll come with you. I haven’t been for a run for ages.’
I know that this is good, him wanting us to do something together – they say that the couple who work out together stay together, which is obviously not what I want, but I want him to want it, if you know what I mean – but it’s the last thing I need. I need a bit of space to clear my head. I need time to work out how I’m going to explain myself to Josh. ‘I don’t really run. More just walk and then trot the odd bit. You’ll be frustrated.’
‘I can always leave you to it and meet you back here. I’ll get changed.’
I can hardly refuse. I tell myself to make the most of it, to use it as a bonding exercise. The fact that Robert isn’t seeing who I thought he was seeing doesn’t change anything. I still need to focus on convincing him it’s me he loves. And this is progress, there’s no denying it. Huge progress.
‘OK. Don’t be pissed off with me if I conk out, though.’
For the first time ever, I start running when I leave the front door and I don’t stop until I reach home again. Partly because I want to get it over with, but mostly because it feels good. My body feels strong. It’s impossible to dwell on negative thoughts when you’re doing something so physical. Despite Robert puffing along beside me, I’m able to forget everything that’s going on and just concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other.
After a while I notice that Robert is struggling to keep up. I slow my pace to let him catch me up.
‘What have you done with my wife?’ he says, as he stops and tries to catch his breath.
I laugh, despite everything. ‘Come on. No stopping.’
Now I’m fresh out of the shower and sitting in the bedroom with my laptop. The exercise-induced euphoria has worn off and I’ve come crashing back to earth with a thud.
‘Samantha Smith’ brings up a whole slew of results, but I head straight for Wikipedia. It’s a short entry, she hasn’t been in the public eye for very long. Samantha, it turns out, is an ancient twenty-three, born in Kent. No mention of any significant other, either now or in her past. Farmer Giles is her first professional job.
I look at a few photos just to pass the time. One of them is a cast picture from last year. Robert and Samantha are side by side. Her all fresh-faced and eager-looking, the new sexpot on the block. Him avuncular, genial in character. It’s impossible to imagine the two of them getting it on either on the show or in real life. Saskia is on the other side of Samantha, dressed in one of Melody’s trademark riding outfits. I’m hit with a pang of guilt so strong it takes my breath away. I shut the laptop down. I need to find a way to put things right.