I turned back to the list of numbers, the blood pumping in my ears.

The mobiles were next, the first of them designated with the letter A. Presumably this was her main method for contacting Ben – and the way she had warned him about my plan in the mall last night. I put another coin into the payphone but my fingers hesitated over the keypad. If he picked up, what would I say? What should I say? Or was it better to say nothing?

It is better to know than not know. I dialled the number and waited, my hand on the receiver slippery with sweat. It rang once, twice. Six times. Then went to voicemail, an automated female voice asking me to leave a message. I hung up. Dialled it again. Six rings and then voicemail again. What should I say? Hi Ben, this is Joe, you tried to wreck my marriage, you bastard – let’s meet up to discuss? I hung up again, and was about to hit redial when I stopped myself. A couple of random calls might be OK, but a third from the same number might arouse Ben’s suspicion. I put the phone back in its cradle.

The lanky youth in the cannabis leaf cap had come closer again, holding out his mobile, taking pictures of me in the phone booth. I realised why his face had seemed familiar. He had been a student at Haddon Park, maybe a year or two ago. Ryley something. Ryley Warner. Polite, quiet kid in Year Seven, trainee arsehole by Year Eleven. How did that happen, exactly? It seemed that he had now graduated summa cum laude from the arsehole academy.

I turned my back to him, checked my list of numbers again. Lover, hotel, work, husband’s work and so on. They performed a very specific function: enabling Mel to run her double life, to carry on the affair, while keeping it contained and airtight from the rest of her life. Keeping the two separate and distinct so they could not overlap, so they always ran in parallel and never converged. Except they had converged, the moment our four-year-old son spotted her car in traffic last Thursday night.

The payphone rang, tinny and loud in the enclosed booth. Then a second time.

For a few seconds I was completely frozen.

What?

It rang a third time, the digital display showing the last mobile number I had called.

But the last number was –

Ben was calling me back.

Chapter 53

53