He was nervous, I could tell. I gave him my jacket and sat down on the sofa. I felt like I was going to be sick. The room was lovely, actually, much nicer than I’d expected. The colors were soft and relaxing, and a bowl of pink summer roses on the table made the room warm and welcoming. On the mantelpiece were a couple of photos in silver frames. I saw a teenage boy with a direct gaze and hair down to his shoulders: he looked like he wouldn’t take any crap. Then there was a photo of the same boy aged about seven with a smile that would break your heart. Next to him was Tom, looking tanned and relaxed, and on the other side was a woman in her thirties with dark glossy hair and sharp cheekbones. I’d last seen her an hour or two before, kissing my husband. She had her arm slung around the boy in a casual hug and I wondered what on earth she was doing, having an affair when she had so much to lose.

“What did you want, Emma?” Tom said. He was clearly trying to act nonchalant, as though your wife’s boss’s wife came calling uninvited every Friday evening, but his back was stiff, I noticed, and his hand gripped his wineglass. He took a long drink—I knew exactly how he felt—and put the glass down on the coffee table.

“I wanted to talk to you,” I said. “I think my husband is having an affair with your wife.”

He stared at me, then laughed. “What?”

“Your wife works for my husband,” I said. “They’re away in Paris this weekend.”

“Yes. They’re at a conference. She’s his PA.”

“That’s not all she is.” I hated that, no matter how I tried, I sounded bitter. As though I cared.

He stared at me for ages. I met his eyes straight on. I knew I’d sounded like a bitch, but I had nothing to be ashamed of.

“Tell me everything,” he said.

And so I did.

CHAPTER 25

Emma

We hadn’t talked for long before I caved in and let Tom pour me a glass of wine, and then when he asked if I’d like another, I decided that I’d take a taxi home. Soon the bottle was empty.

Tom stood. “I’ll get some more wine.”

While he was out of the room, I called, “Mind if I use your bathroom?”

“Of course not. It’s out here, off the hallway.”