Chapters (60)
- Cover
- Books by Sheryl Browne
- Dedication
- KARLA
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Epilogue
- The Affair
- Hear more from Sheryl
- Books by Sheryl Browne
- A Letter from Sheryl
- The Babysitter
- The Second Wife
- Acknowledgements
‘Where were you?’ I ask him. I assume he won’t tell me the truth, but I wonder obliquely whether he cares that I haven’t tried to contact him either. I, too, needed some time. Time to process my feelings, to decide what to do – whether I should pack his bags and leave them outside or pray he came home and that, for now, he would stay. Whatever I do, I don’t want to initiate an argument he will then claim drove him away. He will take responsibility for the decisions he makes – perhaps already has made. I made a horrendous mistake; I accept that. Insisting he ingratiate himself with my father was wrong. Jason didn’t want to be beholden to him. But I won’t let him lay the blame for destroying our family at my feet.
‘I stayed at my sister’s,’ he says, with an awkward shrug. Is he telling the truth? I can’t tell. I have yet to learn the body language of my husband’s lies. ‘After that last argument we had, I thought we could both use a little space,’ he goes on, his expression wary, his eyes meeting mine briefly.
So he is blaming me then? I hide a disappointed smile. I can’t quite believe he would actually imply that my ‘snooping’ on him, accusing him of doing what I now know he’s been doing, is reason enough for him to disappear for two days without even having the courtesy to let me know he was alive.
I squash my growing anger. I’m determined not to fall into the tit-for-tat trap. ‘It must have been a bit cramped there,’ I say, aware that, with two children under five in a two-bedroomed house, his sister barely has room to swing a cat.
‘I slept on the sofa.’ He runs a hand tiredly over his neck. ‘Where are the kids?’ he asks, glancing around as if Holly and Josh might spring out from one of the kitchen cupboards.
‘At school,’ I supply. Perhaps he’s forgotten it’s a school day. It must be disorientating for him, I think cynically, having forgotten so completely that we existed. ‘Coffee?’ I ask him, turning away. I can’t look at him for fear I will see the deceit in his eyes. If I do, I will lose control and become the demented woman I was in his office I don’t like.
‘No, I, er… No, thanks,’ he answers hesitantly. ‘You’re not at work today then?’ he asks, as if surprised I would take a day off while my world falls apart. I suppose he might be. Knowing I need time stored up for when my children are sick, I rarely take a day off.