“Yes.”

“I didn’t… I never… I had no idea.”

“Well.” Her voice was tight. “You see why this wasn’t really my place.”

Scott stared down at his hands, at the bandaged hand and the one with half a pinkie finger. He studied his wedding ring, as he often found himself doing, but now he was thinking about his old ring: the one Natalie had slid onto his finger.

He remembered the shiny happiness in her eyes, the love. And she was hiding it, this, all along. He thought he’d known her completely; despite the pain it brought, the arguments, they’d been their true selves with each other.

“Her parents are religious. Properly religious. I wonder if that’s why she never said anything. Can you tell me what this other woman looked like? She might know something.”

“I never saw her up close. I’m sorry.”

“What about the details of the renters from around that time? Maybe they got a closer look at her.”

“I can’t–”

“Please. You don’t know how badly I need this.”

“I’ve said too much already.”

She hung up. Scott thought about ringing back, but what would be the point? She’d only do the same. Plus he didn’t know if he had another conversation in him.

His wife had been having an affair with a woman.

There had never been any signs, had there? Scott thought back, but all he could recall was the love, the closeness, the jokes and the warmth. If he wanted, there was more, ugly smears with which he might’ve marked their marriage. But he couldn’t, not ever, and especially not after the car, unseeing eyes…

Nobody was perfect, not him, not Natalie.

Scott clearly hadn’t paid very close attention. She’d been living a second life and he’d never guessed a thing.

No more sleepwalking through life. He was going to take control.

His phone buzzed again.

Tick-tock. You don’t want to keep me waiting xxxxx

15

NATALIE

Living a lie.

I’d never liked that phrase. It implied my entire existence was false, that there was nothing true about my life whatsoever. But that wasn’t the case.

I enjoyed my time with my friends. I liked visiting Mum and Dad, even if I knew they’d never want to see me again if I told them the truth; they were evil when it came to gay people, truly evil, and yet I loved them too much to hate them for it.

I enjoyed reading and my hobbies and writing and all the rest of it.

But yes, when it came to my sexuality, I never told anybody… well, almost anybody.

I wasn’t ashamed of being gay. It was Mum and Dad, knowing they’d never be able to accept me. So maybe that is a kind of shame. Whatever; I stowed it away, locked it in a corner of my mind, and tried to ignore it.

Scott often complained I didn’t initiate sex enough. I knew it was difficult for him. He didn’t understand why I wasn’t like other women: why I was content to go weeks or even months without so much as a quickie. Sex with men simply didn’t interest me. It never had. There was nothing personal about it. I could never remember being attracted to a man, or a boy when I was a child; it had been girls from the start.