As she made a coffee she glanced at the crystal fruit bowl, the one that had been a wedding present, and it brought back memories of that hot summer’s day when they had first moved into the house. How long ago that seemed now. She had hoped that a fresh start would repair their marriage. Now look at what had happened. I’ll find a way through, she told herself, feeling the familiar stirrings of the confident, capable Angie that she used to be so many moons ago. She had always been good in a crisis. One step at a time. But she had to do something important first and she couldn’t put it off any longer.

20

Sophie was staring out of the kitchen window, watching the rain hammer down onto the patio, when Angie burst into the garden. She was rushing through the downpour and clutching onto her hood to keep it from blowing off her head.

How dare she use the garden gate, like we’re still mates, after what she’s done? Adrenaline started to course through Sophie, her body preparing itself for fight or flight. Which one though? She considered moving away into another room, not answering the knock on the back door, which was increasingly imminent. But she remained where she was. This conversation, showdown, confrontation, whatever you wanted to call it, had to happen sooner or later so she might as well get it over with. Rage, intermingled with nerves, fluttered around inside her, amplifying with every step Angie took towards the house. She peered in through the glass door and spotted Sophie in the kitchen before giving a tentative knock.

Sophie watched her, standing outside in the rain, for a few more seconds and then walked over to unlock the door, moving aside to let her in.

‘Thanks,’ Angie said as she brushed water from her coat before hesitating, perhaps unsure whether to take it off or not.

Sophie watched her silently. She doesn’t know if she’ll be staying, she thought.

Eventually Angie shrugged the coat off. ‘Hi,’ she said.

Sophie nodded back at her.

‘Can we talk?’

Sophie nodded again. She inhaled and exhaled deeply a few times. She was too livid to speak.

Angie moved towards the kitchen table and sat down, waiting for Sophie to join her but she remained where she was and leaned back against the kitchen cupboards, arms folded. They regarded each other. Sophie took in Angie’s dishevelled, unmade-up appearance and wondered how it was possible to vehemently despise someone you had previously adored.

‘I’m so sorry,’ Angie began. ‘That’s what I’ve come here to say. I know that those words probably mean nothing to you, but I still wanted you to hear them.’

‘And now I have.’

‘What I did was unforgivable,’ Angie continued. ‘There’s no justification for it, so I’m not even going to try. I made a terrible, stupid decision and hurt people who didn’t deserve it. I know you hate me, and I don’t blame you, but I can assure you that I probably hate myself more.’