Page 76 of The Key to My Heart

And he’s familiar. Really familiar. And the realisation settles on me, all at once, as he smiles, as he nods knowingly and authoritatively to the DJ.

Oh.

Oh God.

He’s the guy I saw in the restaurant with Joe, by the river. Don was the man with his hands all over that woman. That woman who wasn’t Shauna.

Tom’s toast went beautifully. At first, he read from his phone, something he’d obviously written and rehearsed, but then he slipped it into his pocket, said into the mic, ‘Okay, that’s enough of that, I feel like I’m giving a bloody sermon,’ and just chatted – as Tom does. People laughed, of course, Shauna cried, and Don pulled him in for an enormous bear hug, and then Shauna cried evenmorewhen, one by one, the beautiful Madden brothers – Laurie, Mark, George and Danny – got up and, one by one, handed Shauna a gift for every decade of their marriage together. A dress, a bracelet, and dancing shoesfor her, plus an extra gift: dancing shoes for Don. That was the surprise. Don and Shauna, to dance together. He’d been practising, he’d told the room, although it didn’t stop him mock-recoiling as he took the shoes from his son, as the room erupted in laughter too. They’d all looked so happy. A stage of smiles, a crowd of whoops and cheers. But I stood feeling like my bones were turning to stone, that my heart was a brick in my chest. Don was with another woman. He was groping another woman,kissinganother woman. And I saw. I know. I wish I had doubt, but there is none. It was him. It was Don.

After the toast, the Maddens dissolved into the crowd, the dance floor continuing to heave, and I’d found a chair, tucked away in the back, and it’s there I sit now, sipping my room-temperature lemonade, hoping, for once, Tom doesn’t find me just yet. I need to think about what to do, about whether I should say something. And if not to Shauna, to Tom? God, could I tell Tom? Ugh, I feel sick. I need to talk to someone. Jodie. Jodie will know what to do. She always knows what to do.

I squeeze my way through the crowds and out through an open door tucked at the back of the venue, the heavy drapes lining the wall, parted a little. I stumble out into the cold night air. A group, clouded in cigarette smoke and a mist of vapour that smells like blackberries, turn to look at me as I do. I round the corner, as far as I can get from the other guests, and dial Jodie’s number. After three rings, she picks up. In the background, I can hear the TV – a quiz show, by the sounds of things – and the clink of plates.

‘You all right, Nat?’ she says. ‘Sorry, hang on, Carl has this telly on way too loud, anyone would think he was sitting two miles from it with his head in a bucket … Nat? Are you still there? Are you okay?’

‘I’m fine,’ I say as the noise of the TV fades. ‘I’m at that anniversary thing—’

‘Oh, yeah? What’s it like?’

‘Yeah, it’s … The venue, it’s stunning. Like something out of Pride and Prej or something …’

‘Oh, bloody Nora. Very swish. Is Tom there?’

‘Yeah, he’s inside. Look, Jode, I need to ask you something. I’m having this – actual dilemma.’

‘Is it about snogging Tom? Because if you’re wondering, I think it’s well overdue, and my answer would always beyes. Do it.’

‘No, no,’ I say. ‘It’s not about Tom. Not really. It’s … So the other night, Joe and I, we went out to dinner. By the river. And while we were there, we saw this guy – older guy, about Dad’s age, all over this woman at the next table. Grabbing her arse and groping her and …’ A woman walks by out onto the grass. She puts a hood up on her shawl-like coat, lighting up a cigarette, an orange orb in the dark. ‘And kissing her,’ I whisper.

‘Right.Okay?’

‘And I’m at the party and it was time for Tom’s dad to go up on stage and he stood there, with the mic, and I thought – I thought—’

‘No.No!’ says Jodie. The penny has already dropped.

‘It was him, Jodie. It was Shauna’s bloody husband I saw. Honestly, it was, I’d bet … I don’t know. My life on it.’

‘Shit. Oh, God. And you’re absolutely sure.’

‘Yes. A hundred per cent. A hundred andten.’

Jodie blows a noisy breath down the line, and hearing myself say these words makes my heart pound. Fuck. What am I going to do?

‘I think you should tell Tom,’ says Jodie quickly.

‘Really? Now?’

‘I just … Do you think you can carry on being his friend and not say?’ says Jodie.

‘Oh, God.’

‘Do you want me to ask Carl?’

‘Please,’ I say, breathlessly, the dark air pluming with the steam of my warm, shallow, panicked bloody breaths.

For a moment, I hear Jodie’s muffled voice, explaining to Carl everything I just told her, and the wait, listening to their quiet TV in the background, is unbearable. I want to tell Tom. Of course I do. But I don’t want to tell him all at once. I’ve just told him to give his dad a chance. Mere moments ago. Plus Tom already holds himself back from love because of his parents, doesn’t trust it, and I will shatter any tiny bit of hope he still has in it the second I say the words.

‘Right,’ says Carl. ‘Right, I see,’ and he talks like a doctor might, if you sat him down and told him you had a tail suddenly growing out of your arse. Unshakable. Years working as an NHS psychologist makes you that way, I suppose.

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