Page 25 of The First Mistake

Thanks for coming to get Liv this morning. Hope you’ve caught up with everything you needed to do. Just to let you know that Nathan will be dropping Millie back after ballet x

Even as I type it, I feel a little uneasy, after the conversation I’ve just had with Nathan. Of all the days for him to finally meet Beth, he goes and implies that she might not even exist!

I receive a message back from Beth almost immediately.

No, don’t worry – I’ll grab the girls x

Me:It’s honestly not a problem x

Beth:I’ll drop Olivia home, but can’t stop x

Me:Okay, if you’re sure x

Beth:Yep x

I leave a message on Nathan’s voicemail and then call the florist to let them know of their mistake. I’d hate for poor Rachel to be none the wiser about the olive branch that was being offered by whoever had upset her. I couldn’t have that on my conscience.

‘Hello, Roses Florist, how can I help you?’ I can hear Elton John’s ‘Tiny Dancer’ playing in the background.

‘Oh, hi,’ I start. ‘I’ve had some flowers delivered today, but they’ve come to me by mistake.’

‘Oh goodness,’ the woman on the other end of the line says. ‘I’m so sorry about that.’

‘It’s no problem, I just want to make sure they get to the right person.’

‘That’s very kind of you. Most people wouldn’t bother and would keep them for themselves.’

Really?

I give her my name and address and listen as she hums along to the song. I imagine her running a finger down a list.

‘Ah yes, here it is,’ she says. ‘24 Orchard Drive. That’s the address I’ve got.’

‘That’smyaddress,’ I say. ‘But there’s no Rachel here.’

She hums a little more. ‘Well, I don’t know what’s happened there then, but they’ve definitely gone to the correct address.’

‘Well, do you have the sender’s name? Perhaps you could give them a call to make sure they’ve given you the right address?’

‘The sender is a Mr Davies, but I don’t seem to have a phone number for him. Oh, that’s annoying.’

‘Wait,’ I say, as a buzzing sound rings in my ears. ‘Nathan Davies sent them?’

‘Yes, do you know him?’ Her voice is hopeful, eager to solve the mystery.

‘He’s my husband,’ I say, ignoring the band of pressure that is tightening around my head.

‘Well, there you go then,’ she says happily. ‘Theyhavegone to the right place.’

She has no idea what she’s just done.

Tears fill my eyes as I end the call and stare at the phone in disbelief. Nathan must have ordered them to go to another address, but they’ve sent them to his billing address by mistake. I imagine how furious he must have been at their faux pas, and how well he kept his emotions in check whilst he was professing his undying love for me.

I take the stairs, two at a time, to our bedroom, feeling like a drug addict desperate for a fix. I want to numb the pain, but I know that once I find what I’m looking for, it will only multiply it tenfold. It doesn’t stop me though – Ihaveto know.

Nathan’s wardrobe looks like a display in an exclusive men’s boutique. A row of identical white shirts hang above a shelf of neatly stacked handkerchiefs, a separate pile for each colour.

I realize I don’t actually know exactly what I’m looking for as I carefully lift the lid of his watch box. I pull out the miniature drawers and finger his cufflinks; I recognize them all. His underwear drawer reveals nothing new and I even find myself looking at the bottom of his shoes, though for what, I’m not quite sure. Do I really believe my sleuthing skills are so advanced that I would be able to determine the ground type from the tiny pitted indents on his soles? And from that, establish that he visited a particular hotel, with a certain type of woman? I laugh hollowly at how insane this all is.

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