Page 48 of The Missing Ingredient

“Just tagging along, really. Drinks down the pub with his football friends. And dinner with his work colleagues and their other halves when Tom needed someone on his arm.”

Marcus stayed his tongue this time. But unwelcome thoughts began to seep into his head. Was she really only acting as a companion to his formal events? Or was there more?

“Been trying to persuade him to take a weekend break with his girls and my son, James. They’re around the same age. If only I could get him to take some time off. He works so hard. Almost missed Katie’s parent-teacher evening.”

Perfect timing: the man in question returned to his seat at that moment.

“You took Jeanette to Katie’s open evening?” asked Moira, surprised, preempting Marcus, who had been about to ask the same thing. “You never said anything.”

Taking his seat, Tom simply shrugged but offered no explanation.

“Oh, I didn’t mind,” said Jeanette after a quick glance at Tom, clearly sensing she had stumbled upon something contentious. “James is in the year below Katie, so we did each other a favor, really. Anyway, the teacher we saw—Miss Stewart—seemed to be really impressed with Katie.”

“I thought Colbert was Katie’s homeroom teacher?” asked Marcus, glaring at Tom. “Doesn’t Stewart only take her for numbers? Why didn’t you—”

“Colbert was sick,” interrupted Tom, returning Marcus’s fierce gaze.

“Then why not reschedule?” asked Marcus softly, but Jeanette had already continued on, the poor woman floundering in the wake of Tom’s reticence.

“She had nothing but good things to say. A super bright girl, she called her. Said she’d always been good at reading and writing but had struggled with basic arithmetic. And then mentioned how much she had improved over the past term.”

Yes, thought Marcus, thanks to my hours of tutoring and perseverance. Even a cursory glance told him that Tom could read his bubbling anger.

“And now you’re considering a weekend break with Jeanette and James, I hear?” Marcus said, directly to Tom.

“Nothing’s decided yet,” said Tom, glaring back at Marcus. “Depends on a whole lot of things. Work, timing, school holidays.”

“Sounds lovely,” said Moira.

Yes, thought Marcus. One big happy family.

When poor Jeanette began to backtrack, Marcus let his head fall forward, pinched the bridge of his nose, and took a huge breath. Nausea caught in his stomach. Abruptly pushing his chair back from the table, he stood and addressed Tom’s mother and father, interrupting Jeanette. “Moira, John. Thank you very much for this evening. Would love to stay longer, but I need to rush off to deal with an urgent issue.”

Under his breath, he muttered, “Get my head examined.”

After bidding a general but cursory farewell to everyone—while ignoring eye contact with Tom—Marcus headed out of the restaurant. When he was barely twenty paces along the road, a hand grabbed him by the forearm and spun him around.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” hissed Tom.

“You,” cried Marcus, yanking Tom’s hand away. Anger bristled inside him, and the raw fury stopped Tom in his tracks. “You’re what’s wrong with me. Not only are you keeping me out of the loop on things, you’ve turned me into your dirty little secret. And do you know what’s fucking ironic? You’re using me for sex and poor clueless Jeanette for respectability. Parading her in front of colleagues, relatives, and teachers because you’re too ashamed to have another man by your side. Because of what people might think.”

“It’s not like that. She’s just helping out.”

“Are you fucking her?”

“No! There’s only you. I told you, we’re simply helping each other out. I—I’m doing my best to get things back on an even keel, back to normal.”

“Is that what you want? Normal?”

“For the girls’ sake, yes. What’s so wrong with that?”

“Nothing’s wrong with that. It’s just…. Where do I fit into your normal?”

The two men stared at each other. Marcus’s vision had blurred. Tom had no answer for that, and finally Marcus stepped away from him.

“Just as I thought,” he said and then let out a deep sigh before calming his voice. “You know, I think it’s my turn now. To tellyoutoback off. Give me a chance to find someone who respects me, who can not only be brave enough to stand next to me but also to stand up for me. I’m calling a time-out.”

“Is that what you want?”

---