Page 40 of The Lie
‘Are you OK?’ Romy asked.
Anezka let out a long sigh and pressed the tissue she’d retrieved from her bag to her eyes. ‘I love Michael so much.’ She stopped and blinked at Romy. ‘But I think he has what he always wanted now.’
Puzzled, Romy asked, ‘What do you mean?’
Anezka said nothing, just stepped forward and gave Romy a brief hug, then turned and was gone, the door slamming behind her.
‘It must have been the sweatpants,’ Michael said grimly, when she went back into the sitting room.
Romy handed him his tea.
‘The worst bit was seeing the pity on her face … remembering the man I was, the man she fell for …’
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, unable to deny the truth of what he said.
‘Yes, well …’ He shrugged and was silent for a moment. Then he seemed to pull himself together and gave her a charming smile. ‘So, I’m footloose and fancy free again. Any takers?’
Romy forced a smile. She felt suddenly panicky and rose quickly to her feet, her tea still on the table, untouched. As she reached the door she heard Michael’s voice behind her.
‘I behaved like an arse yesterday, about Fincham,’ he said, biting his lip. ‘I’m sorry.’
Romy turned to see him staring at her intently, his right hand anxiously kneading his left in his lap.
‘None of my business, what you get up to,’ he went on. ‘It was wrong of me to blurt it out to Leo like that.’
She nodded as she stood there, arms crossed. ‘Thanks.’
Michael’s expression was rueful. ‘But I’ll admit, I’m horribly jealous of your brigadier.’
‘Colonel,’ Romy corrected him.
He chuckled. ‘I’ve just promoted him.’ Then his expression sobered again. ‘Anyway, the thought of him putting his hands all over you … It made me feel thoroughly sick.’
Romy suppressed a sigh. She didn’t want Michael treading his muddy boots across her relationship with Finch, even in the privacy of his mind.
‘Anezka got it right,’ Michael was saying. His speech had much improved in the last week or so. He still spokeslowly, and often paused to find a word, but he was beginning to sound like a ponderous version of his old self. ‘The reason I’m jealous is blindingly obvious.’
Romy barely controlled a sharp shake of the head. She didn’t want to hear any more.
‘I miss you. I miss our life together. I miss … all of it.’
However much she didn’t want to hear them, his words sounded genuine and full of a passion he had latterly used only in the courtroom, never in relation to herself or their marriage. Tears rose to her eyes.So that’s what Anezka meant.
‘But I realize you’re hardly going to plump for a miserable old crock like this,’ he patted his chest, ‘with Action Man waiting in the wings. And I don’t blame you.’
‘It’s not about that, you know it isn’t.’ She sighed. ‘I thought we’d put all this behind us.’ She found her heart aching for the man, shrunken inside the chair opposite, and gave herself a mental shake. Going down that road would do neither of them any favours. ‘You’ve always despised self-pity,’ she said briskly. ‘This is not like you.’
Michael blinked anxiously and visibly straightened up. ‘I’mnotlike me, Romy. Can’t you see that? I don’t feel even remotely like the man I used to be. I …’ He gave a gulping swallow. ‘I feel pathetic, vulnerable, like I’ve lost a layer of skin. I keep seeing myself …’
Neither of them spoke for a long time. Thoughts churned in Romy’s head, a jumble of the past and the present, of Michael, of Finch. None of it made much sense, except that she didn’t want to be here, didn’t want to be having this conversation.
‘Are you in love with Fincham?’ Michael’s voice had suddenly found its strength again.
‘I don’t know,’ she said, when he continued to stare, clearly waiting for her to speak.
But he wasn’t satisfied with her response. ‘Come on, Romy, not good enough. Speak up, you must have some idea.’
‘We’re not in court, Michael,’ she retorted, remembering his habit of relentlessly picking away at a subject until he got the answer he required.
