Page 60 of The Affair
‘So, who’s the friend?’ he repeated stubbornly.
‘Tessa. Not sure you know her. We were at school together. She lives in Hampstead.’ The name sprang to Connie’s lips almost involuntarily under the pressure of Neil’s questioning. She’d barely spoken to her friend in the last ten years, beyond a sporadic exchange of emails. But Tessa’s husband, Martin, had died in March and she’d gone to his funeral. Tessa had been in touch since, begged Connie to come and stay, saying how much she hated the empty house. For all Connie knew, of course, she was currently visiting her daughter in Hawaii, or had a houseful of other strays.
She heard Neil sigh. ‘OK. But I’m worried about you.’
‘I’ve just got to sort this out.’
‘How will you do that from North London?’
‘Neil, please, can we talk about this another time? I really need a lift. I’ll get a taxi if you can’t do it. I know your mum’s staying.’
‘There in fifteen,’ he said.
She let out a sigh of relief. Terry, the village taxi driver, inhaled gossip as others did air, then blew it out again as soon as he had a captive audience. Word would get round soon enough, but she wasn’t going to help it along.
Connie hauled her case downstairs. Glancing into the sitting room, she saw Devan on the sofa. He looked as if he’d just keeled over sideways where he sat, his head resting uncomfortably half on, half off a cushion, his feet still on the floor. In sleep, his face was sunken, his skin grey. He looked as if he’d aged years since she’d last seen him, his mouth twitching as if he were having bad dreams. She gave a quiet gasp, her heart leaping in her chest, so full of love did she feel for the man who had been at the centre of her life since she was in her early twenties.
She tiptoed over to the sofa and laid her hand on his head, stroking his dark hair, tears spilling from her eyes. She wanted to gather him in her arms, to rock him till his pain was gone. But she was the cause of that pain.
Devan’s eyes sprang open. At first his glance was unfocused. Then he must have remembered. ‘Don’t,’ he said, cuffing her hand away as he shot upright, his stare thick with confusion.
Connie moved back, shocked at his unqualified rejection, although she knew she had no right to be.What did I expect?
‘Neil’s taking me to the station,’ she said.
Unlike Neil, Devan didn’t ask where she was going. He merely nodded, his gaze flickering to her case. Leaning back against the cushions, he pressed his palms briefly against his eyes, then dropped them to rest on his knees. ‘Jared’s gone.’
Connie stared. ‘How do you know?’
‘I sat outside his house for hours last night. Banged on the door. There’s no one there – you can tell. And his car’s gone.’ His smile was cynical, knowing. ‘I suppose you tipped him off.’
She didn’t bother to refute the accusation.
‘Cowardly little shit,’ Devan added.
Connie didn’t know what to say, except ‘Sorry’ for the umpteenth time. But she knew Devan was too hurt to hear. The unwelcome thought sprang to mind that she need never have confessed to her husband. Just telling Jared she intended to might have been enough to see him off. But she knew it wasn’t as simple as that.
Devan didn’t get up at the sound of Neil’s knock. ‘Bye,’ she said softly, reluctant to walk away from all that she held dear, but feeling she had no choice … for the time being, certainly. At least, she hoped it was for the time being. The thought that it might be permanent was unacceptable, too horrible even to contemplate.
26
When Connie woke the next morning in a strange hotel room and to the muted roar of traffic, she thought for a moment she was on one of her tours.
The room was the cheapest she could find, last minute – although not what she would have called cheap – in a Bayswater tourist hotel near Lancaster Gate. It looked as if it hadn’t been redecorated since the eighties, the walls covered with varnished pine planks, twin bracket lights with singed pink shades, a patterned carpet in sickly browns and beige, the duvet cover and sheet a washed-out flesh colour. Even in Connie’s distressed state, she’d shuddered as she got into bed the night before, smelling the flat, synthetic pillow with distaste and trying not to think of all the heads that had lain there before hers.
It was not yet daylight outside, the orange sodium glow piercing the thin cotton curtains coming not from the sun but from numerous city street lamps. She lay listening to the intermittent beep, beep, beep, beep of the pedestrian crossing immediately beneath her window, which had also lulled her to sleep. At least she had slept, so worn out by emotional turmoil that her brain had shut down and refused to function for another second.
Her phone said six fifteen. But clearly there were plenty of people already out and about, crossing the road outside with monotonous regularity.Now what?She was aware of the loo flushing in the next room, the banging of doors, the chatter of other hotel guests passing her door.
Connie was already regretting her decision to accept Tessa’s kind offer to stay – which she’d secured late last night. Being alone, having some time to gather her strewn thoughts, seemed all she was capable of right now. But she couldn’t stay here another night, and fancier places would have concomitant prices attached.
She was dreading her friend’s unspoken censure. Tessa was no prude, and she’d never known her to be judgemental, but she’d recently buried a beloved husband of thirty-plus years. Connie had thrown hers away with a piece of spectacular indulgence.
There was no message from Devan – she’d expected none. No further message from Caitlin – the last one saying,Just checking in, Mum. Nothing important. Speak soon.Connie knew she would have to call her today and her heart contracted.
Nothing from Jared either, although he never contacted her … until he was outside her bedroom door. She blanched at the thought that there was even the remotest chance he might be out there now.He’s gone, running scared, like Devan said, she told herself firmly, experiencing through her cautious relief a twinge of sadness, nonetheless, for a man who felt the need to behave in this peculiarly destructive way. She wasconfident there was no chance he could find her there, or at Tessa’s, anyway. Although she didn’t feel she could relax yet. Not until there was proof that the gremlin was finally off her shoulder.
The only message on her phone was from dear Neil:Ring me, darling. Need to know you’re OK.She texted back:I’m fine-ish. Thanks for asking♥
