Page 61 of The Affair
Connie found a little café on the corner of one of the streets leading away from Hyde Park. Perched on a high stool at the window counter, the seats beside her empty at that hour, she savoured her first sip of hot coffee and watched people hurrying past on their way to work. She couldn’t remember when she’d last eaten, but the seeded roll filled generously with thick slices of buttery bacon proved too much for her after the first bite.
Tessa was expecting her late morning. As she brought up the TfL map on her phone to plan her route to Hampstead, a call came in.Caty.Connie held her breath, glancing around the café, the mobile still buzzing in her palm. A small queue of people stood waiting to be served at the counter, but no one was paying her any attention, the café noisy with the coffee machine and breakfast radio, banter from the two women making up the orders.
‘Hi, sweetheart,’ she said dully.
‘Mum? Where are you? What’s going on?’ Caitlin sounded panicky, which made Connie feel guilty all over again. ‘I got this garbled call from Dad late last night, but I couldn’t work out what the hell he was onabout … except that you’d apparently gone off somewhere.’ Her daughter gave a short laugh. ‘He was hammered, so I’m sure it’s all nonsense. But you know me, I hardly slept a wink.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ Connie said, wishing that Devanhadmade sense, that Caitlin already knew, that she didn’t have to be the one to break the dreadful news.
‘Mum?’ Caitlin’s voice was suddenly fearful.
Taking a deep breath, Connie filled her daughter in, her calm articulacy surprising her. She thought she must come across almost as cold.
The silence at the other end was profound. Connie could picture her daughter’s face, shocked and disbelieving, unable to find any words with which to respond. But it was the wave preparing to break and she braced herself.
‘You …cheated on Dad?’ She sounded bemused. After a long pause she asked, ‘Who with?’
‘It’s a long story …’ Which Connie went on to tell in as sparse detail as possible.
‘Oh, my God.’ She heard Caitlin let out a sharp breath when she finished. There was a long pause, then simply, ‘I don’t know what to say.’
Connie didn’t know what to say, either. She knew it would be a mistake to try to justify her behaviour in light of her problems with Devan at the time. And she could never explain the sexual obsession Jared had represented. Not to her daughter, not to Devan, not even to herself.
‘So, this man’s a nutter, a total fucking stalker,’Caitlin was saying. ‘Christ, poor Dad. That’s so cruel.’ A pause.
Connie waited. The wave had still not vented its true fury.
‘Why didn’t you stop him, Mum?’ Caitlin demanded, her voice now steely. ‘Why did you let this bastard move in and make friends with Dad? That’s so fucking shitty.’
‘Itried, sweetheart. I really did. I did everything in my power to get him to leave.’
But Caitlin wasn’t listening. ‘You should have made him, Mum. What the hell were you thinking?’ She drew in an angry breath. ‘You could at least have warned Dad. Not let this jerk cosy up to him. I mean, who does that?’
‘I thought he’d go away.’
Connie heard Bash’s voice in the background, Caitlin tempering her anger as she greeted her son, then Ash’s concerned tones.Ash, too, she thought miserably.
‘Listen, I’ve got to go,’ Caitlin said. ‘Talk later.’
Connie sat clutching her silent phone, realizing her hand was shaking.Will we?
She felt in that moment that she’d forfeited any agency over her life. She was at everyone’s mercy, now. If Devan chose not to see her again, that was his prerogative. If Caitlin cut her out of her life, that was hers too. If Jared decided to find her and stalk her again, he could do that. And if Tessa didn’t fancy having her in the house, then she could ask her to leave. She could – and would at some stage, when she’d had time to think – put up a fight to save her marriage. But Connie liked to be in control. It was as if Jared had loosenedthe strings on her life. In giving in to him, she had temporarily lost her grip on everything else, including the person she felt she used to be.
Tessa’s house was in a quiet terrace a short walk down the hill from the tube station. Half brick, half white stucco, it had steps up to the front door and area steps down to a half basement. Connie, feeling like a refugee, hauled her case to the top of the flight and rang the bell. The street was almost empty mid-morning, eerily silent after the crowded busyness of the main road – just minutes away – with its numerous shops and cafés.
She hesitated before pressing the small brass bell, trying to settle herself to greet her friend. She felt as if her head was lying in a thousand pieces, but she didn’t want to appear crazy before she’d had a chance to explain. When she’d asked if she could stay, she’d merely said she needed a few days away. Beyond that, she couldn’t focus.
Nobody answered. She waited, then rang again. Nothing. Connie pulled out her phone. Tessa’s mobile went to answer. She frowned. It was cold on the steps, the winter sun now fallen behind the houses. Although she’d managed to keep herself together thus far, she knew she was on the edge, just dying to be safe inside Tessa’s house, maybe with a glass of wine, a hot bath, a bed on which she could rest for an hour or two. She felt tears stinging behind her eyes and blinked them away, imagining the neighbours tweaking the wooden slats of their blinds – the modern-day equivalent ofnets – and wondering who this peculiar woman was, loitering outside Tessa’s front door with a suitcase and in tears.
On the verge of bumping her case back down to the pavement, and going to find a warm café to sit in until her friend returned, Connie heard a shout and saw Tessa hurrying along the street, clutching a bulging mustard-yellow string bag in one hand and balancing a white cardboard cake box in the other. She was dressed in jumper and jeans, a red wool scarf round her neck – no coat – and sparkly silver sandals on her feet. Her right toe was swathed in a bulky bandage.
‘Connie!’ She arrived at the bottom of the steps pink-faced and breathless. ‘Sorry, sorry! I just popped out for some lunch and the queue was horrendous.’ She handed Connie the cake box and pulled out a huge bunch of keys, with a fluffy ball attached, from her back pocket. ‘You must be frozen to death.’
As soon as the front door was shut, Connie let out a quiet sigh of relief. Tessa took the box from her. ‘Come through, have a seat. Leave your case – I’ll show you your room in a minute.’
The kitchen-sitting room was to the left of the front door, the sitting area on the street side, with a large, worn olive-green velvet sofa, a wall-mounted television and books floor to ceiling on either side of a gas-log fire. The kitchen was at the back, looking onto the garden. It was cosy and cluttered and the decor hadn’t been updated for years. Connie instantly felt at home.
Plonking her purchases on the kitchen table, Tessacame back to where Connie was standing and wrapped her in a welcoming hug. ‘I’m so glad you’re here, Con,’ she said. ‘You have no idea. I think sometimes I’m going crazy, all by myself.’ She laughed and gave Connie a rueful smile. ‘You know me. I never was one to relish my own company.’
