Page 66 of The Affair
‘And stop bloody stalking me,’ she managed, but her voice trembled.
Jared seemed genuinely taken aback, but he didn’t shift, didn’t remove his hand.
‘I saw you,’ she stated, more forcefully. ‘The other day, on the hill. And you – you put those ravioli in my shopping bag.’ She realized as she spoke that this was the only real accusation she could level at him, and it sounded insane.
He frowned, looking mystified. ‘Ravioli? I’m sorry, Connie, you’ve lost me.’
Breathing fast with frustration, she wasn’t going to be fobbed off this time. ‘I know it was you.’ She tried to remember which day she had seen him on the rainy hill, but her mind wouldn’t focus. Their faces were too close as he leaned towards her, his eyes dark pools of purpose. She refused to give way, wouldn’t leave any gap through which he could pounce as she waited for the moment when he would let his hand drop from the jamb and she could slam the door shut.
‘Couldn’t have been me. I’ve been in Berlin. Only flew in a couple of hours ago,’ Jared said.
Connie stared at him. He seemed so calm. So frighteningly calm. She didn’t believe him. But the fear that she had imagined it all, put a false spin on perfectly normal situations – his face under the umbrella, theparcel in her shopping – was almost more terrifying than Jared himself.
‘Remove your hand.’ She heard the venom in her voice. ‘And if you ever,evercome near me again, I’ll go straight to the police.’
He gaped at her. ‘Police? God … don’t say that.’ But his tone was quietly rational as he continued. ‘I thought, now Devan is off the scene …’ When she didn’t respond, he frowned as if baffled. But his next words were sharp, intense, his voice ratcheting up to something close to desperation. ‘He doesn’t love you, Connie. Can’t you see that? Where is he now, for instance? I mean, who leaves the person they love all alone at Christmas?’
‘I said, remove your hand. NOW,’ she repeated.
Jared was blinking fast, his cheeks flushed as if she’d smacked him. ‘Connie, please …’
For a split second she almost felt sorry for him. He looked so pathetic, standing there in the glow of the street lamps, his face pink with cold, clinging to a ludicrous delusion as forcefully as he held onto the door jamb. And to think she’d once thought him Mr Cool: the handsome, seasoned traveller, the one in charge, who turned up and melted away again when it suited him, who’d been so confident in his way around her body that she’d lost her reason. It made her feel sick.
The night air seemed suspended between them as their eyes met. She held his gaze, hoping he would finally see her steely rejection writ large and glowing neon. He didn’t flinch. Then, to her unutterable relief,she watched the fight slowly drain out of him. Stiffly, he released his grip and stood back.
‘OK,’ he said quietly. He held up the bag he’d been carrying in his other hand. ‘This is for you.’ Before she had time to stop him, he dropped it through the doorway, where it fell sideways on the mat.
Connie didn’t wait a second longer, just slammed the door in his face, hastily twisting the key in the double lock and shooting the stiff bolts. She heard her short, rasping breaths as she leaned her palms against the door, eye to the peephole, terrified he would still be standing there, looming inches from her face. But the top step was empty.
Not believing he’d really gone, she moved quickly to the window, peering warily between the heavy curtains. He was nowhere to be seen, the street empty except for a couple holding hands as they ran across the road, their breath trailing smoke in the cold night air. But she still felt haunted and unsafe.
Realizing she was shivering, she pulled her heavy cardigan from the chair back and wrapped it around her, hurrying over to the fridge. She grabbed the bottle of wine, pouring herself a large measure with a trembling hand, wanting to scream out her fear, shout to the heavens until it left her in peace. And longing so much for her husband. His embrace would be the one thing guaranteed to calm her.
It was a while before she could think coherently, her brain still flooded with fight-or-flight hormones. But as she began to come down from the panic, her initialrelief that Jared was gone started to wane. It was the final look he’d levelled at her that shook her the most: his eyes had appeared almost … fanatical. It was the only word that fitted.
Connie sat for a long time at the kitchen table, clutching her empty glass. Her head was fizzing, like a firework about to explode, her cheeks flushed from the wine and the heat in the room.
Did he get it this time?she asked herself, over and over.Will he leave me alone?She had never been scared before that he might hurt her. But she’d felt physically threatened tonight, terrified that he would push his way into the house. There was real craziness in his eyes … and she felt his obsession for her like a gun aimed at her head.
She got up, boiling hot and restless, ripping off her cardigan. She desperately craved escape from the claustrophobia of her thoughts, longed to take deep breaths of cold night air and clear her head. It would be heaving on the hill tonight: churchgoers off to Midnight Mass, revellers on their way home from Christmas Eve parties – this wasn’t the country. For a mad second she thought she might join them, just to be among people, to feel the comforting presence of normal human beings. She even pulled on her coat and boots, found a Fair Isle beret of Tessa’s hooked on the coat stand.
But when she got to the front door, her courage failed her. She knew she wouldn’t be able to open it, to risk leaving the safety of the house. He was out there somewhere, even if she couldn’t see him. Watching her.Waiting for her. He might not approach her, but she would feel his eyes on her, maybe catch a fleeting glimpse of his face in the crowd – real or imagined. She leaned on the door, her painfully compressed heart suddenly making her breath ragged.
The searing pain took her by surprise and she staggered, gasped, clutching her chest. An iron band seemed to be crushing the air from her lungs. She couldn’t breathe. She felt as if she were dying.Please, she thought, as she tried to catch her breath,please don’t let me die … not like this.She weakly called out Devan’s name. But all she got back was cold silence.
Connie had no idea how long she stood slumped against the door. It was the arrival of a taxi immediately outside, disgorging a party of shrieking, drunk girls, that startled her out of her stupor. The pain in her chest had lessened and her breathing was easier, although she was ice-cold and stiff, as if she’d been left out in the garden all night.
Shuffling back into the sitting room, she went to the fire, rubbing her hands together, letting the gas flames almost scorch her cold flesh. She knew she couldn’t spend another minute on the sofa, or drink more wine, watch any more seasonal television. She should go to bed, but her bedroom in the half-basement seemed dark and creepy. She would never sleep down there.
Wandering about the sitting room, turning everything off, she made the decision to have a hot bath in Tessa’s bathroom and sleep in her friend’s bed – she was sure she wouldn’t mind. She hoped Monty mightchoose to join her, as he often did Tessa, apparently, now Martin was no longer around to object. She felt in need of even the smallest comfort.
As she went to check the front door again – even though she knew for certain she had locked it tight earlier – her eye caught Jared’s bag, scrunched against the hall wall where she must have trodden on it in her haste to slam the door. She stood eyeing it for a moment, then reached down and picked it up, holding it at arm’s length as if it were a grenade about to detonate. But she was curious.
The parcel inside the bag was wrapped neatly in blue tissue paper and tied with a silver ribbon. The gift card had only two words written on it: ‘Love, Jared’, then three kisses. Connie’s hand quivered as she gingerly pulled open the paper. What she found inside was a green woolly hat and a pair of brown leather gloves. Not hers. These were new, the labels still attached. But almost identical.
30
Connie awoke early on Christmas morning. In a strange bed and an unfamiliar room, having slept the sleep of the dead for a few short hours, her head spun as memories of the previous evening swarmed back into her consciousness. Jared’s present had brought both relief and absolute fury.
