Page 70 of The Affair
‘OK, if you insist.’ She hesitated, cringing with reluctance. But however badly it turned out, she had to carry on or the question would keep being regurgitated, like kippers for breakfast. ‘It was … exciting, I admit. It was secret. You and I hadn’t made love for years. He made me feel sexy again.’ Her sentences were bald. There was no hint in her voice of the trembling desire that had existed between her and her lover.
Devan’s face remained shuttered and still. As if he were expecting more. As if what she’d said was not painful enough. Her answer was, indeed, unsatisfactory, merely stating the obvious.He must already haveworked this out for himself, she thought. And any further revelations were out of the question. She wished she knew how to help him, wished she could soothe his painful obsession somehow. But she was as much of a novice as he when it came to mending such a dire betrayal of trust.
Before he had a chance to insist on more, she continued, ‘Jared’s still stalking me. I know you don’t believe I had nothing to do with him appearing in the village, but he’s followed me here too. Or found me, I don’t know which. He stole my hat and gloves, sneaked ravioli into my shopping, dropped by on Christmas Eve …’ Connie hadn’t meant to tell him about Jared’s visit, fearing that it would only inflame things further. The words just slipped out in her desperation to divert him from the issue of sex.
Devan was clearly confused. ‘Ravioli? What are you talking about, Connie? Wait … you say he’s beenhere? In this house?’ His eyes widened. ‘You let him in?’
‘No, of course not.’ Noting the instant suspicion in his eyes, she gave a brief account of what had happened.
‘Christ, why did you indulge him, even on the doorstep?’ he said, when she’d finished. ‘It’s like you feel sorry for the creep.’ His voice was dull with anger. ‘I can’t believe you haven’t called the police. The bastard should be fucking arrested.’
Connie was aware of a hissing coming from the kitchen and got up. The potatoes were boiling over, the starchy water pooling around the burners. She turnedthe heat down. Looking at Devan, she said, ‘And say what? That someone I know is hanging about, buying me gloves and ravioli?’
‘He doesn’t have to do those things stalkers usually do – like constant messaging or damaging property or violence – with the new stalking laws. Believe me, Connie, I’ve checked it out. Even just following someone, watching them, if they do it persistently and you don’t like it, is against the law and could end in a fine or a jail sentence, certainly a restraining order.’ He frowned at her. ‘Why won’t you do anything to stop him?’
She hesitated, wondering if Devan was right. ‘It’s not that I’m dragging my feet. It’s just … well, I’d feel idiotic trying to explain to the police. What he does is so nebulous, so hard to pin down. He moves in near us, but everyone likes him, welcomes him.Youlike him. Where’s the proof that he’s stalking? He might have just liked our village – plenty do. There are no texts or anything concrete. The ravioli could be interpreted in lots of ways. You know how plausible, howpoliteJared is … and so far he hasn’t harmed me … not physically, anyway. Although he seemed pretty crazy the other night.’
Devan was back on the sofa. He looked at her with sudden concern. ‘Thank God you didn’t let him in,’ he said.
She nodded, grateful for the sign that he still cared about her safety. The atmosphere between them had changed. They were, temporarily at least, on the same side.
‘Where is he now?’
‘I’ve no idea. And I have no idea how he found me here. His godmother lives on the other side of the Heath, but unless he just happened to spot me … I don’t know, Devan, he’s like a phantom. Comes and goes at will. And every time I talk to him, I fool myself that this time I’ve found a way to convince him.’
Devan frowned. ‘You think he might be out there right now, watching you?’
‘No … Well, I don’t know. Maybe …’ As she spoke she felt the accumulative tension from Jared’s relentless, sinister presence hit her, like a truck. Clutching the bottle from which she’d been about to fill Devan’s glass, she began to cry. The sobs were savage, choking her. She gasped for breath, the wine sloshing dangerously.
Devan was on his feet in an instant, prising the bottle from her clenched fist and pulling her instinctively into a strong embrace. She had the chance to catch his familiar scent, feel his arms around her for a painfully lovely second. But the moment was over all too soon and she felt him pull back, as if he’d touched an electric fence. Despair returned.It would have been better if he’d never hugged me at all, she thought. The tantalizing moment of closeness made the rift between them seem all the more unbearable.
During a muted, often silent lunch, they talked about the family, about Christmas. Even the nightmare of recent politics seemed preferable to talking any more about the problem of Jared – to which there was noobvious solution – or opening up about how they were both really feeling. Connie was dying to ask, ‘Where do we go from here? Can you ever forgive me?’ But she didn’t dare, in case his answers were not the ones she wanted to hear.He’s here, she kept telling herself.At least he’s here.
It was getting dark outside, the pie had been eaten, the wine and coffee drunk. She felt exhausted – it would be a relief when her husband left. The pressure of his wretchedness was wearing her down and she had no idea how to alleviate it. Although the day, on the whole, had been so much better than she’d feared.
Devan got up from the table. He looked drained, too. But his manner was edgy suddenly as he stood there, blinking hard, his hands so deep in the pockets of his cords it was as if he wanted to thrust his fists through the cotton.
‘I’d better get going,’ he muttered, then hesitated. His gaze, when he brought it to focus on her, was unreadable. ‘I only came here today because Caty persuaded me to – for the sake of the family. For me, personally, I didn’t know how I could face you.’ He breathed in deeply. ‘But as soon as I saw you, I realized how much I’ve missed you. And that makes me absolutely bloody, fuckingfurious.’ She watched him snatch a breath, her own heart hammering at his attack. ‘Because I don’t know how to get past all this. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to trust you again.’ His voice was heavy with devastation. ‘My beautiful Connie in someone else’s arms … It breaks my heart.’ He took a gasping sob.
Trembling, she got up. Devan was angrily brushing tears from his cheeks with his palms. ‘Devan, please …’ she said softly.
He glared at her, but the light of fury was fading now and she saw only a weary sadness in his eyes. Emboldened, she walked round the table before she’d had time to consider the possible consequences and circled him in her arms. Devan did not respond at first, just stood there, like the solid, unyielding trunk of a tree. He began to cry softly, his head gradually sinking to her shoulder, his arms slowly wrapping round her body. They stood there, two exhausted and traumatized people, clinging together for what seemed like a lifetime. She didn’t feel safe or comforted, though, as she always had in Devan’s embrace. It was as if they represented to each other the upturned hull of a shipwrecked boat – a slim chance of survival.If I let him go, she thought,we might both drown.
‘I hate feeling like this … so much,’ he said, when he finally lifted his head.
‘I hate it too. These have been the worst weeks of my life.’
She waited for a sneering riposte. But Devan merely nodded as they gradually loosened their grip on each other.
Seeing him to the door, watching him slowly buttoning his coat, she held her breath in the hope that he would say something about seeing her again. At the last minute, he turned to her: ‘We can talk on the phone?’
She nodded, gave him a smile. He frowned, then hisface cleared and he smiled back. It was a drained smile, but their eyes met. It was the connection she’d been longing for. A kiss or a hug was more than she could expect, but his smile was enough for now.
As soon as the door was closed and locked behind him, Connie flopped down on the sofa and took great gulping breaths, as if for the first time since Devan’s arrival. She felt battered, but there had been some progress, she thought. Worn out, she fell into a numb, bone-weary sleep. It was two sharp beeps of an incoming text that woke her a couple of hours later. Not, as she hoped, from her husband. But Caitlin’s message was almost as good:Seems like things went well with Dad. He’s looking so much better! Talk when he’s gone home tomorrow xxx
32
‘I’m going to miss you,’ Tessa said, as Connie dragged her wheelie-case up the stairs from her bedroom into the hall. ‘You know you’re welcome any time. For a weekend or if you need a bolthole again.’
