Page 23 of The Affair
‘What is it?’ Devan, dressed and ready to go, was standing in the doorway, jangling the car keys.
Connie jumped. ‘Oh, I’d forgotten I ordered a book on Carpaccio when I was away. We saw these wonderful panels of his in one of the little churches in Venice.’
Devan seemed uninterested. ‘Never heard of him.’
She didn’t reply, unable to trust herself to say any more. She hoped she wasn’t blushing, although herheart was beating like a bass drum as she rose, folding the cardboard from the package and squeezing it into the bulging recycling bag hanging from the kitchen-door handle. ‘I thought I might ring Jill, see what she’s up to, if you two are off for the day,’ she said.
‘You’re back!’ Jill shrieked, when Connie called. ‘Yes, yes,pleasecome over. Save me from all the grisly chores I’ve been avoiding.’ Jill, a petite sparky brunette a few years older than Connie, had taught history at Bristol University. Since her retirement, she’d been researching a novel – a murder mystery set in France, during the great freeze of 1709.
‘You know they used ice skates instead of gondolas to get around Venice in the freeze?’ Jill said, when Connie had filled her in about her trip. They were taking the dogs up to the top of the village and into the woods – a walk they frequently enjoyed together. Jill’s Scottie was old and not as fit as Riley, but she panted bravely in his wake as he chased elusive scents and stuck his nose down rabbit holes. ‘Even the lagoon iced over.’ She frowned. ‘Imagine … it must have been hell. People burned their furniture – if they were lucky enough to have any, of course – to keep from freezing to death.’
‘Horrible.’ Connie shivered at the mere thought. She hated being cold. ‘How are you getting on with the book?’
Jill laughed. ‘Can’t really call it a book yet. I’ll probably be researching for the rest of my life because I’m terrified of actually writing the damn thing.’
They walked in silence for a while, Connie finally beginning to calm down from the shock of the morning delivery. The Carpaccio, however well meant, felt like an invasion into her real life. Jared had been thoughtful enough not to leave any sign on the documents that it was from him – in case Devan had opened it, she supposed. But it implied a connection with her that was way too intimate. And pricked the bubble in which Connie had carefully placed him.
As they stopped at the top of the rise, looking out across to the Mendips, Connie realized Jill was eyeing her with a frown. ‘Is everything all right, Connie? You seem preoccupied.’
Connie shook herself. ‘Do I? Sorry. It’s always tricky, settling back after a trip.’ Although in the past, before things had gone so wrong with Devan, she had always loved coming home.
Jill didn’t reply at once. Then she said quietly, ‘I gather things aren’t so good between you two at the moment.’
Connie raised an eyebrow. ‘Has Devan said something?’
‘Not to me. But he admitted to Bill he’s struggling with retirement, and finds it tough you’re still working. Said it was driving a wedge between you.’
She was stung, hearing Devan’s neat, one-sided assessment on her friend’s lips. Especially as Bill was acknowledged by all as a blatant, unrepentant gossip. It wasn’t malicious, he just couldn’t help himself. And if he’d told his wife, that was probably just the tip of the iceberg. The whole village would know by now that sheand Devan were having problems and that Connie was the cause. She could just hear the twittering:That dear Dr Mac, such a lovely man and a wonderful doctor. And her away all year. It’s not right.
‘You don’t have to tell me,’ Jill said.
They walked down the hill in silence. The late-morning sun was hot and Connie wished she’d brought a hat. But she’d been in such a tizz about the delivery before she left home.
Jill said, ‘Seems he really misses you when you’re away.’
Words fizzed and boiled in Connie’s mouth. She stopped so she could face her friend and swallowed hard. Her words, when they finally emerged, were pinched, as if she were squashing them in her fist. But she didn’t want to rant to Jill, who would tell Bill, who would tell the whole county. ‘Devan was so overstretched before he retired that we never had the chance to put together a plan for what came next,’ she said carefully. ‘I think we both made the assumption he wouldn’t have any trouble finding new things to do … and that hasn’t happened. Not yet, anyway.’
Jill rubbed her arm sympathetically, clearly concerned.
‘I hate him going around telling everyone I’m a rubbish wife.’
‘It’s not like that. Bill said he was just a bit low, that’s all.’
‘Which he is. And has been, even long before he retired.’ She paused, not wanting to seem too defensive.‘But I’m glad he’s got Bill to talk to. He won’t talk to me.’
‘I think Bill sympathizes because he panics if I’m away for even a night … even bloody breakfast!’
When Connie couldn’t bring herself to respond, hearing only the censure – intended or not – in her friend’s remark, Jill spoke again. ‘You two have such a great marriage, Connie.’ She laughed. ‘Remember that time we went to the Western Isles? The ceilidh? Devan claimed he could do the proper Scottish thing, hopping about and pointing his toes and waving his arms in the air.’ Connie smiled. She did remember. ‘Then he dragged you onto the dance floor and somehow, together, you managed to make it really work – although you didn’t have a clue what you were doing, you said – and the pub went wild, clapping and cheering your efforts.’
‘I didn’t,’ Connie said, ‘but I’ve always loved to dance. God, that night was fun.’ She heard the wistful note in her voice and Jill must have too.
‘You’re so good together, Connie.’ She gave her an encouraging smile. ‘I’m sure you’ll sort it out.’
When they arrived at Jill’s rambling thatched cottage, Connie excused herself, refusing her friend’s offer of tea and one of her famous madeleines. She couldn’t face any more discussion about her marriage. Not least because, although Jill had not said as much, she could tell her sympathy – Bill’s too – was tipping in Devan’s favour. After all, Jill was retired and clearly loving it. She probably couldn’t see the problem.Jill, Bill, even Neil … they’re sort of implying I’m on the wrong foot about myjob, she thought, after she’d said goodbye to Jill. Not for the first time, she wondered if they were right.
Her phone rang as she was walking home. Her sister, Lynne. The very last person she wanted to speak to right now.
‘Connie, it’s me, Lynne,’ she said, never having grasped that her name came up on Connie’s screen. ‘I’ll be there about four, if that’s OK?’
