Page 34 of The Affair
Neil and Brooks, their faces expectant along with Jill’s, were standing in a group, champagne flutes in hand. They all raised their glasses and called, ‘Congratulations!’ Connie, so engulfed in her inner confusion, felt almost assaulted by the attention – although it was obviously so well meant. She sensed herself being reeled in from a long way off, like a trout on a hook, and with the same sense of helplessness.Smile, she whispered silently,for God’s sake, smile.
Jill and Bill had gone to a lot of trouble: rosé champagne in copious quantities and a supper of marinated leg of lamb, meltingpommes dauphinoiseand butteredgreen beans was laid out in the back garden, pale pink roses in little glass vases glowing in the candlelight on the wooden table.
Connie was touched and, at any other time, would have been delighted. But tonight it felt like pressure … to be happy, to be thrilled that everything was all right with the world now that her troubled husband had seen the light. Her friends obviouslywerethrilled.
Halfway through the meal she got up, ostensibly to go to the loo. She didn’t need to, just wanted a moment to herself. As she reached the hall, she felt a hand on her arm. Turning, she saw Neil’s worried face.
‘What’s wrong, darling? You look like someone who’s pretending to be Connie.’
She swallowed hard. ‘Is it that obvious?’
Neil stroked her arm. ‘No, you’ve been putting on a good show. But I know something’s up. You’ve definitely been avoiding me recently.’
She sighed, biting her lip to stop herself crying. ‘I’ve been away a lot.’
Neil put his head on one side, waiting.
She couldn’t tell him about Jared. Not when she was about to end it. ‘It’s Devan stuff,’ she muttered. ‘Listen, I need to pee,’ she added, opening the door to the cloakroom. Neil frowned, but she knew he wasn’t going to push her. Not here, anyway.
‘Coffee at Angie’s soonest,’ he said.
‘I’m going away tomorrow,’ she replied, as she shut the door.
The meal was over. A ripe, runny Époisses with charcoal crackers had followed the lamb, then strawberries and cream. Connie had tried to eat normally, but her stomach churned at the garlicky potatoes, the rich, herby meat, the pungent cheese. She’d noticed Neil watching closely in the candlelight as she pushed food around her plate, but there was nothing she could do about it, except smile and smile. Luckily, she didn’t have to say much, just let the others carry the evening with their usual amusing banter. By anybody’s standards, it was a lively, luxurious, loving party and Connie wished she could fully appreciate it.
They walked home, Devan once more clutching her hand, his tipsy laughter loud in the silent village street as he recounted his secret phone calls with Jill about the surprise dinner, and how Connie had nearly rumbled him the night before. But she wasn’t really listening. She knew he would want to make love to her when they got home – it was their anniversary, after all. And she wanted to show him how much she loved him. He’d gone to a lot of trouble arranging the evening – driving Jill nuts, apparently, in his need for perfection. It had to be actual champagne – no Prosecco this time – and the very best salt-marsh lamb, cheese at the perfect ripeness, the most succulent strawberries sourced from a local organic farm. He’d insisted on paying for everything, too, although Bill had begged to contribute. She had been very moved by his determination to please her.
The evening was a salutary reminder. It told her,loud and clear, that her marriage was her priority, not negotiable. She would definitelynotbe seeing Jared in Inverness. Or anywhere else,ever again. What she had with Devan – warts and everything else included – was way too precious to compromise.
14
It rained. The sober grey stone of Inverness, the cloud-darkened water of the Ness flowing past their spa hotel, and the fact that she had left her favourite Ilse Jacobsen raincoat on the sleeper, was not improving Connie’s mood. She had not wanted to go away at all this time, even though she still felt a constant nerviness around Devan as they both continued to try to make everything seem like it was before. But mostly she dreaded the almost certain knowledge that she would see Jared. Not giving in when he was standing right in front of her – when she could see the desire in his eyes and know that her own mirrored his – seemed beyond the bounds of possibility, the bounds of her so far shabby willpower.
This was the evening of day four, however, and there had been no sign of Jared. Each night she’d gone to her hotel room and paced the patterned carpet in sickening anticipation. But he did not come.
It’s good he’s not coming. It saves me having to end it, Connie told herself firmly. She knew she should feel relieved. But instead she felt desperate, finally admitting to herself as she lay on the wide expanse of pristine hotel sheet, pillow clutched to her body for comfort, just how much she’d been looking forward to seeing him.I would have told him it’s over– that wasn’t in question. But herresolution didn’t stop her guiltily wanting to be with him. One last time.
The day had been long and wearisome. They’d done the Strathspey Steam Railway in the morning, taking in what should have been spectacular views of the Cairngorms and the River Spey – if anyone could see through the steamed-up carriage windows and the driving rain, the mist obscuring anything more than three feet from the tracks.
Her party had been stalwart and philosophical at first, but the site of the battle of Culloden – where hundreds of rebelling Jacobites had been mown down in an hour by ‘Butcher’ Cumberland and his English forces in 1746 – reduced them to dull silence. It was a spooky, haunted place, even on a sunny day, but in the sodden murk of late afternoon it was almost as if you could smell the blood and cordite, still hear the dying screams of the slaughtered Scots. They had all returned to the hotel – and a nice hot bath, a stiff drink and a good slab of Scottish venison – with patent relief.
That night, Connie had fallen into a fitful doze when she was startled awake by her phone beeping and vibrating on the glass of the bedside cabinet, the screen illuminating the darkened room like a searchlight. She picked it up, thinking it would be Devan – he’d been messaging her a lot since she left, with pictures of his bacon sandwich, or Riley, or what was supposed to be a squirrel but was just a blur – making her laugh.I’m outsidethe text read.
Jared’s name on the screen jerked her fully awake. For a moment she just stared at the display, her breath fluttering in her chest. She could almost feel his presence on the other side of the door. Hesitating, for a moment she pretended there was a decision to be made: ignore him or open the door. But her body had already decided, carrying her out of bed and quickly across the room to catch him before he walked away.
Jared was soaked, his hair plastered to his head, face glistening, jacket sopping wet. But he was grinning confidently as he stood on the threshold of her room. ‘Christ,’ he said, ‘I’d forgotten how bloody wet Scotland can be.’
Connie stood her ground, although she trembled at his presence, so close. ‘Listen, Jared, I’m sorry, but you can’t come in,’ she began, sounding unnaturally sensible and businesslike – reminiscent, in fact, of Mrs Barnes, her primary-school head. ‘The tour finishes tomorrow. Maybe we could talk after I’ve seen them all off.’
Jared was clearly surprised. ‘Oh … right … if that’s what you want.’ He continued to stand there, however, looking bedraggled but determined, not moving a muscle. She saw him shiver slightly. ‘It’s just … I’m really wet and I didn’t book a room. My stuff’s in the car.’
Connie still managed not to crack. There was a strange impasse as they stared at each other in silence.
‘Could I just borrow a towel and dry myself a bit?’
She clung weakly to her resolve, but it was as if the last remnants were clattering fast down the hill, like shale loosened by a hiker’s boot. After another momentof agonizing hesitation, she moved back, waved him into the room and shut the door.
Jared regarded her in silence. Then, with a slight raise of his eyebrow – as if asking permission – he stripped off his jacket and hung it carefully on the back of the hotel chair. Connie, heart now thumping nineteen to the dozen, went through to the small en-suite to get him a towel.
