Page 74 of The Affair
She pulled herself up to sit against the headboard, surprised at this sudden softening towards Jared. ‘I reckon he did like you,’ she said cautiously. ‘You and the others were important to him – aside from how he felt about me. He didn’t want me to tell you, to blow it all apart.’
Devan’s mouth twisted and he let out a long sigh. ‘Bonkers and utterly delusional to think that could work, but I suppose he just wanted to be part of the gang.’ There was a pause. ‘I’d still wring his neck, if I ever saw him again,’ he added, a rancorous note entering his voice. But the bile obvious in previous similar comments was not quite so evident.
Connie reached for his hand and squeezed it. He returned the squeeze, then took his hand away and put it around her, pulling her close. They lay against the pillows in the dappled sunlight for a long time. There seemed no tension between them now. The silence was not loaded. His fingers stroking her bare arm were gentle and loving. A tiny orange-brown bird appeared at the open window, its head darting inquisitively to andfro. Connie watched it for a while, then closed her eyes, nestling into her husband’s chest. She felt, even if just for this tiny, blissful moment, as if the barriers were down and it was just the two of them again. As if they had finally let Jared go.
It was raining and blowy as they drove home from the airport, the February night chilly. As Connie stared through the spattered windscreen at the blur of passing headlights, she felt a spurt of hope. Something had shifted between them since they had driven along the same road five days earlier. ‘Change things up,’ Neil had advised, and Connie sensed they might have done just that.
She looked forward to seeing Riley, who was staying with Bill and Jill until tomorrow. Looked forward to being able to think about ordinary things again, like making the annual batch of marmalade, catching up with her friends, clearing out the spare room, which had become a dumping ground over the past eighteen months. But what she most looked forward to was just waking up in the morning and not thinking of Jared.
Now that she was beginning to feel free of his hovering presence, she realized what a toll it had taken on her. She’d always been optimistic, equable, someone who enjoyed life to the full. Jared had reduced her to a neurotic mess. She cried easily now, her tears always close to the surface, and felt fragile, fearful in a way she never had before. As if she’d lost a layer of skin.
Morocco had been good, but now she wanted nothing more than to hole up at home with Devan andRiley, stay in the safe confines of the village with a few close friends. Physically, she was always tired, these days, often the victim of headaches and sleepless nights. Jared had made her feel young at first. Now, because of him, she felt so much older than her years.
The house was lovely and warm when they arrived home. Jill had been in to turn the heating on. She’d left milk in the fridge with a shepherd’s pie from a local home-made range and a bag of salad. The note on the kitchen table said, ‘Welcome home. Brunch at ours in the morning? We’re keeping Riley for ever, btw! xxx’
Connie laughed. ‘Sounds like that dog’s been on a charm offensive.’
Devan yawned. ‘Let’s get the pie in and have a glass of wine. I’m starving.’ It was a long time since breakfast at the hotel, the sandwiches on offer on the plane spectacularly unappealing after the delicious food they’d been enjoying in Marrakech.
They ate mostly in a companionable silence, both tired from the journey. Connie kept glancing at her husband, checking his demeanour to see if, now they were home and in surroundings that might spark a bitter memory, he would continue to be relaxed. But she couldn’t detect any sign of tension in his tanned face, so far. In fact, she thought he looked better than he had for a long, long time.
Coming out of the bathroom later, toothbrush in hand, Devan said, ‘Did you hear that?’
Connie frowned. ‘No – what?’
‘I thought I heard a thump.’ He pointed his toothbrush to the ceiling, above which was the attic, used exclusively for storage and accessed by drop-down steps from the landing ceiling.
‘It’ll be the wind. The window up there’s always been loose and it’s blowing a bloody gale outside,’ Connie said, as she got into bed.
He shrugged, went back into the bathroom. When he slid in beside her a few minutes later, he was looking preoccupied. ‘Maybe we’ve got mice,’ he said. ‘I’ll go up and check in the morning.’
They lay together, Devan tucking his length into Connie’s curled body, his arm across her shoulders. He dropped a kiss on the side of her head. ‘That was a great holiday, Con,’ he said.
She turned her face to his. ‘It really was.’ She snuggled into her soft, familiar pillow, wrapping the duvet cosily round her neck, aware of the comforting warmth of Devan’s body. She sank into sleep with a deep sense of contentment, gratitude for her husband, and her life.
Something nudged Connie from sleep. Blinking, she saw the clock display read 1:34. She rolled over onto her back and peered into the semi-darkness of the room, wondering what had woken her. Then she froze, her every fibre buzzing, instantly on high alert. She could just make out a figure, looming in the shadows at the end of the bed. She gave a loud gasp, lurching upright, the duvet clutched to herself in alarm.
Paralysed with fear, she managed to reach out a hand and violently shake her husband, her eyes still fixed on the dark intruder, who said nothing, just stood there, stock still.
Devan shifted, mumbled, ‘What?’
She shook him again. ‘Wake up, for Christ’s sake.’
This time he heard her. He turned over and jumped when he, too, caught sight of the shadowy form, cursing as he fumbled for the bedside lamp.
Jared blinked in the light. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said quietly.
Her husband leaped out of bed. ‘What the fuck?’ His body rigid with tension, he hovered, fixing Jared with a wary stare, but clearly not sure what to do next. Glancing at Connie, he discreetly patted his hand down by his side as if to say, ‘Tread carefully.’ It occurred to her that he thought Jared might be armed.
‘I needed to be here.’ Jared spoke again. ‘I hope you understand, Connie.’ He was dressed in jeans and a navy polo-neck sweater, but his normally smoothed-back hair was flopping over his face and he clearly hadn’t shaved in a while. He was kneading his fingers together in front of him.
Connie was trembling so much she could barely get the words out, but she spoke as calmly as possible. ‘What are you doing, Jared?’
Devan began to edge round the bed, his eyes fixed firmly on the intruder. She watched, hardly breathing. The air in the room seemed to vibrate. ‘Don’t …’ she whispered to her husband, terrified that Jared might pull out a knife.
As Devan got closer, Jared held up his hands to fend him off, backing against the door.
‘Please, I’m not going to harm you,’ he said, twisting his palms to and fro in the air, as if to prove he didn’t have a weapon. ‘I just …’ He stopped and seemed disoriented for a moment. Looking pleadingly at Connie, he said, ‘Can we talk?’
