Page 118 of The Winter of Second Chances
Max must have seen the expression on her face because the colour drained from his. He looked as though he’d like to make a dash for it but he didn’t. He stood frozen to the spot.
A wash of nausea sloshed in Annie’s stomach as adrenalin shot through her. He was still lying even now. All that wooing. All those meaningless words. She was glad the boys were upstairs. This wasn’t going to be pretty.
‘You told me it was over with Ellie.’
‘It was! It is!’
‘I’m not sure Ellie knows that.’
‘Well, she’s...you know...she’s not so bright...’
‘Max!’ The word snapped out of her, loud like a gunshot.
Max jumped and dropped the mop.
‘You are a liar!’ She began to move towards him, and he took a few steps back, hands held up in supplication.
‘Annie, I promise you, I ended it. It was over. But then it looked like you weren’t coming back, and she wanted to meet and—’
‘Tell me the truth! For once in your life just tell me the fucking truth!’
He couldn’t meet her eyes.
‘I didn’t want to be alone,’ he almost whispered. ‘But I swear, if you’d have come back, I would have ended it straight away. That would have been it!’
‘You were hedging your bets!’ She laughed bitterly. ‘I should have known.’
‘It was a stupid thing to do, I know that.’
‘What about that day? Upstairs? When you told me you loved me and tried to get into my knickers. Were you seeing her then?’
‘I would have finished it!’ Max said helplessly. ‘All you had to do was say the word.’
‘I shouldn’t have to sayanywords for you to not cheat on me, Max! At its most basic level, the function of a marriage is that you don’t fuck other people!’
‘What do you want me to say?’ Max shouted. ‘I fucked up! There, I said it. But you’re no angel. I know about the affair you had when the kids were small.’
This pulled Annie up short. She hadn’t realised he had known about her revenge affair. She shook herself. She wasn’t going to let him throw that in her face, not after everything he’d put her through.
‘Yes! I had an affair,’ she said, jutting her chin out defiantly. ‘I had an affair to get back at you and I own it, fully and completely. But you screwed your way through our entire marriage. How many were there, Max? How many more than the ones I know about?’
For the first time since she’d left, Annie could see the light of resignation in his eyes. Finally, he knew they were done. He was beaten. He straightened himself and held out his hand for his phone. He smiled, a smile that she knew from old. The one that used to fill her stomach with dread. The smile that warned of a quiet yet acidic attack. But there was no dread in her stomach now. Whatever power he used to have over her had dissolved, along with any last vestiges of feeling for him.
‘Too many to count,’ said Max.
Annie smiled back at him. In one fluid movement she picked the mop up off the floor, dropped Max’s phone into the bucket of soapy water and gave it a good bashing with the mop.
‘What are you...? You stupid...’
Max dropped to his knees and thrust his arm into the bucket. Annie pulled the mop out and began to drape the dripping mop head over Max’s head and neck and torso. He cried out in annoyance and shock, but Annie simply dipped the mop into the dirty water again and scrubbed it over his head.
Max stumbled to a stand, his phone retrieved, his hair and clothes dripping with water. He was rubbing at his eyes and spluttering curses at Annie. Annie leaned in close and said: ‘You are going to buy me out of the restaurant and give me half of everything else, or I will sue your arse for everything you’ve got. Get a solicitor and get it done.’
She picked up the bucket and with one almighty swing hurled the contents over Max.
‘Now get out of my cafe!’
When Annie took to the promenade the following morning for her pre-work walk, the weather was bitter, though at least for the moment the sky seemed to have wrung itself dry. A storm had started around midnight and hadn’t burned itself out until the early hours. The promenade was several inches deep in displaced shingle that had been vomited up and left by last night’s waves. The roiling sea was as brown as Annie had ever seen it, churned up with sand and seaweed and frothing at the mouth. The dark clouds scudded by as though on a conveyor belt. Even the seagulls struggled to fly against the forceful air currents. They beat their wings ceaselessly whilst being pushed backwards through the air.
