His eyes meet mine. ‘You should care what I think. You should try listening to people every now and again because, contrary to what you might think, they’re only trying to help you.’
I hold his gaze. ‘And is that what you’re doing? Are you only trying to help me?’
He doesn’t answer that. He just continues to stare right into me, until I finally break the stare, looking down at my beer.
‘I’m sorry, you didn’t deserve that.’
‘You don’t need to fight all the time. You don’t always need to be so defensive. People care about you. Let them do that. People worry about you. I worry about you.’
‘He shouldn’t have done it. Not without talking to me first. He was wrong to do what he did. He was wrong.’
I glance out over the river. It’s a beautiful evening, warm and sunny, and the banks of the river are busy with people out for a walk, enjoying a drink, making the most of the good weather we’ve been having lately. I’ve always liked it here.
‘Hey.’
Liam’s voice pulls me back from my thoughts and I turn to face him. He smiles at me and that, somehow, makes me feel a little better. That smile.
‘I’d like to think that’s what I’m trying to do, Ellie. I’d like to think I’m trying to help you.’
I leave a beat or two before I say anything and I smile back. ‘You are.’
He is.
Helping me …
It’s Saturday and I’m busy going over the books from the Durham salon. I’m popping in there later, after I’ve dropped by the spa. My new business is really taking off and I’m so lucky to have an amazing team of people looking after the place because I can’t be there all the time. I have four businesses to oversee, so I need a good strong team of people behind me, to help me. I have that.
I look up as Michael walks into the kitchen, throwing his kit-bag onto the floor before he goes to get himself a cup of coffee. I’m still angry at him for what he did yesterday, but I’m not letting him see just how much it affected me. He didn’t do it out of malice, I get that now, but he still should have understood why I reacted the way I did. But, like everything else, we haven’t spoken about it any more. It’s become something else we’ve just swept under the carpet.
‘You’re going out?’
He looks at me, leaning back against the counter as he takes a sip of his coffee. ‘It’s Saturday. I always go to the squash club on a Saturday.’
Not always. He never used to go every Saturday, but lately – yeah, lately it’s been that way.
‘What’s the problem? You’re going to work, so …’
‘There’s no problem.’
He takes another sip of coffee, puts down his mug before he heads back towards the door, and as he passes me he gently squeezes my shoulder, drops a quick kiss on my forehead. ‘Have a good day, darling. I’ll see you later.’
He goes back over to his bag, picking it up and throwing it over his shoulder. I drop my gaze, go back to checking over those books. ‘What time are you going to be home?’
‘I’ll probably grab some lunch with the guys, and then I need to stop by the university later to pick up some papers, so, I’m not sure when I’ll be back.’
I look up to see his retreating figure head out into the hall, watch as he stops by the line of coats hanging up by the door, his eyes falling on that jacket Liam returned.
‘Liam dropped it off a couple of nights ago. Said you must’ve left it in his car.’
I continue to watch as he rummages around in the pockets. Oh Michael, I know what you’re looking for. I can’t quite see from where I’m sitting, but the fact that he puts his hand straight into his jeans pocket makes me think he’s slipped that receipt in there.
He says nothing more to me as he lets himself out and closes the door behind him.
I get up and go out into the hall. Glancing down at the security monitor I watch as Michael’s car pulls out of the driveway and I turn around and take his jacket off the hook by the door, immediately feeling around for the inside pocket. It’s empty. He did take that receipt out of there, but I check the other pockets anyway. I might have missed something. No. They’re all empty.
I hang the jacket back up and sit down on the stairs, dragging my hands back through my hair. Our Saturdays, they used to be good. They used to be something we enjoyed. If I had to work then, yes, he’d play squash, maybe organise something with Liam. But if I wasn’t working we’d always do something, even if it was just going into Durham to look around the shops, take a walk along the river, have lunch outside if the weather was good. We’d always do something, together. Now it seems he can’t wait to be apart from me.
I stay there, at the bottom of the stairs, for a good few minutes, just staring at that small black and white security monitor, even though nothing is happening. It’s all quiet outside, but I keep staring at our empty driveway, at the shrubs and pots of flowers that dot the gravel and block-paved space. It’s all quiet.
Suddenly I don’t want to be here, in this house, alone. I get up, grab my coat, and I let myself out. I’m not going in to work, not yet. There’s nothing urgent waiting for me. I don’t know where I’m going. I just know that I need to get away from here, for a while. I need to be somewhere else. So I get in my car and I drive. I turn up the radio and I try to drown out that silence I’m so tired of now. I just drive, until I find myself passing a supermarket. I pull into the car park, stop the car and turn the music up a little louder, and for a few minutes I sit there, listening to a song I don’t know as I look out around me, at people going about their lives with no idea how much mine has changed. So much, I don’t recognise it any more. And then that numbness hits me again, washing over me with a breathtaking speed, and I breathe in deeply, try to compose myself because I can’t sit here all day. I have to do something.
Reaching over onto the passenger seat I grab my bag. I can’t remember if I put my purse in there before I left the house. Yes, it’s there, and I breathe a sigh of relief. I’ll go and do the food shop. I’ll do something mundane and ordinary and try to forget all the crap that’s complicating my once beautiful, perfect life. But as I walk across the car park it’s as if all eyes are on me, as though every person here can see my pain so clearly, a loneliness that’s so glaringly obvious to everyone I can almost feel their pitying looks boring into my back as I pass them. So I keep my head down, grab a shopping trolley from outside the store and go inside. But I still feel exposed, and yet, at the same time, it’s as if I’m the only one here. I’m in a busy supermarket, surrounded by noise and chatter, and yet, I feel alone.
I raise my head slightly, just to see where I am, which aisle I’ve just walked into and I stop by the milk, my eyes scanning the shelves, but I’m looking at everything and seeing nothing. So I just reach out and grab something, anything. I don’t care. Just putting something into the trolley fills me with a sense of relief, as if I’m less exposed now I’ve actually started to do what I came in here to do. What did I come in here to do? I did a big food shop two days ago, there’s nothing else we really need.
I continue my slow walk up the aisle, glancing at the shelves as I pass, watching as everyone around me picks up items, talks to the person they’re with. Almost everyone is with someone. But even those who are alone don’t seem to have that weight on their shoulders that I feel I carry constantly now. They’re walking around with a sense of purpose, while I don’t even know what I’m doing in here. I have one carton of milk in