‘Look, Lee, we seem to have got off on the wrong foot. Maybe we should start again?’
‘Well, you changed your tune quickly.’
Neve glanced back at the art studio. ‘My husband’s in there and if he sees you, he’s not likely to be very happy. Maybe you should make yourself scarce. I’ll text you and we can catch up another day. Properly. Like old friends should.’
Lee cocked his head to one side as if contemplating Neve’s little speech. He pushed himself away from the gatepost. ‘OK,’ he said. ‘I’ll go. I don’t quite know what your game is, Neve, but I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt.’
‘No game,’ said Neve.
‘Yeah right. See you soon then.’
‘I’ll text.’
Neve drummed her fingers on the gatepost as she watched Lee saunter back down Copperthorne Lane. He’d underestimated her. If she was going to turn this situation around, she needed to play him at his own game. What was that saying about keeping your friends close, but your enemies closer? She was about to put that into practice.
Kit was surprised to find the house empty when he got back. He assumed Neve had stormed off home but her car wasn’t on the drive and only Willow greeted him. Not that he was expecting a fanfare from his wife, more like a blazing row, but it was something he could deal with. After all, he had only gone there to try to understand Neve more. All right, it was a bit of male pride too, he had done a bit of strutting and preening to remind Jake that Neve had a husband.
Neve had once called it his silverback gorilla mentality when he had got pissed off with one of Neve’s male work colleagues whom she had gone for a drink with one lunch time, apparently to talk over some new assessment system they were implementing at the college where Neve was a learning support worker. Kit had hit the roof and then proceeded to meet Neve for lunch every day for the next week to warn the bloke off. They had moved to Ambleton shortly after that, Kit had made sure the commuting distance was unrealistic and he encouraged Neve to resign. Since then, he’d managed to find a reason for Neve not to apply for any other jobs she’d looked at. So much so, he was inclined to believe she’d given up on the idea – it wasn’t like they needed the money, as Kit liked to remind her, and being able to be at home for Poppy had a major influence on Neve’s decision not to go back to work.
In all honestly, Kit hated the thought of Neve out working, especially when she didn’t have to. He liked providing for his family, it made him feel good about himself. He considered it his job. He knew it was probably an old-fashioned way of thinking these days, but all the time his father was in good health, he’d worked and his mother had stayed at home. Kit had valued this as a child and he wanted his own daughter to have the same security as he’d experienced. This was especially so, given Poppy’s extra needs. Besides all that, he knew being at home wasn’t any less demanding than going out to work. He didn’t want Neve to have to juggle home and work. He didn’t only want her at home, he needed her at home. Ultimately, it meant he could work all the hours he needed and Poppy would always have the care she needed.
He sighed at his philosophy, it seemed to be backfiring now. Little did he know that Neve being at home was going to lead to art therapy classes and Jake. She hadn’t even thought about going to anything like that until someone mentioned it at a dinner party one night. Suddenly, Neve thought it was a great idea and, how did she put it – oh yeah – a great way to explore her issues.
Kit paced the room, frustration rising like the incoming tide. He wished he could understand his wife more. He originally thought the art therapy classes might help her. If he was honest, he had hoped they would have some sort of epiphany and she’d come home, declaring the need to tell him everything. Instead, she was withdrawing more and, if he was honest, the mere mention of Jake irritated him no end. Jake seemed to know more about his wife than Kit did himself. Kit suspected that Neve had probably told Jake things that she hadn’t told him and he couldn’t deny it, it made him feel jealous, excluded and angry.
He stood at the patio doors with his hands on his hips, looking out onto the garden. He had to know what the art therapy was all about. He couldn’t bear the thought of them having a secret he wasn’t party to.
His gaze came to rest on the summer house at the bottom of the garden. The pale green cladded structure that Neve had taken great delight in fitting out with a table, chairs, and a sofa and decorated with bunting – it was almost like she was furnishing a real-life dollhouse. In the summer she liked to sit there to read a book or have a cup of tea. They had used it quite a bit the first summer, but the novelty seemed to have worn off now. The last couple of years, they’d hardly been in it. In fact, it was becoming more of a glorified storage room.
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