Squinting through the darkness, I saw Zak’s suited silhouette pass The Coffee Club, with its jars of beans and glass-domed plates of cake. His hunched gait made him look unusually vulnerable, as he ended up at a small park. Not long after, I caught him up but he didn’t stop walking. And a creeping, dull sensation didn’t stop slithering across my body. What had stopped him from opening up, all these months?
‘Zak! Hold up! My shoes are killing me,’ I said, but he cut right, into the children’s playground and then stood still for a second, shoulders scrunched. From behind, I wrapped my arms around his waist, but vigorously he shook them off. With a shiver – despite my faux-fur coat – I sat down on a swing. A part of my brain noticed how different this swing was from the one in Marco’s restaurant, the one I’d been blissfully enjoying only an hour before.
I waited in the darkness. Gave Zak the time he clearly needed. Kicked off my stilettos. Eventually he sat on the swing next to me. Side by side – it was the closest we’d been all evening, and the breeze carried over a familiar smell, but I couldn’t quite identify it. I rubbed my nose and waited for him to speak.
‘I’ve messed up, Jen. Big time. Risked everything my parents worked for. And …’
A solitary orange street lamp lit up his strong features. I took a deep breath and smelt the damp, earthy evening air. ‘We’ll sort it out,’ I said firmly, determined to show him that all the support he needed was right here, in a little black dress. ‘Together. I promise. We’ll move somewhere smaller. Holiday in Britain. And don’t worry about Oakwood Towers. I’m sure they won’t expect April to leave immediately. That’ll give us time to –’
Eyes drooping at the corners, Zak suddenly looked every one of his forty-three years. ‘You don’t understand – we’re on the brink of bankruptcy. I’ve ploughed so much money into the new store we opened in Manchester. As it turns out, the location isn’t quite as dynamic as I’d predicted. Plus, our latest lines haven’t sold well.’
Bankruptcy? I almost laughed. No. He had to be wrong. He really must have blown his worries out of all proportion. That’s what happened when you didn’t share your concerns. Irrationality took over. ‘Oh, darling, the company has hit hard times before,’ I said, calmly. ‘This will just be a blip.’
‘It’s no blip,’ he snapped.
But Elite Eleganz couldn’t be broke. It didn’t make sense. ‘Okay. So why has everything fallen apart now?’
He turned away. ‘Bad luck, a big new competitor, and investing capital in a project someone pitched me when I should have ploughed it back into the business. I’ve had to let some staff go to cut costs. That’s why my work hours have been crazy lately, me covering for them. And I’ve asked around, tried to find investors, but they lose interest as soon as they see the books.’ He swallowed. ‘And … there’s something else, Jenny.’ Zak jumped off the swing and paced up and down.
I stood up too but without my stilettos had to stare upwards more than usual to see the expression on his face. ‘Whatever it is, I’m here for you,’ I said, gently. ‘You should have confided in me earlier, Zak. I’m your wife. It’s my job to be there for you when times get tough.’ My hair fell down to my shoulders. Zak tilted back my head, bent down, and brushed his lips against mine, before trailing his soft mouth down my neck. But his lips didn’t press hard like they used to and he drew back as if he, too, had been hoping for something that wasn’t delivered. My nose twitched … that smell again … I sneezed.
‘Oh, Jenny …’
I scrunched up my face as a sudden realisation washed over me. ‘Why are you covered in Chanelle’s perfume?’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘April came home wearing it after the party. It made me sneeze then too.’
He opened his arms. ‘Um … it must have rubbed off on me when I hugged my little princess.’
‘No. You showered and changed before you went out. I hung up your towel and clothes, which you left on the floor,’ I said, my voice gathering strength. I snorted. ‘For God’s sake, Zak. Have you been around to Chanelle’s first, to discuss your – our – problems? I may not be a businesswoman like her, but I like to think I’ve some degree of common sense and perspective that might have helped.’
Zak bit his top lip. ‘I just called around to pick up April’s cardigan.’
‘No you didn’t. You only said you spoke to her on the phone before, about her course.’
A strange expression crossed his face, kind of twisted, tortured. ‘Okay,’ he said in a strangulated voice. ‘She said it was for the best that I came clean; that’s why I suggested this meal … She insisted, you see …’
‘Come clean about our finance problems? Damn right! I couldn’t agree with her more.’
‘No … you don’t understand …’ His voice cracked, for some reason making my body shiver.
‘You’re not ill, are you?’ I whispered, hardly daring to voice those words. ‘Oh, Zak. What is it? Honestly. I can handle it. I’m here for you.’
He threw his hands in the air. ‘No, I’m not. Oh, God, Jenny, this is hard.‘ He swallowed. ‘You see, it’s helped … talking to Chanelle …’
‘Chanelle? Help?’ I shrugged. ‘But how? Granted, she runs a small beauty salon, but she has no experience of big business.’
‘It’s difficult for you to understand, Jen. You aren’t an entrepreneur. But the principles of profit and loss are the same however big or small your company –’
‘But she irritates the hell out of you with her celebrity crushes and happy-go-lucky attitude.’
He held his head in his hands again and then pulled those long fingers away.
‘I’m sorry, Jenny. Chanelle and I – we’ve wanted to tell you for a long time but my mind’s been on other things. Her business was on its knees so I helped her out with a loan, and then this season’s lines failed to make an impact so we had a common bond. Reproducing high-end catwalk designs for the bottom end of the market has always been our unique selling point but it just isn’t hitting the mark lately. All I’ve been able to think of these last weeks is how to save our livelihood and Chanelle’s had some ideas –’
I gritted my teeth and held up my hand, a ball of heat scorching the inside of my chest. ‘Whoa! You invested in Chanelle’s business? It was you? Why did no one tell me? Why keep it a secret?’
He shifted from foot to foot as my mind suddenly focused on various bits of information. Like freshly divorced Chanelle’s unrefined joy on first meeting me in the school playground, when she found out I was married to ‘sexy millionaire Zachary Masters’ (her words not mine). How she pursued our unlikely friendship. Zak’s late nights ‘working’ over recent months. How his hair had looked uncharacteristically messy when he turned up at the restaurant tonight. How recently our sex life had waned …
A shard of realisation sliced through my body. My legs buckled. My hand rose to my throat and within seconds I was vomiting into a nearby bush. No. No! This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be possible. He came near to rub my back but I gave a muffled sob and jumped away.
‘How
