Chapter 11
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 the trolley and no idea what else I’m looking for. So I just start to grab things, anything – a can of soup, a packet of pasta, bread, cereal, teabags, even though I know we don’t need any of it. I want to get out of here now. It’s time to go to work. I need to take my mind off all of this. I need to grab onto reality.
‘Ellie?’
A voice behind me makes me jump, causing me to drop the jar of marmalade I was holding, and I watch as it clatters against the metal of the shopping trolley, landing on its side next to a loaf of bread.
‘You not at work this morning?’
I look up. It’s Liam. And my eyes lock on his for less than a heartbeat before I drop my gaze, glancing down at the basket in his hand. It’s filled with things he probably does need, as opposed to my randomly filled trolley. ‘I’m on my way to the Durham salon. I just needed to pick up a few things first.’
And then I realise something and I frown, and he doesn’t miss that change in my expression. ‘Is there something wrong, Ellie?’
‘I thought you’d be at the squash club this morning.’
‘I was. I’ve just come from there, but there’s nothing happening. Most of the guys are away on business this weekend, so there’s not really
