in the shadows, just waiting to reveal themselves. Secrets that make that perfect life more fragile and fractured than anyone could imagine. Secrets that cast a darkness over everything, even when the sun is shining.
I had secrets.
And my life wasn’t perfect, even when I thought it was.
We all had secrets.
We all told lies.
We all had a darkness that blocked out the sun.
No … my life wasn’t perfect …
‘Come on, Michael. Dance with me.’
‘When was the last time you saw me dance, Ellie?’
I lean back against the wall, the edge of my mouth twisting up into a smirk. ‘Our wedding.’
‘Almost fourteen years ago.’
I put down my gin and tonic and reach out and grab him by his belt, pulling him towards me, smiling as my mouth almost touches his. ‘But they’re playing our song.’
‘We have a song now?’ He arches an eyebrow and gives me the kind of grin that made me fall for him in the first place, all those years ago.
‘For a supposedly intelligent man you can be such a dick sometimes.’
He laughs, a low, husky laugh and I close my eyes as he kisses me, just a small kiss, his lips barely graze mine, but it’s enough. ‘We don’t have a song, Ellie,’ he whispers.
I let go of him and pick up my drink, taking another sip as my eyes scan the room. I’m not the biggest fan of Michael’s work gatherings, but as one of the university’s leading professors, a respected academic and head of the English Studies Department, it’s my duty, I suppose, to be by his side at these events. And I’m used to them now. In the beginning I’d always felt slightly out of place, as if I didn’t belong in this world. I never went to university, I wasn’t born into a family with those kind of aspirations. My family was nothing like Michael’s. My family was a mess, but I was determined not to go down the route everyone expected me to take. I was determined to become successful against all the odds, and so far I’ve been very lucky. I’ve achieved that success.
Michael leans back against the wall next me and I turn to face him. ‘We do, actually. We have a song. You just never remember what it is.’
He frowns and I look into his eyes and I can tell he genuinely wants to remember what that song is, but he can’t. And it doesn’t matter anyway, not really. I just like bringing it up, watching him squirm slightly as he tries his hardest to recall something that, in his world, isn’t all that important.
‘Liam’ll dance with me.’ I smile, and Michael returns it.
‘Any of the men in this room would dance with you, Ellie. You’re like a breath of fresh air around here.’
‘You’re hardly stuffy professor material yourself … Oh, hang on, there he is … Liam!’ I wave frantically across the room at Liam – Dr Liam Kennedy BS, MSc, PhD, to give him his full title, although, there are probably half a dozen letters I’ve missed off there – one of our closest friends and a visiting lecturer here at the university.
He turns to acknowledge me, throwing me a wide smile before he takes a drink from the tray of a passing waiter and makes his way over to us. ‘He still won’t dance with you, huh?’
Michael rolls his eyes and holds up his hands in a gesture of defeat, shaking his head, but he’s smiling too. ‘I know when I’m beaten. You two go light up the dance floor. I need to have a word with Laurel about Monday’s department meeting.’
‘Still using your charm to kick-start that research project, huh?’ Liam smirks.
‘Works every time. Oh, and don’t wear him out, Ellie. We’re playing squash tomorrow, and I need him at his best if we’re going to have any hope of beating Harry and Ed. I swear those two are taking something …’
I watch him head off in the direction of Laurel Greene, another colleague; watch the way her eyes light up as he approaches, because that’s the effect my husband has on people, especially women. He’s handsome, charming and fun, even if he doesn’t dance. Popular with both students and staff, he’s a big part of this university, deeply committed to his work, sometimes a little too committed, but that’s who he is. And I knew that the day I fell in love with him.
‘You okay?’
Liam’s voice drags me back from my thoughts and I look at him. ‘Yeah, I’m fine. A little tired, but it’s been a busy week.’
‘Another drink?’
I nod and follow him to the bar, waiting until I have a fresh gin and tonic in my hand before we resume our conversation.
‘So, how’s the new spa coming along?’ Liam asks as we commandeer a quiet table near the back of the room and sit down.
‘Well, thankfully, the grand opening is going ahead next Friday, as planned. Bob, my builder …’
Liam’s face breaks into a grin. ‘Bob the builder? Seriously?’
‘I know, believe me, I’ve been listening to the same joke for two months now. I’m as sick of it as he is. Anyway, he’s due to sign off on the work Monday morning, meaning we can now start moving things in and get everything organised ready for Friday.’
‘Your fourth business, huh? You’re killing it, Ellie Travers.’
‘Well, I might not have any letters after my name, but I haven’t let that hold me back.’
‘Three salons and now a day spa, what’s next for your empire?’
I take a sip of gin and quickly glance across the room. Michael’s charming the Bridget Jones pants off Laurel Greene. I can see, even from over here, how much he’s got her wrapped around his little finger.
‘If there were degrees given out for flirting, huh?’ Liam smirks.
‘It’s just who he is, you know that. Besides …’ I turn back to face Liam, leaning back in my seat and crossing my legs. ‘I’ve never really been Little-Miss-Wallflower, have I?’
He laughs, a louder, slightly more raucous laugh than Michael’s, but even though there are some distinct differences between the two men, they’re more like brothers than best friends. They met, as students, at this very university – Michael studying English Literature, Liam Biochemistry. They both became lecturers here, until Liam left to focus more on his work as a research scientist, but he’s retained visiting lecturer status here at the university. At a couple of universities across the UK, actually. He’s a very well-respected figure in his field.
‘No, Ellie, you could never be described as a wallflower.’ He leans forward, clasps his hands together on the table. ‘So, are we going to have that dance, or not?’
I
