You foul, beastly rotten dirty beast!’ I was screaming at him now, and I saw him stand up, his face pale.
‘Quietly Linda, please,’ he tried to interrupt me, but I couldn’t stop.
‘You mean, unkind, disloyal bastard!’ The tears were streaming down my face now. ‘How could you! How could you? Well, if you don’t want me, thank goodness there is someone who does!’
Blindly I pushed past him and groped my way out to the front door. I opened it and ran down the path between the hollyhocks in my bare feet.
I don’t think he tried to stop me. I didn’t wait to see.
I turned out of the gate and ran down the road. I had only one thought in my head. To go to Graham. I was so hurt and angry and miserable I didn’t think at all beyond that one thing.
I ran most of the way to his hotel, not caring about the cars that flashed past me in the dark or the one or two passing pedestrians. My feet hurt terribly on the tarmac and my hair whipped in tangles against my burning face. The receptionist looked at me in horror as I pushed open the revolving door, but she rang through to Graham’s room without comment and ten seconds later I was in his arms.
He helped me to his room and rang down for drinks and some coffee. Then he sat me down firmly on the bed.
‘Calm down, Lyn honey. Tell me slowly,’ he ordered. He reached over into his bedside cabinet and produced an enormous box of tissues.
Somehow I blew my nose and stopped crying. Then, gulping, I poured out my story to him.
After a few moments there was a knock on the door and a maid brought in the tray with the coffee and drinks. She stared at me curiously, then I saw her eyes widen as she noticed my feet. They were bleeding. At the sight of them suddenly I burst into tears again, and she was bustled off on Graham’s instructions to get a bowl of warm water and antiseptic.
By the time they had finished fussing over me I had managed to stop crying and when we were alone again at last I gave him a watery smile.
‘I’m sorry, Graham. Forgive me. It was all such a shock.’
‘Of course it was, honey.’ He took my hands and held them gently. ‘The guy sounds no good to me at all. You’re well out. Do you want to go back to London with me, Thursday?’
I nodded dumbly. I never wanted to see Steve again or our beautiful cottage which I couldn’t even think of as home any more. All I wanted – was out.
Later, much later, I crawled into bed. Graham’s bed. He turned off the lamps one by one, then he climbed in beside me. I was exhausted and still very tense and when he rolled over towards me and reached out I shrank away suddenly.
‘Okay honey. No hurry.’ He turned onto his back and lay staring up at the ceiling and after a few moments I heard his breathing grow deep and regular and I knew he was asleep.
I barely slept that night. Every time I dozed off I awoke with a start, clinging to the edge of the bed. As dawn broke I crept from the blankets, my eyes heavy with lack of sleep, and drew back the curtain to gaze out into the garden.
We breakfasted in the room, then as soon as I was sure that Steve would have gone to work I let Graham drive me back to the end of the lane. He had a day of appointments he couldn’t break so he persuaded me that I may as well go home and collect some things.
Quietly I let myself in and not letting myself stop to think I ran up the stairs.
Steve was lying face down on the bed. I stopped dead when I saw him and turned to run downstairs again but he had heard me and he raised his head. His face was strangely red and swollen and it struck me suddenly that he too had been crying.
‘Where have you been?’ he whispered. ‘I’ve been out of my mind with worry.’
‘With a man of course.’ I wanted to hurt him as much as he had hurt me.
‘Oh Lyn.’ He bit his lip, painfully sitting up and swinging his legs to the floor. ‘What has happened to us?’
‘Nothing happened to me,’ I retorted. ‘I trusted you; I was working hard, for us, and look what happened.’ It didn’t cross my mind that perhaps if I had been less preoccupied with Graham over the last few weeks, things might never have gone so far.
I stamped across to the window and looked out. Ian Johnson was cutting roses next door. I could see the curl of blue smoke rising from his pipe.
I heard Steve coming across the room behind me. Then his hand was on my shoulder. ‘Linda, my love. Can you ever forgive me?’
I shrugged off his hand, and shook my head.
‘I’m leaving you, Steve. Even if I wanted to stay, it seems to me you’ve got commitments elsewhere now.’ I was so weary by now that my voice was quite unemotional and flat. I hardly cared what was going to happen.
We stood in silence for a moment, then Steve said, ‘Who is this man?’
I felt suddenly dreadfully guilty. ‘He was just a friend. Someone I met at the teashop.’ I turned and nearly spat at him, ‘He was just a friend to me, but I knew he loved me. He cares. I’m going to London with him. There’s nothing for me to stay for, is there?’
As I felt the tears welling up in my eyes again I turned back to the window. ‘Go away Steven, please.’
I held my breath. Would he go? I desperately wanted him to stay suddenly, but I heard his soft footsteps on the rug and then the sound of the door shutting behind him. Then I let the tears run down my face unchecked.
I don’t know how long I stood there. Perhaps it was hours. Slowly my tears stopped and dried in streaks on my cheeks. I felt completely drained and empty.
I nearly didn’t answer the knock on the front door. But then I slowly dragged myself down the stairs. There was a young woman on the doorstep. Instinctively I knew it must be Lauren. She was tall and slim with auburn hair. There were great dark circles beneath her eyes too.
‘Are you Linda?’ she asked bluntly.
I nodded, still clutching the door-handle.
She swallowed. ‘Will you tell Steve I’m going back to London. I don’t want to see him again.’
‘But the baby!’ I blurted out.
She blushed crimson. ‘There isn’t any baby, Linda. I made it up. I knew that was the only way I would get Steve, make him divorce you. But I couldn’t go through with it. I’m sorry.’
She paused as though she was going to say something else, and then she turned and ran down the path.
I didn’t know what to do. I just stood there for a while, looking after her, then I went slowly into the kitchen and made myself a cup of black coffee. It made me feel rather sick, but I hoped it might help me to think straight.
What was I to do? My brain raced in circles. Steve, Graham, the cottage, my beautiful little home. Steve, Graham, Steve … oh Steve.
I hardly know to this day what made me do it, drag a comb through my hair, collect my
