S. Watson - Second Life

He was there for me in the most real, the most honest, way possible. And still he’s the person I go to, the person I trust. The person who I want the best for, and want to be the best for, as he does for me.

I love him; finding out he’s slept with someone else – even boring Maria – has somehow made that feel more real. It’s reminded me he’s desirable, capable of passion.

I close my eyes. I wonder if they really have slept together only once. Either way, he’s had an affair that goes some way to countering my own. One of the holds Lukas thought he had over me is shrugged off, as simply as that. Anna will erase the photos and get him out of her life, and mine. For the first time in months I imagine emerging into a future without Lukas, clean and pure and free.

Hugh comes home. He’s late; a case had overrun. ‘Sorry, darling,’ he says when he comes into the kitchen. ‘Nightmare day. And Maria let me down again, at the last minute.’ He kisses me. Again I’m relieved. ‘Some crisis at home.’

So she hasn’t told Hugh that Paddy knows everything. I wonder why she told her husband, what prompted her confession. Guilt, I guess. That’s what it always boils down to, in the end.

‘How was your coffee with Paddy?’

It occurs to me that if I’m going to tell Hugh, this would be the moment. I know about you and Maria, I could say. Paddy told me. And I have something I want to tell you.

‘Hugh?’ He looks at me.

‘Uh-huh?’

I pause. I’m serving dinner. I wonder what would happen, if I went ahead. If I told him about Lukas. I wonder if he’d understand, if maybe he’s already guessed. I wonder if he’d forgive me, as I realize I’ve already forgiven him.

I change my mind. The secret I now know he’s keeping makes Lukas’s hold over me feel somehow diminished. I love Hugh, and I don’t want to give that up. Two wrongs don’t make anything right, but maybe they make things more equal.

‘Call Connor down, would you?’

He does, and a few minutes later our son comes downstairs. We eat together, sitting at the dining table. As we do, I watch my family. I’ve been a fool, an idiot. I’ve come close to losing everything. But I’ve learned my lesson – what good would a confession do now?

That night we go to bed early. I tell him I love him, and he tells me he loves me too, and we mean it. It’s not automatic, a call and response. It comes from a place of truth, deep and unknowable.

He kisses me, and I kiss him back. We’re truly together, at last.

It’s the day Lukas is due to go back to Paris, to Anna. I’m working when Hugh calls, photographing a family who contacted me through the Facebook page I set up. Two women, their two little boys.

It’s going well, it’s a distraction. We’re near the end of the shoot, or else I’d have let the call go to voicemail. ‘D’you mind?’ I say, and the taller of the two women says, ‘Not at all. I think Bertie wants to go to the loo anyway.’

I direct them to the downstairs bathroom at the back of the house and then answer the call. ‘Hugh?’ I say.

‘You busy?’

I step outside into the cold autumn air and close the shed door behind me. I’m jumpy today, on edge.

‘Just finishing a shoot. Is everything okay?’

‘Yes, fine.’ He sounds upbeat. The fear that had begun to grip loosens its hold. ‘I just wanted to let you know.’

‘Yes?’

‘They’ve accepted the offer of an out-of-court settlement. They’re dropping their complaint.’

My shoulders sag with relief. I hadn’t realized how much tension I’d been holding in my body. ‘That’s great, Hugh. That’s wonderful.’

‘I thought we should celebrate. Dinner, tonight? The three of us? You’re not busy, are you?’

I tell him I’m not. It’ll help me to relax, I think, it’ll take my mind off whatever might be happening in Paris. For a week I’ve been wondering what Anna is thinking, trying to resist the temptation to call her, worrying that she’ll change her mind and decide to stay with him. What would happen then, if she does? A demand, I guess, for money. I never believed all he wanted was for me to leave Anna alone.

And even if it were, I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t leave her to a man prepared to lie in the way Lukas has. She’s my friend. My sister’s best friend. I owe it to her.

But all that is to come, I tell myself. Just one more week, and then it’ll be over.

‘I’d like that,’ I say to Hugh.

‘I’ll book somewhere. You’ll tell Connor?’

It’s just before lunchtime when I finish the shoot. I tell the couple I’ll email them when the shots are ready and they can choose which ones they like. They thank me, we say goodbye, then I put my equipment away, take down the lights. I’m thinking about what Anna will have to do. I imagine her, having the conversation. It’s not you, it’s me. I’m not sure I want to marry right now .

Would it work? Will Lukas believe that it has nothing to do with me, that I’ve stayed away?

She should do it in a bar, I think. Somewhere neutral, where he can get angry but not violent. I should have suggested she change the locks first.

I wonder if I should go over there, to be with her. But that might make things worse. For now, she’s on her own.

I finish tidying and go inside. I open the fridge; there’s some salad for lunch, some smoked mackerel. I take them out and look at the time; Connor will be at lunch. I take my phone and ring him. I tell him we’re going out tonight. He complains, ‘But I’m meant to be going out with Dylan!’ His voice implores, he’s looking for me to tell him it doesn’t matter, he should spend the evening with his friend, but I don’t.

‘It’s important, Con. To your dad.’

‘But—’

I swap the phone to my other ear and take a plate from the cupboard.

‘I’m not arguing, Connor. After school, you need to come home.’

He sighs but says he will.

I finish preparing my lunch and eat it in the kitchen, then go back to my studio. I look at the pictures I’ve taken and begin to think about the edit, making notes of which have worked best. At about two in the afternoon the phone rings.

I jump. It’s Anna, I think, but when I answer it the voice is unfamiliar.

‘Mrs Wilding?’

‘Yes?’

‘Ah.’ The woman on the other end of the line sounds relieved. She introduces herself: Mrs Flynn, from Connor’s school. ‘I’m just ringing from Saint James’s. It’s about Connor.’

I shiver, a premonition. ‘Connor? What’s wrong?’

‘I just wondered whether he was at home?’

The world stops; it tilts and shifts. The room is suddenly too cold.

‘No. No, he’s not here. He’s at school.’ I say it firmly, with authority. It’s as if simply by saying it I believe I can make it so.

‘I rang him at lunchtime.’ I look at my watch. ‘He’s there. Isn’t he?’

‘Well, he wasn’t in for afternoon registration.’ She sounds unconcerned, in complete contrast to the panic that’s beginning to grow within me, but it feels forced. She’s just trying to reassure me. ‘It’s not like him, so we just wanted to check he was at home.’

I begin to shake. He’s been not like him a fair bit lately. ‘No. No, he’s not here.’ I don’t know whether I’m supposed to be apologizing for him or not. I’m both angry and defensive, and behind all that the swell of fear is about to break. ‘I’ll call him. I’ll find out where he is. He was in this morning?’

‘Oh, yes. He was in as usual. I’m told everything seemed fine.’

‘Okay.’ I tell myself to stay calm. I tell myself that there’s nothing to worry about; he’s sulking, I’ve made him come home rather than seeing his friends, he’s teaching me a lesson.