Page 51 of The Soulmate

47

AMANDA

BEFORE

The funny thing was, in a way the Arthur Spriggs situation brought Max and I closer. We had survived an ordeal together. Faced a battle and won. We each knew the other cared and could be trusted. And it was then, after fifteen years of marriage, that our story began in earnest. More than just money. More than fidelity. More than just a transaction. It terrified me as much as it exhilarated me.

After that, Max came home for dinner on time. On the weekends, we went out, just the two of us – to movies and dinners and art galleries. We went on holidays – a resort in Bora Bora, a hike through Tasmania. For Max’s fiftieth birthday, we took the trip of a lifetime to Africa. We went on safari in Tanzania in an open-top bus, we ‘glamped’ in luxurious tents under the stars. We sat by the pool in Zanzibar. We picked out a tanzanite stone from a jeweller, and Max had it made into a necklace for me. I took photographs that would later win awards.

It felt like a honeymoon. It was the longest I’d spent with Max since we’d been married. The longest I’d spent with him ever.

‘Amanda,’ he said one night. We were lying on our plush camping mattress, talking in the early evening. ‘I was wondering. Do you still worry about me finding another woman? I know that early on in our marriage it was a concern of yours. I hope you don’t worry about that still.’

‘No,’ I said, realising it had been a long time since I’d thought about this. ‘I don’t.’

The day was fading, and the tent was bathed in a gorgeous soft light. It occurred to me that it was, perhaps, the perfect moment to tell him I loved him. I was fairly sure, after all this time, that my feelings were reciprocated. And yet, even as I opened my mouth, something kept me from projecting the words.

Love had never served Max or me. Max had lost his mother and his brother – the ones he loved most. And I’d watched love slowly destroy my mother. Maybe the key to our marriage was that we didn’t make loud proclamations? Maybe, for us, love was something to be whispered. Or, perhaps, never spoken of at all.

48

PIPPA

NOW

‘Sorry!’ I say to the car that screeches to a halt, narrowly missing me as I dart across the street without looking. Then, like a fool, I offer a wave.

The driver throws me a murderous glare as she drives away. I don’t blame her. I’d do the same thing if a pedestrian ran out in front of my car. But getting hit by a car was preferable to running into Max Cameron.

I’m shaking as I jog home through the back streets. I don’t think Max saw me, but I certainly didn’t look back once I got out of there. I didn’t tell Dev I was leaving either. He’ll probably think I’m nuts. I’ll have to tell him something came up. We were almost done anyway.

At home, I enter via the back door. I need to call Gabe; I need to warn him that Max is in town, at the cafe. It wouldn’t be unusual for Gabe to turn up there at this time of day to grab some lunch.

I pull out my phone.

‘Hi, darling.’

I shouldn’t be startled to find Mum in my kitchen. There always seems to be one family member or another here at any given time. For the first time in a long while, I feel a flush of irritation at this. ‘Hi, Mum. What are you doing here?’

‘I was just at the shops, and I picked up some things to make soup for you and the family,’ she says. ‘Then I thought I might as well just make it here.’

She’s already got out a knife and cutting board and is chopping an onion. Groceries are strewn all over the counter and she’s wearing my apron.

‘Great.’

But it’s not great. I can’t call Gabe with Mum here. I look at my phone, wondering if I should send him a text.

‘I’m glad you’re home,’ Mum says, as I sink into an armchair. ‘I’ve been meaning to check in with you.’

I want, more than anything, to hear Gabe’s voice. I want him to tell me that everything is going to be fine. I open a new message. But what do I write? The sound of Mum chopping is an annoying distraction, stopping me from being able to figure it out.

Chop. Chop, chop.

‘Pip?’

Maybe I could text. Something like:Max is here. I saw him at The Pantry.

Chop. Chop, chop.