Page 55 of You Were Always the One

She hesitated. Then when she turned, her face was wet with tears. ‘I’ve already told you. There’s no point. We don’t want the same things.’

‘I want you,’ I said urgently. ‘More than anything. If you want a different life, let’s do it. I’ll do anything, Skye…’ More or less. ‘We can go back to England, if that’s what you want. All that matters is we’re doing it together.’

She stood there for a moment. Then she came back in. ‘You’re sure?’ she said.

‘Never been more sure,’ I said softly. ‘I don’t want to be without you.’ Suddenly, it’s crystal clear. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gone out the night you were sick. But next time, and the time after, I promise I’ll be here.’

A small sigh came from her. ‘I don’t plan on being sick, Monty.’

‘Good.’ Going over to her, I took her hands. ‘But you know what I mean.’ I gazed into her eyes. ‘I love you, Skye. More than I’ve ever loved anyone. Give this stupid, thoughtless idiot another chance and I promise I’ll try.’ I paused. ‘Please.’

JULY

20

HOLLY

Unsettled doesn’t begin to describe how I feel at the moment. I somehow get through the days, then at night, I lie in bed, thinking about the future. How if Miles wasn’t ill, one of us would be moving out. But at this moment in time, it isn’t possible or ethical.

Is it really over between him and Patricia? I hate the idea of prying, but none of what’s happening is ordinary and curiosity pushes me to find out more. Getting out of bed, I creep downstairs. Opening the door to Miles’s study, I switch the light on.

It’s a strange room, devoid of personality. The walls are white, a few books are arranged on a shelf, a picture I haven’t noticed before hanging on one of the walls. Did Patricia give it to him? Going to his desk, I open each drawer in turn. They contain nothing of interest, and my eyes turn to his laptop.

I know I’m prying but I can’t stop myself. I’ve no idea what his password is, but I also know Miles isn’t creative. I try his birthday, then the date of our wedding. Then the date Max was born.

To my astonishment, it works. I click on his emails, guilt flooding over me, but then I find several sent in recent months by a Patricia Yarrow. Opening one of them, I read it, my hand going to my mouth. It seems that Miles hasn’t been straight with me. It’s clear from them that not so long ago, he led her to believe that he was leaving me.

Bringing up Google, I type in her name. I already know from when they had an affair before that Patricia works for a corporate law firm. Finding a recent photo of her, I study her long dark hair, her eyes staring out of the screen back at me.

On impulse, I copy her email address before closing the laptop, sitting there for a moment before tiredness overwhelms me. But I sleep little that night. Back in bed, my mind refuses to still.

The following morning, when Grace comes downstairs, her face is tearstained.

‘Hey? What’s up?’ I say gently.

‘I was thinking about Dad.’ Her voice trembles.

‘He should be home soon,’ I tell her. ‘I’ll tell you what. Why don’t we go and see him after school?’

It’s clear, though, that neither of them relish the idea and as I take in my children’s faces, my heart sinks. But we have already learned our lives are more peaceful without Miles. We are easier together; the tension has lessened. Change is already upon us. That afternoon, I make an executive decision and call in to the hospital without them. Four days have passed since Miles’s surgery. They’re days during which our only contact is a daily text or two – his request, rather than my lack of thought. In a bed in the corner of the ward, he’s wearing his headphones when I get there.

Seeing me, he takes them off.

‘Hi,’ I say. ‘I thought I’d come and see how you are.’ I have burning questions to ask about Patricia, but clearly, it isn’t the time.

‘Not bad,’ he says. ‘They seem pleased with how I’m doing.’

‘That’s good,’ I say. ‘How are you feeling? It’s quite a major procedure you’ve been through.’

‘Having my skull sawn into?’ He smiles wryly. ‘I actually feel much better. We’ll just have to see what the next bit brings.’ His face clouds over. ‘I’m under no illusion about what they’re going to find. The consultant has been preparing the ground, shall we say.’

A cold feeling comes over me. But we still don’t know for sure, I remind myself. ‘When are you coming home?’ I ask.

‘As soon as tomorrow,’ he says. ‘If that’s OK? Like we said, I can use the spare room. That way, I won’t disturb you.’

It seems like a reasonable solution for both of us. ‘The kids will be glad to see you.’ Then, ‘It’s Max’s birthday next week.’

‘I know.’ His voice changes. ‘How are they?’