Page 75 of The Whole Package

‘I’ve got to deal with him at some point, and he’s here, so it may as well be now,’ I said, as I turned away from her concerned eyes.

Then I turned back to Rupert. ‘Outside,’ I said.

He followed immediately. The doors closed behind us. And just like that, the perfect Christmas I’d built started to tilt.

Chapter Twenty-Three

‘Where are we going?’ I asked as Rupert led me to the ridiculous, monster-sized Range Rover he’d obviously hired which was parked outside the community centre. I approached the car, surprised to see the alloys still intact. Clearly Rupert wasn’t aware of how risky parking something like that in the Gorbals was.

‘I thought we could talk in my hotel room. It’s quiet, private.’ He glanced at me, offering a small smile. ‘The new hair suits you, by the way.’

I let out a dry laugh. ‘It doesn’t. It was a terrible mistake. I was in the salon and I’d just heard about you and . . .’ I trailed off. I couldn’t even say her name. My stomach twisted like someone was wringing it out.

‘Well, I think it suits you, darling,’ he said lightly.

Once inside the car, I looked out the window. My head was pounding with questions, everything I wanted to say clawing at my throat. I didn’t even know if I was ready to hear his answers. I didn’t know if I was ready to forgive him, or if I would finally be forced to admit my marriage might actually be over. I felt dizzy. Why did he have to turn up like this? And why the big scene in front of everyone?

We drove in stone-cold silence until the city centre swallowed us up and we pulled up outside the Blythswood Hotel. I glanced up at the grand building, giant Christmas nutcrackers flanking the entrance, ready to assess the state of your bank balance on the way in.

‘Well, this is nice.’

Rupert’s hand slid over mine. ‘I hated the thought of you alone in Glasgow. I know how much you hate it here. I thought you’d want to stay somewhere much more our style.’

I pulled my hand back gently. ‘It hasn’t been that bad here. I’ve made friends, connected with people, and it’s been nice spending time with Mum and Dad.’ I thought of Jamie, Claire, Mags, Ina, Lucy, and the chaos of the community centre, of Mum forcing me out of my self-pity, of getting to know Dad again. The wee kids with their scissors and paper snowflakes. My heart instantly warmed at the thought of them all.

Sleet hammered against the windows. I watched white slush blur the streets, wishing I could disappear into it.

‘Shall we head in? We could—’ Rupert asked after a beat.

I didn’t answer. I just opened the door mid-sentence and got out.

Inside, the place was obscene. Piano music drifted through the lobby while people sipped perfectly chilled wine out of thin-stemmed glasses beneath the biggest, most perfect Christmas tree I’d ever seen. Everything glittered. The air smelled expensive, opulent, privileged. I’d never felt more out of place in my life. I looked down at myself – my teenage skinny jeans, Claire’s vaguely slutty top, my mum’s pale blue zipper, and those Hugg boots that made me look like I’d been stuck up a fucking chimney. Even my previously pristine white fur coat was looking worse for wear after weeks of Glasgow rain. People stared. Maybe they recognised me, or maybe I just looked like I’d taken a wrong turn on my way to Greggs. I was also very aware that I hummed of lentils and boiled gammon. Brilliant. Then I felt a wave of panic. I should have told someone about the gammon, it still needed the apricot and mustard glaze I had been perfecting all week, and I hadn’t even studded it with cloves yet. Jeez. Could Mum be trusted to do that? I wondered.

‘The lift’s this way,’ Rupert said, his hand brushing the small of my back. My whole body stiffened at the contact. It felt strange being alone with him, even though he was my husband. I knew this man inside out, yet I didn’t feel like he knew me at all. He had never seen me like this. The not-perfect Harri version of me. He only knew Harriette.

We rode up in silence, the faint buzz of the lift ringing in the background. The penthouse door opened and – wow! The room was ridiculous. Warm light filled the vast space. The scent of fresh jasmine and lavender hung in the air. A courtyard balcony overlooked the city, making the sleet look almost picturesque. The bed was big enough for a small orgy. Then, if that wasn’t enough, there was a private steam room, and a TV on practically every wall. Everything polished, perfect, untouched. I took it all in – the decor, the panelling, the chandelier – and in them, I recognised my old life.

‘I brought some of your things,’ Rupert said quietly. His eyes flicked to the wardrobe, where a selection of my clothes hung neatly. Jesus, I’d missed them. ‘And your makeup’s in the bathroom.’

I nodded, blinking hard. Why was everything unpacked? I wondered. Did he really think this was going to be easy? And how did he know what makeup to pack? Had Penelope helped him? I felt sick at the thought. ‘Thanks, but I think we should talk. I have a lot to organise before tomorrow,’ I said, forcing a bit of bravery into my tone before I completely shat it and launched myself off the top-floor balcony. I moved to sit on the sofa, disrupting an unnecessary amount of throw pillows and decorative cushions.

Rupert hovered for a second, then joined me, looking pale and nervous. ‘Right. Yes. Let’s talk. Excellent idea,’ he muttered, perching beside me like the sofa might reject him.

His proximity brought all the noise in my head rushing back.

Both of us took a breath, ready to speak, then stopped at the exact same time.

Rupert gestured awkwardly. ‘Please, after you.’

I shook my head. ‘No. I’d love to hear what excuse you’ve come up with. After you.’

He sighed, dragging a manicured hand over his face. ‘Right. Firstly – I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you, Harriette. I didn’t know you were filming, or I never ever would have said anything like that on a live stream—’

I held up a hand. ‘Rupert, I don’t care about the fucking live stream.’

He faltered, his mouth opening and then closing again like a bamboozled goldfish.

‘I care that you lied and cheated on me for months. You made me a laughing stock!’ I tilted my head. ‘Look, are we going to talk about Penelope at all in this, or are we just going to pretend like she fell out of the sky and landed on your dick by accident?’