Susanna’s voice shook as she laughed, ‘Stop saying crap or I won’t be able to take you seriously.’
Susanna was different to the girl who had left the island, angry, desperate to escape. Maybe Anchor Island had finally worked its magic on her.
30
SUSANNA
Susanna was at the cottage, getting everything ready for Gayle’s homecoming. Gayle was finally being released from hospital and she wanted everything to be perfect. She’d dusted Gayle’s bedroom, vacuumed and cleaned the bathroom. A fresh arrangement of pink gladioli, sunflowers and cerise roses had been placed in a vase on the kitchen table and a smaller vase – this one containing white spray chrysanthemums – was on Gayle’s bedside table.
She looked out of the kitchen window. It was early October already and autumn was on its way. Soon the tree at the front of the cottage garden and the trees dotted along Bay Street would shed their leaves, leaving a crunch underfoot, and the island would take on a whole new personality.
She turned her attentions to preparing the vegetables to go with the almost-cooked chicken casserole. Once the timer beeped she’d give it another forty minutes or so to rest and let the flavours really develop.
Now all that was missing was Gayle, and when she heard a noise at the front door she almost skipped to open up and welcome their aunt over the threshold. It wasn’t lost on her how many years she could’ve been like this and hadn’t. But it was no use constantly regretting the past.
She pulled open the door and froze in shock. ‘Alex?’
He didn’t step closer, he didn’t beam a smile – he looked so uncertain, but Susanna wasn’t.
She stepped towards him and enveloped him in a tight hug. Since the day she’d told him about the near kiss with Mateo, and after he’d overheard Mateo with her on the boat, she hadn’t been able to get hold of her husband. She’d been texting, calling, but every attempt went unanswered.
She inhaled the familiar scent of the Paco Rabanne aftershave she’d bought him last Christmas, the warmth of his skin, the feel of his firm body beneath his clothes. ‘I’m so pleased to see you.’
‘Susanna…’
‘There’s nothing between me and Mateo, I promise.’ She was still holding on to him. She never wanted to let go.
His chest rose on a breath, a sign he was contemplating the right words to use. ‘You almost kissed him,’ he said as he pulled away. ‘And then when I called… you were with him.’
She stared at her husband. He looked so crushed.
‘Alex, the near kiss was a mistake, a horrible, silly mistake. And there’s a reason I was with him when you called me back. I’ll tell you all about it, but first I need some answers from you.’ She stood back and waited for him to step inside. When she closed the door behind him, she said, ‘You’ve been distant for a while. Something is going on, and you refuse to tell me.’
When he said nothing, she folded her arms across her body, ready to feel the brute force of a confession when she asked, ‘Are you having an affair?’
‘Am I what?’
‘Are you having an affair?’ she repeated. Maybe he was stalling, grasping for the words he could utter that might get himself out of this.
‘Whatever gave you that idea?’
‘Well, are you?’
‘No, I’m not.’
‘I found a receipt. I wasn’t snooping – I was in your study trying to find the number for the window cleaner and I saw it. It was from that little Italian restaurant where we celebrated our anniversary.’
He let out a deep sigh. ‘You’re right, I went there.’
‘Who with?’
He shook his head. ‘It’s not what you think.’
When the oven timer pinged she went into the kitchen and turned the oven off. The meal could stay in there until it was time to eat.
He’d followed her and sat down at a chair at the table.
She sat opposite. ‘Wait, did you only turn up here because you thought I was cheating on you?’ she asked, piecing it together. ‘Because I’m not. I promise.’
