He hung up and suddenly Steph had the urge to ask if he would be phoning his wife too and who he would phone first. The thought of his possible answer saddened her and again reminded her of what she was and how insignificant she really was in his life.
By Thursday nightSteph had found that the week had dragged but looked forward to a call from Jon each night. Her dad had been concerned by her initial request to stay at home for a few days, but after she’d shared the details with Janice about Simon’s erratic behaviour he had seemed relieved to have her there and spoke of Jon in even more glowing terms. Clearly Janice had passed on her deliberately selected pieces of information. She did think that her dad would have been considerably less complimentary about Jon if he knew he was married. She had signed the lease on the flat and although she could move in immediately she was waiting until Jon returned.
After meeting with Miss Roe she felt happier that they each had a better understanding of each other’s position and Steve had thanked her again for smoothing things over. Jack had paid her yet another visit to suggest that he may send Martin to Brookers in her place the following week. He’d sworn her to secrecy making her wonder if he suspected about her and Jon and whether this was all some kind of test. Lindsay had text her old number after returning from honeymoon to invite her to a viewing of wedding photos and the video on Sunday. She had also given her the details of a man she thought would be ideal for Steph who she’d met on the flight home.
Simon had been conspicuous by his absence, but Steph wasn’t sure whether that made her feel more or less nervous. She had been driving to work since Jon had gone away just in case Simon turned up or followed her. She had been shocked at the realisation of just how safe Jon made her feel and also how reliant she’d become on him in such a short time. Thinking about it made her feel a sense of sadness because he was never going to be reliant on her like she was on him as he was married. For the first time she seriously questioned just how long she would be able to do this for, to be his mistress and not want more. Maybe she should research the elusive Mrs Brooker, after all, Jon seemed to live permanently at his flat and there was absolutely no sign of a woman there, except for Steph herself whose belongings were beginning to gather. Yes, that would be the way to go with this, get the low down on the wife and see whether she could compete with her on any level.
Her thoughts were broken by the sound of her new phone ringing. “Hello.” She still felt a little melancholy.
“Hello, darling. Are you okay?”
“Yes, why wouldn’t I be?” She sounded angsty and petulant, although the truth was she was hurt and worried about her future with Jon, well, without him.
“I have no idea, but you’re obviously not,” he observed. “So, are you going to tell me what’s wrong or just bitch at me?” His own irritation oozed down the phone line.
“Have you phoned your wife?”
“Ah, I see,” he said with a loud sigh.
“What?” she shouted now. “And don’t bloody sigh at me.” She added a pout now, although he wasn’t able to see that.
“You are feeling jealous and insecure,” he stated, ignoring her anger. “We really need to have a conversation about my wife,” he told her. “But I haven’t actually phoned anyone, except you.”
“Really, just me?” she asked feeling happier knowing that she was the only person he had called, unless he was lying and yet she absolutely believed him.
“Yes, just you,” he reiterated.
“I don’t understand how things work with you and your wife.” She felt wary of treading this particular path. Did she really want to know how things were between them?
“Maybe you don’t have to understand at this point . . .” He sounded as confused as she felt. “I don’t know what to say to you, Steph. If she is mentioned you shut it down, even when it’s you who’s raised the subject. I have told you I am not ready to bear my soul and I’m not. You tell me that you don’t want to think about my wife, even less know about her and I respect that, if that’s how you really feel, but then I get this.”
“This?”
“Yes, this. The snapping and sniping. The inferences of what I have or haven’t done. I said I respect what you do and don’t want to know. And I do, but if you don’t want to know then you can’t blame me when your own imagination goes wild,” he said flatly and Steph was ready to agree with everything he’d said and even apologise for her mood, but then he allowed another sigh to leave his lips.
“You need to stop with the fucking sighing. I am not your very understanding wife who turns a blind eye to who you’re shagging, nor am I an employee who hasn’t completed their tasks to your liking, nor an errant child.” Steph was unsure what else she intended to say but before she could say another word he cut her off.
“I am well aware that you’re not my wife or an employee, but the child, I’m not so sure about because you’re certainly acting like one,” he snapped. “Look, I just called to hear your voice and to check that you were okay and I’m not sure that either of those reasons have quite panned out so maybe we should leave it and I will call you tomorrow.”
“Okay.” Sadness infiltrated her voice. She wanted to say something light-hearted and witty to engage him in conversation, but obviously she had blown any chance of that for tonight. As they hung up it was a struggle to keep the tears at bay, so she decided that if she went straight to bed when she woke up it would be a new day.
Steph was sittingat her desk the following morning and still feeling a little emotional thinking about her relationship with Jon and the future of it, or lack of one when she decided that she should start her research on Mrs Brooker. She had slept very little the night before and even when she had dropped off she had dreamt of her and Jon and his wife. Every dream had ended the same way; Jon and his wife got the happily ever after while she had been left alone and crying. By four o’clock that morning Steph had decided that she might need to do her own research, answer her own questions about Mrs Brooker in private if only to allow herself some time and privacy to absorb it all and maybe cry a few more tears. She really was the worst mistress inthe world . . . she’d reached that conclusion at five o’clock that morning.
She had another hour before she needed to leave her office to go to Brooker’s which was enough time to do a little digging. Getting herself and Rosie a coffee gave her some time to consider what to put into the search engine on her laptop.
She didn’t even know what Mrs Brooker’s name was, so decided to start with what she knew, Jonathan Brooker. As she hit the enter key she felt sick. There were pages of entries and as she sieved through them she found several references to a Mrs Brooker.
She switched to images and as they loaded there were several of him with various pretty young women, and then she saw her, a tall, leggy blonde resting a hand on Jon’s shoulder whilst his arm was draped around her waist and she was absolutely gorgeous. Steph felt sick as she clicked on the image and the enlarged version showed a huge ruby and diamond engagement ring on her ring finger sitting against a gold band, a wedding ring. She was perfect and as Steph looked down at the image of this beautiful couple smiling and holding onto each other it was quite obvious that they were very close; no wonder he had avoided discussing his wife but knew she was being unfair in that accusation as she was the one avoiding discussing her.
If she was fair to Jon, she had to admit that he seemed to be honest and wouldn’t tell her that his relationship with his wife was one of convenience and that she didn’t understand him, that there was no physical side to their relationship unless it was true, so she now assumed that their relationship was physical and was not one of convenience and presumably she understood him well.
Steph stared at the screen and wanted to cry again. This was a ridiculous situation she had made for herself. She had wanted to have sex with Jon, and rather than being a one-night-standshe had made the situation possible and then agreed to the arrangement they had, but she was already doubting whether she could do it. She had allowed herself in the space of three weeks to go from fancying him, to hating him, to being charmed by him, to loving him, and she did love him now.
“Fuck!” she cried as she slammed shut her laptop and realised what a mess she’d inadvertently made for herself, one that there was no easy way out of.
“Bad time?” came Jack Baker’s voice from the doorway.
“No, sorry. I’ve just put some figures together and forgotten to save it,” she lied.
