This is death, Alastair. Didn’t I tell you we’d never be parted?
To his surprise, he felt a great surge of emotion rise up within him at the clarity of her voice. It was love for the woman who had been so impossible to live with, but who had been such a vital and vibrant part of his life. Life would have been immensely dull without her.
‘Orla,’ he murmured, ‘is that really you?’
Who else would it be?
He found he wanted to believe it. But was this another trick of his treacherous heart and mind?
He willed his lungs to fight for breath, before finally the pain and effort became too much and he gave up the struggle. With relief, he let go and slipped into the dark and unknown abyss.
And where, he knew, Orla was waiting for him.
Chapter Sixty-One
Simon woke with a jolt. Squinting his eyes in the dark, he looked at his mobile and saw that he’d been asleep for less than an hour. Something – a sudden noise – had woken him from a dream that had felt disturbingly real.
He’d been dreaming of Alastair, of the two of them as boys. They’d been climbing a tree, each daring the other to go higher and higher. Simon had spotted a branch that didn’t look as strong as the ones they’d already climbed, but he dared Alastair to pull himself up on to it. He then watched his friend – no longer a boy, but a grown man – tumble in slow motion to the ground, his arms and legs flailing wildly, his cry for help barely audible as the ground opened up beneath him, and he plummeted into the blackness of what looked like a well.
From the very tallest branch of the tree, and with grim satisfaction, Simon watched his friend disappear from sight. But then he realised that he couldn’t climb down, he needed Alastair’s help. Full of remorse, he called to his friend. But there was no answer. Only silence, an awful silence that told him he’d lost Alastair forever. But then he heard a noise. In the silence it had sounded as loud as a gunshot going off.
Now that he was fully awake, Simon recognised the noise as a creak of a door opening. He pushed away the duvet that covered him on the sofa and saw that there was a light coming from the direction of the kitchen.
He found Danny there in his pyjamas waiting for the kettle to boil.
‘Sorry if I woke you.’
‘You did me a favour,’ Simon replied, helping himself to another mug from the cupboard and a teabag. ‘You woke me from a gruesome dream in which I pushed Alastair to his death.’
Danny winced. ‘Not surprising in the circumstances, but a bit extreme.’
They made their drinks and sat at the kitchen table. ‘What the hell’s happened to us, Danny?’ Simon asked with a deep sigh. ‘At this time in our lives we should have it all licked and be enjoying ourselves.’
Danny stared back at him over the rim of his mug. ‘I wish I had an answer, but I’m afraid I’m as bewildered as you.’
‘I doubt that,’ Simon said with feeling.
‘It’s good of you to have us here,’ Danny said after a pause, ‘but with everything you and Sorrel have got to work out, we’ll gladly make other arrangements.’
Simon shook his head. ‘If I’m honest, having you here acts as a buffer, it keeps Sorrel and me from making any decisions.’
‘As a friend I’d urge you not to do anything hasty. You and Sorrel have been married for so long. You have such a wealth of shared history, including Callum and Rachel, isn’t that worth fighting for?’
‘How would you feel if it was Frankie who’d had an affair with Alastair?’
‘I would like to think that once I had recovered from the shock and anger, I’d want to know why.’
Simon puffed out his cheeks. ‘I think we all know why Sorrel did it. Alastair was her first love. I could never compete. Not really.’
‘Has the affair really come as such a big surprise to you, then?’
Seconds passed while Simon wrestled with his conscience. ‘You’re right,’ he said at length. ‘I always wondered if something might happen between them, but the thing is, I ignored it on the basis that I couldn’t claim any moral high ground. There was always something about Orla that … well … you know, she was such an extraordinary woman. But I didn’t pursue what I felt for her. Even though there was a moment when I could have. And that’s not a confession I ever thought I’d have to make to you.’
He went on to explain that he’d shared this admission with Sorrel, in the hope that she would realise he was prepared to forgive her, because he knew all about temptation himself. ‘What shocked me most, was that their affair happened long before my … my transgression.’
‘When exactly?’
‘Twenty-five years ago.’
