With my heart feeling as if it might burst from my chest, I push myself away from the man opposite me and squeeze through the throng of bodies now gyrating as one. My legs are like butter beneath me. One hand against the wall, I squint, trying to gain some equilibrium as I make my way to the toilets. Rough hands grab me, righting me as I reel. Someone laughs, a loud, raucous laugh, right next to my ear. He shouts something unintelligible. I can’t hear anything now but theboom, boominside me, can’t feel anything but the panic that claws its way up my throat. I can’t breathe.
Focus. I plead with my body not to fail me as I stumble on. My foot goes over; a sharp pain shoots through my ankle. Stupid boots. Thigh-high boots. Mutton undressed. I shouldn’t be here. I should be at home with my children. My chest twists painfully as I recall my little boy’s closed body language as I tried to say goodbye to him before I left. His eyes fixed to his iPad, he refused even to look at me. Holly, my precious little girl – I see her expression, the unbridled accusation in her eyes as she stared mutely at me. For a second, she looked at me just the way Sarah did, as if I was a traitor. I am. No matter how much I try to deny it, I was the catalyst that set this ball rolling. Constantly badgering Jason to take money from my father belittled him as much as my father himself had. He wanted to destroy our marriage. But it was me who lit the fuse that blew it all apart.
And now I’m losing my husband.
I am sweating, profusely, perspiration wetting my forehead, face and chest, wet polyester plastered to my back like snakeskin. But I’m not writhing and wriggling. I’m not dancing. I am clutching the sink for support in the toilets, and I don’t want to be here. I want to be at home, lying in the arms of a man I know I’ll be safe with. Would have been, once, if only I’d been there for him.
Twenty-Nine
JASON
Jason paid Megan and thanked her, just managing a smile as he closed the door behind her, gulping back the tears he felt like weeping. He couldn’t do that, not here, with his children so close. He glanced up at the ceiling, blinking hard, willing himself to stay in control. He needed to check on Holly, make sure she was sleeping. He hadn’t even said hello to her when he’d come home earlier. He moved along the hall and swung up the stairs. She knew what was going on, that their marriage was irretrievably broken. They both did.
After tapping on her door and getting no answer, he eased it open, and his heart sank to a whole new level. Holly was asleep, or else feigning sleep. She had her pink Build-A-Bear tucked under her arm. Swallowing hard, Jason closed the door quietly. Realising his little girl needed comforting, and that he couldn’t offer her that comfort – tell her everything was going to be all right, which would be an out-and-out lie – he stayed where he was for a second, cursing himself, and then headed for the stairs, where he finally gave in to his urge to cry.
He was trying to resist the urge to get so drunk he would be incapable of thinking the dark thoughts going around in his head – primarily of ripping Robert Fenton’s cold heart from his chest – when he decided to message Jessie. Talking to someone, about anything, might just save his sanity. Whether it was right or wrong to be talking to her really wasn’t an issue any more, was it, he thought, his gut wrenching afresh as he pictured his wife, and what she might now be doing with another man.
Is this a good time for you?he typed. He hesitated briefly and then hit send.
She didn’t reply immediately, causing his heart to plummet, and then –Can do.
Jason was relieved. At that time of night, he’d wondered whether she would answer.Fancy talking properly on the phone?he asked her.
There was another short pause, then,OK, she sent,but I have a thick Irish brogue. Born in Cork, worked in Donegal for a while. Am told accent sexy but hard to understand. Also, night off so out with the girls. Birthday bash. Teensy bit inebriated, therefore.
I’ll listen carefully,Jason sent back.
Send me your number. I’ll find a quiet spot. Call you in five,Jessie replied.
Jason keyed in his number and went to the conservatory, lest the kids wander down and overhear. He hoped she did call. He couldn’t reveal details or tell her the insane nature of the personal issues he was dealing with, but he needed to be as straight with her as he could. He hoped that, after that, she would want to keep in contact. He had no idea whether it had a future, or even what he wanted from this other than a friend he could talk to outside of the complete disaster that was his life.
Five minutes later, his phone rang. ‘Jason Connolly,’ he answered cautiously.
‘Hey, Jason Connolly,’ a female voice said cheerily. ‘So, what’re you up to, apart from waiting for phone calls from strange women?’ It was her, judging by the light lyrical accent, which was definitely sexy and also definitely had a slight slur to it.
‘Nothing earth-shattering,’ Jason said, wondering what to tell her. The truth, he reminded himself. There could be no future based on lies. He’d learned that only too well. ‘I’ve just been upstairs, checking on my kids.’
‘Ahh,’ Jessie said, a wary edge to her voice. ‘Kids, as in… how many?’
‘Two,’ Jason said, already bracing himself for her to say goodbye. ‘A girl and a boy, aged eleven and ten.’
Jessie took a second. ‘And they live with you?’ she asked, her tone indicating she’d guessed that wasn’t the case.
‘No.’ Jason faltered and then pushed on. ‘That is… I’m still living in the marital home.’
‘Right,’ she said, followed by another short silence. ‘You’re not separated then?’
‘We are,’ Jason assured her. ‘Very much so. It’s just…’
‘Complex?’ Jessie supplied, diplomatically avoiding the ‘it’s complicated’ cliché.
‘Extremely,’ he said, and waited.
‘Care to share?’ Jessie asked him, after a beat. ‘You don’t have to, if you’d rather not, but I’m a good listener if you need an ear.’
And now Jason really had no idea where to start. For Karla’s sake, he didn’t want any of what he’d learned about his relationship with her to get out. There was no reason it should, but even so. ‘I’m… not who my wife thinks I am,’ he said, which sounded evasive – ominous, even – but he didn’t know how else to explain it.
‘Are any of us ever?’ Jessie replied, sounding unfazed.
