‘Are you ok?’ Ben murmurs into my ear, guiding me by the arm in the direction of the double doors.
‘Yes. Thanks. Just feels a bit like the beginning of a bad horror movie.’ My steps are slow and tentative.
‘And am I the bad guy in this movie, the one that orchestrated this situation? Or do you think I might be the hero of the hour that rescues the maiden in distress?’ His tone is filled with amusement.
‘I’m hoping you’re going to be the hero.’
‘Shelly, honestly, love, I’ll be anything you want me to be,’ he says, before we burst out into the carpark.
The broad daylight is blinding and I squint, struggling to readjust to my surroundings and work out the meaning of Ben’s last comment. A quick glance round the industrial estate shows the entire place is without power. There’s been a major fault somewhere.
Aisling and her partner approach. She flashes a broad genuine smile, exuding a familiar warmth I’ve grown to cherish. It’s as if we’ve been friends for years, not weeks.
‘How are you guys getting on?’ she says, flicking her hair from her eyes.
‘Struggling today, to be honest. Slick Rick has got his work cut out. Can’t seem to get anything right. I’ve had about as much as I can take for one day.’ It’s the truth, but I hadn’t realised it until I said it out loud.
‘Well you could be off the hook by the look of it.’ She gestures to where Aaron exits the building shaking his head. ‘The insurance isn’t valid if there’s no power. It’s a bit like getting a snow day from school.’ She winks knowingly.
We pace the car park for twenty minutes, stamping feet to ward off the autumn chill. It could be worse, at least it’s not raining, but if we can’t dance, I’d rather be spending time with my children.
When someone finally gets through to the electricity supply board, we’re advised there’s a major fault which won’t be properly repaired for hours. Teddy dismisses us for the day. Gemma discards her microphone, dropping it unceremoniously at Aaron’s feet and invites Sonny to her house to continue ‘practising’. Natalie and Michael don’t elaborate as they hop into a taxi without so much as a backwards glance.
‘Want to go for a drink? You look like you could do with one, if you don’t mind me saying so.’ Ben drops an arm round my shoulder.
My heart is heavy. The weeks of tension with my husband, my rock, my best friend, is wearing on me. Is it any wonder I can’t think straight enough to follow a few simple steps? I’m mentally exhausted. What I really want to do is go home to my family, hug my girls, pour a glass of wine for my husband and one for myself, and breathe some life and light back into our marriage.
I’ve had a taste of life away from the normal mundaneness that being a housewife can bring, and I know without a shadow of a doubt that when this show ends, I won’t be signing up for another or anything like it. Even though I love the buzz, the hype, the challenge, the glamour and attention, it’s not real life.
Turning to Ben with a smile, I shrug his arm from my shoulder. ‘I’m going to head home. It’ll be nice to get some extra time with my family. Thanks though.’
‘If you’re sure.’ Disappointment seeps into his tone as he eyes me with a coy puppy dog stare.
‘I am. Sorry about today. Hopefully, I’ll do better tomorrow.’ I stride away quickly before anyone can draw me into further conversation.
By the time I get home, I’ve convinced myself that all Marcus and I need is to sit down with a bottle of our favourite wine and have a few frank words spilled between us. I really am sorry that taking this slot on the show made him uncomfortable. I’m sorry I couldn’t be more supportive when he mentioned the venture with the new club. We’ve always been able to talk through our problems, this time, I’m adamant it should be no different. This nonsense has gone on long enough. And did I mention I’m ready for the make-up sex? This morning, in the hall, he looked and smelt good enough to eat.
The girls don’t have any activities today, so it’s no surprise that the Audi is sitting in the driveway. What is a surprise, is the old Nissan parked next to it.
A glance into the huge bay window at the front of the house offers me a glimpse of the girls playing dress up in the living room. Nadine, their real-life fairy godmother, gifted them a set of Disney dresses and even the eternal tomboy, Emily, has a new fondness for them. A smile stretches across her face as she twirls in front of an equally ecstatic Erin.
Parking the Porsche, I let myself in through the side door which runs directly from the garage to the utility room. If the door clicks as I open it, it’s drowned out by the mocking laughter of a young woman inmykitchen. Laughter, which my recently cantankerous husband freely joins in with. A cork pops and the sound of liquid sloshes into a glass, along with another bout of laughter.
Adrenaline spikes within. My heart pounds in my chest as I hover in the doorway of my own home like an unwelcome intruder. Who is Marcus entertaining in such a celebratory fashion, while our children play obliviously in the next room? The familiarity of the situation gnaws at the lining of my stomach.
Inching forwards, I peep through the crack of the open door. The sight of a six-foot blonde with wild curls cascading down her back physically winds me.
‘Thanks for everything, I couldn’t have done it without you.’ My husband leans closer to the stranger in my kitchen, fillingmyfavourite wine glass with nothing less than the three hundred euro Uivo Vinhas Velhas.
Her face angles towards him, offering me a closer look. A gasp catches in my throat. Not only does she have the most exquisitely carved cheekbones, but the twinkle in her hazel eyes would be enough to turn any man’s head, twice. From her smooth, fresh complexion, she looks at least ten years younger than me.
Nausea rises within. It’s like history repeating itself. Marcus is no different to my father. The first time I’m away and he brings another woman into our home! In front of the children too! Anger trembles through every limb, every artery and every single cell of my body.
Given the girls are there, I should probably walk away but it’s not my style. Clearing my throat loudly in the doorway, I strut into the kitchen and grab another wine glass from the press. Grabbing the bottle from Marcus’s hand, I slosh a generous measure into it while he attempts to drag his jaw up from the floor.
‘Shelly, I… we… I wasn’t expecting you home so early.’ His eyes dart between the blonde and me and his tongue flicks over his lower lip in a nervous fashion. Is this why he put the shirt on this morning? For her?
‘Clearly.’ Turning to the strange woman in my kitchen, my eyes roam over her ripped skinny jeans and slim-fitting t-shirt and pumps. She clearly didn’t make the same effort as he did, but that doesn’t make her any less beautiful. Here, in my kitchen, they actually look good together. Well matched. The thought twists my intestines as I wonder if this is a sneak preview of my new reality.
