The smile remained firmly etched onto my face, like the proverbial Cheshire cat, my phone gripped tightly in my right hand.
‘What are you going to do? One thing is for sure, if Rob sees you walking around with that smile, even he won’t miss it.’
‘I know,’ I said, solemn all of a sudden. ‘I have to leave.’
‘What! You can’t be serious?’ she shrieked, her voice loud enough to attract several stares from neighbouring tables. She continued in a hushed whisper, ‘Lucy, you don’t even know this man. You can’t leave your husband of seven years for someone that you barely spent seven hours with.’ Her eyes narrowed, and she ran her fingers through her curly hair.
‘You’re missing the point, Clara. I’m not leaving Rob for a man I spent less than seven hours with. I’m leaving him for me. Admittedly, it’s taken meeting someone else that I am completely infatuated with to realise it. But regardless of whether I ever see John again, I cannot stay in this marriage. I’d rather be on my own than where I am; unhappy, a slave to a vow. I have to get out before I suffocate. It’s all I can think about since that weekend in Bristol.’
‘Well, I’m not exactly surprised that you’re thinking of leaving, it’s been obvious to us all for ages that there was something desperately wrong. You spend no time together; you never talk about him. I just can’t believe that you are so mad about that guy we met. I just didn’t see it coming. I mean, he’s a farmer! From the arse end of nowhere in Ireland!’
‘I know. Neither did I. I wasn’t looking at all. But it hit me with the force of an oncoming train.’
‘Are you sure it’s not just the seven year itch?’ She leaned curiously over the table.
‘It’s one hell of a fucking itch if it is.’ I laughed harder and longer than I should have, relieving some pent-up tension. Once I started, I couldn’t stop.
People were beginning to stare. I took a couple of deep breaths and composed myself, but I couldn’t wipe the smile. It felt so unbelievably good to tell someone. To hear John’s name on my lips.
‘Just be careful, Lucy. It’s not just your life you’re messing with.’
‘I know. And believe me I’m not going to embark on something until I am well and truly out of that house and gone. And whether it works out or not, it gave me the kick up the arse I needed to leave. So, for that I will always be grateful, regardless. I’m done wasting my life. I could get hit by a bus in the morning.’
‘I don’t want to see you get hurt. Be careful,’ Clara said solemnly. She actually looked worried for me.
‘Don’t worry about me. It’s not like things could get any worse,’ I reassured her, hoping I was right.
Chapter Seven
WEDNESDAY 18TH JULY 2012
‘I need a favour, Clara.’ I went to her at her desk when my eleven thirty patient failed to show up.
‘Of course, what is it?’ She lifted her head up from the screen and pushed her glasses up on top of her glossy black spiralling curls.
‘You know how we’ve got Lizzie’s hen night on Saturday?’ I reminded her.
‘Yeah, I already said you can stay at mine, no problem.’ Puzzled eyes darted over my face.
‘I know you did. Thanks, I’m definitely going to take you up on it. The thing is I need you to be my alibi during the day on Saturday too,’ I pleaded.
‘Of course. Where are you going?’ she asked.
‘Dublin.’ That got her attention.
‘For the day?’ Widening oval eyes stared incredulously back at me.
‘For the day,’ I confirmed.
‘You’ve gone mad in the head. Well and truly lost it my dear! Over a ginger dude from the arse end of nowhere in Ireland. I think you might be having a midlife crisis, but I’m all for it. About time you lightened up!’ I knew she wouldn’t let me down.
‘You’re the best.’ I leaned over the desk to give her a hug.
‘Just be careful. I hope you know what you’re doing,’ she warned.
I didn’t know what I was doing. I was starting to wonder if my feelings for John were as real as I thought they were. He seemed too good to be true. And my mother always told me if things seemed too good to be true, they usually were.
John continued to phone me each day. The calls had become longer, the conversations deeper. I was more emotionally involved than I cared to admit. The armour lowered consistently, inch by inch. John knew me better than my husband did – without a doubt. Before I’d even spoken, if I only breathed down the phone, he could gauge my mood.
