CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
JESS
We arrive outside the iron railings of Kelsey Park. I close my fingers around one of the posts and try to open the gate. A chain on the other side rattles. ‘It’s locked.’
I hear a thud and when I look up Luke is steadying himself after landing on the path on the other side of the gate. ‘I know.’
I look down at my dress. ‘I’m never gonna get over there in this!’
‘What do you mean?’ Luke says a hint of dry humour in his tone. ‘It’s got a split.’
I stare back at him through the bars. ‘You’re delusional. Do you know that?’
He only smiles. ‘Do you remember that night we snuck into the old open-air pool before it closed down so we could go skinny-dipping?’
A smile tugs the corner of my mouth, partly because of the memory of that night and partly because of another one that this Luke will never be party to, but is still fresh in my mind. ‘We were a little crazy back then.’
He just stands there, waiting. I must be nuts too, because I hitch my skirt up to allow greater leg movement, then put one foot onthe crossbar of the gate. It’s easy enough to get to the top – thanks to my profession, I’m more flexible than most women my age – but it feels an awfully long way back down again once I’m up there. I look down at my husband. ‘What do I do now?’
‘Swing your leg over.’
I clutch harder on the railings on top of the gate. ‘But I’ll fall!’
‘I’ll catch you. Trust me.’
I haven’t got much choice. He’s on the other side, and we need to talk. But when I said I’d do anything to save my marriage, I’m pretty sure this wasn’t what I had in mind.
I’m tempted to close my eyes, but I don’t. Instead, I very gingerly swing my other leg over, place my heel back on the crossbar through the vertical struts and then … let go. A split second later, I meet Luke’s solid torso.
‘Oof!’ he says, then gently lowers me to the ground. ‘Okay?’ I look after him, as he holds me steady, thinking how, earlier that evening, I wondered if I would ever get the chance to touch him again. I’m grateful for this small moment, when he’s forgotten his anger, when he’s looking down at me with that familiar protective expression.
‘I’m good.’
He releases me and begins walking. I follow him. We walk for a few minutes without speaking, turning onto the main path that weaves through the park, past the waterfall, skirting the edge of the lake with its purpose-made island for ducks in the middle. I feel I need to be looking Luke in the eye when I say what I need to say, so I wait until we reach the playground and sit either side of a picnic table next to the locked-up kiosk that sells coffees and ice creams.
‘So, what was all that rubbish earlier?’ he asks me. ‘If you wanted to address issues we have, that was a weird way to go about it.’
‘I know that made you angry, and I’m sorry about that.’
‘So, you’re taking it all back?’
I take a deep breath. ‘I can’t, not if I’m going to be fully transparent with you, not if you want me to tell you the truth.’
A muscle in his jaw flexes and his shoes scuff on the tarmac. I know he’s resisting the urge to get up and walk away, but I can’t back down. All I would be doing is repeating the mistakes of the past.
‘I have no idea what’s going on with me,’ I tell him. ‘Maybe I’m ill, you know … ’ I tap my temple ‘ … in here. Or maybe I just had a really vivid dream but, to me, what I told you feels real – as real as you and I sitting here right now.’
He’s scowling, staring at the rough wood of the table. He’s struggling to believe me.
‘Look at me, Luke?’ He obliges, his brows dipped low, eyes unsure. ‘In all our years together, have you known me to lie – I mean, not just say “I’m fine” when I’m not, but make up huge, preposterous stories? If I lie, which I freely admit I have done in the past, it’s nearly always by omission. I clam up. I hide things.’
He sighs. ‘No. That’s true.’
‘I’m not asking you to believe everything I said, but can you at least give me the benefit of the doubt at the moment and allow thatIbelieve it and listen to what else I have to say?’
‘I suppose so.’
I rack my brains, trying to find something useful to start with. I tried the truth and it didn’t work.
