“Yeah, but that was only to spare her feelings. And what you did wasn’t the cause of the problem: it was only a symptom of it. The problem in your marriage was you were gay.”
He rubs his jaw. “Yeah, well, I’m not going to argue with that.”
I inch even closer, so our knees are touching. “You know, if Kate thinks you cheated on her with a woman, it might have made things harder for her. It might have made her think your relationship stood a chance.”
Theo drags a hand through his hair.
“Maybe you need to tell her the truth,” I add.
I spot a wince in his eyes. “Yeah, but I can hardly do that at the moment. Not when she’s on the warpath and lashing out at every opportunity.That’swhy I’m telling you now—so you know all the background.”
“No, but maybe if she knew the truth she’d be less angry. And less inclined to lash out.”
He nods, slowly. And I can see just how much he’s hurting, just how much he’s blaming himself.
I take hold of his hand. “You know, you’ve got to be easier on yourself, Theo. You’re a good man.”
He squeezes my hand. “Am I? Am I really?”
“Yes. And I love you for it. Come here.” I open my arms and he leans into them.
As I kiss his hot, clammy forehead, I realize that knowing his story has given me a much clearer picture of his feelings. I understand now why he wouldn’t stand up to Kate. And I don’t resent him for it at all.
More than anything, I want to alleviate his guilt. But I know the only way this would happen is if he told Kate the truth. And, reluctantly, I have to accept that right now, that just isn’t possible.
Chapter 25
The next morning, Theo goes down to the village to work and the kids and I get on with clearing all the debris out of the pizza oven. At the start of the job, they’re more enthusiastic than usual. But then Callum tugs out a piece of wood that gives him a splinter in his index finger. I pull it out with a pair of tweezers and apply some antiseptic, but after this his enthusiasm drops—and so does Mabel’s. They start handling wood with the tips of their fingers, as if it’s radioactive. As we’ve nearly finished the job, I persuade them to keep going with the promise that after lunch we can visit Angelika—and her pool.
When we arrive at the address Angelika sent on Facebook, I discover that her house is surrounded by tall railings and accessed through intercom-operated security gates. Once they’re buzzed open, we pass through to find Angelika waiting for us in a cheetah-print kaftan, her platinum-blond hair pulled back in a ponytail, her lips and nails painted fire-engine red. Over her head, she’s holding a dainty lace parasol, and her eyes are hidden behind gold-framed sunglasses.
“Darlings, welcome!” she trills. “Leave your bags at the door and I’ll show you round!”
Angelika lives in a handsome stone house that’s roughly the same size as ours. It used to be a traditional Tuscan farmhouse buthas been converted into a luxurious, ultra-modern, open-plan living space, with a kitchen that looks like something out of a spaceship and clean, white walls hanging with colorful, abstract paintings—as well as several of Wilf’s watercolors running up the stairs.
As we leave behind the air-conditioning of the house, the heat hits us again. I fan myself with my Panama hat and gaze out over vast landscaped gardens that are bursting with flowers—the dominant color being red—and populated by several modern, outlandish sculptures. At the bottom of a sloped lawn is the—surprisingly large—pool.
Without any prompting, Archie runs towards it, flinging off his T-shirt and kicking his sliders in the air. I run after him and grab him by the back of the shorts. “Not so fast!”
I take off his glasses, quickly apply his suncream, and instruct him to wait for it to dry while I see to Callum and Mabel. They each apply their own but Callum begrudgingly lets me do his back. As I run my hands over a light coating of hair, I feel him tensing. He probably doesn’t realize how many men remove their unwanted back and shoulder hair, his dad included. I’m about to crack a joke about smearing Veet on Theo’s back being a test of how much I love him but stop myself: it would probably be better if Theo had a quiet chat with him about it. Mabel, meanwhile, is wearing a swimming costume that covers up—but can’t disguise—her big boobs. Even after I’ve rubbed suncream into her back, she keeps it turned. The second I tell her the suncream’s dried, she straps on her goggles and plunges into the water.
Angelika and I take seats at a table under a giant parasol on the paved poolside.
“I can’t get over how glamorous this place is,” I gush. “How long have you lived here?”
She takes off her sunglasses. “Since 1992. Edgar and I had been together a few years, but at first we had to keep our relationship secret. You see, he was married. And I was the mistress, or the ‘side chick’ as they say now.”
From the way her eyes sparkle, I sense she’s enjoying the revelation.
“Tell me more,” I say, smiling so she knows there’s no judgment.
“We were both living in Frankfurt but when Edgar left his wife, she turned the children against me. Not that I blamed her: I did steal her husband.” There it is again: that sparkle in her eyes. “We thought we’d move here to create some distance.”
“Was it tough?”
Angelika takes a packet of cigarettes out of her handbag and screws one into a gold holder. “It was. Edgar’s oldest son was twenty at the time and thought I was trying to get my hands on his dad’s money. In fairness, Edgar did have a lot of money. He was a banker.”
“And what did you do for a living?”
