Читать книгу The Wife – Part One - ML Roberts - Страница 8

I used to love early mornings. That time of day when it can feel as though you’re the only person awake, when everything is calm and peaceful. I used to crave those snatched hours alone – it’s the perfect time to think, when all those thoughts that may have felt jumbled before suddenly start to make sense. But now – now things are different. Things have changed. Nothing makes much sense any more, there’s too much to think about, too many thoughts crowding my brain and it doesn’t always make for those calm and peaceful hours alone I was once so fond of. I found myself waking early this morning; found myself down here, in the orangery that stretches the entire length of the back of our beautiful home on the outskirts of the County Durham countryside, drinking tea and thinking, about all those things I’d rather forget. Nights like last night; parties, dinners with friends, they help push the memories to one side, for a little while, but they’ll never go away. They always come back.

Curling my legs up underneath myself I settle back into the comfortable couch that looks out over our sprawling garden. A neat, raised decking area leads out on to a perfectly manicured lawn, its flat, green surface interspersed with patches of shrubbery and strategically placed pot plants. There’s a magnolia tree near the centre of the lawn, two apple trees to the side, and at the back of the garden there’s a small vegetable patch, which is – was – very much Michael’s baby. My fingers don’t even come close to being green. Next to that is a sky-blue painted summer house, its front porch decorated with various terracotta pots, all housing an array of multi-coloured pansies. That summer house is my office. Was my office. I used to love working out of that summer house, it was my haven. Once. Now my office is in a side room next to the small indoor swimming pool we had built onto the back of the orangery a couple of years ago. A room that used to house towels and robes, but they’re now kept in a large storage box at the back of the pool area. I needed that room. I wanted that room. A strange choice, maybe, given that we have three spare bedrooms upstairs, but I wanted that room.

I stare back outside, watching as the sun starts to break through the early morning cloud, casting shadows over the summer house. Casting shadows. Something I’ve become all too familiar with. Shadows. Darkness. Even my beautiful garden feels different, now.

Over the years we’ve turned that garden from nothing but grass and wasteland into a rustic, colourful space. We worked hard to make sure it was perfect, for us. For what we needed - wanted it to be, and I look over towards the back of the garden, to a corner adjacent to the summer house. It’s empty now, that corner, we don’t need what used to stand there, not any more. I wanted it gone.

I don’t go out into the garden all that much any more. I don’t have the time. I’m too busy. I’m about to open another new business, a day spa, and that’s taking up a lot of my time. Too much of my time, some would say, but keeping busy is important. Over the past year and a half I’ve opened a third hair and beauty studio – I already have one in Newcastle and another in Durham – as well as taking on this day spa. I’ve never really been one to take it easy. I find that even harder to do now, despite people telling me to slow down. It isn’t that simple, it never has been. It’s even less so, now.

I close my eyes for a second, just for a second, and then it’s almost as if the silence suddenly hits me, making me aware of its presence, and they spring open. I walk over to the French doors in front of me, and I know I won’t be able to stop myself from doing what I seem to do on an almost daily basis now. But they say we all have a touch of OCD inside us, somewhere. I just need to make sure that door is locked. What’s so strange about that? And as my fingers close around the metal handle I inwardly scold myself for being so paranoid. Of course it’s locked. I check every night, before we go to bed. Every morning, when I come down here. Every time someone goes outside, I check the second they come back in.

Leaning forward, I rest my forehead against the cool glass door, my fingers tightening around the handle as I close my eyes.

The sound of birds chattering out in the garden brings a smile to my face. I find their noise quite calming. I love to hear them out there, starting their day. The peace and quiet these early mornings bring is something I never take for granted. But that peace is suddenly rudely interrupted by the doorbell ringing, and I glance up at the clock on the wall. It’s just gone eight-thirty.

I wrap my robe tighter around myself and head out of the kitchen, into the hall. There’s only one person comfortable enough to visit us at this time on a Saturday morning and, sure enough, when I open the door he’s there on the step, a wide grin on his face as he holds out a box of something that smells very much like freshly baked pastries. I smile and lean back against the doorpost, folding my arms.

‘Didn’t you have a meeting this morning?’

‘Cancelled. Rescheduled for Monday, so, as I was up and about and on the road I thought I’d stop by and bring breakfast.’

I take the box of pastries from him and stand aside to let him in, nudging the door shut behind me before heading back into the kitchen.

‘Michael not up yet?’

‘It’s eight-thirty on a Saturday morning, Liam, so no. He’s still in bed. Do you want some tea?’

He nods and leans back against the island in the centre of the room, glancing behind him into the orangery, where my pot of tea and crumb-scattered plate are sitting on the table next to the couch.

‘You didn’t much fancy a lie-in yourself, then?’

He looks at me, but I don’t answer that. I know what he is getting at. ‘Are you thinking of hanging around here until you and Michael leave for your squash game?’

‘If that’s okay?’

I smile slightly and flick the switch on the kettle. ‘It’s okay. You can make the tea. I’ll go see if Michael’s awake.’

I head back upstairs, back into our room, and Michael’s very much awake. He’s sitting up in bed with his laptop open, his reading glasses perched low on the end of his nose as he types away. And he doesn’t hear me come in at first, he’s that engrossed in whatever it is he’s doing. It’s not until I’m almost right there beside him that he looks up and smiles. But I also don’t miss the speed at which he slams shut his laptop.

‘Where’d you get to? I woke up and you weren’t there.’

‘You were in a hurry to come and find me, then?’ I jerk my head in the direction of his laptop as I fling open the wardrobe and search for something to wear.

‘Just thought I’d get a jump on Monday’s meeting. Get some notes down.’

I loosen my robe and let it fall to the floor, and I flinch slightly as I feel Michael come up behind me, feel him slide his arms around my waist, his mouth brush my shoulder so lightly his lips barely connect with my skin.

‘Come back to bed,’ he murmurs.

‘I can’t.’ I shrug him off and turn around, reaching for the dress I’d dropped to the floor when he’d touched me. ‘Liam’s downstairs. His meeting’s been moved to next week, so he decided to swing by here early. He’s brought breakfast.’

Michael sighs and drags a hand through his hair, and then he reaches out and wraps his fingers around my wrist, causing me to drop the dress again. I raise my gaze and look at him, and the expression on his face – it’s one I’ve become all-too familiar with these past few months.

‘Last night, Ellie – last night, at the party, you were fine. We were fine, we were good. We had a nice time, right?’

‘Yes. We had a nice time. It was good to get out. And I’m still fine now, Michael, okay? I’m just tired. These last few weeks have been crazy, what with the new salon and the spa, so, you know? I’m just tired.’

‘Look, I know we haven’t …’

He leaves that sentence hanging, loosens his grip on my wrist and drops his gaze, dragging a hand back through his hair again. And then his eyes meet mine and he smiles at me, just a small smile, but I needed that to happen.

He pulls me into his arms, kisses the top of my head, and for a few seconds he just holds me tight and I cling onto him, breathing him in.

I look up at him, and his mouth catches mine, just a quick kiss. But I take it.

‘We’re going to be all right, Ellie.’

He lets go of me and steps back, and I watch as he pulls on his jeans, looks in the mirror, running both hands through his hair to tidy it up.

I turn around and crouch down to pick up my dress, stepping into it, but as I reach behind me for the zipper I struggle to pull it up, and he’s there; he takes my hand and he pulls it away, slowly sliding the zipper up, and as he does that he gently kisses the back of my neck, and I shiver. The first time he ever did that, kiss the back of my neck, I shivered.

‘I’m sorry, Ellie.’

I know he is. I’m sorry too.

I turn around and pull him to me by his shirt collar, quickly kissing his slightly open mouth.

‘Go see Liam. Go on. Go plan your squash strategy or whatever it is you do before one of your games. I’m going to finish getting ready. I need to stop by the spa later, make sure everything’s going to plan.’ I smile and I cup his cheek and kiss him again, stroking his skin with my fingertips. ‘Go. I’ll be down in a few minutes.’

I let go of him and I watch as he leaves the room, waiting until I hear both his and Liam’s voices echo up from the kitchen downstairs before I head into the en suite.

I’ve got a busy day ahead. And maybe that’s just as well.