Читать книгу Right Here Waiting for You: A brilliant laugh out loud romantic comedy - Rebecca Pugh - Страница 12

Chapter Three

Arriving home after her night in the hotel, Magda pulled up in the driveway and switched off the engine. Rather than heading inside straight away, she sat and stared at the exterior of the house, mentally building herself up to take that step.

Greg would no doubt be in his home office, pretending to work but secretly texting and emailing whichever woman of the moment he was trying to get into bed. He was a private accountant, bringing in most of their income, while Magda was a content writer for an online magazine, focusing on fashion and beauty. She adored to write, and it was possibly one of the only things she had ever been good at. She didn’t earn anywhere near as much money as Greg did, but she didn’t care. She enjoyed it.

Greg liked to hide away in his office. Magda wasn’t stupid and she wasn’t sure why he thought she was. She was clever. Clever enough to put together the pieces of evidence Greg left behind him like a trail of breadcrumbs and reach the nasty conclusion that he’d been having numerous affairs behind her back. She wasn’t entirely sure how long it had been going on for, but she didn’t think it really made any difference.

‘I’m back,’ she called into the empty quietness. Her voice echoed around the hall. She heard a noise from behind the door of his study.

‘There you are,’ Greg said once he’d stepped into the hall. ‘Good. I tried to ring you last night.’

Magda forced a smile. ‘Yes. Sorry I didn’t answer. I was invited out to a spa day at the last minute and I had such a good time I decided to stay over. I ended up drinking a bit too much at the bar so driving back wasn’t an option by then.’

Greg narrowed his eyes and spoke his next words in an infuriatingly condescending manner. ‘Yes, you seem to be getting a bit fond of the drink lately. I’d slow down a bit if I were you.’

‘I know, and I will.’ She felt like shrinking beneath his stare. She wanted to tell him that he was the reason she was drinking so much, that it was because of him and his lies that she felt drinking was the only option she had.

‘Good. Dinner tonight? I thought we could go out and grab a bite to eat.’ Everything he said was a command. Anything that sounded like a question was one of the rhetorical kind that warranted no answer from his wife. ‘I’ve booked us a table for eight. I’d better get back to work.’ Greg spun round, strode back up the hall and disappeared back into his study. Left to her own devices, Magda tugged her suitcase up the stairs and pushed open the door to her bedroom. They’d long since stopped sharing a bed, but Magda preferred it that way. How could she possibly get a good night’s sleeping beside such a lying bastard?

*

It was while chopping vegetables in the kitchen the next afternoon that she came across the envelope, propped in the post holder along with the other household bills and letters. Magda wiped her hands down the front of her blouse and picked it out. Once she’d opened it and read the invitation, inviting her to a school reunion back in Worthington Green where she’d grown up, she had to take a seat to gather herself. She’d been such a fool to give that life up and, standing there in the kitchen, sweat beading on her forehead, sweltering over a hot stove, making a meal she didn’t even like, for people she didn’t like either, she felt like the most stupid person in the world.

For a moment, Magda imagined she was back by the harbour in Worthington Green, feeling the cool spray of the sea on her flushed and burning cheeks. It would be such a blessed, sweet relief.

‘They should be here soon,’ Greg announced as he strode into the kitchen. He was referring to his parents, who had invited themselves round for dinner – a habit of theirs. Magda wouldn’t have minded the visits if Greg’s parents were people she enjoyed spending time with. As it was, she couldn’t stand being around them so the thought of spending the evening sitting around the table with them was one that filled her stomach with a feeling of dread.

The small heels of Greg’s shiny black shoes clicked across the marble tiles with every step he took. ‘You’re not eating dinner dressed like that, are you?’ His eyes travelled down the length of her body.

‘No,’ Magda murmured, ‘of course not. I’ll go and sort myself out now. I was just checking on the vegetables one last time.’

‘What’s that?’ Greg nodded towards the invitation in Magda’s hand.

‘Oh, just something about the car insurance. Nothing important.’ She hastily folded the invitation back into its envelope and hurried out of the kitchen. ‘I’ll just go and get dressed. I shouldn’t be too long.’

After reading the invite a couple more times in the safety of her bedroom, Magda couldn’t shake the memories of Worthington Green away. The place remained at the forefront of her mind throughout the evening, while Greg’s father droned on about business and economics. Greg’s mother, Patricia, sat silently and watched Magda from across the table with her lips tightly pursed. It was no secret that Patricia thought her son could have done better but Magda was past caring. She stared down at the food on her plate, silently willing the evening to hurry up and be over with. She couldn’t stand to be with these people a second longer.