Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 116999 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 585(@200wpm)___ 468(@250wpm)___ 390(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116999 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 585(@200wpm)___ 468(@250wpm)___ 390(@300wpm)
Ben is home. It’s nice to see him fuss over his mum, fetch her a blanket, make sure she’s okay. We’ve raised good kids. It comforts me, especially now. They’ll take good care of her when I’m gone. She’s going to need them, and I know they won’t let me, let her down.
“Ben, baby, can you pass me my phone?” Becca asks, wincing as she adjusts her position on the couch.
“What for?” I ask. “Who do you need? I can call them.”
“I need to call work. Let them know I’ll be working remotely for a while and ask them to send someone round with some things from my office.”
“It can wait till tomorrow, surely.”
“Thanks, babe.” She takes the phone from Ben and starts dialling. “Rather get it out the way,” she adds, without looking at me. “Oh, Ben. Laptop too, please.”
Sighing with frustration, I stare her out, even though she can’t see because she’s immersed herself in work. She’s talking to someone on the phone now, and even after just a few words I can tell she’ll be at it a while. So, I pull out my own phone and start tapping out a text that I know will get forwarded to her laptop.
Me:
Going for a bath. Call me if you need anything or if you’re ready to come upstairs. Don’t work too long. You need to rest.
I watch her receive it, her eyes scanning the laptop screen. She raises her hand to acknowledge me while continuing to talk about some budget or other. In the bathroom, it feels good to strip out of my clothes and throw them in the washing basket along with the smells of aeroplane and hospital. Once the bath is full, though, I find myself hovering, not quite wanting to step in it, knowing when I do, I’ll be washing away all traces of Laurence.
I catch my reflection in the mirror, and then investigate it fully. I watch my hand gloss over my chest, touching the skin that Laurence has touched, wishing it was him touching it now. If I close my eyes, I can still feel him. I wonder what he’s doing, whether he’s in bed cuddling an empty pillow instead of me, or on the terrace, looking out over the sea.
I move to the bathroom window, see the half-moon shining proudly in the clear sky, and wonder if Laurence can see it too, if we’re looking at the same thing. Thinking of the same thing. Each other.
“Hey, Dad! You gonna be long?” Ben knocks on the door as he calls through it.
“I’m in the bath, son.” It’s only a white lie. I will be in it soon. “Why? Is your mum okay?”
“I just really need the toilet! We’re talking a turtle’s head situation out here.”
Jesus, Ben. “Go downstairs!”
“Lucy’s on that one!”
For fuck’s sake. “Gimme five minutes.”
Forced to end my self-pity early, I hop in the bath, soap myself down and scrub myself clean as quickly as possible, before climbing straight back out and wrapping myself in a towel. Ben’s still waiting on the landing when I open the door, legs crossed, knees bouncing.
“Leave a window open in there,” I tell him. “And I might need your help getting Mum up the stairs soon, so don’t be getting in bed.”
“Got it!” he says, sounding almost pained in his desperate rush to get rid of me and slam the bathroom door.
The hatch to the loft is still open as I make my way to the bedroom. Seeing it makes my stomach churn, visualising Becca falling, imagining her crying out in pain. I need to get dressed before I put the hatch back in place, so in our room I towel myself dry and pull on some jeans and an old T-shirt. All my good clothes are still in the suitcase downstairs. My suitcase. For work. From my trip. From being with Laurence.
I sink onto the edge of the mattress. For a moment, I stare at his name in my phone. There’s nothing to stop me calling him. Becca knows we’re friends. Only…if I do, I’m afraid I won’t be able to act friendly. Jovial. As if my insides aren’t aching with the need to feel him again.
Me:
Becca’s home. She’s ok under the circumstances. Could’ve been a lot worse. I’m sorry our time was cut short. Call you as soon as I can.
That’s about all I can manage before hitting send. Emotion’s already crawling into my throat, and I can’t allow it. Not here. Not yet.
LC:
Really glad to hear that, and to hear from you. Stay in touch William. I’m here, remember? I miss you. L x
For the first time, I don’t delete his message. There’s no point. This is nearly over. The secrets. The hiding. I meant what I told Laurence in the villa. Becca deserves the truth and I’m going to give it to her. For the next couple of days, I’ll continue to be a loving and dutiful, albeit duplicitous scumbag of a husband while she gets some rest and begins the weeks of recovery she has ahead…and then I’m going to tell her the very thing I should have said twenty-one years ago.