Page 35 of Perfect Wives
‘Where have you been going?’ The question flies out. Suddenly, all I can think about are those shirts I ironed, and all the times Marc stepped through the door, tired and strung out, and I felt terrible for asking him to help me with the girls because I was tired too. All those times he made me feel bad. All those times he was back late when the girls were already in bed.
‘I… I’m sorry,’ he says, tears pooling in his eyes. ‘I didn’t mean for the lie to get so big, Tash. You have to believe that. I only meant to pretend for a couple of days while I got my head around the redundancy and came up with a plan. And then it just spiralled.’
‘Where?’ I don’t recognise the ice in my voice.
He drops his head and shrugs. ‘Lots of places. I went to the library a lot. And to cafés. I was still working,’ he says quickly. ‘I was trying to find a solution.’
‘The library? Cafés. And what about when you were back late? Where then?’
‘A pub in town,’ he admits.
I close my eyes, unable to look at him. ‘So all those nights when you knew I was struggling with getting the girls to bed, you were sitting in a pub?’
‘I… I didn’t want you to get suspicious. And then I really was going on business trips. I found?—’
I stand suddenly. I can’t be here. I can’t listen to this. The chair scrapes against the tiled floor. ‘I can’t do this right now. I need to go to my parents’.’
Marc reaches out, grabbing my arm. ‘Tasha, please. Just wait.’
‘Last week, when I got back from the pub late,’ I say, snatching back my arm. ‘You were so angry. So worried you’d miss your flight. But you didn’t even have a flight to catch, did you? You made me feel terrible.’
‘I know. I’m so sorry. The lie just kept growing, and I didn’t know how to unpick it all. I was just… I didn’t know how to tell you, and I was just so desperate to fix it. I know I don’t deserve this, but please hear me out.’ He looks up at me, eyes pleading. For a moment, I think of storming out anyway, but there’s a rawness in Marc’s gaze that makes me sink back into my chair.
‘No more lies,’ I whisper.
He gives a fierce shake of his head. ‘I won’t lie, I swear.’
Marc sits forward, his energy changing. It’s not guilt I see in his expression now; it’s hope.
‘There’s a vineyard,’ he says. ‘In Devon. It’s small, but there’s a house for us and a single-storey annexe for your parents. Icould run the business – make wine like we always talked about, Tasha. A real family-run vineyard. There’s a school in the next village with a good reputation.’
I shake my head. I can’t keep up. ‘What are you talking about? What vineyard? The girls have a school here.’
‘It’s for sale,’ he pushes on, sounding excited now. ‘The girls could grow up outdoors, in the fields and fresh air. We’d have space. Peace. Isn’t that what we always dreamed of?’
‘What you always dreamed of,’ I correct, my anger pushing through. How can he be talking about a vineyard now? ‘It wasn’t real. It was something we’d talk about like winning the lottery. It wasn’t like the extension we planned. My parents living here. That’s real. That’s what we should be focusing on. You getting another job and applying for planning permission again now that Jonny is?—’
‘I’ve already bought it,’ Marc says, voice strangled. The guilt is back on his face, but I don’t miss the spark of hope just beneath it.
‘What?’ I cry, confusion and anger warring inside me. ‘How?’
‘I’ve already spoken with your parents, and they’re happy to move?—’
‘What? Marc! You spoke to them without telling me first? You’ve made them lie to me too. Who else knew?’
‘Just them.’
‘And Jonny,’ I correct him, as something else clicks into place. ‘He knew, didn’t he?’
Marc nods, his expression paling. ‘Jonny lent me some money for the deposit. He saw the potential in the vineyard. He was going to become an investor. It was such a good deal, Tasha. I know I should’ve spoken to you first, but I knew you’d react like this, and I couldn’t wait. The deal was too good to miss.’
I don’t answer. Instead, I stare past him, through the kitchen window to Magnolia Close beyond. The tidy, manicuredgardens. The sense of safety, of belonging. Our community. Our home. Marc has bought a new home and a new business on the other side of the country without telling me. He’s forcing us to leave this behind for something we talked about as a faraway dream. It was only ever a fantasy. Never a real plan. At least that’s what I’d thought.
Tears swim in Marc’s eyes. ‘I’m sorry, Tasha. I’m so sorry.’ The apologies keep coming. Pleading and begging until I don’t hear him anymore and I stand again. He doesn’t reach for me this time, and when he looks up at me, his expression is sad but lighter, like he’s unburdened himself, shifting the weight onto me. I don’t know how to carry it.
‘It’s a lot to take in,’ he says. ‘But please, Tasha, just think about this. Think about the life we could have.’
‘I have to go to Mum and Dad’s,’ is all I can say.
