Page 45 of Perfect Wives
‘You were so fixated on getting the extension,’ Marc continues, speaking fast now. ‘But then I was made redundant, and I wasn’t sure I’d be able to get another job, or if I evenwanted to keep being a project manager. I knew if we got the planning permission, we’d be locked in. Deposits paid, work starting, and I wouldn’t have time to figure out another option. I didn’t know how to tell you. I just needed time to think.’
‘So we don’t have the money for an extension, but we do have enough for you to buy an entire vineyard? How is that possible?’
His face pales. ‘Because the vineyard is a business. Jonny helped me put a business plan together for the bank, and they agreed the loan. With that and Jonny’s loan, I scraped it together. Selling this place will give us a cushion while we get the business up and running.’
Hurt cuts straight through my chest. He’s thought it all through. Business plans and meetings and loans. I hold up my hand, and he stops talking.
‘All you had to do was sit me down and explain, Marc,’ I say. ‘I’d have understood. You make me sound like a monster.’
His eyes shine with tears. ‘I wanted to show you I was still worth something when I got made redundant. You never pursued your career, Tash, but supported me in mine. I promised you when you gave up your degree to make our relationship work that I’d always look after you. I felt like I’d failed you and the girls. I wanted to tell you, but I wanted to give you something better when I did. Because you have to see, you’re not happy. And I haven’t been either. I know we can be so much happier than this. I asked Jonny to delay the planning permission. That’s all. But his buddy said he’d need an objection to delay things, so Jonny objected.’
I close my eyes. I can’t grab hold of the emotions flying through me. All those hours I cried and raged about Jonny and what he’d done. All the blame I put at his feet for making my life harder, impossible. And it wasn’t him at all. It was my husband. The man who was supposed to stand by me, support me, no matter what. I stare at Marc. I don’t know what to say any more.
‘Is there anything else I don’t know?’ I ask. ‘Anything at all you haven’t told me. Because now’s the time, Marc. I can’t take any more lies. So if there’s?—’
He shakes his head. ‘That’s everything. I swear it, Tasha.’
We stare at each other for a long moment. I wish I could believe him. But the trust of twenty-five years has been shattered, and I don’t know how to rebuild it or if it’s even possible.
A thud and scream from the living room wipes everything out of my head. I move fast, holding my breath, waiting for the crying that usually follows, but there’s only another shout and laughter.
I poke my head into the living room. It looks like a tornado has hit it. Frustration grips me. It took me an hour to tidy it last night. Matilda and Sofia are playing another high-stakes game of ‘The Floor is Lava’ that involves jumping from the arm of one sofa to the other while squealing with delight and dread every time their feet touch the floor.
Lanie is sitting in the middle of the chaos, drooling happily over my phone, swiping at the screen with sticky fingers. If she stays distracted for five more minutes, maybe I can get the girls ready for school.
‘Mum, I need a new lunch box,’ Matilda calls out as she flies onto the sofa with such force it nearly topples back.
I gasp. ‘Matilda, please don’t jump onto the furniture like that. And why do you need a new lunch box?’
‘I dropped mine in the playground on Wednesday and it broke, remember? You said you’d buy me a new one. Can I have a football one like Henry?’
Damn! I’d forgotten the broken lunch box.
‘Yes. But only if you stop playing right now and get your shoes on please. We’re going to be late to meet Oscar and Henry.’ Again.
‘We can’t,’ Sofia shouts. ‘We can’t touch the floor.’
‘Please, girls.’ The urge to cry suddenly wells up, lodging in my throat. A weight squeezes my chest, stopping me from drawing in my next breath. It’s the feeling that makes me want to change something – to escape.
I was so desperate for things to change, and now everything has.
The detectives haven’t visited again. I should be relieved, but I’m not. I’m scared. Is DS Sató building a case against me? Is the next time she visits going to be to arrest me? I had the biggest motive. It’s what the neighbours think, ignoring the fact Beth and Georgie said I was with them all night.
I blink hard, force the tears back and take a deep breath. It would be so much easier if I wasn’t so tired. My thoughts feel stretched too thin.
A loud shriek breaks my thoughts.
‘That’s not fair,’ Sofia shouts, stomping her foot on the floor. ‘You said the game was finished.’
‘Tricked you,’ Matilda sing-songs, causing another cry of injustice from Sofia.
My gaze catches on the clock. Eight thirty already. Beth and Georgie will be waiting. I glance at the girls. They haven’t even got their shoes on, and Lanie’s not strapped in the pushchair. I have half a mind to text and say we’ll catch up, but they’ll know something’s wrong. They’ll prod and ask questions I’m not ready to answer.
Then Marc is by my side, scooping Lanie into his arms.
‘OK,’ he says, and in that one word, the girls stop shouting and turn to him. ‘Last one with their shoes on and ready and out the door is a rotten tomato.’
And just like that, we’re all bundling to the door. I make a grab for the pushchair, but Marc stops me and passes me myphone. ‘I’ve got Lanie.’ He kisses me lightly on the lips, and I try not to flinch. Try to be grateful instead of still so angry.
