‘Your hypocrisy is unbelievable.’
‘Seb, what I did was a momentary lapse of judgement. I was so drunk I could hardly stand, it was …’
‘So that makes it OK, does it?’
‘No. Of course not, but at least I didn’t shop around online, at least I didn’t plan it, and at least I had the balls to tell Anna as soon as I could—’
‘Yeah, Eddy, you’re a real saint …’ Seb interrupts but Eddy ignores him, ploughing on to his headline point.
‘… Which is why I’m here to ask you to please tell Rosie before tomorrow, because if you don’t then Anna will and, trust me, it’ll be …’
‘Fine. Fine. Yes. I’ll tell her. OK? I’ll tell her …’
‘What are you two plotting?’ Seb spins around; Rosie is standing in the doorway. She’s staring directly at Seb, her head to one side, her voice light, but she’s frowning. She’s too far away; she can’t have heard anything.
‘Tennis,’ Eddy says, unconvincingly. ‘We’re talking about our last tennis match.’
Rosie moves forward, towards them, her hands resting on the gate between them. ‘Was one of you cheating again?’
Seb stares at his beautiful, smiling wife and he feels the first wash of tears as Eddy says, ‘Something like that, but it’s all sorted now.’
‘Oh, good. You two are both such bad losers.’ Then she turns to Eddy and asks, ‘Ed, can you please convince him to stop being an arse about tomorrow night? He keeps saying he won’t come and …’
‘Ro, please stop. I’ll be there.’
She raises her eyebrows before immediately wrinkling her forehead. ‘Good.’
They say goodbye quickly and Seb keeps his hand on Rosie’s back as he guides her gently inside.
That night, Seb lies sleepless in bed next to Rosie. He wants to stay there, next to her, as close as she’ll allow, but she must feel his buzzing mind because one of her eyes cranks half open and her voice is heavy with sleep as she slurs, ‘Get up if you can’t sleep.’
He does as he’s told. Pulls on tracksuit bottoms and a T-shirt and pads barefoot through the kitchen into the garden.
He lifts his face to the clear sky, to the stars and the moon; the air smells rich, of distant bonfires. He used to do this, stand in the garden alone at night, when he was just a kid. It started when his dad got his cancer diagnosis, and they’d had no idea how long he’d survive. His dad had asked him to be good, to help Eva, not to cause any problems. And that’s what he’d done. He’d tried so hard for so long to keep himself neat, to do the right thing, and now all that effort is dissolving, revealing Seb for who he really is, a mess of wants and desires.
His mind keeps playing forward to tomorrow, to the opening of the restaurant. He can’t go, but he also can’t risk Rosie going without him. Eddy will be there, licking his lips, ready to tell Rosie he cheated. But he only knows half the story – what if Abi reveals the other more shameful half tomorrow night? At least if Seb is there, he can try to protect Rosie from Eddy and Anna. And what about Anna and Eddy knowing it was Abi? She’ll assume it was Seb who broke their agreement, Seb who told them. She’ll have no reason to protect him and, more importantly, no reason to protect Rosie. She won’t go quietly; she promised him that.
There is, of course, the other way. A cleaner way. He could tell Rosie tonight, as he promised Eddy he would. He could tell her. He could open himself up, tell her everything, pluck out his deceitful, broken heart and let her do what she will with it. He can do no more. He’s done.
The house is quiet. He takes the stairs three at a time; he needs to move quickly, outpace his fear, his doubt. It’ll be over soon.
In their bedroom, Rosie is fast asleep, but while Seb’s been gone, Greer’s taken his space. They’re like two apostrophes in the bed facing each other, their arms entwined, beautiful. He tries to move Greer away, but she moans and clings tighter to her mum. He can’t wake either of them without waking the other. He can’t ruin Rosie’s life without also destroying his daughter’s.
He leaves them to sleep as he collapses on the floor, next to the bed, and he holds his disgusting head in his hands as he feels himself break.
Chapter 9
Rosie tries on a few different outfits, eventually settling on a fitted knee-length crêpe dress she remembers her own mum wearing in the nineties. Greer is sitting on the bed, attempting to untangle a large clump of beaded necklaces.
Rosie looks at herself in the mirror and she can admit, in the right light and from the right angle, she looks good.
She picks up her phone to see if Seb’s been in touch, opens Instagram and is immediately distracted by the computer-generated photos Maggie has posted, plans for the new gallery.
She shakes herself to bring her back from Sydney to Waverly again. ‘Where’s your dad?’ Seb went for a run over an hour ago and they’re due to leave for the restaurant in fifteen minutes. The phone rings, but instead of Seb, it’s Anna. Again. She’s tried to call twice already; clearly whatever she wants isn’t going away. Rosie squeezes her phone between her shoulder and ear.
‘Ro, hi, babe.’ Anna’s tense, her voice strained. ‘You OK …?’
Usually, she doesn’t wait for a response, but tonight she does.
‘I’m fine, thanks, Anna. Why?’
‘Just checking that you’re OK coming tonight …’
‘Why wouldn’t I be?’ Rosie frowns as she opens an old shoebox; it’s a pair of ancient leather brogues, not the silver boots she was hoping for.
‘I just have something I want to talk to you about – maybe we could walk to the restaurant together?’
‘Fine. I can ditch Seb, but I will have Sylvie with me. I’m dropping her at a sleepover on the way.’
‘Oh.’ Whatever it is Anna wants to talk about, she clearly doesn’t want Sylvie within earshot.
‘What is it, Anna?’ Rosie’s body tightens as Seb, sweaty and breathing hard, walks into the bedroom, already peeling off his damp running top.
‘Daddy!’ Greer squeals, jumping to stand on the bed. ‘Daddy’s home!’ On the other end of the line, Rosie knows Anna is listening.
Rosie moves past Seb and Greer, out into the hall.
Once she has more privacy, she whispers into the phone, ‘Anna, what’s this about? Has something happened?’
When Anna speaks again, she sounds small, far away. ‘Oh, no, no, nothing. I just wanted to talk to you about this silly falling out I’ve had.’
‘Well, you can tell me tonight, can’t you?’ Rosie suggests as Anna says at the same time, ‘I should finish getting ready, see you there.’
And suddenly, Anna’s gone.
Seb carries Sylvie’s rucksack and is silent on the short walk to her sleepover. Just as Sylvie disappears into her friend’s house, Seb pulls his eldest daughter in for a hug, whispering something in her ear, Sylvie replying, ‘Me too, Dad.’
As the lights from the restaurant come into view, Rosie knows Seb is miles away; she’s walking next to an empty body. It’s frightening. She doesn’t think as she reaches out for his hand. Her touch brings him back and he looks sad, incredibly sad. She’s about to ask him what’s wrong when he says, ‘I love you, Rosie.’
His intensity makes her laugh a little.
‘You do know that, don’t you?’
‘Yes, I know, Seb. I do.’
He nods, lets their hands drop, and whatever it is that’s going on with him, Rosie has a feeling that she’s about to find out.
‘Hi, Rosie. Hi, Seb.’ Abi’s gorgeous in minimal eye make-up and bright-red lips. Rosie had fantasized about her and Abi being close friends, but Abi has essentially ghosted her. Tonight, an iPad tucked under her arm, Abi hardly looks at Seb. Instead, she fixes her eyes on Rosie as she asks, ‘How’ve you been?’ She’s professional, exuding a quiet confidence.