Abby started to cry. Fat tears fell down onto the photographs and Marcus leaned over her and buried his face in her hair. She turned up towards him and he kissed her. At first the kisses were gentle, kisses of consolation, then more passionate. He slipped his tongue into her mouth and swung his leg over her until he was sitting on her lap. He took her face in his hands and kissed her hard. She was still crying, and he realised that she was no longer crying about Lee, or no longer just about Lee. He pulled her jumper up over her head, then her blouse and bra until her breasts pressed against his stomach. He lifted her up, turned her around and laid her back across the photographs. The neat piles toppled over, some fell on the floor. The light was behind him and his shadow fell across her, darkening her pale skin. She slipped her jeans and pants off and watched him, still crying, as he undressed.
Marcus came staring at the picture of Lee and the little South African boy. His lips were pressed into the hollow of Abby’s clavicle, his nose against her throat and there, inescapably, on the table behind her shoulder was the photo, and it seemed that Lee was trying to convey something to him through her frozen blue-green eyes. They lay together on the scattered memories until Abby shivered.
‘David wants me to go away for a while,’ she said.
‘What? Where?’
‘The American expansion is going even better than we’d dared hope. He wants me to go over and make sure that people are keeping to the key messages, that the quality of the teaching is up to scratch. It would only be for a few weeks. Three at the most.’
‘But now? With Lee and everything?’
‘I know. It isn’t ideal. But we had been speaking about it before all of this happened and, I don’t mean to sound callous, but I’m afraid that Lee is gone. I want some time to mourn her, some time alone. And I’m afraid that now more than ever the Course is what is important to me.’
‘But what about our group? There are still two more sessions to go.’
‘I’m sure you can handle it.’
*
Three days later, Marcus was driving Abby to the airport. It was strange to be back in the Audi. He looked for traces of Lee, even though he knew that the police had searched the car thoroughly. When he placed his hands on the steering wheel, he found it somehow comforting that her fingers had been there, not so long ago. The car smelt different, sterile. Abby’s suitcase was in the boot, her passport and ticket sitting in her lap. New York was suffering a cold spell, and so she wore thick gloves and a scarf pulled around her throat.
They headed out of London on the A40, past grim thirties houses with crosses of St George hung in their windows, past furniture villages and self-store warehouses, cinema multiplexes and out-of-town retail parks. They didn’t speak. Ever since looking at the photographs, Abby had been distant, aloof. She disappeared to St Botolph’s early on Monday morning, leaving the flat before Marcus, and didn’t return until after he was in bed. She sent him texts that were cool and civil, suggesting what he might have for dinner. Darwin was with her and Marcus found that he missed the stupid enthusiasm of the small dog in the flat. On Tuesday the day passed in much the same way. Marcus insisted that he take Wednesday morning off work to drop her at the airport.
It was not until they were snaking along the M25 that Abby spoke. Marcus was hunched over the wheel, checking his mirrors repeatedly, pulling out into the fast lane and stamping the accelerator and then slamming on the brakes as he looked for the turn-off to Terminal 5.
‘I know about you and Lee.’
‘What?’ said Marcus as he attempted another manoeuvre, then found himself blocked on the inside by a white Transit van.
‘I said I know about you and Lee. At the Retreat.’
Marcus allowed the Transit to undertake him and pulled into the slow lane. He looked across at Abby.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Don’t be an idiot, Marcus. You were seen out on the lake.’
‘Abby. .’
‘Don’t speak. I really don’t want you to say anything.’ She looked out of the window.
‘I’ve known for a while now. It just took me a while to work out how I felt. And it’s sad, but I’m just not that bothered. I sometimes think we got married to avoid breaking up the other parts of our life. We were happy with our jobs, happy to be part of the Course, we just weren’t happy with each other.
‘I think back to our early days together, and the rows we used to have. I know that you weren’t faithful back then. At university and then when we were first in London. I used to try to find other reasons to get angry with you, but really it was because I knew that there were other girls, and I just didn’t want to face it. I thought it would pass. For a while I think it did.’
Marcus indicated and turned down the slip road towards the airport. Abby’s voice rose in pitch as they neared their destination.
‘But to find out that you and Lee. . I mean, Lee, of all people. When we knew what she was like with men. The way she’d sleep with just anyone. Well anyone apart from Mouse, who was the only one who really loved her. It can’t even have been a challenge for you. And at the Retreat, which was supposed to be a wonderful time for us. And the night after we had really connected. I lay in bed with you that night and I was proud that you were my husband.’
Abby was sobbing as they pulled into the set-down area outside the terminal. Her nose was streaming and she blew two foghorn blasts into a tissue before stepping from the car. Marcus lifted her bag from the boot and set it down beside her. She turned up to him, tears pouring from her eyes, her nose red and dripping snot. Marcus thought for a moment that an observer might think she was heartbroken to be leaving him. Then she spoke and her voice was hard and cold.
‘And now, and this is the worst, thinking that you could have been the one who pushed her over the edge, the one who made poor Lee. .’
Marcus tried to embrace her; she pulled away. He spoke very quickly.
‘I’ll park the car. We can talk inside. We should sort this out before you go.’
‘Sort this out? Listen, I’ll call you, OK? Once I’m feeling a little more. . together. Here, you might as well have this.’
For a moment Marcus thought she was going to hand him her wedding ring, but then she reached into her bag and pulled out her key to their flat. She turned to go. Marcus took her by the elbow.
‘Who told you?’
She shook clear of his grasp.
‘It doesn’t matter, it really doesn’t matter.’
She was already walking away. He watched her stop, check her passport, blow her nose again, and then make her way as gracefully as she could through the sliding doors and out of sight.
Two
When Marcus got home he called his secretary and took the rest of the day off. He was close to using up his holiday allowance, but his secretary was fond of him and he knew she would help fudge the numbers at the end of the year. He took Darwin for a walk around Holland Park, hoping that the dog would be comforted by the familiar setting. He walked up and down the long avenues lost in thought, stepping aside to let Filipina nannies with thousand-pound all-terrain buggies stride past. He stood for a while watching the drab peahens pecking for food at the feet of their resplendent mates, who, like croupiers fanning cards, unfurled their tails to reveal hands of iridescent aces.
Marcus continued down towards the Orangery. He couldn’t believe that anyone had seen them on the boat. The mist had been so thick, they’d been lost in the middle of the lake. He forced his mind back into the boozy haze of that night and searched his peripheral vision. Had there been someone crouched among the reeds, observing their encounter?