Every Time We Say Goodbye (39 page)

‘Then let’s make a deal that we’ll talk more, okay?’

‘Okay.’

‘As for not being able to give me things, I have everything I want and need, and don’t ever compare yourself to Dominic; he gave Marianne a terrible life.’

Greg’s eyes narrowed. ‘What do you mean?’

‘It’s too long a story to go into tonight, but he was seriously messed up and he was far from a good husband.’

‘Wow. Please tell me Johnny Sheridan’s an asshole too.’

‘No, sorry,’ Jo laughed. ‘He’s a good guy, but like everyone else he has his problems.’

‘Why have you been going out so much lately,’ Greg said, ‘if it’s not to get away from me?’

‘I told you, I’m trying to get my diet under control.’

‘And I told you that you’re not fat.’

‘I know, and you’ve no idea how good it is to hear you say that. I thought that if I didn’t get back in shape, you might leave me.’

‘What? That’s ridiculous.’

Jo could have cried in relief at the look of total disbelief on his face. ‘I’ve been very stupid, Greg. Trust me, you may well want rid of me when I tell you everything.’

He took her hand. ‘Look, Jo, I may not be the sort of husband who brings home flowers or takes you out for slap-up dinners, but I love you and I doubt there’s anything you could do or say that would change the way I feel about you.’

‘Do you really love me, Greg?’ she asked, looking at him intently.

‘Bloody stupid question, ’course I do.’ His expression softened. ‘Now just tell me.’

Chapter Thirty-seven

Marianne had applied some make-up in an unsuccessful effort to disguise the dark circles under her eyes as a result of the sleepless night. But even though she was tired, it had been a nice day. She had helped Dot clean the house that morning while the children played on the green and then she’d taken the two of them to Portmarnock with their newly purchased nets to mess about in the rock pools. Afterwards, as they sat on a wall licking ice-cream cones, she asked them if they missed Howth.

‘Only the trampoline,’ Andrew said, ‘and I’ll get to play on that next week.’

‘We’ll have to see about that; they may have other plans,’ Marianne warned him.

‘No, Rob said he’d arrange it and he will,’ Kate said confidently. ‘He’s our friend.’

‘Wish he was mine,’ Marianne muttered now as she parked in front of her house – her house! It was such a relief to know that she actually owned something. Even if she never got a pension, with no mortgage to pay, the proceeds from the sale of her paintings and a regular salary, the future seemed so much more secure. She was glad that finally Dominic had done something that showed he still cared about his family. She would heed Helen and Johnny’s advice and not tell Dot just yet but it was good to know that if the time came, she could assure her that Dominic had done the honourable thing in the end.

She checked her reflection and groaned at the washed-out face that looked back at her. An image of the pretty, vibrant Vanessa came to mind but she dismissed it, reminding herself that she wasn’t in competition with Rob’s fiancée. She popped an antacid, stepped out of the car and went to the boot to collect her bag and business folder. As she walked up the path she prayed that her voice would be steadier than her nerves and she didn’t make a complete eejit of herself.

It was some moments before the door opened and a distracted Rob, his phone clamped to his ear, waved her in. ‘Go on into the kitchen and grab a cuppa, I’ll be with you in a minute,’ he whispered before retreating into the office and shutting the door in her face.

Marianne’s heart sank as she realized he must be talking to Vanessa, and then anger took over when she thought of the intimate phone conversations they’d shared in the days before his fiancée walked in on them; how could he have behaved like that?

She was sorely tempted to leave but that would seem childish and then he would be in no doubt of her feelings and, if nothing else, she still had her pride. She had agreed to a working relationship so she would just have to grin and bear it. She continued down the hall and pushed open the kitchen door, pulling up short at the sight that greeted her. The kitchen had been transformed into a café, a rather grubby and vaguely familiar one at that.

Rob had recreated Mario’s, their old haunt. Marianne’s smile broadened as she took in all the detail. Two lamps with red shades spread a brothel-like glow across the room. The table was covered in a cheap, synthetic, red-checked tablecloth. In the centre stood a Chianti bottle complete with a red candle dripping wax down the sides, and beside it a jar holding a plastic red rose. She started to laugh when she noticed the fake crystal glasses that were almost identical to the ones in Mario’s. The unmistakable smell of lasagne and garlic bread drew her attention to the glass door of the oven. Marianne peered in, wondering if Rob had cooked it. She certainly hoped not – she had experienced a couple of his disastrous efforts in the past. And then she was distracted from the food by the sight of the fridge door covered in photos. As she moved closer she saw that they were all of her, taken by Rob on his phone either when they were in the café, his car or at his flat. One photo made her gasp as she remembered he’d taken it just after they’d made love. It seemed abundantly clear too as her hair was tossed, her eyes shining and her lips parted in a languid smile. She closed her eyes briefly, savouring the memory of the afternoon that had resulted in that smile. There was only one photo of Rob and it was right in the centre of the display. It was the one of him with her children.

‘They look happy, don’t they?’ Rob murmured in her ear, making her jump.

‘I don’t know what to say,’ she whispered.

‘Tell me you love me.’ He turned her to face him and rested his hands on her hips.

‘No.’ She pushed him away and walked around the other side of the table; it was easier to be strong if there was something between them.

‘Why? Because of Vanessa?’

She looked at him in disbelief. ‘Yes, because of Vanessa!’

‘She lied to you, Marianne.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘We’re not engaged, we never were.’

Marianne searched his face, trying to take in his words. ‘But she said you were getting married next year.’

‘So I heard. The truth is that she felt threatened by you and wanted to make it clear that I was unavailable.’

‘Which you are; she’s still your girlfriend,’ Marianne pointed out. ‘Tell me, did she know when she walked in on us that day that we’d been talking almost daily on the phone?’

He shook his head. ‘No, she didn’t. But it doesn’t matter now, Marianne. The reason I went to London was to tell her it was over.’

Marianne’s heart lifted, though she felt almost afraid to believe him; she couldn’t take much more of a battering. ‘Why did you finish with her? Was it because of me?’

‘Yes and no. We’ve been together about a year and it was fine; she was lovely.’

Marianne flinched, amazed at how much his words hurt.

‘Then she started to make noises about moving in together and I knew I couldn’t do it, that it wasn’t what I wanted. I was about to end it when she was offered a temporary job in London. It seemed the perfect out. I figured she would soon forget me and the relationship would just die a natural death.’

‘You wimp.’ Marianne tried to sound disapproving but couldn’t prevent a smirk.

‘A total wimp, but don’t I get brownie points for flying to London and ending it face to face?’ He walked around the table and stopped just inches away.

‘You should have done it sooner.’

He put his arms around her. ‘I know.’

Marianne looked up at him, drinking him in and yet still nervous. She was thrilled he had finished with Vanessa, but couldn’t help feeling sorry for the girl. If she cared so much about him to lie, how devastated she must feel now. ‘How did she take the news?’

He looked slightly uncomfortable. ‘She was okay. She loves it over there and the job seems to be working out well. So . . .’ he looked into her eyes, cupped her cheek and ran his thumb along her lips, ‘am I forgiven?’

‘No,’ she said, wondering if he could hear the tremor in her voice; a dead giveaway that his touch was having the same effect it always had.

‘Why not?’

She scowled, not ready to let him off the hook despite the fact that her heart was thumping simply because he was so close. ‘Because you never told me about her, of course. You were taking me to bed, Rob, and she walked in on us. And if she hadn’t, would you have even mentioned her?’

‘You know I would have,’ he looked reproachful. ‘Yes, I admit, I put it off because I was just enjoying getting to know you again and I didn’t want to do anything to spoil that. But she was never the one, Marianne. My biggest sin was staying with her for so long. Do you believe me?’

‘I believe you,’ Marianne said, spellbound by the look of love in his eyes.

‘Does that mean I’m forgiven?’ He kissed her.

She felt her whole body melt. ‘It does,’ she said, and kissed him back, losing herself in the taste of him.

‘Can I interest you in some lasagne?’ he murmured.

‘No.’ She moved closer so that she could feel the length of his body against hers.

He groaned. ‘In that case, let’s go upstairs and work up an appetite.’

‘No!’ Marianne drew back; how could she have forgotten?

His smile faded. ‘What is it, what’s wrong?’

Marianne sighed. ‘We need to talk.’

‘We can talk upstairs, darling . . .’

‘No, here. Can I have a drink, please?’ She sat down at the table.

‘You’re worrying me now.’ He produced a bottle of Saint Emilion and filled the glasses.

‘That’s not what we used to drink.’ She picked at the wax on the bottle, wondering how he’d react to what she had to say.

‘No, but serving you the vinegar that Mario used to stock would be taking the illusion just a little too far.’ He raised his glass to her. ‘Cheers.’

‘Cheers,’ she said without enthusiasm, and took a sip.

‘What is it, darling, what’s wrong?’

‘I need to tell you why I ended things between us.’

‘It doesn’t matter . . .’

‘Please, Rob, just listen,’ she begged.

‘Okay, go ahead.’ He settled back in his chair, his eyes on her face.

She took another drink. ‘I told you that Dominic used to lose his temper and scare me. What I didn’t tell you is that sometimes it went a bit further than that.’

Rob’s expression froze. ‘Are you saying the fucker hit you?’

She nodded.

‘Marianne!’

She held up her hand. ‘He hurt me a few times, though, to be fair, I don’t think he realized what he was doing; sometimes he didn’t even remember.’

‘You told me he took a lot of pills but I had no idea he was violent; why didn’t you tell me?’

She looked at the reproachful and frustrated expression on his face and sighed. ‘What was the point? You couldn’t have done anything.’

‘You should have left him; I would have given you a home and protected you and the children.’

‘He never hurt the children.’

‘He just knocked his wife around; that’s okay then.’ He crossed his arms and shook his head in helpless fury. ‘What did he do to you?’

‘Rob—’

‘Just tell me, Marianne. Please?’

She sat in silence for a moment. She didn’t see how it would help but she knew that they would never be able to move on if she wasn’t completely honest with him. ‘Okay.’ As Marianne told him of the various episodes, she watched the fury build up in him and wondered if she should continue.

‘Go on, it’s okay,’ he said, and she smiled at how easily he could still read her after all this time.

‘I realized that my period was late and I thought I might be pregnant. I bought a test and waited until the children were asleep that night before I used it. I was in the bathroom just opening the box when Andrew let out a scream so I dropped it and ran to him. It turned out to be just a night terror but it took me a while to calm him.’ She paused and massaged her stomach, wishing she hadn’t left the antacids in the car. ‘When I came back into the bathroom Dominic was sitting on the side of the bath with the test in his hand. I could see that not only was he high, he was mad too.’

‘But why?’ Rob asked.

She met his eyes. ‘We hadn’t had sex in months so he knew it meant that I was seeing someone else.’

‘Oh, Marianne,’ he shook his head in anguish. ‘What happened?’

She stopped for a moment as she remembered that terrifying night. It was amazing how clear each detail was.

‘There was a heavy glass jar of bath oil beside him and he just picked it up and threw it at me. It missed but smashed against the wall; there was glass and oil everywhere. I turned to run but he was too quick for me. He swung me around, held me against the wall and . . .’ she swallowed, ‘he punched me in the mouth.’

‘Jesus!’

‘He never said one word during the whole thing, and then he just left afterwards, the way he always did. I wasn’t sure what damage he’d done but blood poured out of my mouth and my whole face throbbed. I went to get some toilet paper to clean myself up but I slipped in the oil and fell hard. I felt something stick into me but I didn’t pay much attention. All I wanted to do was get everything cleaned up in case one of the children saw it or me. I dragged myself up onto the toilet seat and was mopping up my mouth when I saw a shard of glass sticking out of my stomach.’

‘I don’t believe this.’ He stared at her in shock. ‘Why didn’t you call me?’

‘Oh, Rob, you were the very last person I could call,’ she said, half-laughing, half-crying. ‘Though I felt dazed, something told me that it would be a bad idea to pull out the glass. So I tied a towel around me and went into the bedroom and phoned Helen. She stopped off on the way over to collect Dot. When she saw the state of me she was furious; I’ve never seen her so angry. She wanted to call the guards. “Now do you see what your precious son is capable of?” she said to Dot. Anyway, she carted me off to A&E. It looked worse than it was, though. I only had a chipped tooth and a cut lip but I was right not to pull out the glass; it had gone in very deep and they said if I had, I could have bled to death. Anyway they sewed me up and sent me home.’