Alphabet Weekends - Elizabeth Noble [119]
‘Sorry you did it or sorry you got caught?’
‘Both. We didn’t ever want…’
Marianne’s eyes narrowed. ‘Don’t say “we”.’
‘Sorry.’
‘No, I’m sorry.’ Marianne’s voice had taken a sarcastic turn. ‘I’m sorry I interrupted you. You were going to tell me, let me guess, that you never meant anyone to get hurt. That I wasn’t supposed to find out. Weren’t you? I know, because that’s what Alec told me.’
Lucy had nothing to say.
‘What the hell were you thinking, Lucy? I mean, what the hell are you playing at?’
She couldn’t speak.
‘We’re friends, you and me. We’re friends, Lucy. And he is my husband. My husband.’ Her shout grew quieter. ‘And I love him.’
‘I know.’
‘Do you?’
‘Do I what?’
‘Love him, Lucy. Do you love him?’
‘Yes.’ She hadn’t known until that moment. ‘Yes, I do.’
‘Well, I should bloody well hope so. It would be fucking stupid to put us all through this just for a shag.’ She stared hard at Lucy. ‘Does he love you?’
‘I don’t… I don’t know.’
Marianne laughed bitterly. ‘Well, he was never particularly good at expressing his feelings with me either.’
They both knew that wasn’t true.
‘Actually, I do know the answer to the sixty-four-million-dollar question. I asked him, funnily enough. It seemed an obvious kind of question to ask the husband you’ve just found out has been sleeping with your best friend.’
And the question hung in the air.
Marianne walked into the living room and half fell into an armchair. ‘He loves both of us, poor bastard.’
It seemed right to make a cup of tea.
Marianne drank hers in silence, staring ahead. ‘Aren’t we civilised?’ She gave Lucy an ugly smile.
‘I’m honestly surprised you can stand to be in the same room as me.’
‘You’re my best friend.’
‘Don’t, Marianne.’
‘Who else would I want to talk to when I find out something like this?’
Lucy looked down at the floor.
‘I think that’s almost the worst part of it. Has it been like that for you, I wonder – wanting to talk about what was going on, and not being able to because your lover was my husband? I don’t know, incidentally, how long. I didn’t ask him.’
‘It started about the time of Bella’s birthday party.’
‘I didn’t say I wanted to know.’
‘Sorry.’
‘Not long, then. Not that it makes a difference, I don’t think. I don’t know.’ She shook her head. ‘I can’t believe I’m having this conversation with you, Lucy. How often?’
‘Not that often.’
‘How often? Once, a handful of times, a dozen?’
‘A dozen.’
‘In my bed?’
‘Never.’
‘In yours and Patrick’s?’
‘No.’
‘Where, then? Apart from the woods.’ Lucy’s eyes snapped wide in surprise. ‘I saw you. Coming out. So carefully, five minutes apart. It was fucking obvious, Lucy.’
‘Marianne…’
‘Please tell me, Lucy. I want you to tell me. Where?’
‘In town, at someone’s flat. Outside. In the car.’
Marianne’s laugh was hollow. ‘In the car. My! How abandoned of you both. Lorna and Sasha would be proud.’
‘Don’t.’
‘Does anyone else know?’
‘I don’t think so. We were always careful.’
‘Good of you.’
‘I’m so sorry, Marianne.’
‘Doesn’t sound quite adequate, does it? You’re sorry.’
‘But I am.’
Marianne was looking at her very, very hard. ‘Do you hate yourself for this?’
‘I hate hurting you.’
‘But you don’t hate yourself.’
‘I can’t help what’s happened, Marianne.’
Marianne stood up. ‘Of course you bloody well could, you stupid cow. You’re an adult. You could have walked away. You should have walked away. Don’t you bloody dare to sit there and tell me you couldn’t help it. That’s bullshit, Lucy, and you know it.’
‘I’m sorry.’ What else could she say? ‘Are you going to tell Patrick?’
‘No. Poor sod. I’ll leave that to you. You’ve ruined everything, Lucy. You’ve trashed it all. For all of us. It’s over.’ Her shoulders dropped, the rage seeping from her. As she walked to the door, her footfall was heavy. ‘Did you tell him about me? About my affair?’
‘Of course not. I wouldn’t.’
‘You keep my secret, but you still fuck my husband. Funny ethics, Lucy.’
She didn’t have an answer. Marianne was right. She’d wanted to tell him. Months ago, as soon as she