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It was hard to imagine him missing them. Much easier was picturing him with Martha, running his hands through her curls, gazing adoringly into her eyes, making love to her at any time of the day. Merely thinking of Martha could enrage her to the point of violence—when it wasn’t making her feel dowdy and worthless. If she wasn’t those things, then why had he left? Each time she looked in the mirror she saw a woman who meant nothing, a woman who had lost her center, her purpose, her understanding of the world. She was so used to being Jack’s wife, his lover, his friend, that it was how she identified herself now, and she didn’t want it to change. She needed him more than she’d ever realized: emotionally, physically, in every possible way. Only now was she coming to see how much she’d taken him for granted, how deeply she’d trusted that he’d always be there.

How could he have been having an affair for so long without her suspecting? It hardly seemed possible, and yet apparently it was true.

It must have been an instant attraction between them, a
coup de foudre
with a chemistry so powerful, so irresistible that neither could fight it. She wondered who had made the first move, where it had happened, how guilty or exhilarated or desperate for more he’d felt afterward. And what had Jenna herself been doing at the time? Nothing more than going about her life, bringing up his children, and sucking up all the lies. She thought back to the long, hot days they’d spent at the beach last summer with his brother’s family, surfing, body-boarding, sailing, building sandcastles, exploring rock pools, tucking into picnics. He’d been there for all of it, challenging, praising, laughing, mopping up tears, making everything wonderful and right. How often had he sneaked away to speak to Martha on the phone? How many times had he actually disappeared to snatch a few moments with her? Jenna had no idea, nor would she ask.

She recalled the twins starting school in September, and how proud he’d made them feel of their uniforms and satchels—how insistent he’d been that he take them and pick them up on their very first day. She was sure he hadn’t come home in between, had said he was going to some meeting or other, and now she realized he’d probably spent the time with Martha. A perfect father at the beginning and end of the day, a cheating husband for the rest of it, while she, fool that she was, had felt so lucky and happy to be his wife.

Over the weekend, during quiet moments when Josh and the twins were cycling or scootering around the village and Paige was in her room or over at Charlotte’s, she’d written him a letter. Long, tender passages reminding him of the special happiness they’d felt when the three younger children were born; their heartache when she’d miscarried two babies before Josh came along, the way he’d supported her through that grief while quietly coping with his own. She’d reminded him of the cancer scare he’d had several years ago that had turned out to be a false alarm, but not before it had frightened them half to death. They’d been close before, but facing his mortality had brought them even closer together. She’d gone on to describe various Christmases and birthdays, Bonfire Nights and Easter egg hunts. They celebrated everything as a family, with Jack always there making it so much fun that the children’s friends begged to come to their house for special occasions. She’d ended with the reminder of how excited they’d been to move here, how thrilled to own such a beautiful home, how optimistic for the future of their fledgling business.

She’d shed so many tears while writing the letter that by the end she’d had to go upstairs and lie down. She had so little energy; her mind, her entire body, was like a leaden cloud caught in the eye of a storm. Every now and again a violent rage would overtake her, or a stultifying despair, or a longing so fierce, so consuming that she had to scream or she might go mad. Though she was careful never to let the children hear her, she could tell that her mother always knew when the suffering was becoming unendurable. She didn’t say anything, but she was always there, close at hand to help in every way that she could.

As for Paige, Jenna wasn’t sure how she was coping. Abandoned first by her real father, now by Jack. Was that how Paige was seeing it? How could she not? The only time they’d talked properly was the night Jack had left, when they’d held each other and cried together. Since then Paige had seemed to withdraw from her. She didn’t want to talk, she said, she only wanted to be left alone.

“No, I haven’t tried to call him,” she’d cried when Jenna had asked last night, “and I’m not going to.”

“Has he called you?”

“Only like about fifty times, but as far as I’m concerned he can fuck off and die.”

Though Jenna had winced at the language, she hadn’t remonstrated—after all, Paige needed to vent her emotions, and if swearing was helping, that was fine. She just thanked God for Charlotte. It was at times like this that girls really needed their best friends, and it was clear from how much time they were spending together that Charlotte wasn’t letting Paige down. She might wish she could hear what they were saying, but perhaps it was best that she didn’t. She could sense an anger in Paige that wasn’t only directed at Jack but was directed at her too, and she wasn’t sure how to handle it. She didn’t even know if she had it in her to try.

She’d returned a few minutes ago from taking Josh and the twins to school. They’d been full of their father picking them up later—Jack had told them on the phone first thing that he would.

“Can we go to the King for tea?” Josh had demanded excitedly. “We usually do when Dad comes back after he’s been away.”

“I want nachos if we go,” Flora informed them. “I don’t like anything else.”

“I like sausages, the same as Dad,” Wills reminded them. “I’m going to do him a painting in school today.”

“Me too!” Flora cried. “Mine’s going to be of daffodils to go with what Paige wrote.”

“That was my idea!” Josh protested.

“No it wasn’t. It was mine.”

“It was mine, wasn’t it Mum? Tell her to stop copying me. Anyway, I’m going to make a pot for his pens because we’re doing pottery today. And I’ve got my new PlayStation game that Grandma bought yesterday. Dad will definitely want to play that, won’t he, Mum?”

“He’s going to play with us too, isn’t he, Wills?” Flora pouted.

“Definitely with me,” Wills told her, “but you’ve only got stupid dolls and stuff. He won’t want to play with them.”

“He always plays with my dolls,” Flora shouted. “He even made my cot and my pushchair.”

“He didn’t make them, did he, Mum? He bought them, stupid,” Josh retorted.

“You’re stupid!”

“
You
are.”

“No,
you
are, and I’m going to tell Dad what you said. He’ll make you go to bed without any tea.”

“If it’s not raining,” Wills said, “can me and Dad take Waffle for a walk before tea?”

“I want to come too,” Flora piped up.

“You can’t.”

“Yes I can. He’s my dad, and he’s my dog.”

“He’s Paige’s dog.”

And so it had gone on, arguing, planning, getting increasingly excited in a way that had put more and more fractures in Jenna’s heart and left her with nothing to say. They had no idea that Jack was coming to tell them he wouldn’t be living with them anymore; how could they know that when they believed with all their hearts that he would always be there?

Hearing a car pull into the drive, she immediately tensed. Bena was already in the office and her mother was at her yoga class, so unless it was Jack she couldn’t think who it might be.

Glancing at her mobile as it bleeped with a text, she quickly texted Paige back to say yes, she’d speak to Mr. Thomas about the video if she was sure it was what she wanted, and went to answer the door.

“Hanna?” she gasped, stunned to see her sister in the porch.

“I set off at dawn,” Hanna told her, pulling her into a hearty embrace. “I wondered why I couldn’t get hold of you on Sunday. You should have rung as soon as it happened. You know I’d have come right away.”

“Mum told you,” Jenna said flatly.

“Of course. Oh, Jen, I’m so sorry. I feel so responsible. If I hadn’t introduced you to that woman…”

“It’s not your fault,” Jenna insisted, turning back inside. “You couldn’t have known.”

“I realize that, but I swear, when I recommended her I never dreamt anything like this would happen. She’s always seemed so…I don’t know…”

“His type?”

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

“But she is.”

“That might be what you’re telling yourself, but you’re wrong. Anyway, don’t worry, I’m going to see her myself. I need to make her understand that she can’t just break up your family.”

“It takes two,” Jenna pointed out. “And she has a family too.”

“Not in quite the same way.”

“I’m sure she cares about them just as much.”

“Which would be why she shipped the kids off to boarding school and why her husband is almost never at home.”

Jenna let it go at that and watched as Hanna cast an eye round the kitchen, reminding her of how like their mother she could be at times. She showed more emotion, that was for sure, and wasn’t quite as compulsive or literal, but her need for order and her way of speaking her mind were vintage Kay. “Would you like a coffee?” Jenna offered.

“I’ll make it,” Hanna insisted, putting down her bag and starting to clear a worktop. “Are you here on your own?”

“Bena’s in the office.”

Hanna stopped what she was doing and looked up. “The office,” she repeated. “What are you going to do about that? OK, I realize it’s early days and you probably haven’t worked it all out yet, but if he’s known for a while that he’s going to leave, he’s surely come up with some sort of plan.”

“He has,” Jenna replied. “Apparently he’s going to let me have Celticulture, but they’ll help me to run it.”

Hanna’s jaw dropped. “By ‘they’ I take it you mean him and Martha?”

Jenna nodded.

“And you’re in agreement with that?”

“No.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“I’ve hardly had time to decide, but I suppose, if it comes to it, I’ll throw it back in his face.”

Coming to her, Hanna said, “I’m sorry you’re going through this.”

They looked up as the door opened and Bena let herself in.

“Hanna?” Bena said in surprise. “I had no idea….When did you get here?”

“About five minutes ago,” Hanna replied, going to hug her. “Mum’s told me how wonderful you’re being. I can’t thank you enough. Coping with all this is hard enough, and when you factor in four children on top of it…How are they?” she asked Jenna. “Mum says Paige is the only one who knows. How’s she taken it?”

“Hard,” Jenna told her, “but she’s internalizing at the moment. Or she’s hiding it from me, anyway. I think a part of her might even blame me.”

“No! That can’t be true,” Hanna protested. She glanced at Bena for support, but Bena merely shrugged. “She’s got to know that it’s not your fault her father had an affair.”

“Maybe she thinks I wasn’t a good enough wife. Maybe she’s right.”

“I’m not listening to any more of this,” Hanna declared. “There are only two people to blame here, and one of them is definitely not you.”

Jenna didn’t bother to argue.

Sighing, Hanna said, “Men can be so bloody weak at times, and everyone knows Martha’s marriage has been dead for years. Her children aren’t living at home, so she hardly ever sees them, and I’m not entirely sure she has any proper friends.”

“She has plenty,” Jenna assured her. “They were at the party Jack and I went to last year.” She wondered if the pair of them had managed to snatch some time together while everyone was milling about the terrace sipping cocktails and making small talk, if they’d got a kick out of the risk, if it was something they did often. Her eyes closed as the thought of it seared through her.

What are they doing now?

“I have to pop over to the post office to pick up some parcels,” Bena told them. “Is there anything you need?”

Hanna shook her head as Jenna said, “Why don’t I go? I’m sure you two are dying to talk, and I need to take the dog out.”

“It’s you I’ve come to see,” Hanna reminded her briskly.

“I know, and I appreciate it, I really do, but it’s probably best if Bena fills you in on everything. I don’t want to go through it again.”

A few minutes later she was in the car with Waffle happily filling up the rear compartment and her hands-free turned on in case Jack rang. If he did, there was a good chance she’d end up losing her temper, but she was going to try not to because all this shouting, ranting, and raging were never going to get her anywhere.

Maybe her letter would make him understand how she felt. It was in her bag ready to be mailed at the post office, first class to make sure it reached him tomorrow, even though she’d see him later when he brought the children home. Maybe she should hang on to it, wait and see what happened when he broke his news to them; she might want to say something different after that.

Suddenly needing to speak to him right now, she connected to his number and listened to the ringtone, imagining him trying to decide whether to take her call or let her go through to messages.

“Hi, are you OK?” he said when he answered.

“Not really, but I doubt you expected me to be.”

Sounding irritated, he said, “What can I do for you?”

What can I do for you?
As if she were some nuisance client he needed to be rid of, rather than a wife of fourteen years. “Josh and the twins are excited about you coming home tonight. They want to go to the King.”

He sighed audibly. “Did you tell them we would?”

“I didn’t say anything, but I think you should break your news to them at home.”

“Of course. Are you going to be there?”

“Where else would you expect me to be? They’re my children. They’re in for a horrible shock, so they’re going to need me there.”

He said nothing, leaving her to imagine his anger, or guilt, or whatever the heck he was feeling. It was impossible for her to guess, because he was no longer the man she knew.

When he still didn’t speak she said, “Are you really going to do it? Can you actually bring yourself to shatter their world the way you have mine and Paige’s?”