Got You Back (25 page)

Stephanie was trying to maintain an air of excitement when, underneath it all, she actually felt sick. James was being annoyingly affectionate and kept moving in for a cuddle whenever he got the chance. She could feel herself standing limp in his embrace and it took all her willpower not to push him away. He didn't seem to notice. In fact,
he seemed to be on a curious high, singing around the place and generally getting on her nerves. It was strange the way she felt now, not really angry any more, just irritated, wanting him out of the way so she could get on with her life. Wondering how she could ever have found him attractive.

At around a quarter past six she went off for a bath, deliberately leaving it late so that she had no time to lie there and think about what she was about to do. She pulled on a fitted dark red shift dress, which ought to have clashed with her hair but somehow didn't, and a pair of strappy sandals with three-and-a-half-inch heels. She could always take them off later if her feet started to ache too much. By the time she had done her makeup and come back downstairs again, there were only a few minutes left to rush around doing a last-minute check that everything was perfect.

‘Wow, you look amazing,’ James said, as she went back into the kitchen and she forced out a smile. Pauline, who already looked like she'd had a few, held out a glass of champagne for her. She knew she shouldn't, it was important that she keep her head clear, but she really felt like she needed it. She thanked her mother-in-law and drank it back in one go.

The doorbell rang. Stephanie looked at her watch: twenty-five past seven. It would be Natasha and her husband Martin, who had reluctantly agreed to arrive early as moral support — not that Martin was aware of Stephanie and Natasha's plan, or even James's double life for that matter. He would probably have refused to come if he'd known.

James came over and kissed Natasha on the cheek. Stephanie was sure her friend recoiled visibly. She thrust a glass of champagne into Martin's hand and grabbed Natasha's hand, pulling her out of the room. ‘Sorry, Martin, I just need to borrow her for a minute.’

‘So, how are you feeling?’ Natasha said, in a stage-whisper, once they were in the bedroom.

‘Sick, scared… excited, I suppose. I just want it over with.’

‘He looks so relaxed, so happy,’ Natasha said, with venom.

‘Actually,’ Stephanie said, ‘he's been in a bit of a funny mood lately.’

‘Maybe Katie's giving him a hard time. Whatever, he's about to get what he deserves. You have to keep remembering why you're doing this.’

‘Why
am
I doing this again?’ Stephanie said, and Natasha rolled her eyes.

‘For your self-esteem, to make him suffer, to end things on your terms. I could go on…’

‘Go on, then.’

Natasha thought for a moment. ‘OK, so I couldn't, but aren't those reasons enough?’

Stephanie put her head in her hands. ‘I know, I know. It just all seems a bit… pointless now.’

‘Since you met Michael? How is he, by the way?’

Stephanie could feel herself blushing. ‘He's fine. Let's not talk about him.’

‘Nice arse,’ Natasha said. ‘And I should know. It was the first thing I saw when I walked into the room.’

‘OK. I'm going now.’ Stephanie stood up.

Natasha laughed. ‘The point is, Steph, it's great about you and Michael but you mustn't lose sight of the bigger picture. It's fun and it makes you feel better and it's taken your mind off what James has been doing, which is great. It's in the exciting phase where you still feel flattered and desirable and all those things. But once it's run its course you'll need to feel confident on your own, about yourself. Not like you're someone whose husband cheated on them for a year and got away with it. Not like you're the kind of person men walk all over and you just take it.’

Stephanie smiled sadly. ‘I wish you
would
write a self-help book. I'd buy it.’

‘You know I'm right.’

‘I do. It just feels hard to get up the energy to hate him at the moment.’

‘And how does Katie feel?’ Natasha had never quite got used to the fact that Stephanie bore no ill-feeling towards Katie.

‘She definitely doesn't have the same problem. In fact, she thinks we're not going far enough.’

Natasha draped an arm round Stephanie's shoulders. ‘Two more days, not even that, it'll all be over.’

By the time they were back downstairs several more guests had arrived. Pauline and John were doling out glasses of champagne on a one-for-me-one-for-you basis and were already a little unsteady on their feet. Finn was running excitedly from one group of people to another and generally being too loud and getting in the way, but Stephanie decided to let him enjoy himself for a while before the inevitable tears when she tried to get him to go to bed. She looked around for James and saw that he
was chatting with one of his work colleagues. He smiled and waved at her, and she turned to talk to the nearest person to her and found herself embroiled in a very dull and intense discussion about the core curriculum with the father of one of Finn's friends. After a couple of minutes of nodding and trying to look like she cared, she excused herself and put the iPod in its speaker dock, setting it to quietly play one of the many playlists James had created for the occasion. Classical violins filled the room. Later, once everybody had loosened up a bit, she would switch to the eighties pop compilation and ramp up the volume in the hope that someone might start dancing. Pauline probably, if she had many more drinks, Stephanie thought fondly.

She checked on the Japanese chefs, who were entertaining a few stray guests in the dining room with their cutting techniques. ‘Five minutes?’ she said to one of them, indicating when they might start preparing their food in earnest, rolling
futomaki
rolls and forming tiny pats of rice to make
nigiri
. He nodded and communicated something or other with his colleagues in Japanese. The plan was that they would bang a gong in a slightly hammy fashion when they were ready to begin serving and people could go in and ask for what they wanted or just watch and try different things.

It was a beautiful May evening. The doors to the garden were open and Stephanie noticed that a few of their friends had drifted out in groups. Finn was now beside David's cage, lecturing anyone who would listen on the best way to care for a guinea pig. Stephanie smiled; he took his responsibilities so seriously. There must be forty
people here by now, she thought, and then she remembered that she was the hostess and she should be making sure they were all having a good time. She moved back through to the living room, stopping to chat for a couple of minutes here and there. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves; no one looked left out or lost.

Before she noticed he was there she felt an arm snake round her shoulders and James was standing next to her. He kissed the top of her head and she felt herself stiffen and then forced her body to relax. ‘Are you having a good time?’ she asked.

‘It's perfect. We're lucky we have such great friends.’

‘Mmm,’ Stephanie said, not quite knowing what else to say. James was looking down at her intently and she looked away, grasping around for something else to talk about.

‘Finn seems to be having a good time —’ she began, but then petered out as James interrupted.

‘Come upstairs a minute. I have to talk to you.’ He was staring her straight in the eyes, making her feel unbelievably uncomfortable.

‘We've got guests, James,’ Stephanie said, trying to make light of the situation. ‘What will they think if we disappear upstairs?’

James wasn't loosening his grip. ‘This can't wait. I have to talk to you now. Please, Steph.’ His voice sounded strange. Desperate almost.

Stephanie looked round for Natasha. This wasn't part of the plan. She tried to shrug him off but he wasn't having it. Finally she gave in. ‘This had better be good,’ she said, as he led her up the stairs, her hand limp in his.

Once in the bedroom with the door shut firmly behind them, James put his arms round her and drew her to him. Stephanie pulled away, faking a laugh. ‘We can't do this now. We're in the middle of a party. Let's go back down.’

And then James did a strange thing. James burst into tears.

He hadn't been intending to tell her. All week he had been trying to get things straight in his mind, to work out what it was he really wanted. And now he had. He knew, without a doubt, that what he wanted was Stephanie and Finn. That Katie had been a mistake — a year-long mistake. He had risked everything that was important to him because he'd felt resentful that Stephanie had wanted a career, he knew that now. The whole thing had happened because of his insecurity, his jealousy, his… vanity. But he had made a decision. He was going to tell Katie it was over, close down what was left of the business in Lower Shippingham and announce to Stephanie that he missed her and Finn too much, that he'd been selfish, that he'd decided it was worth living full-time in London — a city he hated, although he had told himself he mustn't rub this in — just to be with them. He wouldn't make her feel she had to be grateful or that he was making a massive sacrifice for her. No, that was the old James. This James would work on making his family happy, putting them first and trying to atone for the things he had done. He would bear the guilt on his own rather than burdening Stephanie with it.

But tonight it had all got a bit too much. Seeing all the thought and the love that Stephanie had put into the
preparations for the party, watching her and Finn so excited as they tidied and decorated, he had been overwhelmed by a wave of love for the two of them. How could he keep on deceiving them? He tried to stifle the urge to come clean, to confess everything, but it wouldn't go away. He knew it might backfire, but he had to try and make a clean start and the only way that that was possible was to be completely honest.

For the first time in his life he wanted to tell the truth and take the consequences, whatever they were. He tried to stop himself, he knew deep down that it would be suicide, but as he watched Stephanie laughing with his parents, and as he received the pats on the back and hugs of his friends, he knew that he had reached the point of no return. He felt a wave of surreal calm wash over him as he went and took Stephanie by the arm and told her he needed to talk to her. This was it. He was stepping out over the precipice.

‘Steph, I have to tell you something,’ he managed to say through the tears that had started to run down his cheeks. Stephanie stood looking at him blankly.

‘Oh, God, I don't know where to start so I'm just going to say it. I've been seeing someone else.’ He took a deep breath, waiting for a reaction. ‘Actually, it's worse than that. I'm living with her, in Lower Shippingham. And I have been for a year. Just over a year. I'm so sorry, Stephanie. Please say something.’

The way it played out was nothing like either of the versions he had run through in his head. Stephanie neither shouted and screamed and told him she hated him, nor did she throw her arms around him and tell him that
everything was going to be OK. This second was the outcome he had allowed himself to fantasize about most in the brief run-up to his confession. Bless me, Stephanie, for I have sinned, and she would absolve him, telling him he was forgiven. Instead, even after he had cried, even after he had told her the whole story, every word of it the truth, she had stood there impassive, not speaking, until he had had to say, ‘Did you hear what I said?’ and, despite the fact that she had nodded, he had found himself telling her all over again.

‘I never meant for it to happen. It had nothing to do with how I felt about you and Finn. And, Steph, you have to believe me when I tell you how bad I feel about it. How I'd do anything to change things, but I can't. But I'm going to end it, I promise you. I'll do anything…’

Eventually he'd run out of steam and had sort of thrown himself at her, needing her to comfort him. Stephanie had patted his back, like she might a dog, and then she'd pushed him away. She'd looked unmoved — completely unmoved. And then she'd said coldly, ‘I knew anyway. I've known for ages.’

Stephanie felt as if the wind had been taken out of her sails. The truth was, she felt sorry for him. He was so pitiful, crying and begging and wanting a reaction from her, wanting to know if it was all going to be all right, but she couldn't bring herself to comfort him. She wondered what had tipped him over the edge, made him risk everything by telling her. She tried to imagine how she might have felt if this really was the first she had heard of it, if
this had happened all those weeks ago before she'd found the text message, but she wasn't that person any more. She briefly considered that maybe he had found out about their plan and that this was a pre-emptive strike, but she knew him well enough to know that what she was seeing was genuine emotion. Something had happened to James to make him want to confess. And although she felt so distant from him, so removed from the histrionics of it all, she could see that this was a big step for him and that it had taken a lot of courage. He looked so desperate, staring intently at her, willing her to say that it was going to be OK, that she had to put him out of his misery. She could hardly tell him the truth, though, that she had been conspiring with his mistress to make his life hell.

‘I'm sorry, James. I think we should separate. I just wanted to wait until after your birthday to tell you… Finn was so excited and —’

She didn't get a chance to finish whatever it was she had been about to say because James let out a howl and grabbed on to her arms, begging to be given another chance. ‘I've changed,’ he was saying. ‘I don't know how I can prove it to you, or make it up to you but I promise I will. Please. Please don't just finish it like this.’

She peeled him off her. ‘I have to. Sorry, James, I really am. I've had a while to think it through, you see, and I know it's best that we separate. There's nothing you can say to change my mind.’

James seemed so confused. It was obvious that of all the possible outcomes he had imagined to his big confession her resigned acceptance had never been one of them.