The Secret Ingredient (11 page)

But ten years ago, that was her. And she wasn't a tramp, was she? She'd never slept with him in their family home, and certainly not in their bed. She'd never even been inside his house. Ross took her past one time when it was up for sale, on an inspection day. He asked her if she wanted to go in, and she said no way. It felt disrespectful somehow.

Why would he do it, why would he sleep with this woman in their apartment? Didn't he have any sense of how vastly inappropriate that was? Or did it give him some kind of perverse thrill? Like an animal, marking his territory. Then it occurred to Andie, perhaps the woman had been marking hers. Well, she could have it. Andie could never sleep in that bed again, she could never live in that apartment again. She didn't care what excuses Ross came up with . . . she could imagine them now – it was a one-off, it's never happened before. The truth was, he had cheated before, Andie knew that better than anyone. Because he'd cheated with her. It was in his DNA. Toby, Jess, they'd always had their suspicions . . . turns out they had been right all along.

Jess. Andie was going to have to tell her. And she wanted to tell her. Regardless of the inevitable ‘I told you so's', Andie was desperate to talk to her because she knew that, no matter what, Jess would be on her side. She would say Ross was a prick, and that Andie hadn't done anything to deserve this. Andie really needed to hear that. She also needed a place to stay, at least temporarily. She hoped Jess wasn't working tonight.

Her phone beeped to signal a text message. She picked it up.

Elvis has entered the building.

Steph was right into this whole covert thing. Andie started up the car. She had time.

She drove into the garage and parked, slipping her phone into her pocket. She wanted it on her at all times in case Steph sent any warning messages. She hurried up the stairs to their apartment, opened the door and closed it quickly behind her. She paused there for a moment, as a feeling of dread came over her. What if the woman was still here? Surely not? But there was a chance . . . Her heart was pounding as she crept across to the bedroom. She thought about last night, about the vision that had confronted her, and it turned her stomach. She pushed back the door. The room was empty, the bed immaculate, as if no one had ever slept on it. Not good enough, Ross. He would have to burn the bedding to remove all trace, and even that wasn't good enough.

Andie threw back the sliding doors of the wardrobe and dragged her largest suitcase down from the top shelf. She dashed around the room, emptying entire drawers of underwear and T-shirts, throwing shoes in haphazardly. She found her smaller overnight bag and took it into the bathroom. Andie felt a sick sensation. This was
her
bathroom, one of her most private places. Had the woman used the shower, the sink . . . Andie stared at herself in the mirror, imagining the woman fixing her hair, reapplying lipstick . . . She felt violated. She couldn't stay in here any longer. She swept all her perfumes and lotions and flotsam into the bag. Then she emptied the drawers – cosmetics and more flotsam clattered in. She'd probably end up tossing a lot of it. She had too much of the gunk anyway, and what good had it done her? All the creams and lotions and age-defying potions in the world would not make Andie twenty again. And Ross clearly had a penchant for twentysomethings. Andie glanced around for anything she had missed. She plucked her toothbrush out of the glass it shared with Ross's and tossed it in the bag. Thinking about it, she'd have to throw it out and buy herself a new one. She certainly wasn't going to use it again.

She went back into the bedroom and scooped up an armful of clothes on their hangers, lurching them over into the open suitcase. Then she squashed everything down and zipped the lid closed, just. She slid the suitcase off the bed onto its wheels and pulled out the handle. Thank God for wheelie bags.

Andie cast a final gaze around the room, spotting her phone charger, a book on her bedside table, another bloody tub of overpriced goop – hand cream this time – and tossed it all into the overnight bag. Out in the living room she ranged around, picking up random things . . . a favourite mug, a little crystal unicorn Donna had given her, a photo of her and Brendan together as children. She glanced at the remote control and momentarily considered stealing it out of spite, but that was petty. And this was so far past petty. She paused at a framed photo of their wedding. She didn't even look like a bride; she had heard her mother's voice in her head telling her she had no business wearing white, so she'd chosen a simple pale blue dress with a jacket. No bouquet either, she would have felt self-conscious. But they did look happy. Despite the pain and angst they had been through, that they had put everyone through, they had convinced themselves that theirs was a true, once-in-a-lifetime love, that they had a right to be together, and to get on with their lives. Ross had vowed to make it up to his kids over time, and he promised Andie he would do the right thing by Joanna financially. But, he had said, it was their time now.

And now he was probably spinning the same yarn to this woman. All those niggles she'd had about him rejoining the gym, giving up alcohol, going off sex – though, as it turned out, only with her – she hadn't been paranoid after all. It must have been going on for months, perhaps longer. How would Andie ever be able to trust him again? Ross didn't end his first marriage because he'd found true, once-in-a-lifetime love. He was a serial monogamist, and he had moved on to his next conquest. Andie turned the frame face down, and slid her phone out of her pocket.

Pls tell Ross I'm waiting for him at home
, she texted to Steph. She picked up her handbag and the overnight bag, grasped the handle of the wheelie suitcase, and walked out of the apartment.

‘You're not going to be able to avoid him forever,' said Jess, pouring Andie another glass of wine.

‘I know that,' she said. ‘I just need some time.'

Her phone hadn't stopped ringing earlier in the day. Andie worked out it must have started around the time Ross would have made it back to the apartment and realised most of her stuff was gone. She had decided not to go to the shop at all – after the story she'd fed Steph that wasn't really an option anyway. So Andie instinctively headed north over the bridge to her dad's. She was calmer now, she had no intention of telling him what had happened, and she hoped he wouldn't guess anything was up, she didn't want to upset him. He'd find out eventually, but for now Andie wanted to keep a lid on it. She needed more time to get her act together, she still felt so mortified. The marriage everyone expected to be a failure had finally fulfilled all expectations.

Andie had to make some calls first, so she stopped off at a café on the way. Although she couldn't recall the last time she'd put food in her mouth, she still wasn't hungry, so she just ordered one coffee after another, until she began to feel wired and vaguely nauseous, so she had to stop. She managed to get on to Donna, who had just arrived at the shop after dropping Max off at Toby's mother's.

‘Thanks so much for this, Donna. I owe you.'

‘Oh, you do not,' she'd insisted. ‘So is everything okay?'

She couldn't answer that. And she realised that Steph would give Donna her version of the events anyway. Andie might as well leave it at that for now, she didn't have the energy for any more intrigue.

‘Look, I can't really talk now, Donna, I just wanted to check who's on the roster for this afternoon.'

‘Okay, just a sec,' she said, obviously going to look. ‘It's Jess.'

Good. ‘So you'll be right for today?'

‘Absolutely, don't worry about a thing here.'

She wasn't, the shop was the last thing Andie was worried about. She left the café and stopped at a supermarket to pick up a few things for her father, she never went empty-handed.

She drove around to the house . . . today it would be her refuge, but it hadn't always been that. It had been a place of rules and order and tough love – her mother ran a tight ship. Andie and Brendan had planned their emancipation; once he'd settled into uni, they were going to start their own share-house with Toby, and maybe someone else, depending on what they found to rent. After their neat and tidy childhood, Brendan was desperate to find somewhere as grungy as possible – he dreamed of a crumbling, dank terrace in a back lane in Chippendale. Andie was hoping she could talk him up from that, just a little.

She walked up the front path now, through the unkempt garden. It must annoy the neighbours, they were a very houseproud lot around here. Her father used to be houseproud too . . . well, her mother was, and her father did as she told him, keeping the lawn tended while she saw to the plants. Andie was never sure if her mother actually enjoyed gardening, it was just another necessary chore, part of keeping up appearances, which was very important here on the leafy north shore. When she was too sick to go outside she had berated Andie for not planting annuals at the right time, even though she would not be around long enough to see them bloom. It didn't matter, the neighbours would see them.

Andie gave a cursory knock on the front door before letting herself in as usual, announcing herself as she did. There was no answer, and the TV wasn't going either. She walked through the house, calling out to her father, but it was soon obvious he wasn't home. He must have had a doctor's appointment. In the kitchen the kettle was still warm, a plate of toast crusts and a half cup of tea sat on the table. Andie felt a little disappointed. She'd just needed a place to hide out for a few hours where she knew Ross wouldn't come looking for her, but she would have found some comfort in a hug from her dad.

At least now she could phone Jess; Andie hadn't wanted to call any earlier in case she woke her up. But Jess was due at the shop within the hour, so Andie was sure she'd be up by now. She dialled her number.

‘I have something to tell you,' she began when Jess answered. ‘But this is just between you and me for now, okay?'

‘You know I'm impressed,' Andie said to Jess, picking up her glass. ‘You haven't said “I told you so” once yet.'

Jess shrugged, refilling her own glass. ‘Why waste my breath stating the bleeding obvious?'

Andie just smiled, sipping her wine. She was sitting on the floor of Jess's cramped little flat, leaning back against the sofa where she would sleep that night. She had ended up leaving her father's house this afternoon before he made it home. She was a little surprised he stayed out most of the day, but then, it was good if he was getting out and about more. Maybe she had been worrying about him unnecessarily.

Jess had insisted earlier that Andie stay with her, she didn't even have to ask. She knew where the spare key was hidden, so Jess told her just to let herself in if she wasn't home yet. Andie wanted to cook her dinner to thank her. Besides, her stomach had finally registered it was hungry, so she stopped in Newtown and bought the makings for a Thai tom yum soup – a favourite of Jess's – and a couple of bottles of wine. By the time Jess made it home from the shop, the smell of coriander and lemongrass filled the flat, and Andie had started on the first bottle.

‘What I will say is this,' Jess went on, ‘I don't understand why you left the apartment the way you did. If I were you, I'd have called a locksmith and had the locks changed.'

Andie sighed. ‘Don't be crazy, Jess.'

‘It's not crazy,' she said. ‘That apartment is as much yours.'

‘But I don't want it.' She paused, thinking of how to explain it to Jess. ‘Have you heard people describe how they feel when their house has been robbed? They've had more than their possessions stolen, they've had their privacy stolen, their security. They feel violated . . . that's what it felt like today when I went to the apartment.'

Jess drew closer and gave Andie's arm a reassuring rub. ‘Okay,' she said gently, ‘I understand why you don't want to
keep
it —'

‘I don't want to set foot in there ever again, if I can help it.'

‘Well, you probably can't help it,' said Jess. ‘You've been married for ten years, it's your home as much as it is his.'

‘Pity he didn't take that into account when he had sex with his . . . his . . .'

‘Is “slut” the word you're looking for?'

‘Don't call her that,' Andie said seriously.

Jess held up her hands in mock surrender. ‘Okay, I know that's not a particularly PC term these days, but a spade is still a dirty tool for digging, whatever you call it.'

Andie looked at her directly. ‘That was me, ten years ago.'

‘That was never you,' Jess cried indignantly. ‘I knew you back then, remember, and you would never have done something like that.'

‘You don't think so?'

‘I know so!' She shifted to face Andie squarely. ‘You were constantly riddled with guilt, always worried about his family, and not wanting his kids to get hurt.'

‘Does that make it all right that I took their father away?'

‘Andie, you didn't take him away, he went of his own accord.'

‘That's why I can't put all the blame on this woman now,' said Andie. ‘Who knows what lies he's telling her? I only know that I can't go through it all over again. From the other side.' She took a breath. ‘So I'm going to leave him, free and clear.'

Jess shook her head. ‘After ten years of marriage, you're entitled —'

‘But I don't want anything of his.'

‘What about the shop?'

Andie looked at her. ‘I don't know . . .'

‘That shop is yours – “free and clear”.'

‘But it was his idea.'

‘So? You made it what it is today. And it's your livelihood.'

‘Then I'll have to find another way to make a living.'

‘All right,' said Jess, with a heavy sigh. ‘I have to say it, this kind of talk really worries me.'

‘Why?'

‘It's too . . . extreme. You're reacting out of shock,' she said. ‘I know you're upset, you've got every reason to be upset, Andie, but you're not thinking rationally. You don't just walk away from everything and never talk to him again, you're not teenagers.'

Jess was right.

‘You've been married to him for ten years, Andie,' she said, her tone softening. ‘You need to stop and take a breath.'

Andie's phone beeped. It was another text. The texts had started after Ross had given up calling. At first they were plaintive.

Andie, I'm worried about you, please call me, let me explain.

They'd progressed to annoyed.

You're being childish, we have to talk.

And now they were downright angry.

Fu*k this. Call me.

‘What's that one say?' asked Jess.

Andie replaced the phone on the table. ‘Same as the others. He's getting angry now.'

‘Next thing he's going to show up here, you realise,' said Jess.

Andie pressed her lips together, frowning. ‘Do you want me to find somewhere else to stay?'

‘No,' she insisted. ‘I want you to take control of your life. You've decided what you don't want, now you have to decide what you do want. You need a plan.'

Andie sat drumming her fingers on the table. True to form, Ross was keeping her waiting. At least that would make it easier to maintain the rage. She had arrived early to avoid any chance of finding him already sitting here, waiting, all posed and prepared with his best little-boy face, looking abject and crestfallen.

Jess was right, everything so far had been a knee-jerk reaction, and avoiding Ross had seemed like the best strategy. As much as he repulsed her now, Andie knew she still had feelings for him. You don't just stop loving someone overnight because they turn out to be a shit. But those feelings troubled her. Jess said she had to take charge of her life again, but Andie wasn't sure how to do that. Ross had controlled her life for the last ten years, though to be fair she had willingly handed over that control. And look where it had left her. Had he fallen out of love with her because she was so weak and obliging? Had she bored him into infidelity? She remembered him saying something along those lines about Joanna, but Andie had always cut him off. She didn't like to hear him putting down the mother of his children. It wasn't Joanna's fault, it was nobody's fault. Andie and Ross had fallen in love, it just happened.

And now it was happening again. His duplicity was breathtaking. Did he really arrange the job at Viande just to keep her out at nights? Did that mean he was planning to maintain a marriage and a mistress? What was in it for him to keep up the deception? Were men so shallow that a little extra sex on the side was worth all the palaver involved in covering it up?

Yes, said Jess, some men were that shallow.

She encouraged Andie to finally reply to the barrage of text messages. To take the reins, so to speak.

Ross, pls refrain from the constant texting. I will be in touch tomorrow, as long as I don't hear another word from you in the meantime.

That gave her the upper hand, if ever so slightly. The next step in her still fuzzy plan was to arrange to meet him. Jess said all she really had to do was listen, hear Ross out and understand the tack he was going to take, so that she would be better prepared to deal with him from now on. Andie couldn't deny that it hurt like hell to think that Ross didn't want her any more, that he might have fallen in love with this woman, and was planning to leave her. But if he claimed it was just a fling, if he never had any intention of leaving Andie . . . not that she would want him back, but, well, it would be a little easier to take.

She didn't share any of those thoughts with Jess though. She didn't need to hear how insipid they were. Andie had to steel herself if she was going to get through this meeting with Ross. She knew what he was like. He would use his considerable – and in her case, quite effective – powers of persuasion to talk her around, so she had to guard herself against that possibility. Jess had offered to send texts every twenty minutes, timely prompts that would also serve to give Andie an out, should she need one. She could say it was something important and that she had to leave.

Andie sighed, leaning back heavily in her chair. With all the covert operations of the last few days, she was beginning to think she should consider a new career as a spy. That would certainly give her a whole new life – exotic locations, handsome co-spies, false identities involving fabulous wardrobe changes . . . But who was she kidding? She was frightened of fast cars, heights, guns – not that she'd ever even seen a gun in real life, but just the idea was enough to terrify her. So spying was probably not for her, after all.

Andie was jolted back into reality when she spotted Ross weaving through the stream of people on the boardwalk moving towards her. When she proposed meeting at Darling Harbour, Ross had baulked at first, suggesting they meet at the apartment. Andie certainly didn't want to be alone with him, she wanted to meet him somewhere busy and noisy, so they could talk freely without drawing attention to themselves. So when she proceeded to outline the rather obvious reasons why she didn't want to step foot in the apartment, Ross had quickly backed off and reluctantly agreed to meet her here.

This had all been done via text messages, Andie hadn't felt ready to talk to him yet. But now she had no choice. He was approaching her table, and she could see him arranging his features into an expression that read ‘contrite'.

‘Hello, Andie,' he said solemnly.

She just nodded.

‘May I?' he asked, planting his hands on the back of the chair opposite.

‘Of course.'

He made a bit of a production of pulling the chair out and arranging himself to sit. And then they were facing each other across the table.

‘Have you ordered?' he asked.

‘Not yet.'

‘So what would you like to drink?'

‘Just coffee for me, thanks.' She wasn't going to have anything stronger, she had to keep a clear head.

Ross raised his hand to beckon a waiter, and one came running immediately, he had that effect. And of course it was a woman. He gave her their coffee orders and after she left, he sat back in his chair, clasping his hands loosely in his lap, like he was waiting for something. But surely it was up to him to start?

‘So, Ross?' Andie prompted him.

He released a heavy sigh, as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. He sat forward now, leaning his elbows on the table, and rubbing one hand across his jaw. ‘Andie,' he said finally, ‘I don't think there are words to express how sorry I am . . . I can't imagine what it must have been like.'

I . . . I . . . I . . .

‘I know it probably won't mean much to you,' he struggled on, ‘but I didn't plan for that to happen, I certainly didn't ask for it —'

‘You seemed to be bearing up all right at the time.'

He closed his eyes for a beat, opening them again and fixing them on her. ‘It was her idea . . . she ambushed me —'

‘Oh for Chrissakes, Ross!'

‘No, listen to me, it's the truth. We only called in to the apartment briefly, I had to pick up something. I wasn't even going to bring her inside, but she got out of the car before I could do anything. Then when we were about to leave she asked to use the bathroom. She didn't come out for a while, and she didn't answer when I called, so I went looking for her.'

Andie couldn't believe this was his defence.

He stared down at the table. ‘She was just sitting there . . . barely dressed . . .'

Oh, the horror.

‘And because you're a helpless male, you had no choice in the matter?' said Andie.

‘That's not what I'm saying,' he snapped. ‘Christ, Andie, are we going to talk about this like adults? Or do you just want to score points? Because you win, okay? The points all go to you. I forfeit.'

Forfeit? That was generous of him. Andie was surprised he thought he had any points in his credit in the first place.

Ross took a breath. ‘So, all right,' he continued in a calmer tone, ‘I'm weak, I admit it. But I did try to stop her, I said it wasn't appropriate, but she . . . persisted. Anyway, it was wrong. And if you don't think for a minute that I know that it was wrong, then . . . you don't know me at all.'

How did he just do that? Did he expect Andie to say sorry now? He had a magician-like sleight of hand, only with his tongue.

Just then her phone beeped. ‘Excuse me,' she said, fishing it out of her bag. It was from Jess.

Hows ur bullshit meter holding up?

Andie had to keep her wits about her. ‘Ross, I think this is bigger than just what happened the other evening,' she said. ‘Let's ignore that for a moment, shall we?'

His eyes narrowed, waiting for her next move.

‘How long have you been seeing this . . . girl?'

‘I've known her a few months,' he said. ‘It didn't start out as anything.'

What did that even mean?

‘She was just a pretty young girl in the office, flirting with the boss,' he said. ‘I mean, it happens all the time, and it's hard not to be flattered by the attention when you're my age. I didn't lead her on, though, I certainly didn't mean to. I made it very clear from the start that I was married. Didn't seem to put her off, if anything it made me more of a challenge,' he muttered.

The waiter returned with their coffees, placing them on the table.

‘Can I get you anything else?' she said to Ross, flashing him a dazzling smile.

‘No, thank you,' he said, and she left.

‘Go on, Ross, you were saying?' Andie prompted. ‘You were put upon by this girl, helpless against her considerable advances —'

‘Stop it, Andie!' he cried. ‘Do you realise how hard this has been for me? I've been struggling with it for months. I didn't want to go through it all over again, the recriminations, introducing someone new, it would be so much easier to keep the status quo . . .'

What?

‘But you pushed me to this, with all your talk about wanting a baby. I know how it feels to be betrayed, Andie. You betrayed our marriage as much as I did. You didn't give a damn about me and my wishes any more. You just wanted me to impregnate you.'

Andie's gob couldn't be more smacked. He saw his betrayal on the same level as hers? Really?
Really?

‘I didn't know what to do,' he said, his voice softening. ‘Then I thought that maybe if you had a career, some goals, you would drop the idea of a baby, and we could pick up again like we were before. I was ready to do anything.'

The new chef set. The special celebratory dinner. Steel yourself, Andie.

‘So the girlfriend was part of the plan, an interim measure to get you through?'

She said it snidely, but he didn't respond in kind.

‘No, that's a mess of my own making, and I'm just trying to extricate myself with the minimum amount of damage.'

Andie frowned. ‘To whom?'

‘To you. Me. Tasha.'

‘That's her name?' It seemed somehow appropriate. She'd been imagining Tiffany, or maybe Kimberley.

‘The thing is,' Ross went on, ‘Tasha's a bit needy. You might even say . . . unhinged.'

Something inside Andie – something she was not proud of – gave her a moment's delight at hearing that.

‘So you bring her to our apartment,' Andie said, ‘and succumb to her advances – that's how you “extricate” yourself from her?'

Ross was shaking his head. ‘It's so easy for you to sit there and judge, isn't it, Andie?'

‘Yes, it is, Ross,' she said evenly. ‘It's actually very easy for me to sit here and judge the husband who I've discovered has been cheating on me.'

He looked sullen. ‘Yeah, well, you can be as smug and superior as you like. You can lay all the blame at my feet. After all, I'm the cheating husband, in the eyes of the world, your rap sheet is clean. You don't have to look at yourself, or analyse your role in what happened. But if you honestly believe a third party could ever get a foothold in a strong, sound marriage, then fine, you can go away with a clear conscience.'

Andie's heart had begun to race as he spoke, and now she felt a little breathless. Her phone beeped again. Thank God. She picked it up and looked at the message without reading it.

‘I have to go. There's a junior filling in at the shop, I have to close.' She picked up her bag and Ross quickly reached across the table to grab her hand.

‘Andie, come home,' he said, his voice plaintive.

‘No.'

‘I'll move out,' he said. ‘I'll go and stay in a hotel, you shouldn't have to leave the apartment.'

‘Ross, I can't go back there, don't you get that?' She pulled her hand away and got to her feet. ‘You really don't seem to understand how much this has hurt me.'

He stood up. ‘I do, Andie, I understand, and I'm going to do everything I can to make it up to you. I'm not letting you go without a fight.'

She just looked at him. She didn't know what to say. She didn't trust herself to say anything. ‘Goodbye, Ross.'