Unfaithful (13 page)

The waves were getting even higher and she could taste the salty spray on her lips. She beckoned the waiter for another coffee and rummaged in her handbag for a cigarette. She put the cigarette to her lips and fumbled with the lighter for a few minutes before finally being able to light up. She inhaled deeply, waiting for the numbing effect of the nicotine to hit her addled brain.

She was mildly ashamed of herself at having taken up smoking at this stage of her life. She'd had a few rebellious cigarettes as a teenager with her friends, but she'd rarely smoked since. Sometimes she'd have a puff if she was on a night out with her girlfriends but she wouldn't usually even smoke a whole pack in a year.

She was smoking a pack a week recently. Mark was a chain smoker, so she'd bought a pack of his favourite cigarettes, Marlboro Gold, just to remind herself of his smell and somehow they'd helped to steady her nerves a little over the past while. She promised herself that she would quit as soon as she'd told Mark that they were over. All she had to do was get the words out and she could get on with the rest of her life.

  Shona saw Mark struggle against the wind as he climbed the few steps to the cafe. She watched him approach, his dark head bent low into his heavy winter coat, his navy college scarf whipping around his broad shoulders. His collar was pulled up, so she couldn't see the expression on his face.

Her heart began to beat faster as he steadily approached her. She contemplated running away, for a brief second. Maybe she still had time to run into the ladies toilets and hide from him, text him that she couldn't make it, call the whole thing off. She took one last deep drag on her cigarette and gulped her coffee. Before she had another moment to think, he was standing in front of her, smiling quizzically down at her.

"Shona, darling, how are you?" he asked, settling himself rather awkwardly in a cold metal fold-away chair directly opposite her.

"I'm ok, thank you, how are you, Mark?" she replied very politely.

"All the better for seeing you, as always," he grinned cheekily at her.

Shona gazed at him, drinking in his handsome face, his dimples, his strong cleft chin. So many times she'd poked her finger in the deep dimples of his face, just to tease him. He'd usually swat her away in mock irritation saying that she reminded him of the old ladies when he was young, who would constantly “ooh” and “aah” about his dimples.

She looked at his big hands; hands which had held hers so many times. They were surprisingly rough for a photographer’s hands but were as a result of his very serious DIY hobby. She looked at the silver scar that ran across his hand and had to restrain from reaching out to touch it. She knew that she would never hold his hands again. She felt like she was dying. She didn't want it to be the end for them. She could feel hot tears welling up in her eyes and she desperately tried to swallow the sobs that were beginning to build.

"Would you like another coffee?" Mark interrupted her reverie, as he got to his feet and made his way inside. She managed to nod.

She took a few deep breaths, grateful for the cold air on her burning cheeks. Her churning stomach was back with a vengeance. All she wanted to do was run away home, jump into the welcoming warmth and safety of her bed and cover her head with the duvet, but she knew that wasn't an option.

Mark soon emerged with two large mugs of steaming hot coffee and two Danish pastries, a favourite of Shona's. They busied themselves with milk and sugar for a few minutes, Shona grateful for the distraction.

"So, what's all this about then, Shona?" Mark asked, as he carefully stirred his coffee. "You left a rather cryptic message on my phone the other day." He looked steadily at her, his piercing blue eyes not leaving her face.

Shona gulped loudly, "Mark, I cannot see you anymore. Our affair is over."

A look of mild amusement swept across his handsome face and she could see the edge of his lips quiver as he tried to restrain a smile.

She began to feel annoyed. "Are you laughing at me?" she asked incredulously, anger building inside her.

"Oh, Shona, darling, you sound like a petulant little girl," he mocked gently. "How many times have we had this same conversation? We can't break up, darling, we can't resist each other. We break up then we make up. I must admit that I quite enjoy our so-called break ups cos the make- up sex is always amazing." He looked at her, his eyes becoming cloudy with desire. “You're cute when you're angry,” he smiled. He reached across the table to touch her hand, but she pulled away from him.

"Well, I'm about to get real adorable! How dare you mock me?!" she hissed at him. "I've waited too long for you to fulfill your empty promises to me. I'm not some toy you can pick up and play with whenever you feel bored. It's over, Mark and if you know what's good for you, you'll stay away from me!"

She jumped up from her seat, almost spilling her full coffee cup, and stormed across the car park. She wrenched open her car door and fumbled with the key in the ignition. Her heart was pounding in her chest and her face was bright red with anger. She was furious. He'd sat there and practically dismissed what she was saying to him, as if she was some ridiculously infantile child who didn't know her own mind. Well, she'd show him! She put the car into gear and sped off down the road, tyres screeching as she drove.

Mark sat in the cafe, slowly sipping his coffee. "Such a child," he muttered under his breath as he watched Shona storm off. He was getting very tired of her immature antics. Surely she knew at this stage that they were good for each other; good fun and great sex. Why did she have to ruin it by demanding more of him?
Marriage and children isn't all it's cracked up to be
, he thought. There was no need for her to learn that lesson the hard way.

He and Rebecca used to have so much fun and amazing sex before they were married. They couldn't keep their hands off each other. Rebecca used to be so open and fun, always up for a laugh and a good time. He smiled as he remembered their early days together. They couldn't keep their hands off each other for long.

He remembered one particularly hot summer's afternoon, when Rebecca had invited him for a picnic. They'd driven to an old country estate which was open to the public and had spent an enjoyable morning exploring the house and gardens. They they'd gone for a hike slightly away from the crowds. Rebecca had spread a large blanket on the ground and lain out a wonderful feast of food for them.

They'd spent several delightful hours slowly eating strawberries dipped in chocolate and sipping sparkling wine, pretending it was Champagne. They'd eaten their fill of oysters and delicious home-made brown bread. Afterwards, they'd lain on the blanket, kissing and caressing each other.

Then Rebecca unzipped his trousers, and lifted her skirt when she slowly lowered herself onto him. He moaned to himself at the delicious memory of her warm wetness engulfing him, her gorgeous breasts in his face.

How he'd longed to rip her clothes off right there in the park, but he'd somehow managed to resist the temptation. She sat on his lap, kissing him, teasing him and slowly gyrating on him until they'd both reached a wonderfully slow, gentle orgasm. He could feel himself becoming aroused at the memory.

Rebecca was still as sexy as ever, not as spontaneous; marriage and motherhood had toned that down, but still undeniably sexy. Mark wanted Rebecca as much now, as he'd ever wanted her. There was no way that he would ever give up Rebecca for some immature little girl like Shona. "Silly tart," he muttered to himself.
Oh well, one less headache to worry about
, he thought, secretly relieved that Shona had made their ending so easy. He was tired of her angry outbursts and dramatic meltdowns, which were becoming more and more frequent recently. The fun had been slowly seeping away from their relationship over the past while. Anyway, he had the beautiful Penelope to occupy him now.

He paid for the coffees and walked back down the steps to his car, checking his mobile phone for any messages. There was nothing yet from Shona. He smirked to himself,
oh well, I'm sure she'll be in touch soon enough.
He punched Penelope's phone number into his mobile as he walked.
I'll give Penelope a call
, he thought
, I'm sure she'll be more than happy to see me
.

Chapter 16

Shona slowly opened her sore eyes. They felt as if they had been glued together. The early afternoon sunshine that was beaming through her thin bedroom curtains pierced her tired eyes. She buried her face into her pillow and covered her head with her duvet. Her throat was dry and her mouth was parched. She didn't know how long she had been in bed and she didn't care either. She was safe in bed, snuggled under the covers. The world couldn't get her as long as she stayed in bed, she'd decided. She never wanted to get up again. Her head pounded incessantly with thoughts of Mark. She wondered and debated with herself if she had done the right thing by ending their relationship finally.

A small part of her still refused to give up all hope that it was over between them. She tried to squash the crazy voice in her head that insisted she kept on trying.
He needs more time, just a little more time,
the voice told her.
You've been through this much, you can't give up now
. "Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" she roared at herself, suddenly sitting up in bed. "You stupid idiot, Shona Morgan! Get a life!" She startled herself at her outburst and sank back on the pillows within minutes, worn out by the effort of her own shouting.

Her head was aching and her mouth was parched. Her throat was sand paper dry and she was bursting for the toilet, but at that particular point in time she didn't care if her bladder exploded. She vaguely contemplated wetting the bed, but figured that would be a step too far! Getting up seemed like such an effort and she hated the thought of leaving the safety of her bed. She lay against the soft, feather pillows for another while before struggling into a sitting position. Then she pulled her legs out from under the covers and sat at the edge of the bed, willing herself to stand up.

Eventually, the call of nature forced her to walk to the bathroom. She sat on the toilet, feeling dizzy and nauseous. Then she stood in front of the bathroom mirror and studied the car crash that was her reflection. Her eyes were bright red and swollen. She had black smudges under her eyes from where she had cried off all her mascara. I should have worn waterproof, she noted distractedly. She looked like she'd gone several rounds with Mike Tyson. Her face was snow white and her tumble of curls was knotted in tangles standing straight up off the top of her head. She considered brushing her teeth, but decided that it was too much effort and that she simply could not be bothered.

She'd been to her doctor to ask for help who had advised that she was in perfectly good health but that she was indeed suffering from a broken heart. All the doctor could prescribe was sleeping tablets and anti-depressants if she needed them. She had advised that time was the best healer. Shona had asked her how long it took a broken heart to mend, and the doctor had looked at her kindly saying that that was something she didn't know. She recommended surrounding herself with family and friends and trying to stay busy to keep her mind off dwelling too much on her relationship.

Shona filled the prescription for the medication but decided against taking the tablets. She figured that she needed to work through her heartbreak and not cover it with anti-depressants and sleeping tablets. Anyway, she was having no trouble sleeping, if anything she was sleeping too much. She just wanted to be alone. The thought of having to be with people, even her family and friends, made her feel completely overwhelmed. She wanted to be left alone to wallow in her own misery.

She shivered slightly, and noticed for the first time how cold it was in the flat. She pulled her heavy bathrobe from the back of the bathroom door and wrapped it tightly around her, then she stuck her bare feet into her Uggs; both had been a gift from Mark. A sob threated to erupt but she managed to stifle it. She couldn't handle anymore crying at the moment. Her whole body ached from crying.

She padded into her small sitting room and lit the gas fire in the grate. It felt warmer within minutes. She opened the sitting room curtains and peered outside. It was a bitterly cold morning, but the sun was shining brightly through the trees that surrounded the flat.

Shona's flat was attached to her landlord's house, like a granny flat, her sister had laughed when she'd first seen it.

"It's very bijou," Mark had, "very you, Shona."

Shona didn't care what anyone else thought of her little place, it was hers and that was all that mattered. She loved rounding the corner at the bottom of her drive and seeing her flat. It had a private entrance, albeit through her landlord's garage. She liked being able to close her front door on the world and have complete peace and quiet. It was a little safe haven there in Number 3, The Glade.

Her landlord, Harry Tremaine, was a retired gentleman, who lived with his wife and their adult son. He enjoyed chatting to Shona, and would often be pottering about in his garage when Shona arrived home from work in the evening. Shona liked talking to him too. She found his stories about his youth and his adventures very entertaining. He had so many opinions and thoughts on so many different subjects, that he and Shona often spent many happy hours chatting in the garage. He treated her like the daughter he'd never had and Shona saw him as a kindly grandfather figure.