The Woman Who Lied(12)
‘Hi,’ she says, as he crosses over. ‘Who was that?’
‘Ah, just a … er … client,’ he says, looking at his feet.
‘She’s very beautiful.’
His head shoots up and she sees it. The guilt in his eyes.
‘Oh, Jonas.’
The guilt has gone, his expression now closed, defensive. ‘What?’
‘I’m no fan of Kristin but I thought you loved her.’
‘I do.’
‘You’re buying a house together.’
He shuffles his feet. ‘Listen.’ He takes her arm and steers her out of the path of office workers heading towards the green. He lowers his voice. ‘Please don’t tell anyone about this. Nothing is going on. It’s just a bit of flirty banter, that’s all.’
‘That was how it started with Kristin. Have you ever cheated on her?’
‘Of course not.’
Emilia had always thought he’d been faithful to her until he ran off with Kristin. She’d thought it was Kristin’s charm, her magic, that had ensnared him, turned him. But now she wonders if Kristin wasn’t the first. Having the love of one gorgeous woman is obviously not enough for him. She thinks of Elliot in his home office, poring over drawings of cereal packets, and is so grateful she wants to cry. She’s known it deep down for years, of course, but Jonas did her a favour. If it hadn’t been Kristin it would have been someone else.
‘I just … I just get bored,’ he says, so quietly she can barely hear him. He looks at her imploringly. ‘I don’t mean to hurt anyone.’
She stares at him in shock at his rare moment of honesty. And she briefly glimpses the boy she’d first met as a fresher nearly twenty years ago. In a flash she remembers how she’d felt when he’d asked her out. Her, Emilia Ward, who had never felt as loved, as special, as attractive as anyone else. And she’d been so desperate for love, for affection that she’d ignored the red flags: the late nights, the flirty ‘banter’ with every attractive female. Ottilie had said she didn’t quite trust him but Emilia had refused to listen. She’d been infatuated.
She sighs. ‘But you do hurt people. You hurt me and now you’re going to do the same to Kristin. Why bother getting married if you feel that way? And the thing is …’ she bites back her anger ‘… not only did you hurt me by cheating on me, but you ruined a friendship.’
‘I’m sorry, I really am. If I could take it all back …’
He looks lost standing there, the tip of his nose red with cold, and despite it all, she feels sympathy for him. Maybe she can talk some sense into him. Stop him doing to Kristin what he did to her. It starts to rain and she makes a split-second decision.
‘Have you got time for a coffee?’ she finds herself asking.
They spend nearly an hour holed up in a little café, which smells of wet umbrellas and coffee, where they have, for the first time in years, an honest conversation. He tells her how frustrated he is with Kristin and her constant career-changes, how she’s not bringing in enough money, and she’s demanding. ‘I’m happy in the Twickenham house, you know. It was affordable and now we’re going to be stretching ourselves.’
Emilia sips her cappuccino while he talks. ‘I can understand why she wouldn’t want to live in another woman’s house.’
‘You haven’t lived in it for ten years. It’s hardly another woman’s house any more.’
‘You know what I mean. We chose it together. Listen, you need to be totally honest with her. Like Elliot and I are with each other.’
‘Really?’ He raises an eyebrow. ‘So you’ll tell him you had coffee with your ex-husband?’
‘Of course. Why wouldn’t I? I have nothing to hide.’
He stares at her for a while, then shakes his head slowly. ‘You’re a good person, Em. And I’m sorry for the way I treated you, I really am.’
She blushes and tells him it’s all water under the bridge now.
He pushes away his half-drunk Americano. ‘So when am I going to get to read your book? Surely there must be some perks to being the ex-husband of a crime writer.’
She knows Elliot thinks it strange that she allows Jonas to read early copies of her books, but he’s always been supportive of her writing, even after they split up. And, despite her faults, so has Kristin. ‘Once I’ve done the edits I’ll email it over to you.’ She drains the remnants of her cappuccino.
‘Great. I can’t wait to see how you kill off Miranda.’
They chat some more, then Jonas leaves to go back to the office. After Emilia has bought Wilfie his school shirts she heads back up the hill thinking of Jonas and their conversation. The handle of the plastic bag cuts into her wrist and she’s grateful when she reaches her house.
The rain has held off on her walk home but steel-coloured clouds gather ominously. There is a blossom tree on the patch of grass next to their driveway, not yet in bloom. Elliot planted it when they first moved in, and it still hasn’t reached its full height. Its branches are stark and naked without their frothy dressing. As she walks past she notices something swinging from one of the upper branches. Her eyesight isn’t as good as it was and she squints, but as she gets closer she can see, from the dirty yellow hair standing up in a peak, the hard body and scrunched-up face, exactly what it is. A troll doll. Hanging from the neck by a piece of string. She stands and watches it for a few seconds, gently swinging in the wind, her mind racing. Was it left there at the same time as the package? She hadn’t noticed it when she left the house earlier. The glow she had felt from her coffee with Jonas extinguishes as quickly as a wet match.