“I shouldn’t have to say any words for you to not cheat on me, Max! At its most basic level, the function of a marriage is that you don’t fuck other people!”
“What do you want me to say?” Max shouted. “I fucked up! There, I said it. But you’re no angel. I know about the affair you had when the kids were small.”
That pulled Annie up short. She hadn’t realized he’d known about her revenge affair. She shook herself. She wasn’t going to let him throw that in her face, not after everything he’d put her through.
“Yes! I had an affair to get back at you and I own it, fully and completely,” she said, jutting her chin out defiantly. “But you screwed your way through our entire marriage. How many were there, Max? How many more than the ones I know about?”
For the first time since she’d left, Annie could see the light of resignation in his eyes. Finally, he knew it was over. He was beaten. He straightened himself and held out his hand for his phone. He smiled, a smile that she knew from old, the one that used to fill her stomach with dread. The smile that warned of a quiet yet acidic attack. But there was no dread in her stomach now. Whatever power he used to have over her had dissolved, along with any last vestiges of feeling for him.
“Too many to count,” said Max.
Annie smiled back at him. In one fluid movement, she picked the mop up off the floor, dropped Max’s phone into the bucket of soapy water, and gave it a good bashing with the mop.
“What are you? You stupid . . .”
Max dropped to his knees and thrust his arm into the bucket. Annie pulled the mop out and began to drape the sodden dripping mop head over Max’s head and neck and torso. He cried out in annoyance and shock, but Annie simply dipped the mop into the dirty water again and scrubbed it over his head.
Max stumbled to a stand, his phone retrieved, his hair and clothes dripping with water. He was rubbing at his eyes and spluttering curses at Annie.
Annie leaned in close and said: “You are going to buy me out of the restaurant and give me half of everything I’m owed or I will sue your arse for everything you’ve got. Get a solicitor and get it done.” She picked up the bucket and with one almighty swing hurled the contents over Max. “Now get out of my café!”
Chapter 77
When Annie took to the promenade the following morning for her pre-work walk, the weather was bitter, though at least for the moment, the sky seemed to have wrung itself dry. A storm had started around midnight and hadn’t burned itself out until the early hours. The promenade was several inches deep in displaced shingle that had been vomited up and left by last night’s waves. The roiling sea was as brown as Annie had ever seen it: churned up with sand and seaweed and frothing at the mouth. The dark clouds scudded by as though on a conveyor belt. Even the seagulls struggled to fly against the forceful air currents.
She considered last night as she walked. Admittedly, it wasn’t her finest moment. The boys had crept gingerly downstairs after Max had left and found her mopping up the water that hadn’t been absorbed by Max’s clothes. She’d confessed to her outburst, which they’d more than likely heard anyway, but they seemed to find it hilarious.
“We didn’t know he was still seeing Ellie,” said Peter, when the jokes about her starting a new life as a bucket-wielding circus clown had subsided.
“If we had, we would absolutely have told you,” Alex added, and Greg agreed.
“I’d have made him,” said Greg, ruffling Alex’s hair.
“Oh my God, Greg, you know how long it takes me to do my hair!”
Peter laughed. “You should grow it like mine, bro,” he said, pulling his mane back into a ponytail. “Easier to handle.”
“Casual yeti has never been my style,” Alex retorted.
“So, the whole bucket, then,” said Greg.
“Every last drop,” said Annie.
“And you mopped him,” said Alex. “That’s a bit weird, isn’t it, angry-mopping a person?”
“It was a spur-of-the-moment thing,” said Annie.
“Spontaneous husband mopping,” Greg mused.
“In a funny way, I feel kind of bad for him,” said Peter.
“Sorry,” said Annie. “I’m sure he’ll be okay once he’s dried off.”
“No, jeez, Mum, what are you apologizing for? I don’t mean the drenching. I mean I feel sad that he’s such a mess, it must be awful to be wrapped up in so many lies.”
“Stressful,” agreed Alex.