it.”
“Get it out into the open,” I said. “Don’t let it fester. He can’t hurt you now.”
She took a deep breath. “We were having a row at Christmas, the year before last. He always found it stressful. And afterward, I wanted to make up with him. I didn’t want a horrible atmosphere, especially not at Christmas. So I approached him, you know . . .” She faltered. “In bed. And he flinched. Actually flinched. It was automatic, he didn’t think about it, he just looked disgusted. He told me that I simply didn’t do it for him anymore. That I had, when I was younger. And that it wasn’t my looks, so much, though it was that, obviously. It was my personality. He said he’d lost all respect for me, that if he’d known this is how I’d turn out, he wouldn’t have married me. Wouldn’t have dated me. Wouldn’t have even spoken to me on the night we met.”
“Funnily enough,” I said, “that’s exactly how I felt about him.”
She stared at me, openmouthed, and then she started to laugh but within a minute she was in tears. She picked up her bag and went over to the restroom. When she returned, her face was red and her makeup had been washed away. I thought she wouldn’t say anything more but she drank her coffee, then carried on.
“I went on the pill after that. I knew I didn’t want to have a baby with him. I didn’t tell him. I was so unhappy, but I just couldn’t pluck up the courage to leave. I remember thinking I was disappearing. That one day I’d look in the mirror and all I’d see was a ghost.” She looked up at me and I swear in that moment she had forgotten I was Harry’s wife. “And when I got involved with Harry, well, he brought me back to life.”
I couldn’t help myself. “Well, that’s great,” I said, “but it was at my expense.”
Her face crumpled. I jumped up and went up to the counter to order us another drink. I had to get away from her. I was horrified at what she’d said about Tom, but didn’t want to weaken. She’s not your friend, I kept saying to myself. She was having an affair with Harry. Don’t go feeling sorry for her now. But when I turned at the counter and saw her looking so frail, destroyed, really, it wasn’t hard to understand how she’d fallen for Harry. He’s a nice guy. A sympathetic listener. Easy on the eyes. I think that’s when it dawned on me that she had a reason for the affair; Harry hadn’t.
When I sat back down she wrapped her hands around the coffee mug, as though its warmth comforted her. “Does Harry know what happened to Tom?” she asked.
“I haven’t told him.” I added sharply, “Have you?”
She shook her head. “Of course not.”
“He hasn’t said anything to me. I kept the newspapers away from him.” There had been only a short piece in the local press about Tom, not even a photo. It said he’d died by falling downstairs when he was drunk, and warned readers to be careful. My name wasn’t mentioned; it just said that a family friend had seen him fall. That wasn’t exactly how I would have described myself. “I wondered whether he might have heard about it from someone at work, but I don’t think so.”
Ruby drew a breath and I could see she was trying to pluck up her courage. “I need to ask you something. Something personal.”
“Go ahead.”
“When did you sleep with Tom?”
I wasn’t expecting that one. “Remember when you went to Paris with Harry?” I said eventually. “I saw you at the airport with him. Kissing him.” I was glad to see guilt suffuse her face. “I’d suspected for a while, but when I saw you together . . . well, it was pretty obvious what was going on. I went round to Tom’s to tell him you and Harry were having an affair.” I gave her my famous brazen look. “And we slept together.”
There was a dead silence, then she said, “I left home a few weeks after that trip. So