needed that. It’s been a horrible week.”
“For me, too.”
“Of course, sorry, I wasn’t thinking. What on earth’s been going on, Ruby? I’ve missed you so much at work. Are you okay?”
Immediately my eyes prickled with tears. “Yeah, I’m fine, thanks.”
“I can’t believe they let you go,” she said. “Do you know why? Nobody’s said a word.” She gave me a sympathetic look. “You were a great worker. They couldn’t deny that. You had that office running like clockwork. I hope they put that on the reference.”
“They forgot to put that on,” I said. “My reference was insultingly short.”
“What? That’s outrageous! I’ll ask Harry to write you one. He’s back at work on Monday.”
“No, don’t,” I said quickly. “Don’t ask him.”
She stared at me. “Whyever not?” she said. “It’s the least he can do.”
I took a gulp of my cocktail and thought, Why not? Why shouldn’t I tell her? Why should I protect him when he’s treated me like this?
“We were having an affair,” I said. “That’s why I got sacked.”
CHAPTER 17
Ruby
I couldn’t have gotten a better reaction if I’d tried. As I spoke, Sarah was sipping her gin and when she heard what I said she started to cough, then choke. Her face scarlet, she stood, brushing off my attempts to help her, and rushed to the restroom. I sat back and wondered whether I should have told her.
When she returned, her face was still hot and pink. “Sorry,” she said. “I wasn’t expecting that. My drink went down the wrong way.”
“Are you all right?” I passed her the glass of water the barman had brought over for her. “Here, drink some of this. I’m sorry I gave you a shock.”
“You really did,” she said. She drank the water, then started to look better. “I wonder why I haven’t heard anything at work. I haven’t heard even a hint of a rumor.”
“Thank God for that.” It would happen, though, I knew that. I looked at her, wondering whether I could trust her. “Don’t tell anyone any of this, will you?”
“Of course I won’t,” she said, and reached out to touch my hand. “We’re friends. But tell me everything. When did you meet up?” She lowered her voice. “Did you go to hotels?”
Suddenly I didn’t want to tell her the details. I didn’t want it to sound tawdry, as though we’d been constantly, furtively looking for the opportunity to have sex. And we hardly ever booked into a hotel for the afternoon. Just a few times. Once a month or so. I held my face really still, the way I used to at home, so that she didn’t see a telltale flush, a giveaway smile. “We never spent the night together,” I said. “Not until Paris. Tom’s home every night. I would never have gotten away with that.”
Sarah looked disappointed. I think she wanted stories of glamour and hotels and jewelry. It felt ridiculous to tell her that our affair had consisted mostly of snatched moments together that had meant more than any time in a hotel. Every week or so I’d travel to meetings with Harry and those hours spent in the car together had been like little holidays: something to look forward to and to treasure afterward. I’d keep quiet when Tom asked about work and always made sure to include Sarah or another woman if I told him I’d been anywhere. He’d usually switch off if I said too much, anyway; his eyes would glaze over and he’d turn on the television or open a book.
“And nobody found out? Tom didn’t suspect?”
“No, he didn’t suspect a thing,” I said. I didn’t say that I was so used to watching what I said, in case Tom was annoyed, that lying came really easily to me now. “I was home every night. He had no reason to be suspicious.”
I remember the first time I lied to him. An actual full-on lie. There wasn’t an ounce of truth in it. It was ten at night and Tom had just arrived home. He’d had a meeting with clients in Glasgow that day and, knowing he’d be late, I’d spent