I Know Your Secret - Ruth Heald Page 0,1

to him?’

Richard won’t meet my eyes. ‘Our relationship’s over. We both need to face that.’ His voice shakes, and for a moment I think he might have some compassion. I long for him to take me in his arms and say that everything will be OK.

Instead he turns away from me, grabs the handle of the suitcase and strides out of the kitchen. But I’m not ready for this conversation to be over. ‘Are you going to her?’ I call after him, the words muffled by emotion. ‘Is that why you’re leaving? To be with her?’

He doesn’t answer. My pulse quickens as I follow him to the front door. I hear the closing bars of the theme tune from Charlie’s favourite show coming from the other room and put my hand on the wall to steady myself.

‘Are you going to her?’ I repeat. My jaw clenches and my eyes burn from holding back my tears.

‘Of course not,’ he says impatiently.

‘I don’t believe you.’

‘I’m not going to her. I’m not seeing her anymore. I’ve told you so many times.’

I’m not sure what to think. If I hadn’t seen the photos of them together, then I’d never have found out about his affair. How can I believe him now?

‘Where are you going then?’

‘I’ve rented a flat not far from here. Don’t worry, it will be easy for Charlie to visit.’

‘You’ve planned it all out.’ I think of him flat-hunting on his own, speaking to estate agents as a single man looking for a small flat, a bachelor pad. While I was frantically thinking of ways to save our relationship.

I grip the banister of the staircase for support. No matter what Richard says, it was his affair that was the beginning of the end of us. ‘I can’t believe it’s come to this. She’s managed to split us up.’

‘No, Beth, it’s not her. It’s you. I can’t live with you, can’t live with your insecurity. We would have had a future if you’d just listened, just believed me when I said the affair was over.’

I feel like I’ve been punched. A wave of exhaustion washes over me. He’s managed to turn everything around and blame it on me.

‘Aren’t you going to at least stay for Charlie’s dinner?’ I ask, desperate to keep him here a bit longer. Richard, Charlie and I always have dinner together, no matter what. It’s been mostly a silent meal since I found out about his affair, the air thick with things we can’t say in front of our son. I thought if we just pretended things were normal, repeated our daily routine, then eventually we’d get back to where we were.

‘I think it’s best if we have a clean break.’

I feel the burn of shame that, even after I’ve accepted the affair, I’m still not enough for him.

‘I’ll go now,’ he says.

I glance over at the clock on the wall. I have clients coming tonight. New clients. And now I’ll need to do everything alone: feed Charlie, bath him, put him to bed. All before they arrive, expecting to find a calm and collected therapist.

Richard reaches down to pick up the suitcase. ‘I want to get this all unpacked tonight.’ Then he opens our front door and steps into the suburban street, and out of my life.

* * *

I put Charlie’s fish fingers and chips in front of him and his eyes light up.

‘My favourite,’ he says happily, as he starts cutting his food up. My heart tugs. At four years old, he’s so easily pleased.

I sit down beside him and tuck into mine. The fish is flavourless and I smother it in ketchup and then watch my son do the same. He’s the spit of Richard with his dark curly hair and long eyelashes. He’s only four, but he looks older, his long legs dangling under the table.

‘Dad says I shouldn’t have lots of ketchup,’ he says as he squeezes the bottle.

‘Well, Dad’s not here.’

Charlie looks up at me, and for a moment I think he’s going to ask where his father is. My stomach swirls in anticipation, but instead he squeezes the bottle once more and the fish fingers nearly disappear under a sea of sauce.

The house is silent, and I can hear the sound of the streets outside through our double glazing. The traffic rumbles down the main road a few streets away and high-pitched laughter rises and then falls as a group of schoolchildren pass by the house, most likely on their way to