His Other Lover (24 page)

“If I see either of you anywhere near my house or my fiancé…” I pause to let that sink in; Liz’s eyes widen in shock and she slumps slightly. Debs has to grip a little harder to hold her up. “I’ll call the police. Do I make myself clear?” I turn and start to go in through the door.

“Peter, please…I love you!” Liz shouts behind me. I see Pete’s hand grip the door frame a little harder at the pain in her voice, and desperately I push him back into the hall, so I can get in and shut the door, drown her out.

“Go in the sitting room,” I order him. “I’ll finish this.”

Looking drained, he just nods and disappears into the gloom of the house. I pull the door to and stride back out on to the drive.

Debs is trying to persuade Liz to get into her car. “Come on, baby, he’s not worth it,” she’s saying in pleading and soothing tones. “You’ve got to move on, he’s made his choice. I know it hurts, I know, but he’s made it.”

They are caught off guard to see me again, and freeze. Lowering my voice so Pete doesn’t hear, I say in a strangulated tone, “If I do call the police, they will find what they’re looking for in your flat. Proper proof that you did that burglary, understand? You think that bag is all I left there? Well, it’s not. And you won’t find it if you go looking. It’s hidden, just waiting for if I need it.”

I’m bluffing, of course; all I did was dump those two brooches right at the back of her wardrobe, but she doesn’t know that. “You don’t call him, you don’t phone him. He is nothing to you any more.”

Debs looks contemptuously at me. “She gets it,” she says.

“No—
I
do,” I say, fighting to keep myself steady.

Then I turn my back on them and start to walk up the drive.

“You bitch!” Liz shouts to my retreating back. “You’ve ruined my life and his. He should be with me. I really love him and he really loves me. You can’t change that, no matter what you do. He’ll never be yours. You’ll never be right for each other.”

I just carry on walking, my head held high, trying not to hear her.

Slamming the front door behind me, I find Pete just standing there, waiting. We listen until we hear the car pull away. Pete
says nothing for a moment, then he speaks slowly and carefully. “I’m so sorry. She’s mad. Completely mad.”

I look at him sideways for a second, leaning against the wall. “Is it over, Pete?” I say tiredly, my eyes closing.

There is a pause, and then he says, “Yes. I hope so.”

“I don’t want ‘hope so,’” I say. “That’s not good enough for me. Is it over?” I open my eyes again and look directly at him, my stare unwavering.

“Yes. It is,” he says finally, dropping his gaze first.

I nod silently, and close my eyes. Thank God for that. It’s over. I won—I got him. I held on to our lives. It can all be okay again. It’ll take some work, but it’ll be okay. I can make this work, I know I can. I love him. He loves me. We can have it all.

Then Pete clears his throat nervously and says, “And great thinking about saying ‘fiancé’…” and he laughs unconvincingly.

I open my eyes and look at him. “What?”

“Well, we haven’t…I mean, I didn’t…you know. Not exactly.”

I’m not sure what to say to that, so I say what I feel. For once.

“Well, we love each other,” I say simply. “We’ve been together a long time. Isn’t that what people in love do? Get married, have children, grow old together. Be happy? Formalize it, you said. You do love me, don’t you?”

But as I’m saying the words, all I can see in my mind is Liz, sitting brokenly on our drive, weeping desperately for him. I think of Patrick saying, “She’s fantastic,” and Clare saying simply, “I love him.” I think of Amanda saying, “We’re going to be a
family
!” And of Katie saying, “You’re on your own.” And finally
I think about Lottie looking straight at me: “It’s good to know that he’s worth all of this.”

So I close my eyes really, really hard and force it all out of my head. All of it…the whole horrible jumbled-up swirling mess. When I open them again, Pete is still standing there and I realize he hasn’t answered my question.

“I love you,” I say softly, and I wait for him to say it back and set the seal.

“I know you do,” he says. Then he walks past me into the living room, sits down heavily in his chair and turns the TV up, as if nothing has happened. Nothing at all.