The One That Got Away (12 page)

And then he hangs up, leaving me holding the phone in shock.

I’m going to be sick … Utterly repulsed, I dash to the bathroom, but as I hang over the loo, nothing happens. I raise my head
eventually and look in the mirror.

My eyes are bloodshot, my skin is grey and has a greasy sheen to it while my hair is clumped and matted in places. My head
feels like it’s going to burst. What have we done? Oh what the fuck have we done?

I walk slowly back into the bedroom and sink on to the bed as I look around and try to make some sense of it all. I had a
drink with Leo. A couple of drinks. He leant me his jacket. We talked. I went to bed. He came to the room. I was drunk. I
woke up next to him, we kissed … The rest is a blank.

I exhale slowly. We had whisky … and a shot didn’t we? Oh – I drank tequila with him – on top of everything else I’d had with
the others at the hotel bar. Then I realise I
am
actually going to be sick and have to run to the bathroom as fast as I can.

* * *

‘I know she’s your usual doctor, but Dr Thomas isn’t in today I’m afraid,’ the medical receptionist says cosily. ‘Dr Hubbard
has an emergency appointment today at four-thirty. It’s his last one. Do you need to see a female doctor?’

‘No, four-thirty is fine. Thanks.’ I practically whisper, sitting on the edge of the hotel bed having showered, sick no longer
in my hair, dressed in clean work clothes. Bag packed.

‘And the name is?’

‘Molly Greene. Mrs Molly Greene.’

I hang up and then I send Pearce a text.

Am really ill. Can you cover for me? Tell them I’ve got whiplash from yesterday and gone to get checked out? Know this is
a big ask x

His response comes back instantly.

Sure. Got it. Wait ten minutes, we’re about to start so you should be clear then. Hope you feel better soon. Call me if you
need anything?

Thank God for him. I give the room one last cursory check and close the door quietly behind me. I want to get out of the place
where it all happened, as quickly as I can. We are both married, what were we thinking?

Emerging out into what is a cold, blustery day, I feel a sense of disbelief that I am going home when I should be at work.
It’s like sneaking out of school and waiting for a teacher to see me from a classroom and shout at me to come back … but what
I’ve done is horribly, disgustingly adult.

It is not my safest drive home. I am simply numb and somehow unable to comprehend that I have done something so tawdrily predictable.
Booze, biology and a cheap conference hotel; this is the sort of thing that happens to other reps, not me.

When I arrive back at the house everything looks and feels just as I left it yesterday. In our bedroom Dan has made the bed,
there are a couple of golfing magazines on the floor next to a pair of his dirty socks. Last night, Dan was here as usual,
like nothing was wrong, while I was in a hotel, with my ex …

I wobble on the spot and quickly peel off my clean work clothes, changing into jogging bottoms and a hoodie, my brain pinching
with every movement. The silence in the room is really beginning to get to me and all of a sudden I need to speak to someone,
very badly.

Agonisingly, Bec goes straight to voicemail; she must be on an early, maybe even a long day. Her phone will be off for hours.

Joss however picks up pretty much straight away. ‘Hi,’ she says in hushed tones, surprise in her voice. ‘I thought you were
at a conference? You OK?’ For a loud person,
she rather bizarrely hates using mobiles when she knows other people can hear her.

‘Can you talk?’

‘Yup – go for it.’

‘Last night …’ I take a deep breath. ‘At the conference hotel …’

‘Yeah?’ she says, doubt creeping into her voice.

‘I got really drunk and I slept with someone. As in … had sex with.’

There is a long pause. All I can hear is background office noise, a cough and someone else’s phone going off. ‘OK,’ she says
eventually, making an enormous effort to react calmly. ‘I’m just going to take this outside … this was with a colleague I
take it?’

‘No.’ I pause miserably. ‘With Leo.’

There is a stunned silence.

‘He turned up at the hotel,’ I blurt. ‘I was so drunk and … I woke up this morning and … oh Joss, the condom broke.’ I can
barely get the words out. ‘So I’m going to have to go to the doctor’s today to get checked out and get the morning-after pill.’

More silence. She doesn’t respond. ‘Joss?’ I realise I’ve lost her. I ring back but it goes to voicemail. She must be trying
to call me. I have to wait another maddening couple of minutes to get through.

‘
Leo
was at the hotel? Fuck! Of all the places …’

I hesitate. ‘It wasn’t a coincidence. He knew I was going to be there.’

There is another pause.

‘How,’ she says ominously, ‘would he know that, unless you’d been in contact with him?’

I close my eyes and swallow. ‘I sent him a message on Facebook.’

‘WHAT? And more to the point
why
?’

‘I sent him a message, he sent me one back, we emailed once or twice and then he ended up ringing me yesterday. While we were
on the phone I bumped the car, then last night he turned up at the hotel—’

‘You bumped the car?’ she exclaims. ‘What the …’

‘It was nothing, I went into the back of someone because I wasn’t concentrating. When he turned up I was already hammered,’
I try to explain. ‘We had a couple of drinks … I felt sick and … well then we said goodnight and I went up to my room, but
I think he came up for some reason,’ I glance over at my bag, sitting on the floor. ‘Oh, that’s it!’ I remember. ‘His wallet
or his phone or something was in my handbag, so he came back to get it …’

‘What were they doing in your bag?’ Joss is icy.

‘I don’t remember, but then I don’t remember a lot of last night. I haven’t been that drunk for years.’

She sighs heavily.

‘What the hell am I going to do, Joss?’ I panic.

‘Right, well – practicalities,’ she swings into business mode. ‘You have to get the morning-after pill, to be on the safe
side, and I’d get some STD tests done too.’

I freeze. I haven’t even considered that. How stupid and naïve am I? She’s right. He might have once been
my boyfriend … but his
wife
could have had one dodgy partner in the past and that would be enough. I shudder with revulsion as I close my eyes. God knows
what I might have exposed myself to.

‘You can get the pill everywhere these days, you don’t have to go to the doctor’s.’

I pause. ‘True – but the condom broke, didn’t it? What if it’s not all gone? – I don’t want to get an infection.’

‘What are you talking about?’

Then I realise the phone must have cut off before she heard everything. So I have to tell her again.

‘Oh Molly. Would you like me to come to the doctor’s with you?’ she offers, her voice softening. ‘Or have you asked Bec?’

‘She doesn’t know about any of this. Her phone’s off. It’s a really kind offer, but you’re at work and everything.’ I stare
at the floor. How is this even happening? ‘I’ll be OK.’

‘You sound like shit … I hate him so much for this,’ she says, her voice tight. ‘I can’t even tell you …’

I don’t know what to say.

‘It’s not enough for him, all that misery he put you through back then? He couldn’t just fuck off and … Oh Moll, why would
you
want
to message him? I don’t understand!’

‘I don’t know,’ I feel so ashamed. ‘It didn’t seem a big deal, it was silly light stuff, just—’

‘Tell me,’ she says, quietly, ‘that this isn’t you starting something up again with him?’

‘NO!’ I say it so vehemently she falls silent. ‘Of course it isn’t!’

‘It’s just you’ve always had that weird … blind spot … when it comes to him.’

‘No I don’t,’ I insist. ‘I used to love him, I’m not saying I didn’t. But Dan changed everything. I can’t believe I’ve cheated
on Dan.’ My eyes fill with incredulous tears at the words I’ve just heard myself say.

‘You need to get to the doctor’s, get the pill and we’ll go from there.’ She says firmly. ‘This is going to be OK.’

‘Can they do the STD tests there too?’

‘Yeah, but not right away. Can you just not ask me how I know this, but you can only have most STD tests about a week after
you’ve had a dodgy shag. I’m not sure you even can have them done at most surgeries. You have to go to the GUM clinic.’

But GUM clinics are usually based at hospitals. ‘Suppose I see someone from work I know?’

‘There are loads of private ones you can go to instead. You could come to one up here. I’ll find you a number and text it
to you, OK? And if you change your mind and want me to come with you today, call me. Remember it’ll take me an hour and a
bit to get back though. And definitely call when you’re done. If my phone is off it’s only because I’m in a meeting, I’ll
ring you as soon as I can. I bet you this is a more common situation that you think,’ she assures me, ‘and the doctor will
have seen it all before. It’s all going to be all night. I promise.’

* * *

Sitting in the GP’s waiting room dressed in my home clothes rather than my suit, dully watching a small, wheezing toddler
sitting on the carpet as it half-heartedly bashes some building bricks, feels very wrong. I should be psyching myself up for
a sales tussle. At least, thank God, the surgery isn’t actually one of mine in a professional capacity. That would be unbearable.
My phone buzzes with a text from Mum.

Are you OK? Dan OK? Conference good? Still coming lunch on Sunday? I’ve got a big chicken. Love from Mum xxx

Normally just her insistence on signing off every time makes me smile. Not today. I merely text back:

Conference OK. Dan fine. Lunch yes Xxx

Then two more arrive. The first is from Pearce.

All good. Everyone very understanding. Assume you still going to the post mortem meeting tomorrow unless hear otherwise. Take
care.

That is a relief at least, and kind of him to let me know. The other is from Joss, checking I’ve received the clinic number
she’s sent me.

I have and I’ve already made an appointment. Then I
scroll right down and open a message Dan sent me ages ago.

Love you! Will txt u when on train back home after gym. xxxx

I can’t even remember what day that would have been. What had we done that night when he got home? Probably just sat there
and ate tea watching TV perfectly happily and normally.

The receptionist calls my name just in the nick of time. Just before I lose it completely.

‘So, Mrs Greene,’ the slightly useless grandfatherly looking doctor glances at his notes and smiles pleasantly as I sit down
in front of him. ‘How can I help you today?’

I take a deep breath and do away with any pretence of pleasantries. ‘During intercourse last night’ – I am acutely embarrassed,
it’s as if we are living in the 1950s – ‘the condom unfortunately broke. I just want to make sure none of it has been left
… inside me. I don’t want to get an infection.’

‘Oh, I see,’ the doctor doesn’t seem thrown at all. ‘You’ve had a go at finding it yourself I assume?’

I nod.

‘No joy?’

I stare at him.

‘Sorry. Foolish question. Why else would you be here?’ He scratches his head. ‘Well, it’s very likely you would have got it
out eventually – it’s not er, a bottomless pit
up there. We’ll have a look anyway. Slip your things off and hop up on the couch.’

‘I need the morning-after pill too,’ I say awkwardly, taking my tracksuit bottoms and knickers off, wishing I’d worn a skirt
as I get on the examination table. I’ve never felt less like ‘hopping’ in my whole life.

‘We’ll sort that out in a minute.’ The doctor stands up, pulls on some latex gloves and then advances towards me. ‘I need
you to place your ankles together, bend you legs and just drop your knees apart please.’

‘Well,’ he says after an uncomfortably long time, as I focus hard on a spot on the ceiling. ‘I can’t find anything … it’s
probably worked its way out already.’

I wince.

‘… Sorry … OK. I’m as certain as I can be that it’s all gone. You can put your things back on now.’ He removes the gloves.
‘But even if there is a very small piece of it left, which is possible, it won’t be large enough to cause a bacterial build
up. The body will just flush it out, as it were.’

I nod, not trusting myself to speak.

‘And here’s your prescription.’ The printer whizzes merrily, he whisks it out and signs with a flourish. As he passes it to
me, he opens his mouth as if to say something else, but seems to change his mind as he sees me gripping my wedding ring tightly
with my right hand. ‘Not always the right timing is it? The sooner you take it, the more effective it is. You can collect
it now from our pharmacy which,’ he checks his watch, ‘should still just be open.’ He smiles kindly at me.

‘Thank you,’ I stand up and leave as quickly as possible.

I end up taking the pill in the car like some irresponsible teenager, burying the packet carrying my name in a random rubbish
bin en route home.

When I arrive back at the house, only our end-terraced brick cottage, out of the five, is completely dark. Next door are very
obviously in, the house is all lit up, every light in the place blazing away, and as I slip my key in the lock I can already
hear our neighbour Mel cooing at her little toddler, repeating ‘What are you doing? What are you doing?’ over and over again,
like a syrupy parrot.

God only knows Mel, I have no idea.

Then I hear a crash, a wail and Mel change tack immediately as she shouts fiercely, ‘No! Very bad!’

He’s not a dog, the poor little thing, but it actually so uncomfortably feels as if she could also be talking to me, I just
want to get inside.

As I slip in noiselessly, flick the light switch, shut the front door and kick off my shoes, my phone goes with another text.
Probably Joss, I haven’t called her, she’ll be worried. I pull my phone out, but a number shows up which I don’t recognise.

Are you all right? Have you been to the doctor’s? What they say? xxx