A voice behind me makes me jump, causing me to drop the jar of marmalade I was holding, and I watch as it clatters against the metal of the shopping trolley, landing on its side next to a loaf of bread.
‘You not at work this morning?’
I look up. It’s Liam. And my eyes lock on his for less than a heartbeat before I drop my gaze, glancing down at the basket in his hand. It’s filled with things he probably does need, as opposed to my randomly filled trolley. ‘I’m on my way to the Durham salon. I just needed to pick up a few things first.’
And then I realise something and I frown, and he doesn’t miss that change in my expression. ‘Is there something wrong, Ellie?’
‘I thought you’d be at the squash club this morning.’
‘I was. I’ve just come from there, but there’s nothing happening. Most of the guys are away on business this weekend, so there’s not really a lot going on.’
‘Was Michael there?’
It’s his turn to frown, and that causes my stomach to twist up into that all-too-familiar knot of fear, anxiety once more taking over. ‘No, he wasn’t.’
‘It’s just that – he said he was going there. This morning, when he left the house. He said he was going to the club.’
‘Well, I didn’t see him …’
More lies. My husband. The liar.
I start to push the trolley towards the check-outs, but Liam puts a hand on my arm to stop me, and I stare down at his fingers grasping my wrist.
‘Is something wrong, Ellie?’
He repeats that question and I just look at him. I don’t want this conversation here. In fact, I’m not sure if I want this conversation at all.
‘Okay. Let’s go for a coffee.’
‘I need to get to the salon.’
I try to push the trolley away again but his fingers tighten around my wrist. ‘We’re going to grab some lunch, all right?’ He loosens his grip on me and I drop my gaze again, eyeing those random items of food in my trolley. ‘All right?’
‘Yes. Okay.’ I look up at him and I don’t know if I feel angry or sad or frustrated. I don’t know. I just know that my husband is lying to me. ‘Let’s go.’
Liam smiles, but I don’t smile back. I’m not really in the mood for smiling. I’m not really in the mood for lunch, either, but I don’t think I have much choice as far as that’s concerned. And I know that Liam – he’s going to try and take my mind off something that can’t be ignored, but ultimately, he’s going to fail. Because I can’t ignore it. I can’t ignore any of it. Not any more …
*
‘You’re selling the house?’
I’ve become so selfish lately, so consumed with my own problems that I forget to take notice of what’s going on in our friends’ lives. But Liam’s our closest friend, and I had no idea the repercussions of his divorce had come to this.
‘Well, Keeley wants her half of the equity.’ He shrugs. ‘It’s time to move on, I guess.’
‘I’m assuming you’ll be looking to buy a new place of your own?’
‘I’ve been checking out a few properties, yes.’
‘Anywhere in particular?’
‘Somewhere between Durham and Newcastle, I thought. That would make my commute to the lab a little easier, seeing as I’m there most of the time at the minute. But I’m definitely looking for a smaller place. If it’s just going to be me.’
His eyes meet mine and I look down, reaching for the salt at the exact same time that he does, our hands clashing together, and I quickly pull mine back, laughing as he does the same.
‘Ladies first.’ He smiles and I return it. I’m glad I bumped into him now. I’m glad of the company. I don’t think I’d really wanted to be alone today. It’s just that house, the irrational feelings it can kick up inside me sometimes.
‘Ellie?’
I hadn’t realised I’d drifted off. ‘I used to have friends, Liam.’
‘You still have friends.’
I raise my gaze and my eyes once more meet his. ‘They’re all too scared to be alone with me these days. It’s fine, in a crowd, at parties, weddings … They don’t know what to say to me. I mean, they think me and Michael are fine, but they still don’t know what to say …’
I leave that sentence hanging and drop my head again, watching as I absentmindedly fiddle with the salt shaker.
‘They’re still there. All of them. They’re still there.’
I slowly look back up and I smile slightly. I have to stop this self-pity because he’s right. My friends are still there, they haven’t distanced themselves from me, it’s the other way around. I’m the one who can’t face the girls’ nights out or the weekends away. I’m still being invited, I’m just making excuses not to go.
‘You need your friends. You need me.’
‘Yes. I do.’
He breaks the stare and looks down, picking up his fork, although all he does is move his food around the plate a bit.
‘That jacket you dropped back for Michael a couple of nights ago …’
He raises his head, his eyes back on mine. ‘What about it?’
‘I found something. In the pocket.’
He frowns, putting down his fork. ‘Found what?’
‘A receipt. For that Spanish restaurant – the one me and Michael used to go to regularly.’
He’s slightly confused now, I can tell.
‘It was for lunch there. A few days ago.’
‘So?’
‘So, we haven’t been there for a long time. Not since … It was our place. Why would he go there without me? And who was he with, huh? Who did he take?’
Liam sighs and it’s one filled with frustration as he picks up his fork and resumes eating. He isn’t even entertaining this conversation. And I want to tell him I dropped by the university, I want to tell him that, too; tell him what I saw, but I stop myself, I pull back because I’m not sure he wants to hear that, either.
‘I think I’m losing him, Liam.’
He keeps his head down and I watch him, the way he stabs his pasta with a fork, the sound of metal hitting china loud enough for me to hear above the noise of the busy bistro.
‘When he touches me, which isn’t all that often, it doesn’t feel like it used to. He doesn’t feel like he used to.’
‘Have you talked to him?’ Liam asks, but he keeps his head down. And there’s a slight edge to his voice, a hint of frustration, and I don’t want to push him away too, I really don’t.
‘I’ve tried. But you know how it is, he doesn’t want to listen.’
Liam looks up and sits back in his seat, his eyes finally meeting mine.
‘I love him, Liam. And yes, I’ve told him that. He knows I love him. And I know – I think he loves me …’
‘You think he loves you?’
I break the stare this time, glancing around the bistro at couples and families and groups of friends all enjoying lunch. The place is full of laughter and excited gossip, conversations that aren’t darkened with unfounded suspicion and doubt, like mine are.
‘How