Least Said (66 page)

‘
What
?’

‘You
heard
me.’

‘No,
you
moron
,
I
am
not
here
to
blackmail
you.
All
I
want
is
your
absence
from
my
life.
I’m
here
to
warn
you
that
you
have
suddenly
become
too
close
for
comfort
in
my
life.
My
husband
already
knows
-
about
the
affair,
that
is,
not
that
it
was
with
you,’
I
added
hastily,
correctly
interpreting
the
sudden
nervous
look
on
his
face,
‘but
if
you
hang
around
there
is
every
possibility
that
the
truth
will
come
out
–
as
the
truth
has
a
nasty
habit
of
doing.’

He
was
briefly
lost
for
words
and
then
he
exploded.
‘Are
you
for
real?
I
can’t
just
up
sticks
and
leave
a
job
I’ve
been
in
for
all
of
five
minutes.
What
am
I
supposed
to
tell
the
school?
What
will
my
wife
think?’

‘Never
mind
the
school
-
what
will
your
wife
think
if
she
discovers
you
were
romping
in
a
hotel
room
with
a
woman
you’d
only
just
met,
either
while
she
was
heavily
pregnant
or
when
she
had
just
given
birth
to
your
youngest
daughter?’
He
looked
startled
and
I
knew
that
he
was
finally
taking
me
seriously.
‘Oh,
yes,
and
I
know
all
this
because
your
wife
came
to
my
house,
Mr
Montgomery,
to
order
a
cake
for
your
bloody
birthday,
and
while
she
was
there
she
told
me
practically
your
whole
family
history.’

By
this
time
he
was
looking
so
shocked
that
I
think
if
I’d
put
a
finger
in
the
middle
of
his
chest
and
pushed,
he
would
have
fallen
straight
over
and
landed
flat
on
his
back.

‘Obviously
there
were
some
gaps
in
her
knowledge
because
she
seemed
to
be
under
the
impression
that
you
were
the
perfect
husband.
Now,’
I
pushed
my
face
closer
to
his,
‘do
you
see
what
I
mean
about
you
being
too
close
for
comfort?
We
are
sitting
on
a
time
bomb,
and
it’s
already
ticking.’

He
was
silent
for
what
seemed
like
a
long
time,
though
it
was
probably
just
seconds,
and,
feeling
I’d
said
exactly
what
I
had
come
to
say,
I
started
walking
away.

‘Mrs
Hammond,’
he
called
after
me
suddenly,
and
the
formality
of
my
full
title
sounded
pretty
ridiculous
when
I
acknowledged
the
intimacy
of
our
one
and
only
meeting.
I
paused
long
enough
to
hear
him
say.
‘You’re
mistaken.
The
child
is
not
mine,’
and
then
I
walked
on.
I
didn’t
need
to
remind
myself
that
he
would
say
that,
wouldn’t
he?

The
house
was
silent
when
I
walked
into
it,
so
I
assumed
either
Jon
had
gone
to
work,
or
he
had
packed
his
things
and
actually
left
the
family
home.
I
refused
to
go
upstairs
and
check
his
wardrobe
because
I
really
didn’t
want
to
know,
not
yet,
and
instead
went
straight
to
my
work-room,
where
I
set
to
work
and
made
an
enormous
batch
of
marzipan.
I
always
made
my
own,
but
then
I
made
everything
I
used
from
scratch,
that
way
I
could
be
quite
sure
that
it
was
fresh
and
made
from
the
best
ingredients,
and I
gained
a
lot
of
satisfaction
from
that.

I
was
at
the
stage
of
rolling
portions
of
it
out,
ready
to
start
covering
cakes
that
were
ready
and
waiting,
when
I
heard
a
noise
on
the
other
side
of
the
door
and
realised
someone
was
actually
in
the
house.
I
froze,
rolling
pin
in
hand,
and
moved
quietly
across
the
room.
Yes,
there
was
definitely
someone
there,
moving
furtively
around.

I
almost
called
Jon’s
name,
because
who
else
could
it
possibly
be?
Though
why
he
wouldn’t
have
called
out
and
announced
his
presence
the
minute
he
came
in,
I
had
no
idea.
Something
kept
me
silent,
and
all
the
time
my
mind
was
working
overtime.
Not
a
burglar,
surely?
Not
in
the
middle
of
the
day.

Had
I
left
my
key
in
the
front
door,
or
could
I
even
have
left
the
door
ajar?
I
had
been
distracted
and
not
really
paying
too
much
attention
when
I
came
in.
Should
I
stay
in
here
and
remain
silent,
hoping
that
whoever
it
was
would
take
what
they
wanted
and
leave,
or
should
I
step
boldly
through
the
door
and
confront
them?
What
I
should
do
I
finally
decided
after
long
minutes
of
total
indecision,
was
to
ring
the
police,
but
first
I
should
lock
the
door.