The Judas Scar (25 page)

I didn’t do it! Don’t hurt me. It was him, not me. It was Luke!

Will remembered the look on Luke’s gaunt face, one of bewilderment and shock. Will’s hand flew up to his mouth, but it was too late, the words were out.

You’re pathetic, English. Get the fuck out of here.

No,Will. Don’t leave me.

Luke and Will had locked eyes.

You watch my back, I’ll watch yours. Remember,Will?You remember what we promised?

Then he lifted his right hand like a Red Indian to show Will the scar that crossed his palm.

Farrow began to laugh and he shoved Will backwards.

You’re pathetic.

Will remembered Luke screaming for him to help him as Farrow set upon him like a ravenous lion on a deer.

Harmony stood up and went over to Will. She sat on the side of the armchair and stroked his head. He leant against her, his eyes squeezed closed trying to block out the memory of Luke’s screaming. The sense of relief at having shared the memory with his wife, of feeling her sympathy and support, was overwhelming.

Her phone buzzed, the ringer on silent, the vibrations making it dance on the table top.

‘For God’s sake,’ she breathed.

She got up and turned the phone off and then went back to Will.

‘Take the call if you want to,’ Will said.

‘It doesn’t matter. Just work. This is more important.’

‘I’m fine. Honestly. Thank you for listening. I should have told you years ago. Alastair is a bastard, but I promise you, I’m fine. He did what he did, he’s a nasty piece of work, but there’s nothing we can do about it. Some people are just arseholes.’

She nodded and then wrapped her arms around him, resting her chin on the top of his head. ‘I’m so sorry that happened to you.’

‘Are you going to leave me?

She didn’t answer immediately. ‘I don’t want to. I know deep down that I belong with you. But things have changed, haven’t they?’

‘I want to make it better.’

‘I know you do.’

Will woke in the middle of the night and felt for her. She wasn’t in bed and the duvet was neatly pulled up on her side, the pillow untouched. He heard her cough from her study. He lay still and listened. She was talking to someone. Though he couldn’t hear her words there seemed to be a level of urgency, as if there was some sort of problem. He got out of bed and walked down the corridor and opened the door to her study. She wasn’t on the phone, but was working at her desk. Her computer was on, and she sat at her desk in her dressing gown and slippers, her glasses perched on her nose. She jumped when he came in.

‘You scared me,’ she said with a nervous laugh. ‘Have you been there long?’

‘No, but I heard you on the phone. Is everything all right?’

‘It was Emma. What she’s doing calling at this time, I don’t know,’ she said. ‘She said she couldn’t sleep. She’s pretty upset but I told her I’d call in the morning.’

‘Anything serious?’

‘Problems with Ian. Sorry if I woke you.’

‘I don’t think you did. Can’t you sleep either?’

She shook her head and looked at the desk. ‘It’s bloody work, that’s all. I can’t stop thinking about it.’ She glanced back at him.

‘Annoying. I’ll be glad when it’s dealt with.’ She put the tip of her thumb to her mouth and chewed on it gently. ‘I need to sort it out.’

‘Can I get you anything?’ he asked.

‘No, thank you,’ she said, turning back to her computer screen. ‘I won’t be long. I’ve just got this one thing I want to deal with tonight.’

‘But then you’ll come back to bed?’

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘When I’ve dealt with it, I’ll come back.’

C H A P T E R    T W E N T Y

Harmony walked into the restaurant and scanned the place for Luke. It was a huge, airy room with modern furnishings. It bustled with noise as conversation fought to be heard above the sounds of the open kitchen where a dozen sweating chefs could be seen cooking and yelling orders. She watched a flame leap a foot out of a pan, the chef turning his head and leaning back to avoid it then heaving the pan upwards a couple of times, tossing the food into the air and catching it. He swept his arm across his brow and called out in rapid Italian to someone behind him. It was reassuringly busy, every table filled, and nobody noticed her as they talked avidly, laughed and ate.

Her stomach buzzed with nerves. Luke had called three times yesterday and sent a handful of texts, each of them incriminating should Will happen to see them. He said he was desperate to see her, that he hadn’t been able to get her out of his head, that he was going insane with desire. She’d been an idiot to think that having sex with Luke would do anything to ease her anger at Will. All it had done was complicate a situation that didn’t need complicating. She couldn’t continue it. She didn’t want to. She had no idea whether her marriage was over or not, but this guilt-ridden limbo was unbearable.

She’d spent the morning at the British Library rather than in the office. Libraries calmed her. Row upon row of stacked shelves, insulating her, holding her safely. She’d always felt at home with books. While Sophie had spent any rare free time attempting to cook up half-decent dishes from the meagre supply of store-cupboard ingredients her grandmother kept in stock, Harmony would curl up on the sofa and read. She read anything from Ray Bradbury to Stephen King, Jane Austen to Jilly Cooper. There was always a dictionary beside her. If she came across a word she didn’t know she’d stop and look up the word. Sophie teased her for being a geek, but Harmony didn’t care. Stories were an escape from her fatherless, motherless world, a security blanket for whenever she felt vulnerable.

‘Can I help you, madam?’ asked a man dressed in a spotless black polo shirt, the name of the restaurant stitched across his left breast.

‘I’m meeting someone,’ she said. ‘I’m not sure if he’s here already.’

‘And the name of the reservation?’

‘Crawford,’ she said. ‘I think it was for one o’clock. I’m a bit early.’

The man looked down his list and then smiled at her. ‘Mr Crawford hasn’t arrived yet. Shall I show you to your table?’

The table was near the back of the room and as she sat down she felt immediately less conspicuous and her body relaxed.

‘Would you like something to drink?’

She nodded. ‘Iced water, please. Tap is fine.’

He smiled at her and placed two leather menus on the table. ‘I’ll send someone over with your water. Can I get you anything else?’

‘No, thank you, I’ll wait until my friend arrives.’ Friend sounded too intimate, too telling, and she wished she’d said colleague instead.

When Harmony saw Luke come through the double glass doors into the restaurant she froze for a moment or two. She felt her skin flush and she took hold of her glass of water and had a sip, lifting her eyes over the rim of the glass to watch him talk to the waiter in the polo shirt. She saw the waiter point. Luke smiled and nodded in her direction. She cast her eyes downwards so as not to catch his gaze.

As he approached the table she looked up. ‘Hello, Luke,’ she said, her voice shaking.

He leant in and kissed her cheek. ‘I’ve missed you,’ he said. He sat down and immediately waved over a nearby waiter.

‘Yes, sir?’ said the waiter as he hurried over.

‘We’d like to order some wine and some sparkling water.’ He looked at Harmony. ‘Would you like red or white?’

‘Not for me, thank you,’ she said, her voice catching in her throat. ‘And I’m on tap water.’

‘No wine. Just the sparkling water.’

She resisted the urge to thank the waiter, who didn’t seem to mind Luke’s brusqueness.

‘I’ve been thinking about you constantly,’ he said. ‘God, even the way you blush makes me want you.’

‘Shhh,’ she said.

‘Why?’

‘I don’t want anyone to hear.’

He laughed loudly. ‘Who’s going to care?’

‘Me,’ she said. She picked up the menu and fixed her eyes on it.

‘And I gave you specific instructions not to call or text me.’

‘Specific instructions?’ he repeated with amusement.

‘Yes.’

‘I was desperate to speak to you.’ He leant forward and laid his hand on her lower arm. ‘I can’t think about anything else.’

‘I told you to email me.’ She laid the menu on the table and looked at him. ‘I specifically told you not to call me. Will was with me when you did. I can’t believe you did that.’

Luke fell silent, his disappointment plain. ‘I see,’ he said. ‘Please accept my apologies.’

She lifted the menu. ‘So what’s good?’ she said, not wanting to acknowledge the hurt in his eyes.

‘It’s all good. I don’t do mediocre.’

‘Christ, you’re an arrogant so and so, aren’t you?’

‘It’s been said before.’

She glanced over the top of the menu at him and saw him smiling, and despite herself she smiled back.

‘If you like seafood, the salt and pepper squid is fantastic. If you don’t, the carpaccio is delicious. And the pasta here is always good.’

‘I dislike carpaccio,’ she said. ‘Remember? The well-cooked steak and the liberal’s conscience?’

‘Ah yes, of course, all the guilt cooked out of it.’

The smile slipped off her face as she was reminded about the two of them together. ‘Luke, I came here to—’ She was cut short by the waiter who arrived with their bottle of water. He opened it and poured each of them a glass, then retrieved a notepad. Harmony ordered the salt cod soup and a fennel risotto, Luke the carpaccio and a seafood linguini.

‘So you ignored my recommendations?’

‘I did.’

Luke leant forward, his forearms in front of him. Harmony stared at his hand on the white tablecloth, those long fingers and perfect nails, gentle moons of white at the base of each one. She recalled his fingers on her skin, grasping her hair, inside her. He moved his hand so the tip of his middle finger rested against hers. She drew her hand away from him. ‘How was your business trip?’ she asked, her eyes fixed on the table in front of her.

‘All I could think about was you, so it was both a waste of time and frustrating. Did you think about me?’

‘Yes. I thought about a lot of things.’ She paused, took deep breath and lifted her eyes to look at him. ‘What we did was wrong.’

‘Wrong?’ he said, his brow furrowing in confusion. ‘It was anything but wrong.’

‘I can’t do this.’

‘Can’t do what?’ He sat back in his chair and folded his arms.

‘Have an affair.’

‘Don’t call it that,’ he said darkly.

‘But that’s what it is.’

His features became set, his eyes narrowed, burning with the same intensity as they has done when they’d first had sex, when he’d been filled with angry desire.

‘I’m married, and having sex with another man is an affair.’

‘But your marriage isn’t working.’

‘My marriage is fine.’

‘You’re lying. If your marriage was fine you wouldn’t have come looking for me.’

‘I didn’t look for you,’ she said, making an effort to keep her voice level. ‘We met at the party and then you … ’ She paused as the waiter appeared with a basket of bread, continuing only when he left.

‘And then you pursued me.’

He lifted his eyebrows. ‘Pursued you? Is that what you think?’ She reached for her glass and drank some water. She didn’t want to rush, didn’t want to say the wrong thing, something that would lead him on. She needed to keep her head straight. ‘You made your feelings pretty clear at the party. Then you came to my work and took me for a drink and then asked me, in no uncertain terms, to sleep with you.’

‘And you said no and then I left you alone.’ He paused and reached for some bread, then tore a small piece off it. ‘Then you emailed me.You told me you wanted to meet me and you took me to your husband’s photography studio and we fucked. Twice.’ He put the bread in his mouth.

‘Stop it,’ she whispered.

‘Is it easier to believe I chased you? That you had no option but to fall into my arms?’

‘Yes,’ she retorted. ‘Of course it is. If I think too hard about what I’ve done, about what I’m doing, I feel sick.’ She drew another deep breath. ‘But there were reasons. Things have happened in the last six months that left a chasm between Will and me.’ She paused. ‘Neither of us dealt very well with losing our baby. He wasn’t able to support me and I felt very alone. I was angry at him.’ She paused. ‘And there was this numbness around me, like all my anger and resentment was building up in a bubble around me. Then being with you, like that, seemed to release the pressure, like a vent and … ’ She stopped talking, aware she was being too candid, aware she was being side-tracked, that she should focus on ending the relationship, not on justifying it.

‘And what?’ he said. ‘I want to know.’

‘Whatever Will’s done, I love him. I won’t betray him like this. What we did should never have happened.’

‘But it did happen,’ he said, reaching beneath the table and laying his hand on her knee, slowly moving up her thigh, stroking her gently. His touch sent tingles down her spine.

‘No.’ She pushed his hand away. She reached for her water again and found she was shaking. ‘I want to be with Will.’

‘Do you?’ He sounded accusatory rather than concerned.

‘Just because a marriage has rough patches or people make mistakes, doesn’t mean you stop loving each other.’

He let out a contemptuous sigh. ‘That word again. Love. What does it even mean?’

‘Don’t do that. Don’t dismiss what I’m saying.You know what it means. Or maybe you don’t. But I do. I love him. And,’ she paused,

‘he needs me right now.’ She glanced at Luke. ‘Lots of things he’s tried to forget have resurfaced since he saw you. Yesterday he met one of the men who bullied him.’ She watched his face for a reaction, but there was nothing.

‘Which one?’ he asked.

‘Alastair Farrow?’

‘Farrow,’ he repeated. ‘Why did he see him?’

‘I don’t know. I think they contacted each other through Facebook. I didn’t ask. Anyway, Will was in a state when he got home. I think he wanted some sort of closure but ended up getting angry with him, made a scene. Christ, he grabbed the guy by the throat in the middle of a pub.’