With or Without You (15 page)

Hey babe, Martha hasn’t replied to my texts today. Everything ok? X

Jamie sat down and stared at the screen, wondering what to reply. Or whether to reply. He looked at the clock on the kitchen wall. 10.15 p.m. His thumb hovered above the screen while his mind
whirred. He loved Lindsay. She was a good friend to both him and Martha. Could he risk telling her what had happened? She would be livid with him but she might also be able to give him some
advice.

Things not OK. Martha gone to LA. Can you come round tomorrow?

He pressed ‘Send’ and put his phone back down. Almost immediately it beeped again.

Working tomorrow. Shall I come now?

Jamie was about to text back to say that it was too late, but he was desperate to talk to someone and she only lived about five minutes away.

OK. I’ll put the kettle on.

He pressed ‘Send’, before getting up and switching the lights on in the downstairs rooms. The house felt cold, despite the fact that it was summer, and he climbed the stairs two at a
time to get a jumper. He had only just put it on when the doorbell rang. Lindsay must have driven like a lunatic to arrive so quickly.

‘What the hell’s going on, Jamie?’ she said, as soon as he opened the door.

Jamie stood back to let Lindsay into the house. She was a tall woman and quite large with it, so she had a very forceful stride which seemed to brook no argument. Much like her personality,
Jamie thought, as he watched her head straight for the kitchen where she immediately filled the kettle and flicked it on. ‘I knew you wouldn’t have done it,’ she explained when he
raised his eyebrows at her.

Jamie sat down at the table, suddenly unsure how he would even begin to explain to Lindsay what had happened.

‘So?’ she said, getting two cups out of the cupboard and putting teabags into them while she waited for the kettle to boil. ‘What’s happened then?’

Jamie swallowed hard and tried to speak but he couldn’t get the words out.

‘Jamie?’ Lindsay came over and sat opposite him, her pretty face scrunched up in confusion. Impatiently, she pulled her thick, highlighted hair back from her face and deftly tied it
into a knot. ‘Is it to do with the photos?’

Jamie’s head shot up and he looked at Lindsay in panic. ‘You know about them?’

‘Yes!’ she snapped. ‘Of course I know. I was the one who rang Martha this morning to tell her they were in the paper. Don’t you remember?’

‘Oh God,’ Jamie exhaled as he spoke. ‘No, it’s not about those photos.’

Lindsay frowned heavily, her pale blue eyes hooded with suspicion. ‘Well, if it’s not about those photos, what photos
is
it about?’

‘Martha found some photos . . . on my computer,’ Jamie began. His throat was so dry he could barely speak. He got up and took a glass from the cupboard before filling it with tap
water.

‘Porn?’ Relief crossed Lindsay’s features. ‘Is that all? I’ll talk to Martha. Lots of blokes—’

‘No,’ Jamie cut her off, having gulped down the whole glass. ‘Not porn. Well, not exactly . . .’

Lindsay’s frown returned and she shook her head, causing the knot to unravel and her hair to fall loose around her shoulders again. ‘I don’t know what you mean, Jamie. Were
they porn photos or not?’

Jamie refilled the glass and took several more gulps before replying. ‘Yes, they were . . . but unfortunately they weren’t photos of strangers.’

Realisation seemed to dawn and Lindsay stood up so that she was facing him. ‘Then who was in the photos?’

Her voice had the same eerie coldness as Martha’s that morning, and once again Jamie felt a shiver of fear shoot through him. ‘Me,’ he said in a small voice.

‘You and Martha, I hope?’ Lindsay’s face was set in a hard grimace and her voice was flinty.

Jamie took a deep breath and tried to meet her eye, but it was impossible and he looked down again. ‘No. Me and someone else.’

‘Oh my God,’ Lindsay gasped, sinking back down into her chair. ‘Oh my God, Jamie, what the hell have you done?’

‘It meant nothing . . .’ Jamie started to say, but Lindsay was on her feet before he finished speaking, crossing the kitchen and slapping him hard across the face. He clamped his
hand to his cheek, where the scratches Martha had inflicted earlier were now zinging with pain, along with the sting of the slap.

‘That poor, poor girl,’ Lindsay hissed, her face contorted in fury.

‘I know.’ Jamie put his hands over his eyes to try to hide his shame. ‘I’ve fucked up, Linds, I’ve really fucked up and I don’t know what the hell to
do.’ He was shaking so much he had to crouch down in case he fell.

Lindsay watched him coldly for several minutes until, eventually, she stomped over to the window sill and grabbed a handful of tissues, which she thrust at him. He hadn’t even realised he
was crying. ‘Get up,’ she said, her voice full of disgust. ‘Stop feeling sorry for yourself and tell me exactly what happened.’

Jamie slumped into a chair. He blew his nose and wiped his face while Lindsay finished making the cups of tea. She banged a cup down in front of him, so hard that several splashes of tea slopped
over the rim. She sat down opposite him and glared at him so furiously that he could feel the white-hot anger coming off her in waves, and it was several minutes before he could find the courage to
look up and meet her eye.

‘Well?’ she demanded. ‘Who is she?’

‘No-one,’ he replied. ‘She’s no-one. Oh God, Linds, I don’t know what to do . . .’

‘When you say “she’s no-one”, what exactly do you mean by that? If you were having an affair with her then it—’

‘It wasn’t like that!’ he interrupted her, shaking his head. ‘It was just sex.’

‘Oh please!’ spat Lindsay. ‘That old chestnut! Presumably you told her your wife didn’t understand you as well?’

Jamie shook his head again. ‘No. I didn’t tell her anything. We didn’t really talk. We just used to meet and have sex.’

Lindsay’s mouth dropped open as if she was going to say something but she closed it just as quickly. The ticking of the clock on the kitchen wall sounded heavy in the thick silence. Jamie
realised that he had never noticed it before.

‘How long?’ Lindsay said, after sipping her tea. She couldn’t meet Jamie’s eye.

‘About six months . . .’ He said, closed his eyes at the memory. ‘God, what have I done?’

‘Yes, what
have
you done, you arsehole! Poor Martha. I just keep thinking about how she must have felt, seeing those pictures . . .’

‘Don’t,’ Jamie cut her off. ‘Please don’t.’

‘She
trusted
you, Jamie! She never, ever doubted you and neither did I. Why did you do it?’

Jamie threw his hands open helplessly. ‘I’ve been trying to answer that question myself . . .’

‘Too much money and too much time on your hands!’ Lindsay snapped. ‘That’s what I think the trouble was. If you’d had to go out to work every day and support your
family like most men do, you wouldn’t have had the time to be looking for other women to have sex with.’

Jamie’s face burned. He knew he deserved the verbal onslaught but it was so humiliating.

‘How did Martha react?’

Jamie bit his lip and shook his head again. ‘It was awful . . .’ he said, recoiling at the memory. ‘She was . . . destroyed. I think it might have done less damage if I’d
taken a baseball bat to her.’

‘I just want to see her,’ Lindsay said, wiping away a tear. ‘To give her a hug and be there for her. She must be in despair for her to have run off to LA like that. It’s
so unlike her.’

‘She’s gone with Charlie Simmons . . .’ Jamie hated the little spark of pleasure that he could see ignite in Lindsay’s eyes. ‘She said she didn’t feel able to
come home yet in case she fell apart in front of the kids. And she couldn’t face looking at me.’

‘I don’t blame her. I feel the same way and it’s not even me you cheated on.’

‘Please, Lindsay,’ Jamie beseeched her. He stood up and walked over to the French doors. The garden was in darkness now. ‘I’m desperate here,’ he added, folding his
arms across himself, suddenly feeling cold. ‘I know I deserve to be given a hard time but I also need to know what to do. I need your advice on how to get her back. At least so that
she’ll talk to me and I can try and prove to her that I know I’ve done wrong and it will never, ever happen again. I love her so much . . .’ He said, dissolved into tears of
despair again. ‘I can’t lose her. I just can’t.’

Lindsay didn’t reply but he could sense that her expression had softened slightly. He turned to look at her again. ‘Tell me what to do.’

She shook her head and shrugged. ‘I don’t know, Jamie. She’s probably in shock and isn’t thinking straight. Maybe you need to go after her?’

‘I can’t! What about the children?’

‘Oh God, the children!’ cried Lindsay, putting her hand over her mouth as her eyes widened in horror. ‘Do they know what’s happened?’

‘No. Mimi knows something’s wrong but she doesn’t know what it is. Ironically, she thinks there’s something going on between Martha and Charlie Simmons, because of the
photo in the paper.’

‘I hope you put her straight!’ snapped Lindsay, snatching up a napkin and distractedly tearing it into tiny pieces.

‘Yes, Lindsay, I put her straight,’ Jamie sighed. ‘But the girls at school were talking about it and it’s made her suspicious.’

‘How very convenient for you,’ Lindsay sneered, standing up and rubbing her back. ‘Look, Jamie, I’m going to go home. I’ll have a think, and I’ll keep trying
Martha. I really want to speak to her and make sure she’s OK.’

Jamie nodded slowly. He felt faint with tiredness and grief, but he also felt relieved that he had been able to talk to someone, even if that someone now hated his guts.

‘Please let me know if you hear from her,’ he pleaded, as he followed her to the front door. ‘And please let me know if you can think of any way at all that I can try to get us
through this.’

‘I will,’ Lindsay said, without turning round. ‘Not that you deserve it.’

After he had let Lindsay out, Jamie climbed the stairs and walked wearily into the bedroom, where he pulled up sharply. A feeling of emptiness enveloped him as he looked at the bed. The bed
where he and Martha had laughed, kissed, had sex and made their two perfect babies.

Suddenly he couldn’t bear the thought of getting into the bed without her. He grabbed the duvet and a pillow and threw them onto the hard wooden floor. He wanted some way of punishing
himself and he decided that this was as good a way as any to start.

He plugged his phone into the charger and put it beside him, just in case Martha should call or text him during the night. Then he lay down and prepared for what he already knew would be the
worst night of his life.

‘There’s someone at the door, Felix!’ Liv shouted from the kitchen.

Felix came into the kitchen looking bemused. ‘Why don’t you answer it then? Or Juanita?’ he said, frowning up at Liv, who was sitting at the steel and granite island, reading a
magazine and drinking tea.

‘Because I think
you
should,’ she grinned.

Felix’s dark eyes widened. ‘Is it a delivery for me?’ he said, a gappy smile splitting his face in half.

‘Might be!’ Liv replied in a sing-song, teasing voice.

Felix didn’t need telling twice and spun on his heel. Liv grinned to herself and climbed off her stool, following Felix towards the front door. She felt a tingle of excitement and
curiosity herself; excitement at seeing Charlie, and curiosity as to whether he had brought his new girlfriend with him.

Felix swung the huge, heavy wooden door open and screamed as he saw Charlie standing on the step, a large wrapped parcel at his feet.

‘Dad!’ he cried, leaping over the parcel and straight into Charlie’s outstretched arms.

Liv felt her eyes watering at the reminder of how much love there was between her son and his father. Over Felix’s head, Charlie met her eye and smiled. It was the first time since their
break-up that he had looked at her properly, and certainly the first time he had smiled at her. She nodded by way of reply.

‘Hey, Charlie,’ she said, as cheerfully as she could. ‘Why don’t you come on in?’ She stood back as if to usher him through the door.

Charlie hesitated and placed Felix on the floor again. ‘You sure? We could just wait in the car while you get Felix’s things ready?’

‘We?’ Liv raised a quizzical eyebrow.

Charlie smiled again. ‘My, er, friend, Martha, is with me.’

‘Well, go and get her!’ Liv cried, over-enthusiastically. ‘Bring her in for tea.’

Charlie hesitated again as he looked back at the car. ‘OK then.’ He rubbed Felix’s hair. ‘You go on in with your mum, buddy. I’ll be right back.’

Liv loved the way Charlie’s British accent immediately became more Americanised as soon as he was with Felix, helping his son to reconnect with him the minute he saw him.

Felix bent down and scooped up the parcel, before heading back inside with Liv. ‘Who’s he got with him?’ he whispered, as they headed for the day room that opened out from the
kitchen.

Liv glanced back to make sure she wasn’t being overheard. ‘His new friend.’

‘Is it a girl?’

‘Woman, yes.’

‘Then it’s his new girlfriend, isn’t it?’

Liv shrugged. ‘I’m not quite sure, honey. Oh, look, here they come now.’ She ran back towards the door as Charlie and a woman hovered on the doorstep. ‘Come in! Come
in!’ she said, trying to sound as welcoming as possible. They stepped through the door and headed warily down the long, wide, double-height hallway.

Liv closed the door behind them and followed, looking curiously at the woman. She had obviously just stepped off an eleven-hour flight, but even so, she looked terrible. In the photo her hair
had been thick and glossy. Now it hung in gnarled tangles. She didn’t appear to be wearing any make-up and her jeans and Converse sneakers didn’t even look particularly clean. She
looked generally grubby and dishevelled.

As they reached the day room the woman turned. ‘I’m really sorry.’ She looked at Liv with a slightly pleading expression. ‘I haven’t introduced myself. I’m
Martha. Martha Lamont.’