I nod.
She and Mel glance at each other.
‘Nothing’s happened,’ I say wearily. ‘But I’m stuck. I don’t know what to do.’
‘How did you meet him?’ Mel asks. ‘Ben?’
‘It’s like I said. I knew him ten years ago when I worked at the conservation park. He was a keeper there.’
Her brow furrows. ‘How old were you?’
‘Sixteen. But it’s not like that!’ I insist. ‘Nothing ever happened. But I fell head over heels in love with him and I knew he felt something for me too. But he would have never done anything about it.’
‘How old was he?’
‘Twenty-eight. He was engaged to someone in England, but there was this connection between us. I don’t know how to describe it. He believed in me; I understood him. It wasn’t tawdry,’ I try to convince them. ‘I’ve never loved anyone like I loved him.’
‘Not even Richard?’ Nicola asks hopefully.
‘Not even Richard,’ I tell her sadly.
‘What happened?’ Mel pries. ‘Did Ben marry that other woman?’
‘Yes. But not before I told him how I felt about him.’
‘And did he tell you how he felt about you?’ Nicola asks.
‘I overheard him speaking to one of his friends about it. So I confronted him. It didn’t make a difference. I was only sixteen. I thought he might wait for me, but he told me today that he would never have expected me to put my life on hold for him. His friend convinced him he was only scared of the commitment of marriage, and he shouldn’t let his fiancée down. So he left. And I’ve never been able to forget him.’
‘The one that got away . . .’ Mel mutters.
‘When Richard proposed,’ I continue, ‘I didn’t want to say yes because I thought that would mean letting go of Ben forever, and then when I bumped into him a couple of weeks ago . . .’
‘Is he still married?’ Mel asks.
‘Divorced. Five years ago. It was never right, he said.’
Nicola nods. ‘What happened today?’
‘I told Ben I was engaged.’
Mel’s mouth drops open. ‘You hadn’t told him?’
‘No. I know it’s wrong, but I needed to spend some time with him again. I didn’t want to risk losing everything with Richard if there was a chance I wouldn’t feel the same way about Ben.’
‘I get that,’ Nicola agrees.
‘But spending time with him has made everything worse,’ I add miserably. ‘I love them both.’
No one says anything. What can they say?
I don’t know how I manage to get through the rest of the day at work, but my grief is replaced by melancholy on the way home. I sit there and stare into space as commuters and tourists hustle and bustle around me. It’s time to come clean to Richard. I still don’t know what I’m going to do, but I owe him the truth. And maybe Ben was right. Maybe I’m hoping someone else will make this decision for me. I’m aware that makes me weak as well as deceitful. I don’t feel like I deserve either of them.
Richard knows something is wrong from the moment I walk into the living room.
‘What is it?’ he asks, starting to get to his feet.
‘Stay there,’ I say, and he hesitates before sinking back into the sofa with concern written all over his face. ‘I have to tell you something.’
I feel sick to my core as I sit down on the armchair and face him. He’s confused, not sure yet what’s to come.
‘What is it?’ he asks.
I don’t know where to start. I haven’t rehearsed this. ‘When I first came to Australia . . .’ My voice falters.
‘It’s okay, you can tell me.’
He doesn’t know what he’s saying.
I take a deep breath. ‘I fell in love with someone much older than me. I’d only just turned sixteen and he was twenty-eight.’
Richard frowns, but manages to keep it together.
‘Nothing ever happened,’ I say quickly, ‘but I wanted it to. I’ve never been able to forget him.’
‘Right . . .’
‘He went to England and got married to someone else.’
‘Wait,’ he interrupts. ‘Don’t tell me this is the old guy you bumped into recently.’
I don’t speak.
‘Please don’t tell me that,’ he says again.
Tears well up in my eyes. I nod, ever so slightly.
‘Oh, Lily,’ he murmurs. ‘What are you trying to say?’
I sorely wish I didn’t have to say anything. ‘I’m sorry,’ is what I come out with.
‘Sorry for
what
?’ I don’t know if it’s anger or frustration or a mixture of both, but he pushes his hand through his dark hair and stares at me directly. ‘Have you
fucked
him?’
‘No!’ I cry, and he visibly contracts with relief.
‘Then what’s happened?’ he presses.
‘Nothing’s happened.’
‘Does he know about me?’
‘I told him today.’
‘How many times have you seen him?’
‘Only a few times.’
‘A few times?’ He regards me with disbelief. ‘You only told me about the fishing trip!’
‘I know. I’m sorry.’
‘And you say nothing’s happened?’ He lets out a sharp laugh.
‘No! Nothing has! He came to help me buy that camera . . .’
‘Oh, now I get it,’ he says bitterly. ‘So he’s the one who’s been putting stupid ideas into your head.’
‘Why are they stupid? See – this is why we have a problem. I feel like you stamp all over my dreams!’
‘I’m not trying to crush your dreams, I’m just being realistic,’ he says.
‘But why is it so unrealistic to think I might be able to pursue a career in photography?’
‘It just is!’
‘You haven’t even seen any of my photographs.’
‘You haven’t shown me!’
‘Because you haven’t demonstrated any interest whatsoever. I don’t feel like showing you, just to have you shit all over them.’
‘Nice.’
‘It’s true.’
‘So show me now.’
‘I’m not going to show you now.’
‘Why not? Now’s as good a time as any.’
‘No.’
‘Why not?’
‘I don’t have any with me.’ Which is a lie. And he knows it. He gets to his feet and storms into the hall where I dropped my handbag when I came in. I rush after him.
‘Richard!’
But it’s too late. He’s opened my bag and pulled out the pack. I stare at him in dismay as he starts to flick through them without paying them any attention, commenting sarcastically as he goes.
‘Oh, super dooper. I really like your use of colour . . .
Fabulous
composition, darling.’
‘You’re being an arsehole,’ I say angrily.
And then he comes to the picture of Ben.
‘Is this him?’ He’s staring at me accusingly.
I don’t confirm or deny it.
‘This is him? This is the old fucker who’s trying to get into my
fiancée’s
knickers?’
‘It’s not like that,’ I cry.
‘What is it like then, Lily? What the fuck is it like? You’d better explain and quick because I’ve had just about enough of this.’ Angry tears fill his eyes as he stares me down.
‘Richard.’ It hurts to say his name. It hurts to look at him, at the pain I’ve inflicted. But I have to go on. ‘I love you.’
He says nothing.
‘But I love him too.’
‘You love him?’ he bites back. ‘You fucking
love
him?’
‘Please stop swearing at me.’
‘What the fuck am I supposed to say?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘I fucking love you! I want to marry you! And you’re telling me you’re in love with someone else? This
fucking
arsehole?’ He flaps the picture in my face. ‘This fucking arsehole who’s twice your age?’
‘He’s only thirty-eight.’ It’s out of my mouth before I realise I should have said nothing.
‘Thirty-eight? Thirty-fucking-eight? What a fucking joke.’ He starts to tear the photo into shreds.
‘Richard, please stop,’ I beg. ‘I’m sorry.’ Tears begin coursing down my cheeks – not about the photo, but because I know how much I’m hurting him.
He lets go of the pieces and regards me with fury as they flutter to the ground. I start to sob because I can’t keep it in any longer. I clutch my hand to my chest because it aches so much. I’m in too much of a state to look at him, but when I do, his anger has been replaced with sorrow. I hold out my hand to him and he takes it. I throw my arms around his stiff body and cry into his shoulder, but he’s silent.
Eventually my sobs subside and I pull away to look up at him. His face is dead. He’s staring ahead in a daze. We’re still standing in the hall, the shredded pieces of my photo scattered at our feet.
‘I’m sorry,’ I say again.
‘Are you leaving me?’
‘I don’t know.’
Emotion fills his eyes as he stares at me. ‘You might leave me over this?’ I can see now that he didn’t quite understand that it was that serious. He tears his eyes away from mine and sighs deeply. ‘I can’t believe this is happening.’
‘I never meant to hurt you.’
‘You’re going to
leave
me over this?’ he asks again, looking at me with incredulity.
‘I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m going to do.’
‘Well, you’d better make up your fucking mind.’ He’s bitter again now, and I can hardly blame him. I try to take his hand, but he snatches it away. ‘I can’t be here with you.’
I watch as he takes the keys to his truck from the bowl on the kitchen counter and walks out of the door, slamming it behind him. I know he needs some space and I have no right to take that away from him, but it doesn’t stop me from ringing his mobile time and time again. He lets it ring to start with, but answers on my fifth try.
‘Where are you?’ I ask.
‘Nathan and Lucy’s.’
‘Have you told them everything?’
‘Pretty much.’
They must think I’m such a bitch.
‘Are you okay?’ I ask.
‘No.’
‘Please come home.’
‘I’m going to crash here tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I say again, but he ends the call.
I cry myself to sleep that night. In the morning my eyes are so red and puffy that I can barely open them. I want to call in sick, but Ben’s words keep ringing in my head.
‘You can’t mess this up.’
I put on my make-up in a trance and go into work early. Nicola is on reception when I arrive.
‘How are you?’ she asks gently. I bite my lip at the concern on her face and say, ‘I’ll fill you in later. I need to get upstairs before I crumble again.’
‘Alright,’ she says, and I have to fight back tears at her expression. I hurry over to the lift and press the button, trying to think about something else.
Once in the office, I put my head down and try to act professional, but it damn near kills me. I call Richard at lunchtime, but he’s at work and doesn’t want to talk to me.
‘Will you be home tonight?’ I can’t keep the pleading tone from my voice.
‘I think so,’ he replies.
‘I’ll see you later?’
‘I have to go.’ Again he ends the call.
I don’t know how I get through the rest of the day, but at five o’clock Jonathan calls me into his office. I wonder nervously what it’s about. I thought I’d managed to do a pretty good job of keeping my head above water.
‘Take a seat.’
I do as he says.
‘This is a bit premature because I haven’t told the team yet, but Kip, our picture assistant, is leaving.’
Despite my predicament, my heart lifts ever so slightly.
‘It’s company policy to conduct interviews, but Bronte has already expressed her interest and I think she’d be the perfect candidate for the job.’
I nod.
‘Which means we’ll need a new editorial assistant.’
I hold my breath.
‘Keep it under your hat for now, but I hope you’ll apply. I know Debbie is coming back soon so you’ll no doubt be keeping your eyes open for something, and I’d really like to see you back here with us. On a permanent basis.’
I can’t help but smile.
‘Would you like that?’ he checks.
‘Absolutely,’ I reply.
‘Good. But like I said, keep it under your hat for now.’
‘I won’t breathe a word.’
Two hours later, I’m back in the real world. Richard can barely look at me as he comes through the front door. I have a sudden overwhelming desire to have things revert to normal so I can share my news with him, but there’s no going back now.
‘I didn’t know if you were going to come home,’ I say feebly.
‘Neither did I,’ he mutters.
‘Can we talk about this?’
‘Have you got anything more to tell me?’
‘No, I . . .’