DEDHAM, ESSEX
‘Where’s Emily? She should have been here by now.’ Sophie paced around the long, low-ceilinged sitting room of the sixteenth-century cottage they had rented. ‘I hope she’s coming.’
‘I’m sure she’ll be here soon.’ Amy came through from the kitchen carrying a tray of home-made canapés. As usual, they looked mouth-wateringly delicious. ‘Probably just caught up in the traffic out of London.’
Sophie looked at her watch. ‘Well, we came out of London too and we didn’t get held up. I can’t help feeling that there’s something wrong.’ She was worried about Emily. Had been worried about her for a little while now. She had been increasingly difficult to get hold of and seemed remote and slightly prickly whenever they spoke.
After their wonderful weekend break in Portugal last year, they had returned home having convinced Emily to come clean with Anton about Jack. ‘The sooner you do it, the better,’ Melissa had said on their last night. ‘Promise us you won’t prevaricate any longer?’
Emily had nodded firmly, seemingly determined to sort things out once and for all. ‘I promise.’
But in the following weeks, it was clear that she still hadn’t told him. ‘What are you waiting for?’ Sophie asked her, perplexed as to why she was even hesitating over something so important. Jack had been to stay with them a few times and it was also obvious that he still knew nothing about Anton, making it difficult to speak openly for fear of blabbing within his earshot.
‘Things are just not as straightforward as you make out. God, I wish I’d never told you lot anything – it was so much easier when I kept things to myself,’ she added, causing Sophie to recoil, feeling hurt.
The next time she saw Emily, she deliberately didn’t ask. At first, Emily didn’t say anything about Anton either, making Sophie assume that she still hadn’t told him. But as they said goodbye at the end of the evening, Emily cleared her throat. ‘I’ve told Anton. About Jack,’ she added needlessly.
Sophie nodded encouragingly. ‘Oh, that’s great. How did it go?’
Emily turned her head away, the light from the street lamp above her catching her hair, making it gleam. ‘He was upset that I hadn’t told him sooner.’
Sophie bit her lip. There was something about Emily’s tone that made her think she wasn’t telling her everything. ‘Well, that’s understandable, isn’t it? He’s got a child he didn’t know about. It’s a huge shock. But he’ll get over it. He’ll be pleased when he sees what a fantastic boy he is.’ She shivered in the chilly evening air.
Emily looked back and met her eye. For a moment, it seemed as if she was about to say something important, but then she hesitated and instead just exhaled loudly. ‘I guess.’
‘What about getting married?’
Emily shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I think he might have got a bit carried away with the romance of it all and just said it in the moment. Or maybe he’s changed his mind. Especially now…’
‘No, surely not!’ Sophie hushed her. ‘If anything, he would want to get married more than ever, now that he knows you have a son together.’
Emily exhaled loudly.
‘What?’ Sophie frowned and bent her head slightly, trying to read Emily’s expression. ‘What aren’t you telling me?’
Emily closed her eyes for a second. ‘Nothing. It’s nothing. Look, I’d better get home. Jack’s home alone tonight.’
Sophie smiled. ‘God, I can’t wait until mine are old enough to be left alone. It seems a million years off.’
‘Don’t wish it away, Soph.’ Emily’s face took on a wistful expression. ‘I would happily have kept Jack at six years old for ever. They’re so much easier at that age.’
‘I know, it’s a great age.’ Emma was six now and Sophie had often wished she could hold onto the time to stop her getting any older. ‘I suppose you need to tell Jack now, about Anton?’
‘Yes, and I’m not looking forward to it either.’ Emily gave a little wave as she walked away. ‘I’ll see you soon, Soph.’
But she hadn’t seen her soon. She hadn’t seen her at all. They had exchanged emails and Emily had agreed to come when they booked this weekend back in the winter but other than that, she had kept herself to herself.
‘Emily’s always been a bit offish. You know what she’s like about her privacy,’ Melissa said now, wolfing down one of Amy’s canapés. ‘Don’t worry about it, Sophie, she’ll be here, I’m sure.’
Just at that moment, as if on cue, a car pulled up outside. ‘What did I tell you?’ Melissa said, standing up to peer out of the window. ‘She’s here.’
Sophie hurried to the front door and swung it open. ‘Hello, stranger!’ she called, as Emily climbed out of the car and smoothed down her T-shirt and Capri pants. ‘Long time, no see!’
Emily looked up at Sophie and promptly burst into tears.
‘I’m fine!’ Emily protested, half laughing as the others ran around, treating her as if she was a sick patient.
‘Drink this,’ Amy ordered, handing her a perfectly mixed gin and tonic. ‘Best medicine there is.’
‘Well, if you insist.’ Emily sipped the drink obligingly. ‘God, that’s good.’
Melissa planted a bowl of crisps in the middle of the chunky wooden coffee table and Sophie came and sat beside her on the sofa, tucking her legs underneath her, as if she was settling in for a long session. ‘Right, why don’t you tell us what’s wrong?’
Emily sniffed and shook her head wearily. ‘I honestly don’t know where to start.’
‘Start at the beginning,’ Melissa ordered. ‘From when we got home from Portugal.’
‘Thanks so much again, Steve,’ Emily said for the tenth time.
Steve smiled obligingly. ‘Honestly, Emily, it was no trouble. I love having him here. He helps me keep my sanity when the little ones get too much, don’t you, buddy?’ He nudged Jack playfully.
Jack smiled shyly as Emily looked at him proudly. Whenever she was apart from him, she seemed to see him through new eyes on her return. He was getting so tall, he was almost catching Steve up. She knew how much he loved visiting this mad, noisy, fun household and whatever he might say, she also knew how much he loved being around the younger kids. Growing up as an only child with a single mother had been quite a lonely existence at times, however close he was to her parents. These weekends with the other children had given him the sense of family he seemed to yearn for.
In the car on the way back home, she took a deep breath and prepared to tell him about Anton. Melissa was right. She had prevaricated too long and it was time to be open with him. But just as she was about to speak, Jack looked over at her with a wistful expression. ‘I wish Steve was my dad,’ he said.
Emily’s heart thumped. ‘Wow,’ she replied, wondering how to react. ‘Where did that come from?’
‘And I wish I lived with them in that cool house. It’s so much fun.’
Emily felt as if she had been punched in the stomach. She opened her mouth to formulate an answer but all that came out was a strangled sob.
‘Mum?’ Jack looked at her in concern. ‘Are you OK? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean I don’t like living with you. I just meant that I wish we could all live together in that big house.’
Emily nodded furiously, tears momentarily blinding her view of the road ahead. ‘I know, darling,’ she managed at last. ‘Sometimes I wish it too.’ Now, she decided, was definitely not the right moment to tell him about Anton.
And as the weeks passed, there never seemed to be a right moment. Every time she spoke to any of the others, they always asked if she’d told him yet and because she felt ashamed that she hadn’t, she stopped returning their calls.
Telling Anton about Jack should have been easier, but still she hesitated. What if he hated her for keeping it from him? He would certainly not think her much of a mother for keeping her child a secret. He didn’t often talk about his ex-wife but when he did, he always conceded that she had been a brilliant mother to their two daughters.
In the end, it was a simple slip of the tongue rather than a planned-out conversation that revealed the truth. They had been out for dinner at an Italian restaurant and were walking home, hand in hand. Emily had had a couple of glasses of wine and was feeling slightly light-headed and pleasantly woozy.
‘You need to stay the night tonight,’ Anton told her, kissing the top of her head. ‘I hate waking up with you gone.’
‘I can’t,’ Emily sighed. ‘We’ve got an early start tomorrow.’
Anton stopped walking and looked down at her curiously. ‘We? Who’s “we”? And you said earlier that you’d got tomorrow off.’
‘Did I?’ Emily tried to remember. She couldn’t get her thoughts straight. This was why she didn’t usually drink. It got her into all sorts of trouble.
‘Is there something you’re not telling me, Emily?’ Anton’s face became suddenly serious. ‘You haven’t got another man, have you?’ He narrowed his eyes suspiciously.
Emily bit her lip. It was now or never. She could almost hear her own heart beating in her chest. ‘Um, not exactly.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Anton tried to laugh but she could see the annoyance and apprehension in his features.
‘I’ve been wanting to tell you for a long time…’
‘Tell me what? Seriously, Em, you’re worrying me. Have you met someone else? Please tell me you haven’t?’ Anton’s face was thrown into darkness under the amber light of the street lamp but she could still tell that his expression was one of genuine fear.
‘No, no, nothing like that.’ Emily put the palm of her hand flat against his chest, in a gesture of reassurance, but also to support herself, as her legs wobbled. ‘Anton, I had a baby. After I last saw you… a son.’
In the silence that followed, Emily felt the ground rushing up on her and wondered if she might faint. Anton stepped back slightly so that she could see his face clearly. ‘A son?’
Emily took a couple of breaths, desperately trying to steady herself. ‘Yes. A son. He’s thirteen now. He’s called Jack.’
Anton shook his head in disbelief, his eyes widening in shock. ‘And you didn’t think to mention it?’
‘It… it’s complicated.’
Anton looked away, distractedly running his hand through his wavy fair hair.
‘Anton, say something. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I should have told you but I was worried it would scare you off. And I’d waited so long for you to come back…’ Emily tailed off, suddenly tearful. ‘I couldn’t bear to lose you again.’
Anton looked down at her, his expression already beginning to soften. ‘I know. I get it. Look, we all have skeletons in our closet. Why should you be any different? I just wish you’d trusted me enough to tell me.’
Relief flooded through her body and she reached up to cup his face in her hands. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered, pulling him down so that she could kiss him.
‘What did he mean by “we all have skeletons in our closet”?’ Sophie almost didn’t want to ask the question but her antennae had pricked as soon as Emily said it.
Emily looked at Sophie with huge, mournful brown eyes. ‘I knew you’d pick up on that.’
‘He probably didn’t mean anything by it.’ Melissa waved her hand dismissively. ‘And he’s right. We all do.’ She glanced briefly at Sophie, then looked away quickly.
‘No.’ Emily shook her head and took a long sip of her gin and tonic. ‘He definitely meant something by it. I just didn’t find out what it was until earlier this week.’
‘When are you going to introduce me to Jack then?’ Anton rolled onto his side and propped himself up on his elbow, so that he could look at Emily.
Emily mirrored his pose. ‘There might be a little bit of an issue I need to deal with first.’
‘What sort of issue?’
‘Well…’ Emily hesitated. ‘I haven’t actually told him about you yet.’
Anton raised his eyebrows and exhaled. ‘Wow. You really know how to make a man feel good about himself, Em. We’ve been seeing each other for almost a year now. Are you ashamed of me?’
‘No!’ Emily protested. ‘Of course not. It’s just, well, it’s difficult. Jack and I are very close and it’s always been just the two of us. I’m worried about upsetting him with such a huge revelation. He’s a sensitive boy.’
Anton sat up and leaned back against the headboard, pulling the duvet up to cover his naked body. ‘He’s thirteen, Em. I’m sure he could cope with it.’
‘But you don’t know him like I do.’ Emily sat up and pulled her knees up to her chest. ‘And there just never seems to be the right moment. Every time I go to tell him about you, something seems to crop up. It’s as if fate keeps intervening. It’s made me a bit superstitious that it’s a sign.’
Anton tutted irritably. ‘That’s ridiculous. I think you’re treating him like a baby, rather than a young man.’
‘Well, while we’re on the subject, you haven’t introduced me to your daughters, have you?’
Anton shifted uncomfortably. ‘That’s different.’
Emily frowned. ‘No, it’s not. How is it different?’
‘Because they don’t live here. They live in Durham.’
‘Have you even told them about me?’
Anton didn’t reply.
‘You haven’t, have you? Why not? What happens if we get married?’
A sudden flush spread up Anton’s neck. Still he didn’t speak.
‘You do remember that you asked me to marry you, don’t you?’
Anton nodded. ‘Of course I do.’ His voice had dropped to almost a whisper.
‘But you’ve changed your mind?’
‘No! Yes… well, it was just me being a romantic fool. I thought it… oh, what does it matter? You turned me down anyway.’
‘I didn’t turn you down, Anton. I just said I needed time to think about it. It’s not the same as turning you down.’
‘Look, forget I said anything. Let’s leave things as they are. You’re right, it’s probably best I don’t meet Jack yet. It’s just that I want to spend more time with you.’ Anton flashed her his most beguiling smile and leaned over to kiss her, his hands moving towards her breasts.
Emily pushed him away gently. She wasn’t letting the conversation drop that quickly. ‘We wouldn’t spend that much more time together anyway, even if I told him about you. You always travel back to Durham to see your girls at the weekend so you’re never around.’
Anton sighed. ‘I know. I just want to be able to spend the night at your place for once. The whole night. I hate that you always scuttle off back home after sex. It makes me feel cheap.’ He grinned at her to show that he was joking, before leaning down and playfully kissing her breast.
Emily tried to stay focused. She somehow knew that this was a significant and important conversation but she couldn’t concentrate as his mouth began to move all over her body, covering her with butterfly kisses. She wanted to resist him but she was just as helpless with desire now as she had been right back at the beginning. They could talk another time.
‘So how did you find out then?’ Sophie reached out and took Emily’s hand in hers.
‘Find out what? OK, so I’m really confused now.’ Melissa threw her hands up in the air in frustration as she sat cross-legged on the floor beside them.
‘That he’s still married.’ Sophie looked at Emily. ‘I’m right, aren’t I?’
Emily nodded, as large fat tears began to spill over her dark lashes and roll down her cheeks. For someone who’d had so much trauma in her life, she rarely cried and it was hard to watch.
It was Facebook that did it. It was still a fairly new innovation in the UK and Emily didn’t go on it very often, or even know how to use it properly. But once Jack turned thirteen and wanted to use it, she thought she should be a responsible parent and keep an eye on what he was up to on there.
One day, she was scrolling through, not taking much notice of the various dreary update posts from her friends, when she had a sudden flashback to Anton’s first message to her on Friends Reunited and the feeling she had had when she first read the words that she had dreamed of for all of those years. I never stopped thinking about you. She suddenly wondered if he was on Facebook and typed his name into the search box. Immediately, his profile popped up.
The side-on profile picture of him was beautiful. He was on a boat somewhere sunny and looked as blond and tanned as she had always remembered him. She clicked on the photo to look at it more closely and it took her to Anton’s profile page.
To her surprise, he had been tagged in a quite a few photos, clearly taken by his daughters. She clicked on the profile of Lucy, the eldest daughter. Amongst the dozens of pictures she had posted were numerous ones of both her and her sister, Isobel, along with another, very attractive older woman, presumably their mother.
Emily peered at the pictures, fascinated by how good-looking Anton’s ex-wife was. From the few things Anton had said, he seemed to suggest she had ‘let herself go a bit’ in recent years. But the woman in the photos had shoulder-length, shiny dark hair, a petite, slim figure and a pretty, unlined face. She looked strikingly similar to Emily, in fact. Her daughters were both miniature versions of her and nothing short of gorgeous.
In a couple of the photos, it was just Anton and the woman, beaming at the camera, their arms wrapped around each other. Above, Lucy had captioned it: My mum and dad – the lovebirds! X
Emily felt a pang of sympathy for the sixteen-year-old Lucy. It must have hit her hard when her parents divorced. She wondered how long before they split up this photo was taken. The date on Facebook said May 2006 but obviously that must have been the date Lucy posted it. Anton didn’t look that much younger. Or younger at all, in fact. But then, he hadn’t really changed or aged in the thirteen years that she hadn’t seen him.
She scrolled through the various pictures, alighting on the ones of Anton with his family. He looked happy and relaxed. Some were clearly taken on holiday. Not really what she would have expected from a man whose marriage was over and who was planning a new life in London. A prickle of suspicion began to tingle at the back of Emily’s neck. She thought maybe she should stop looking. That she was going to find something she didn’t like. But she couldn’t stop. She had a horrible, ghoulish compulsion to carry on.
Further down, amongst the slightly older pictures, there was one of Anton on his own, looking into the camera pulling a comedy ‘sad’ face, his bottom lip sticking out as he pretended to cry. Underneath was the caption: Boo! My daddy has a new job in London so I’m only going to see him at weekends.
Several people had left comments underneath the picture, including one from Sarah Massey. Anton’s ex-wife had written, At least we won’t have him moaning about us clogging up the shower with our hair during the week…! xx
Emily’s throat felt as if it might close over and her heart began to pound. That couldn’t be right. But even as she clicked on Sarah Massey’s profile, she already knew what she was going to find. Her profile photo was her on her own, on a cliff overlooking a beach somewhere in the UK. But her background photo was her with Anton, standing on a beautiful golden beach with a turquoise sea in the background. Anton was standing behind her, with his arms wrapped around her, beaming proudly. According to the dates on Facebook, she had only recently changed it. Emily clicked on Sarah’s ‘About’ page and her eyes scanned the screen, searching for information that she already knew. Sure enough, beside ‘relationship status’, were the words, Married to Anton Massey.
Emily put her hand over her mouth to catch the sob that was just escaping. She gulped for air as the tears began to fall, splashing onto her keyboard like little fat raindrops. Everything had been a lie. The pain was like a knife twisting inside her heart. She had lived her whole adult life waiting for this man, who she adored, loved, idolized. And he wasn’t worth any of it. He was a liar, a cheat and a fantasist. He had used her in the worst possible way, letting her believe that she had a future with him, when in fact he was just using her for sex.
She wrapped her arms around herself, rocking backwards and forwards to try to ease the awful, awful pain. She was hurt, she was deeply ashamed and most of all, she felt so stupid.
‘Oh, honey, I’m so sorry.’ Sophie put an arm around Emily’s shaking shoulders. ‘But it wasn’t your fault. How could you possibly have known?’
‘How could I not have known?’ Emily shot back. ‘If you think about it, all the signs were there. I just chose not to look. I chose not to see what was right in front of my face.’
‘You’re not the first one to have done that, Em,’ Amy said, standing up and taking Emily’s glass from her and starting to mix her another gin and tonic. ‘Look at me. Everyone warned me about Nick but I chose not to see it. It sounds like such a cliché but love really is blind. You shouldn’t feel stupid because you’re not the only one who’s fallen for his lies – don’t forget his wife is being duped too.’
‘I feel so terrible about her,’ Emily whimpered. ‘I would never, ever have got involved if I’d known he was still married. I… well, I’m not that sort of woman.’
There was an uncomfortable silence as everyone turned to look at Melissa.
‘And neither am I. Any more.’ Melissa shot them all a defiant look.
‘Sorry.’ Emily shook her head wearily. ‘That wasn’t directed at you, Melissa. I just feel bad for that poor woman that she doesn’t know what a bastard she’s married to.’
‘You’re not going to tell her, are you?’ Amy handed Emily the freshly mixed gin and tonic and sat back down on the floor.
Emily hesitated. ‘No.’
Sophie nodded. ‘Good. It wouldn’t achieve anything except bringing misery to someone else. And imagine the effect on his daughters? They don’t deserve that.’
‘But what about Jack? Anton’s his father too…’ Melissa countered.
‘Yes, but he doesn’t know that, does he, Em?’ Sophie looked at Emily, who was staring into her lap.
Emily bit her lip and shook her head.
Emily arrived at Anton’s flat as planned that evening. It was nearly 7.30 as she let herself in, using the key he’d given her all those months ago. As she made her way through the hallway towards the stairs of the Victorian conversion, she stopped to look at the pile of post on the shelf. There were three flats on three different levels, with a number of letters addressed to the owners of the other two. There were none for Anton, although maybe, she told herself, he had collected it that morning.
Why she was still making excuses for him, she didn’t know. She had all the proof she needed that he had pulled off a truly spectacular deception, but a small part of her kept hoping that perhaps there was some mistake. Could anyone really lead such a double life? And she genuinely did feel that he loved her. He made her feel like she was the only woman in the world when he was with her and she sensed that they had a connection on a much deeper level than just sex.
She opened his front door and walked up the remaining few stairs. Normally, she would prepare dinner for them and be waiting with a drink by the time he arrived home, usually at around 8 p.m. But tonight she kept her denim jacket on and sat straight-backed on one of the wooden chairs in the small lounge-diner. As she waited, she looked around her. It was as if she was opening her eyes for the very first time. He was an English lecturer with a passion for poetry. It made his soul burn, apparently. So where were his books? Where were the photos of his daughters? The pictures? The art? The things he had collected over the years on his travels? Where were the signs of his life? There were none. It was just a weekday crash-pad. Nothing more. And she was just his weekday whore. Nothing more.
By the time he came through the door, she was shaking with the coldness that had seeped into her bones, despite the heat of the day.
Anton bounded up the stairs and into the sitting room, in his hand a bottle of very good red wine. ‘Hello, you,’ he said, bending to kiss her frozen lips. ‘You have filled my head all day long and I can’t wait a moment longer. I suggest that before we eat, I pour us both a very large glass of this wine and we drink it in bed.’
Emily didn’t reply. Couldn’t reply. His presence filled the room with such warmth and radiance. She had loved this beautiful man so very much. Still loved him. And when it was over, she knew without a doubt that she would never, ever love anyone like that again. The thought of her life without him in it was unbearable.
‘Emily?’ Anton rarely called her Emily. He knew something was up. ‘What’s wrong? You’re shaking. Are you ill?’
He knelt down in front of her and enveloped her in his arms. ‘What’s wrong, darling?’
Tears sprang into Emily’s eyes. He was so damn convincing.
‘I know,’ she said, her words muffled by his hair.
Anton held her at arm’s length and gazed into her eyes, as if he could see right into her soul. She held his gaze, wanting to memorize for ever those lovely glittering blue eyes, that strong, square jaw and those exquisite high cheekbones.
‘I know,’ she said again, more clearly this time.
A flicker of doubt passed over Anton’s face. ‘Know what?’
Emily shook her head. ‘You don’t need to ask that, Anton. I know everything. About you. About your daughters. About your wife.’
Anton swallowed hard. ‘But… that’s impossible. H-h-h-ow?’ he stuttered.
Emily exhaled. ‘Through your daughter’s Facebook account. It’s all there, laid out right in front of my eyes. What a complete and utter bloody idiot I’ve been.’
Even now, she wanted him to prove to her that she was wrong. That she had misunderstood. But she could tell by his expression that she was right.
A succession of different emotions passed over Anton’s face – defiance, outrage, guilt – before he crumpled completely. ‘Oh my God, Em. It’s not what you think. There’s nothing between us any more. It’s just for the sake of the children… You must believe me, Em. I love you!’
‘I do believe you,’ she said, prompting a sigh of relief from Anton. ‘I believe that you love me.’
‘I do!’ He gripped her arms. ‘I really do.’
‘But you love your wife more.’
‘No! No, Em, it’s just for the sake of the children. We lead separate lives… it’s a marriage in name only—’
‘And the person that you love more than anyone else…’ Emily cut across his protestations. ‘Is yourself.’
Anton leaned back on his haunches and shook his head in disbelief. ‘No. You’re wrong. You’ve got it all wrong.’
‘Well, that’s the first truthful thing you’ve said. I definitely got you all wrong.’ Emily stood up. ‘You used me, Anton. And I was so stupid that I actually believed that you wanted to spend the rest of your life with me. Imagine if I’d said yes when you asked me to marry you? What the hell would you have done then? You’d probably have gone through with it! God, I feel like such a fool.’ As she finished speaking, she began to cry. ‘No!’ she shouted through her tears, wiping her face furiously. ‘I’m not going to cry over you. You’re not worth it.’
As she bent to pick up her bag, Anton grabbed her hand. ‘Don’t go like this, Em. Please.’ He looked up at her with a pleading expression. ‘I can’t live without you. I need you in my life. I’ll leave Sarah. I promise. We’ll get married and get a house together… you, me and Jack. We’ll be a family!’
‘Shut up!’ Emily yelled, desperately wanting to believe him. Desperately wanting to un-know everything that she now knew about him. ‘You’re such a fraud. You actually don’t know where the truth ends and a lie begins.’
Anton got to his feet, still holding tight on to her hand. ‘I’m so, so sorry for hurting you. I know what I did was wrong but I can make this right. Please, Em, give me a chance to make this right.’
Emily could feel herself softening. He was so convincing and she wanted to be convinced. Sensing that she was weakening, Anton pulled her into his arms and clutched her to his chest, as if his life depended on it. The smell of him and the feel of him was as intoxicating as ever. Cupping the back of her head with his hands, he lifted her face towards him and kissed her with the sweetest tenderness she had ever known, his tears falling onto her cheeks and blending with her own. ‘I only love you,’ he murmured, as his hands moved inside her shirt and began to explore her body. ‘Only you.’
Suddenly, Emily’s senses snapped into focus. ‘No,’ she said softly, looking up into those beautiful blue eyes, now swimming with genuine tears. For a fleeting moment, she felt a pang of sympathy for him. He did love her but she knew without the tiniest scintilla of doubt that it wouldn’t work out between them, even if he did give up his wife and commit to her. She would never be able to trust him. She would never really know the true person inside him. He had so effortlessly led a double life that she doubted if one woman would ever be enough for him. He would always want more. He would always be on the lookout for the next gullible student who would hang on his every word and maybe even waste thirteen years of her life waiting for him.
‘Goodbye, Anton.’