“In Surrey. It’s just over an hour from here.”
“Will I see you during the month?”
“We’ll figure something out. There is no way I can survive a whole month without seeing you at least a couple of times.”
I nod.
“We’ll speak on the phone all the time, okay?” he says reassuringly.
“Okay.”
He touches my hand gently. “We’ll make it through this, and we’ll be stronger for it.”
“Did you make the appointment for the out-patient clinic?”
“Of course I did.”
“For when?”
“Tomorrow,” he says, his eyes on the floor.
“You better be telling the truth, Nigel. Because I swear, if I ever find out that you’re not serious about your recovery, I’ll walk away. No matter how much it hurts me, I’ll walk away.”
He grabs my hands with both of his. “I will change, I swear. I’ll make you proud of me again, Star.”
“I’m going up to lie down for a bit then change. Please don’t follow me. I just need a bit of time on my own,” I say, as I disengage from his grasp and start climbing the stairs.
“Your Nan called,” he calls after me.
I stop and turn to look at him. His face is turned up, making him boyish.
“She asked how you were feeling. I told her you were lying down.”
“Thanks.”
“Your mother called too. She wants you to call her back.”
I nod and start to turn away.
“You didn’t tell her, did you?”
I shake my head. “What do you take me for, Nigel. The last person in the world I’m going to tell is my mother.”
“Sorry. Sorry, of course you didn’t. I’m just so confused, Star.”
“Join the club,’ I say, and run upstairs.
Chapter Twelve
Star
I lay down on our unmade bed and close my eyes. I didn’t make it this morning so it has remained unmade. I think of Nigel opening my legs last night, and my stomach churns at the thought of giving my body to a complete stranger. I clench my hands and take a deep breath.
Then I dig my phone out of my bag and call my nan. I keep up the fiction that I’m not feeling well and she agrees to go see my dad alone tomorrow. In fact, she suggests that I take the whole weekend off. I thank her, then call my mother.
“Hi, Mum,” I say quietly. I can hear the sound of a TV in the background.
“Nigel said you were not feeling very well. What’s wrong with you?”
“Probably one of those flu things.”
“Well, that’s what you get for going to hospital every single day. Oh, for heaven’s sake anyone would think that man was dying the way you keep running to his bedside.”
“What did you want, Mum?”
“Can’t I just call my daughter without wanting anything?” she huffs.
“Yeah, sure. How are you?”
“I’m fine.”
“And David?” I ask, referring to the man she married two years ago.
“Yeah, he’s fine too … um … I was wondering if I could borrow a couple of hundred pounds. I’ll give it back at the end of the month. You know how it is. Ha, ha, of course, you don’t with Nigel being so rich and everything.”
I swallow hard. “I’ll transfer the money Monday morning.”
“Um … I would prefer if you could do an internet transfer this afternoon, sweetheart.”
“Fine, I’ll do it straightaway.”
I look at my watch. It’s getting late. “I’ve got to go, Mum. I’ll speak to you soon.”
I end the call, transfer the money out of my account into hers, and go into the bathroom. I stand in front of the mirror and stare at myself. How strange that I look exactly the same. None of the momentous upheavals going on inside me shows on my face. I turn on the shower, undress, and step inside the cubicle. The hot water doesn’t wash away the feeling of grime and dirt.
I wrap a towel around me and go sit in front of my dresser. Wet blonde curls hang down to my shoulders. My mind is blank as I blow out my hair until it lies in soft waves around my face. I take off the towel and stare critically at my naked body in the mirror. No man other than my husband has seen me nude.
My body is not perfect. My breasts are too small and my thighs are thick and round. Nigel likes them, but what if the Russian finds them a turn off? Will all this be for nothing then? Will he send me away and expect the debt to be paid in another way?
A chill runs through me.
In a panic, I pull open a drawer and look through my lipsticks. I locate a deep red color. I hardly ever wear anything this rich. Nigel prefers me in peachy colors. I apply it to my lips and the change to my appearance is immediate. My mouth looks big and inviting. I swipe two layers of mascara. That makes an even bigger improvement.
I go towards my wardrobe and glance at my clothes anxiously. I own nothing sexy. I pull my black dress out. It is not revealing, but it is sophisticated. Perhaps a billionaire will think it is old-fashioned.
I slip into my dressing gown and go downstairs. I am barefoot so I make no noise as I go down the stairs and cross the hallway into the living room. Nigel is sitting on the sofa with his head in his hands. I feel my heart tug. It’s a disease. I have to keep reminding myself of that fact.
“Nigel?”
His head jerks up.
“What if I go there and he decides he doesn’t want me? What happens then?”
“Then the debt gets paid anyway.”
“But I thought we had to sign a contract first.”
“He’s already signed and couriered his contract over to us. He can’t back out anymore.”
“Oh! You didn’t tell me he sent the contract over.”
He makes a vague movement towards the writing table. “It’s there. I’m not worried about his stupid contract, Star. My heart’s breaking. You’re going off to be with another man. You’re mine. My baby. You don’t know what it’s like to be sitting her
e while you get ready to go to him. Knowing it’s my fault. My stupidity. My greed. My carelessness. What was I thinking? God! What a fucking fool I’ve been.”
My heart feels like an ice splinter in my chest. I take a deep breath. I want to run to him, wrap my hands around him and comfort him, but I don’t. I don’t want to make it easy for him. I don’t want to be the enabler who tells him that I’ll always be here to pay his debts off with my body.
“What’s the time now?” I ask.
He looks at his watch and flinches. “Half-five.”
“I guess I better finish getting ready,” I say turning away.
“You’re wearing red lipstick,” he calls.
I lift my chin and turn around. “And what of it?”
“Nothing. You don’t wear it for me.”
“You don’t like red lipstick.”
His forehead burrows. “I love it. I just didn’t want other men to see you wearing it. I would have loved you to wear it for me when we were alone at home. Remember when you used to cook and I would make the cocktails. We’d eat and drink and I’d make love to you in front of the fire … Sometimes you’d get so drunk I would have to carry you upstairs.”
The old magic of him weaves itself around me. “Maybe I’ll wear it when we are alone again,” I say softly.
He smiles sadly. “Yes, I’d like that very much.”
I stare at him. He walks towards me and wraps his arms around me. I stand stiffly in his embrace. He pulls back and looks at me. “I love you, Star,” he whispers fiercely.
Suddenly, I can take it no more, and I break away from his hold and race up the stairs.
Nobody knows what I have with Nigel. Nobody outside our relationship can understand. I rush to the mirror and scrub away the red lipstick. I scrub so hard my lips feel raw. Then I clean off the mascara. There are two twin spots of color on my face.
I won’t make it easy for the Russian.
I’ll make him regret the day he thought he could ruin my relationship with my husband. Yes, my husband has a disease, but people like him make it worse. He had no business letting Nigel run up such a big debt.