Simon hasn’t moved. I lift up the blanket on my side of the bed, and try to crawl stealthily underneath, unsure if I should be relieved he’s not talking to me, or upset. I don’t think I can sleep under this veil of gloom.
Just as I lie back and let my head sink into the pillow Simon switches on the light. “You’re back, then?”
I turn onto my side. Sitting up in bed, he reaches for his glasses. It takes him a long time to unfold them and perch them on the bridge of his nose.
“I’m so sorry.” It’s the first thing that comes to mind. The only thing.
Simon stares at me. Unemotionally. “Why didn’t you return my calls?”
“I didn’t have my phone on at the station. It was switched off in my bag.”
“And afterward?”
“It was too late.” I swallow hard. “I didn’t mean to ruin your evening.”
“Do you know what the worst part is? I kept telling them, “She’ll be here any minute, this isn’t like her,” and they just kept nodding and smiling indulgently at me. As if I’m some old man being taken for a ride. I could read the disdain in their eyes, and I didn’t like the way they were thinking about you. As though you’re cuckolding me.”
I bite my lip, trying not to blurt out that I was at the pub with Niall. I want to confess, I want to be absolved.
“I’m sorry you had to go through that. I promise I won’t let it happen again. I’ll send a note apologising, maybe some flowers or something?” Sitting up, I curl my legs beneath me, reaching out to touch his cheek.
“We can’t go on like this.” He pauses, then pushes his glasses up. “I can’t go on like this. The worry, the tension. It feels as if I’m constantly wondering where you are, if you’re okay. Since you found that girl in her flat...” His voice trails off. “And now this. To have to call around your friends until I find out you were at the police station with some teenaged lout. It just isn’t right.”
I don’t know what to say. I open my mouth a few times, but nothing comes out. He’s treating me like I’m his daughter.
“You know what I was expecting? To hear that you were lying in a ditch somewhere, or being rushed to hospital in an ambulance.” His face twists before he makes his final confession. “I think I would have preferred that.”
A tear rolls down my right cheek. I reach up and wipe it away angrily, not wanting to be accused of using waterworks to soften him again. “I’m sorry.” I don’t know how many times I can say it.
“I’m not sure it’s enough, not anymore. I bloody hate this, worrying about you, not able to sleep until you get home because I’m scared you could be hurt.”
“I’m fine, Simon. I promise you I can take care of myself.” I try to stroke his arm but he shrugs me off.
“How do you know one of them isn’t going to pull a knife on you one day? That some crazy boyfriend isn’t going to walk into the clinic with a grudge and a handgun? It isn’t the place for you, Beth. It isn’t the place for my wife.”
“But I love the clinic.”
“More than you love me?”
I hesitate for a second too long.
“No, of course not.” It isn’t the same. He’s asking me to compare apples and pears. “But they need me. The kids need me.”
“I need you, Beth. I need you. And I have to know you’re safe when you’re out of my sight.” He takes his glasses off and rubs his eye sockets with balled-up fists. “This has to end.”
“What has to end?”
“The clinic. I don’t want you to work there anymore.”
A flash of anger licks at my belly. “That’s not fair. It’s everything to me.”
Putting his glasses back on, he sits upright, swinging his legs onto the pale wooden floor.
“I thought I was that.” Simon stands up, letting the covers fall back onto the bed. “I’ll sleep in the spare room tonight.”
10
By the time I get up the next morning, Simon’s gone. I walk downstairs in my pyjamas, switch on the coffee machine and check my watch. It’s seven o’clock; too early for the office, but maybe he has a breakfast meeting. I frown, knowing I’m kidding myself. It’s avoidance, plain and simple. He doesn’t want to see me, definitely doesn’t want to talk. This hurts me more than I thought it would.