Page 6 of The Stranger in Room Six

My husband keeps another woman’s photograph hidden in his desk.

My skin goes cold. I want to be sick.

I shove it back into the drawer, as if that will make it disappear, but I can still feel the tarty blonde grinning back at me.

I sit there, rocking myself back and forth, numb with disbelief and confusion. So the caller this morning was right. Gerald was – is – having an affair. When had Gerald planned on telling me? What am I going to tell the girls? What is going to become of our family?

Then the anger kicks in. How dare he ruin our lives when I have been hanging on, putting up with our mutual irritation and lack of affection, determined to keep our marriage going for the sake of our children?

Eventually I compose myself, just enough to walk past the receptionist and give a little nod.

I can’t say anything in case I burst into tears.

I need to hold it together for now. I’ll go home and make shepherd’s pie with crispy potato on top, the way we all like it.

I won’t mention the call. I won’t rock the boat, won’t make the same mistake my mother did when she’d discovered my father’s affair.

I’ll turn a blind eye and hope that this transgression, for surely that’s what this is, will pass.

It might sound old-fashioned, but it will be better for everyone. I’m not allowing my children to grow up without a resident father like I had to.

In a daze, I make my way down the high street. But as I pass Marks & Spencer, I see Gerald walking towards me.

I find myself breaking into a run. ‘I know,’ I shout. ‘I know about Karen.’

Part of me desperately hopes he’ll deny it. But he doesn’t.

His face looks as if he has stepped through an upstairs door to find that there is nothing between him and the ground, twenty feet below. ‘I can explain,’ he croaks.

So it’s true.

‘How could you, Gerald? How could you?’

He shakes his head. ‘It’s complicated.’

Then, to my astonishment, he bursts into tears and opens his arms to hold me. Gerald hasn’t cuddled me for years. And he bloody well isn’t going to do it now.

‘Get away!’ I scream, pushing him. ‘I hate you.’

He falls sideways as if in slow motion. There’s a crack as his head hits the pavement. Blood gushes out.

‘Gerald!’ I scream, dropping down to his side. ‘Gerald! Oh my God. Gerald … Please! Say something.’

But my husband’s eyes are open, staring up to the sky as if in surprise that his past has finally caught up with him.