The Broken Ones

CHAPTER 13

NOAH

Before

We spend a perfect day in the village of Haworth. We stroll hand in hand up hilly Main Street, stopping to sample sweets and chocolates at the quaint little shops, and browse through antiques at vintage shops. The cobbled streets and old-school shop fronts make me feel nostalgic, and everything feels like a dream; soft, blurry, storybook-romantic.

When the sun sets, we wander down a cobbled alleyway and stumble upon a pub with a dog stretched out on the gnarled old floorboards. Oh, this looks wonderful, she gasps, her lovely face lighting up.

I come back from the bar with a bottle of champagne and two chilled glasses. We take slow sips, our eyes on each other over the rims of the glasses, and I watch her face fall in and out of shadow in the light of a dancing flame. My hand finds hers and I take it in mine and it feels so right. This is nice, she sighs and leans her head against my chest. I stroke her hair and breathe it in, the citrusy lemon shampoo that I had gifted her on her birthday. My phone buzzes in my trouser pocket. I fish it out. Everything ok? I type a quick reply. Everything's fine. I'm bushed. Been a long hectic day of meetings. Am just about to turn in. Nite and love you. I add a heart emoji. I wait a moment and her reply comes almost immediately, Luv u 2. Nite. I silence the phone, and shove it back into my pants pocket. I look up to see her eyes on me, watching me.

Was that Gwen? She is immaculate as always. She doesn't smile, but her voice comes out strange; hard, with an edge to it. A thought flashes in my mind, makes me panicky. Is she becoming possessive?

It had started off innocently enough: a meeting at a secluded, cosy cafe in London with Gwen's best friend to discuss Gwen's seeming unhappiness and to fix our flagging marriage with Simone's help.

Simone had called me out of the blue one morning at work, Look, I don't know if you're aware of it, but Gwen's deeply unhappy and I'm concerned. Sex could help you to reconnect. She hinted that you two aren't having much sex, and that when you do have sex, it's unsatisfying. I could help you. Help me? I had choked out, feeling indignant, mortified and stunned all at once. Help me how? I can coach you, she had said. Show you how to please and pleasure her. That way she won't stray. Because sooner or later, she will. If a woman can't get good sex from her husband, she'll go looking for someone who can. Think about it. I'm trying to help you two. It breaks my heart to see Gwen so unhappy, she had said in that low, husky voice of hers, and left her number with me and ended the call with: Oh, and don't tell Gwen. It'd be our little secret. I didn't know how she had got my number; maybe she had weasled it out of Gwen. I never told Gwen she had called.

I texted Simone two weeks later to say that I was in London, and if she was free, we could meet up at Covent Garden Cafe. An hour later, I was feeling much more relaxed. And excited. Ever so often she would reach over and touch my hand. Fleeting caresses that seemed to convey more than just platonic friendship. I couldn't deny that I hadn't been strictly honest with her. That the reason I was here with her wasn't really because of Gwen and Gwen's unhappiness. I mean, yes, Gwen was a factor but somehow, she didn't seem so important now, not with Simone's lovely perfect face smiling inches from me, those smiles that surely signified an interest that went beyond what was proper. And I could admit it, that since that phone call all I had been thinking about was her, fantasizing about having wild, uninhibited sex with her. The fact that it was all so taboo added to the thrill of the encounter.

And then she leaned closer, and said, low, I know what you really want, Noah. You don't fool me. I gulped, and she laughed softly. You can use me to fulfil your needs, she had said huskily, looking at me through smoky, narrowed eyes. Gwen doesn't need to know.