The Bright Side (8 page)

My first reaction on catching my husband in the act of infidelity was to wave. In my defence, I didn’t know that he was being unfaithful at the time. That information didn’t arrive until approximately three quarters of a second later
.

It
went
like
this:
my
headache
had
advanced
so
rapidly and
so
dramatically
that
I’d
thought
better
of
driving
myself home
and
had
ordered
a
taxi.
When
I
got
out
at
the
house,
I barely
noticed
that
Gerry’s
jeep
was
in
the
drive.
He
was
supposed
to
be
shooting
a
wedding
in
Kildare
and
I presumed
it
had
been
cancelled
at
the
last
minute.
Such were
the
depths
of
my
misery
that
I
wasn’t
even
excited
by the
prospect
of
finding
out
why.
I’d
only
taken
a
few
steps
up the
path
when
I
saw
him
through
the
front-room
window
and waved;
he
didn’t
see
me.
At
that
point,
my
thought
process went
as
follows:
There’s
Gerry.
What’s
he
at?
He
looks
like
he’s
running
on
the
spot.
No,
wait
–
he’s
shagging
Lisa
from
next
door
. She
was
so
far
bent
over
the
sofa
that
I
couldn’t
see
her
face, but
there
was
no
doubt
that
it
was
her;
I
would
have recognised
that
beautiful
blonde
hair
anywhere,
even
when it
was
hanging
the
wrong
way.
I
didn’t
faint
or
scream
or throw
up
or
simply
run
away.
I
didn’t
do
anything.
I
just stood
there
with
my
hand
still
raised
in
greeting.
Gerry
was wearing
a
tie,
which
he
sometimes
did
on
a
whim,
and
it
had found
its
way
over
his
shoulder.
That,
coupled
with
the expression
of
grim
determination
on
his
crimson
face,
made him
look
as
if
he
was
tackling
a
potentially
tricky
bit
of
DIY. His
lips
were
moving
as
he
thrust
back
and
forth
and
I
found myself
desperately
wanting
to
know
what
he
was
saying.
Was it
something
like
“That’s
right,
take
it
all,
you
little
slut!”
or was
it
more
along
the
lines
of
“Oh
Christ,
I
shouldn’t
be doing
this,
poor
Jackie
would
die
if
she
knew”?
It
was probably
neither.
In
all
the
time
I’d
known
him,
Gerry
had never
had
much
to
say
during
sex
apart
from
“Yeah
…
yeah
…
yeah”
and
an
occasional
“JESUS!”
After
a
few
seconds,
I found
myself
shuffling,
zombie-like,
two
steps
forward
and then
two
to
the
left.
Now
I
was
standing
right
in
front
of
the window.
I
wasn’t
sure
if
I
was
trying
to
let
them
know
that
I was
there
or
simply
positioning
myself
to
get
a
better
view. Either
way,
Gerry
still
didn’t
see
me
(Lisa
couldn’t,
of
course, not
in
that
position).
I
opened
and
closed
my
mouth
a
few times,
but
nothing
came
out.
Then
I
took
another
step forward
and
placed
my
hands
against
the
glass.
Gerry
raised his
head,
but
his
eyes
were
now
shut
tight.
I
guessed
he
was in
the
home
straight
and
that
seemed
to
snap
me
out
of
it
at
last.
My
throat,
which
felt
as
if
had
closed
over
completely, suddenly
opened
and
a
roar
came
belching
out
of
me.
I
made fists
and
slammed
them
hard
against
the
glass.
Gerry
jumped about
a
foot
into
the
air,
looked
me
right
in
the
eye
and
then put
both
hands
on
top
of
his
head,
as
if
I
was
a
cop
with
a gun.
I
was
grateful
for
the
fact
that
he
didn’t
move
to
either side
–
at
least
I
was
spared
the
sight
of
his
old
man
bobbing about
like
a
fisherman’s
float.
Lisa
took
a
moment
to
get herself
upright.
When
she
finally
succeeded,
a
series
of
looks passed
across
her
face.
I
thought
I
understood
what
they
meant.
The
first
seemed
to
be
mere
embarrassment:
someone
had
been
watching
her
having
sex.
The
second
was definitely
shock:
the
someone
was
me.
The
third
was
the one
that
made
me
want
to
get
in
there
and
slap
her
gorgeous face
off.
It
wasn’t
a
grin
or
even
a
smile,
but
there
was
a
flicker
of
something
that
told
me
she
wasn’t
entirely
horrified
by
this
turn
of
events.
Maybe
she
was
already imagining
the
anecdote
she’d
have
to
tell.
Gerry
ducked down
behind
the
sofa
at
that
point
and
reemerged
doing
up his
trousers.
He
said
something
to
Lisa
and
whatever
it
was, it
wasn’t
a
compliment.
Her
response
was
loud
and
angry,
but I
couldn’t
make
it
out
through