The Night Book (11 page)

She turned her head to look at him. ‘It was a first for me too, Seb.’

‘What? Honestly?’ He propped himself up on one elbow and began to lightly stroke her thigh with his fingers. ‘A woman as gorgeous as you? I find that very hard to
believe.’ He leaned forward and nuzzled her throat, adding indistinctly: ‘You must have had heaps of paramours, beautiful Meriel.’

She smiled and slowly rubbed the back of his neck.

‘No. Honestly. I was so young when I married, remember. Yes, I’d had plenty of boyfriends before then but both I and they were pretty inexperienced. As for Cameron . . . oh God, I
don’t even want to think about it.’

‘Don’t, then . . . just a minute.’

He slid out of bed and padded over to the mini-fridge that hummed quietly in the corner.

‘Let’s see what we have in here . . . aha!’

He pulled out two miniatures of gin and a bottle of tonic water, and waved them triumphantly over his shoulder at her. ‘Success!’

Meriel sat up, laughing. ‘Well done, lovely man.’

‘And for my next trick . . .’ Seb lifted the lid of the little plastic ice bucket that sat on top of the fridge.

‘
Voila!
We have ice, too . . . not much of it, though. Now, where’s the bottle opener?’

A few moments later he’d mixed their drinks and was sliding back on his knees onto the bed beside her, a crystal tumbler in either hand.

‘Here’s yours. Bet you never thought you’d be finishing the day drinking G&T stark naked in bed with someone you’d only kissed for the first time that afternoon. I
certainly didn’t. Sorry, there’s no lemon. Raise your glass, please, my darling.’

She did so. ‘That’s the first time you’ve called me that. I like it. Very much. What are we drinking to?’

‘Us, of course. You and me.’

She clinked her tumbler against his.

‘To us.’

Cameron looked despondently out at the lake through the picture window of the lounge. It was getting dark and he suspected his wife would not be returning home until late
tonight, and possibly not until tomorrow.

He had already attempted, three times, to write a conciliatory note to her, to be left on her pillow for when she eventually came back. They all lay crumpled at the bottom of his waste
basket.

He left the sofa and walked over to his desk, flicking on the green reading lamp as he sat in the big wheeled leather chair. One more try. One more attempt to get it right before he gave up and
went to bed.

His solitary bed.

Cameron had enough intelligence and insight to know he’d behaved badly – very badly – earlier. Meriel hadn’t looked remotely ill-dressed when she came downstairs.
She’d looked fabulous, as always. But the mere thought of other men at that blasted party thinking the same had pushed him over the edge into a jealous rage.

Why? What was wrong with him? Was it because he was acutely aware that he was losing – no, had
lost –
his own looks? Perhaps he should never have pursued and married a woman
so much younger than himself. It had always been likely to end in tears, he could see that now. Inevitable that one day a stunning woman like Meriel would want . . .

Vivid images of her with another man – a
younger
man – suddenly swamped his imagination again and he trembled. Obviously he shouldn’t have accused her of fooling
around, not without evidence, but he found it impossible to dismiss the idea that she was seeing someone else. Sometimes she got back quite late from the radio station, and he himself had been
spending more and more time away recently, closing the Edinburgh deal. Meriel was so extraordinarily desirable, any man in his right mind would covet her.
Evidence
. It wasn’t as if
he hadn’t looked for it. By God, he’d gone through her bedroom with a fine-tooth comb, many times, when she was safely out of the house. But he’d found nothing; not so much as a
phone number scrawled on the back of an envelope or an ambiguous note from one of her colleagues.

There
had
to be something. He felt the old familiar flames of suspicion and certainty flicker and rise within him. He couldn’t help himself. He simply had to search again.

He peered out through the window at the drive. There was no sign of her. Not even a flare of headlights from the main road below.

Cameron pushed the writing pad away from him and carefully returned his engraved fountain pen to its holder. Then he crossed the rectory’s hall, and stood at the foot of the stairs.

This time –
this
time – he was sure he’d find what he was looking for. And then it would be Meriel who would be the one on her knees, begging for forgiveness.

He caught his breath.

Begging him.

Meriel looked at her watch. It was quarter past eleven. She’d have to be going soon. She had no idea what she was going to tell Cameron – he would almost certainly
be waiting up for her. But she realised she didn’t much care what he thought any more, not after this morning. Ghastly though it had been, she was beginning to realise that it had actually
liberated her.

She glanced down at the sleeping man beside her. They’d made love again. It had been wonderful, and different from the first time, quieter, slower. They had paused frequently to kiss and
whisper to each other. Seb had said the sweetest things. After his climax he had rested his head on her shoulder and taken her hand, and the next thing she knew he’d fallen asleep.

As Meriel reached down and stroked his hair, prior to waking him, she suddenly understood the profound sensation of relief that had been spreading through her for the last hour. At first she
thought it was simply the sheer physical release that lovemaking with Seb had triggered. A great lake of sexual tension and frustration, deepening and spreading for years, had been comprehensively
drained, as if the dam holding it back had been suddenly and decisively breached.

But there was something else, too. Something that went much deeper than this quiet, purring, sexual satisfaction.

She felt rescued. Delivered. Redeemed, even. The future was suddenly alive with hope again.

Which made no sense, really. All the repercussions of leaving Cameron, the publicity that would result from divorcing him, still hovered malignly in the wings. She would almost certainly lose
her career; her agent was probably right about that. But at this moment, lying in bed with her man, her saviour, she couldn’t summon up the will to care much any more. And anyway, maybe
something would miraculously happen to prove David Weir’s prophecy (and her own) false.

‘Penny for them.’

Meriel jumped slightly; he was awake, looking curiously up at her through lazy, half-closed eyes.

‘Oh, hello. You were sleeping.’ She hesitated. ‘Actually I was thinking about . . . don’t take this the wrong way . . . I was thinking about Cameron. And what’s
going to happen.’

Seb sat up beside her, stretching.

‘Yeah, I thought so. You looked miles away. Are you OK?’

‘Mmm . . . I think so. Look, Seb, can I ask you something?’

‘Anything.’

‘Well . . . how exactly did you know . . . that is, why were you so
certain
, that I’ve been so unhappy for all this time? With Cameron, I mean.’

‘I told you. The way you virtually excised him from your life story this afternoon. And you actually winced at the mere mention of his name when I asked if he’d come with you. I
think you thought you’d hidden it, but it was obvious. You looked as if I’d pressed on a bruise.’

She sighed. ‘I’m normally rather better at pretending. I was very off balance today.’

Seb took her hand. ‘Why? What happened? Wouldn’t you like to tell me about it?’

And suddenly, she decided that she would. About all of it – the entire, doomed voyage of a marriage to Cameron.

‘It might take me a while.’

‘We’ve got all night.’

Meriel realised that they had. What possible difference did it make what time she got home now? There was going to be a dreadful row in any event. Why hurry back to it?

She made up her mind. ‘In that case, I think I’ll have another drink first. You might find you could do with one too, by the time I’m finished.’

‘Wow. That
does
sound heavy. Hold on, I’ll see what’s left.’ Seb rolled out of bed and went to the little fridge. ‘There’s a couple of Scotch
miniatures,’ he called. ‘The ice is all gone but the meltwater’s still pretty cold. Will that do us?’

‘I think whisky would be just the thing, actually.’

When he was back in bed with her, she turned to face him. ‘Sure you really want to hear this?’

He kissed her. ‘Meriel, you were always going to tell me about it. Now’s as good a time as any. In fact, I’d say it’s the perfect time. Whatever it is you’ve been
bottling up all these years, the sooner you let it out the better. Just as long as you’re sure, my darling.’

‘I am. I’ve put my faith in you.’

‘And I’ve put mine in you. It’s a nice feeling, isn’t it?’

She smiled at him. ‘Actually, it is. Trusting someone, I mean.’

‘So where do you want to begin?’

She sipped her drink and considered a moment before answering him.

‘At a charity auction.’

‘He spat in your
face
?’

Meriel nodded, miserably.

She was exhausted. She’d told him everything. Everything, that is, except for the part about her secret diary. Lying cradled in Seb’s arms, she could scarcely believe she’d
written it. It seemed absurd now – a weird, bizarre lapse in sanity. Good God, recently she’d even given it a title:
The Night Book
.

Mad, mad, mad. The moment she returned to Cathedral Crag, she was going to burn it. A first step. The first of many.

Seb was frowning with disgust. ‘What a vile man. You can’t go back there.’

She shook her head. ‘I have to, Seb. Cameron and I must have it out. I have no idea what I’m going to tell him about where I’ve been tonight, but that doesn’t matter,
I’ll come up with something.

‘The main thing is, I think I’ve decided what I’m going to do. I’m going to insist on some kind of trial separation. That way we can hopefully keep it all low-key, to
begin with at least. There’s no point running headlong into the whole publicity thing I was telling you about. I want to put that off as long as possible. I’m dreading it.’

Seb snorted. ‘And there’s another vile man – your prick of an agent. He should be coming up with ideas of how to handle the fallout when you and Cameron separate, not
exploiting your anxieties and making them worse. He just doesn’t want his precious boat rocked, the selfish bastard.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Meriel, this, this, oh, what’s his name,
Dick
Weir,
Dan
Weir?’

‘David Weir.’

‘Hmm, right first time, then. This dick’s got it all
completely
wrong – and so have you.’

Seb took both of Meriel’s hands in his own.

‘Look. People won’t hold you in contempt for trying to keep a shockingly bad marriage together, for God’s sake. Most will respect you for it. They’ll sympathise and some
will identify. So what if you did your level best to put a brave face on things? It never lessened the value of your advice, did it? Just think how many of your listeners and readers have told you
how you’ve changed their lives immeasurably, for the better.’

Meriel began to speak but he shook his head impatiently.

‘Wait. I’m not finished. I sneaked a look at some of the fan letters on your office wall when you were off sick. The ones from women you’ve helped. They adore you and
they’ll forever be grateful to you, can’t you see that? I wouldn’t be surprised if they formed a “she helped us, now it’s our turn to help her” Meriel Kidd
support group! I’m not joking.’

She stared at him.

‘I never thought of it like that before.’

‘That’s because you’ve had to deal with this entirely on your own. Well, apart from your poisonous agent’s so-called advice. You’ve got everything wildly out of
proportion. I feel
so sorry
for you. What a frightening time you must have had of it.’

He saw tears beginning to form in her eyes and drew her closer.

‘Well, it’s all coming to an end. You’ve got me and you’re going to get a new life. It’s started already. There’s no going back now.’

She hugged him tightly. ‘I can’t believe how much better you’re making me feel. I’ve been so unhappy and afraid.’

He kissed the top of her head. ‘It’s exactly as I told you yesterday – our lives have changed. It
is
yesterday now, by the way; we’ve been talking for hours. I
think it’s actually beginning to get light out there.’

‘Then it really is time I got up.’ Meriel sat up, dabbing her eyes with a corner of the sheet. ‘I’m going to take a quick shower and go straight home to talk to Cameron.
The sooner I get started, the better.’

She looked at Seb, her face flushed with determination.

‘I’ve got a lot to do.’

She would start by destroying
The Night Book
.

He’d almost given up. He’d gone through every single one of her cupboards and drawers. He’d taken all her handbags out of their wardrobe and opened every
compartment in each of them. He’d even slipped his hands deep inside her shoes and boots, in case there was something secreted in them.

He was in her en-suite bathroom now, where he had just finished rifling through the used towels she’d thrown in the wicker laundry basket. He looked
under
the basket, and even
felt inside the cotton lining of its lid.

There was nothing. Nothing to suggest that she was seeing someone else, or flirting with someone else, or even thinking about doing either.

His eyes fell on a large blue and white china jug sitting in a matching bowl on her washstand. He’d never thought to look in there before, and his pulse quickened with expectation. He went
over and peered into it, before lifting it out to see if anything was concealed underneath. He checked the bottom of the bowl, too.