The Woman At The Door Daniel Hurst (online e reader TXT) 📖

‘The bar looks quieter,’ Rebecca says, and I turn around to see that she is right. The queue has died down now, so I stand up to go and order a drink.

‘Do you want another one?’ I ask her, referring to the almost empty glass of wine on the table.

‘Go on then. And get a menu while you’re up there. I’m starving.’

I smile as I make my way to the bar, and I place my order with the barmaid before picking up one of the food menus lying nearby. As I flick through it and peruse the appetising options, I feel relieved that I’m now spending my Sunday afternoon doing something a little more normal than what would have been happening if Rebecca hadn’t called me. A takeaway for one in a hotel room with F1 on the TV is hardly my idea of fun because I’m not the biggest fan of the sport or eating alone, so it’s much better to be in this busy pub preparing to order a meal with my wife.

These last few days have been a glimpse into what my life would look like if I wasn’t married to my beautiful wife. I’d be very bored and very lonely. All my friends have settled down like me, and I’m hardly in the mood for being single again and venturing out onto the dating scene. It’s all online apps these days, isn’t it? Not for me, thank you very much. I’m perfectly happy with Rebecca, and if I ever had any doubts about married life being the right thing for me then they have been put to bed this weekend after spending most of it on my own without Rebecca by my side.

The barmaid hands me the two drinks and tells me that she will send somebody over to my table in a few minutes to take our food order, so I thank her and carry the beverages back over to where my wife is waiting. She looks much happier now than she did the last time we were out together, which was Friday night at the meal with Ally and Phil that we should definitely have postponed because we were both far too drunk and far too grumpy to be socialising.

I hope this is the start of things returning to how they used to be between us again.

Nights in front of the TV. Takeaway. Roast dinners.

Laughter. Love.

Happiness.

But as I reach the table and place the two drinks down onto it, I’m aware that there will always be a cloud hanging over us. It will be there until I can explain to Rebecca who that woman was and why she was lying. But I need the private investigator to come up trumps for me if I am going to be able to do that. As I take my seat and pull my phone from my pocket, I make a quick check on my text messages and emails on the off chance that the PI has contacted me and given me some good news. But there’s nothing from her yet. It’s still early days, and it is a Sunday, I suppose. I wonder if Erica has the day off. Do PI’s take days off? I guess so. They’re still normal people, even if they do a slightly abnormal job.

Putting my phone away, I smile at Rebecca as she picks up the menu and has a look through the options, and everything seems okay again in the world.

If only things had stayed like this forever.

Little did I know it then, but everything was about to change in my marriage, and this time, it would be far worse than anything that had happened before.

25

THE WOMAN

Sundays are always a slow day for me. I guess they are for anybody who is by themselves. But I’m not lonely. This is just the way my life is right now. I could date somebody if I wanted to, but I don’t. I’m happy enough being by myself, and it definitely makes things easier for my work. Having a partner would mean having to keep a secret from them as to what it is that I really do for a living. I doubt there are many men who would feel comfortable being in a relationship with a woman who makes her money by breaking married couples up. Besides, if I was with the man who I wanted to be with right now then I wouldn’t be doing this job and earning such a good wage.

I only ended up in this life because the man I loved passed away.

His name was Devon, and he was wonderful. I met him at a time in my life when I was just about giving up on men after a string of failed relationships with guys who were either too clingy, too distant or simply too immature. But he was different to those boys. He was a man, and most importantly, he made me feel like a woman.

He was my personal trainer at my local gym, and while it might seem like a cliché to be attracted to a hunky guy who I spent an hour a week with, there was far more to him than muscles and a passion for fitness. He was funny and made me laugh as he put me through my paces every Tuesday evening after I had finished in my office admin job in the city. He was educated, and he informed me about many interesting things regarding diet, exercise and even politics during our time together. And he was charming, complimenting me on several occasions whenever I did something well in the gym and even noticing when I was sporting a new hairstyle or had tried out some new makeup. It wasn’t long until I was looking forward to my sessions with Devon and doing my best to impress him with my own brand of wit, knowledge