FIFTEEN
I DON’T BOTHER with the sunglasses this time. Nor do I bother smiling at the receptionist. I sit bolt upright on the same brown foam chair, shredding a tissue to bits, thinking, I can’t believe it.
I couldn’t do anything over the weekend. I had to wait until Luke went off to work this morning. I made sure he’d really gone (by looking out the window and then calling him twice in the car to make sure he hadn’t turned round) and then plucked up the courage to ring Dave Sharpness’s office. Even then, I practically did it in a whisper. I spoke to the receptionist, who refused to give me any details of the findings over the phone. So here I am, at eleven o’clock in the morning, in West Ruislip again.
The whole thing feels surreal. It was supposed to be canceled. They weren’t supposed to find anything.
“Mrs. Brandon.” I look up, feeling like a patient at a doctor’s office. There’s Dave Sharpness, sounding more sepulchral than ever. “Would you like to come through?”
As he ushers me into the office, he looks so pitying, I can’t bear it. Instantly I decide to put on a brave face. I’ll pretend I’m not bothered if Luke’s having an affair. I was only wanting to know out of idle curiosity. In fact, I’m glad he’s having an affair, because I wanted a divorce all along. Yes.
“So you found something,” I say nonchalantly as I take a seat. “Interesting.” I attempt a careless little smile.
“This is a difficult time for you, Mrs. Brandon.” Dave Sharpness leans heavily forward on his elbows.
“No it’s not!” I say overbrightly. “I really don’t care. Actually, I’ve got a boyfriend and we’re going to run away together to Monaco, so I’m absolutely fine about all of this.”
Dave Sharpness doesn’t look taken in.
“I think you do care.” His voice descends yet lower. “I think you care very much.” His bloodshot eyes are so mournful, I can’t hold out anymore.
“OK, I do care!” I sniff. “Just tell me, OK? Has he been seeing her?”
Dave Sharpness opens a manila folder and surveys the contents, shaking his head.
“This part of the job is never easy.” He sighs, shuffles the papers, then looks up. “Mrs. Brandon, your husband has been leading quite the double life.”
“Double life?” I gape at him.
“I’m afraid to say, he’s not the man you thought he was.”
How can Luke not be the man I thought he was? What’s he talking about?
“What do you mean?” I say, almost aggressively.
“Last Wednesday, one of my operatives trailed your husband from his place of work. He checked into a hotel under a false name. He ordered cocktails for several…women. Of…a certain type. If you know what I mean, Mrs. Brandon.”
I’m so gobsmacked, I can’t speak. Luke? Women of a certain type?
“My highly skilled operative followed up his alias.” Dave Sharpness gives me an impressive look. “He discovered that there has been trouble at that particular hotel in the past. There have been…regrettable incidents with women.” Dave Sharpness looks at his notes with a distasteful expression. “All of which have been hushed up and paid off. He’s clearly a powerful man, your husband. My operative further discovered several sexual harassment charges which were never pursued…a joint allegation of bullying against himself and a colleague, again hushed up….”
“Stop it!” I cry, unable to listen anymore. “You must have got your information wrong! You or your operative. My husband doesn’t drink cocktails with women of a certain type! He would never bully anyone! I know him!”
Dave Sharpness sighs. He leans back in his chair and rests his hands on his huge stomach.
“I feel for you, Mrs. Brandon, I really do. No wife wants to hear that her husband is less than perfect.”
“I’m not saying he’s perfect, but…”
“If you knew the number of deceivers out there.” He eyes me lugubriously. “And the wife is always the last to know.”
“You don’t understand!” I feel like slapping him. “This can’t be Luke. It just can’t be!”
“It’s hard to come to terms with the truth.” Dave Sharpness is inexorable. “It takes great courage.”
“Stop patronizing me!” I say furiously. “I do have courage. But I also know my husband isn’t a bully. Give me those notes!” I grab the folder from him, and a pile of shiny black-and-white photographs falls out onto the desk.
I stare at them in confusion. They’re all pictures of Iain Wheeler. Iain outside Brandon Communications. Iain Wheeler walking up the steps of a hotel.
“This isn’t my husband.” I look up. “This is not my husband.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere.” Dave Sharpness nods in satisfaction. “Your husband has two sides to his personality, as it were—”
“Shut up, you stupid man!” I shout, exasperated. “It’s Iain! You’ve followed the wrong person!”
“What?” Dave Sharpness sits up. “Literally the wrong person?”
“This is one of his clients. Iain Wheeler.”
Dave Sharpness grabs one of the prints and stares at it for a few seconds.
“This isn’t your husband?”
“No!” I suddenly spot a photo of Iain getting into his limo. I grab it and point at Luke, who is in the background on the other side of the car, barely in focus. “That’s Luke! That’s my husband.”