Dangerous Affection

Chapter Twenty-One

By the time I’ve dropped Maisie off at school, to my shame, I’ve managed to swear at one driver who pulled out in front of me, forcing me to stamp on the brakes, and sound my horn continuously at another who cut me up on the approach into town.

I feel fury and confusion burning inside me like hot coals. It was a miracle I was able to get Maisie to school without snapping her head off when she asked me twice more where her dad had been last night.

‘I told you, he must be delayed on a job,’ I explained yet again, waving Maisie’s concern away.

I felt bad dropping her off without giving her an explanation, but why should I let Shaun off the unpleasantness of explaining that he’s decided to move out? He deserves to go through that emotional process, see the devastation he’s causing first-hand.

I drive to work, the thoughts whirring around in my head without respite.

I miss having someone to talk to. I miss my friends, didn’t even realise how badly I was neglecting them and distancing myself. I was always too busy with work when they called to invite me out for lunch or suggested coffee and cake at the small independent café in town we once favoured.

I didn’t even notice when they stopped calling, so embroiled was I in the pressures of life.

As my marriage slowly disintegrated, I tried to keep up a dogged determination, to the exclusion of everything else, to enable me to complete my qualification and cement my career prospects at Walker, Dent and Scott.

I found it was so much easier to just stay away from people, away from their claims on my time. More importantly, it enabled me to avoid their probing questions about me and Shaun, even though they were well meant.

At the time, I just didn’t feel strong enough to talk about it. I found it preferable to simply turn the other way.

So when I found myself confiding in Joanne about the breakdown of my marriage, it felt like a release of pent-up steam. It was a relief.

Now, of course, I only feel regret that I trusted her.

When I arrive at the office, I dump my bag and files on my desk and, avoiding the curious stares that I can feel boring into the back of my head, head back out and up the stairwell.

I stride across the air-conditioned, carpeted second floor, my heels muted as I pass office doors on my way to the glass offices of the glitterati, who sit at desks with their backs to the sprawling views across the city.

I can see that Joanne is poring over a spread of documents on her desk. As I approach her door, Anya pops her head out of her own office.

‘Can I help you, Emma?’ she asks pleasantly.

‘I just wanted a quick word with Joanne,’ I say. ‘I need to give her an update on my meeting with a client yesterday.’

‘I see.’ Anya clasps her hands together in front of her. ‘Well, she’s asked me to ensure she’s not disturbed this morning.’

‘Ah.’ I glance at Joanne through the glass, but she still appears to be absorbed in the papers on her desk. ‘No problem. I’ll catch up with her later.’

I turn and walk back down the carpeted length of the offices, suddenly furious with myself for being so easy to get rid of. I’m two or three steps down the stairs when I realise that Anya keeps Joanne’s diary. If my boss really is busy, I’d be better off making an appointment to see her later on today, or possibly tomorrow morning. There are things that need saying. Important things.

I head back up to the second floor. As soon as I enter the office space, I see that Joanne is out of her room and talking to Anya in the carpeted area.