Antidote to Infidelity (42 page)

But all isn
’
t well. In truth, things
couldn’t be much worse. My only saving grace is that the den is soundproof and
the shattered twins have slept peacefully through World War Three. Unlike the
neighbours on the left who,
apparently
, won
’
t be pressing charges,
providing they
’
re compensated
immediately
for the whopping crack in their ornamental Chinese fountain.

Hmm. Allow me to
explain.

***

Shortly after I shot
my big, stupid mouth off to Amy, the shit
really
hit the fan and our
cosy tea-for-three descended into chaos. Somewhere in the early hours, the
argument of the
century
ended with me screaming blue murder at Will,
saying some terrible things . . . and almost asphyxiating myself in the shower
pod! When I finally came to my senses, it was too late. Will had disappeared
into the night.

The madness all
began with the phone call from Phil, which I refused to take given the fact
that he
’
s an absolute
prick
and I
’
ve got no intention
whatsoever
of talking to him ever again, whatever Liselle chooses to do.

To make matters
worse, after our sisterly spat, Amy and Ben made their excuses and left,
leaving me all alone with a constantly ringing phone, a half-plastered medic
and a jealous husband with a face like a busted pit bull.

I knew Will
overheard my conversation with Amy. It was
obvious
. He was positively
combusting
in his chair. And it was all my fault too because in a moment of emotional
madness, I
overstepped
the mark, clean forgetting the walls were so thin and I was less than twenty
feet from SAS radar.

Thinking he
’
d just stew with the mug on
until Mike left, I composed myself and joined the boys in the lounge,
anticipating forced pleasantries. But when the phone rang on the coffee table
for what seemed like the
millionth
time, rudely interrupting Sir Alex on
the box, Will leapt out of his chair like he had a rocket up his arse, snatched
it up and stalked into the kitchen.

As Mike and I
exchanged glances, I was about to apologise and ask him to
excuse
my
bad-tempered husband when we heard a splintering rip, followed by shattering
glass. In the next breath, Will, ravelled in a mass of multi-coloured wires,
lumbered back in.

Marching across the
room, he snatched open the front door before drop-kicking the kitchen wall
telephone unit - answer machine and all - right over the conifers into next
door
’
s garden. Then, cool
as a cucumber, blood oozing from a two-inch gash in his wrist, he plonked back
down on the sofa, topped up his glass and turned up the TV like nothing had
happened.

Visibly awestruck by
the raging bull beside him, Mike sprang up, dropping to his knees to examine
Will’s arm.

“Jesus mate, that
looks nasty,” he said. Then, to me. “Have you got a first aid kit?”

Before I could
answer, Will snatched away.

“Hands off, hero.
I’ll live.”

After an awkward
silence you could have sliced, Mike coughed nervously and stood up, gallantly
putting his hand out to me.

“Look, Will, I sense
this is going to get ugly. Why don’t I take Sally with me? Just so no one gets
hurt.”

Understanding how he
might
have come to the wrong conclusion, given the carrot knife incident
and my current battered appearance, I was about to set him straight when Will
threw his head back laughed.

“So no one gets hurt? Ha, t
hat’s a riot!
You
can sling your hook mate but Sally stays here.”

Tugging me down onto
his knee, he added blackly,
“
She
’
ll be quite safe with me, won
’
t you babe? You don
’
t need to go running off into
the night with the good doctor now, do you Sally-Ann?
”

Mike took a
conciliatory step towards us, then thought better of it and retreated.

“
Will, look, can I just say . .
.
”

“
Don
’
t wanna hear it,
”
Will snapped, waving his
slashed arm aloofly.
“
A
dios,

Au revoir. Arrivederci.
Goodnight. Auf Wiedersehen
Michael,
thanks for coming. Hope you’ve enjoyed yourself, we
’
ll have to do it again sometime
. . .
”

As our guest backed
reluctantly out of the door, Will jigged me up and down on his knee, snatching
away as I tried to get a better look at his cut. Hearing the front door click
shut, he shook his head in sarcastic disappointment.

“
Ah,
shame
he had to go
so soon, eh Sal? Don
’
t fret babe, I
’
ll get you going.
”

In a swift, fluid
movement, he shuffled me onto the floor and shot across to the DVD rack,
rifling through the mass selection.

“
What . . . shall . . . we . . .
watch?
”
he said, mock
pleasantly, recklessly tossing disc after disc over his shoulder.
“
I know, how about a nice,
erotic episode of Casualty? Oooh, no. Holby. No, no - ER.
Yeah
, nothing
like an hour of ER to
really
get a girl
gagging for it
. . .
”

“
Will,
stop
,
”
I cried, as Chitty Chitty Bang
Bang went whizzing into the fire grate.
“
Please
. I
’
m sorry. I didn
’
t
mean
it . . .
”

But he didn
’
t. Face warped, he continued to
pepper the lounge with a cyclone of vicious little frisbies until the rack was
empty and there was nothing left to throw. It was only when I spotted our
wedding DVD amongst the debris that I stopped apologising - and started hitting
him.

Engulfed in a
whirlwind of pent-up emotion, I threw myself at him, wailing like a banshee.

“You bloody
lunatic
!”
I screamed, beating my fists into his chest. “Don’t you think you’ve done
enough damage? Huh? You’re lucky to still
be
here, you cheating bastard,
let alone smashing things up. In fact, no. Get out. Go on –
out
!”

Picking up ‘Sally
and Will’s Wedding Day’, I gave him a stinging slap across his face as he tried
to take it from me.

“Get your hands off,
Will!” I snapped. “Don’t you touch this. Or
me.
We’re done, do you hear
me.
Over
. Get out, get out,
GET OUT!
”

Reeling from the
onslaught he just stood there, shell shocked. Blinded by anguish, I wanted him
gone.
Bolting into the kitchen, I planned to nip out through the connecting door to
the garage to
breathe
- anything to get him out of my sight - but as I
fiddled clumsily with the lock, Will pushed his way through the door, double
sixing me with the kids
’
favourite sneak-up,
the old front garden slip-er-oo.

“
You’d like that, wouldn’t you?
”
he said calmly.
“
Well you can just forget it. If
you think I’m going to put up with
him
, with this
bullshit
,
you’ve got another think coming. I don’t care what I’ve done.”

Pinned between my
husband and the wall, lungs shrinking by the second, I seized Ryan’s light
saber off the worktop, jabbing it into his ribs.

“
You
invited him here, Will.
You
.
You
’
re
the one who
’
s been shagging around, not me.
You
’
re
the one with the
guilty conscience.
You
’
re
the one who should
be grovelling . . .”

Noticing the burning
frustration in his eyes, I realised this was one argument that wasn
’
t just going to blow over.

“
I
am,
” he hissed. “And
I’ll do whatever it takes, but
you,
you
’
re
not content with shouting his name in my ear whilst we
’
re making love. No, you have to
tell the whole
street
that the second my back
’
s turned . . .
”

He paused, probably
to absorb the full, hideous extent of my chickenpox before adding,
“
you
’
ll be all over him like a rash.
Becky was a
mistake
, Sally, I swear. A moment of weakness, but
this
- this is
premeditated
. You’re fucking
planning
it. How the
hell
do you think that makes me feel?
”

As he backed off, deflated
by his own words, my illuminated weapon launched into the ‘Star Wars’ theme
tune. I gave him one last poke before dashing upstairs into our en-suite,
snapping the bolt behind me.

I thought that would
be the end of it, I really did, I thought he’d just back off and give me some
space - but seconds later he was hammering on the door.

“
SALLY!
Let me in, we need
to
talk
. Open the door, Sally-Ann.
If not for me then for
Christ’s
sake, for the kids. Come on.”

By this time I was
sobbing in the shower. I’d had enough. The mention of Rosie and Ryan just
tipped me over the edge.

“Don’t you
dare
accuse
me of hurting my kids . . . you . . . you
home-wrecker
!” I bawled,
feeling fainter by the second. “I can’t breathe in here Will, and
that
,
like everything else, is your bloody fault. Which part of
get out
don’t
you understand? We don’t want you anymore. Just
go
.”

As the knocking
stopped, the sword burst to life in my palm, emitting a surreal ultra-violet
beam.

“You don’t know the
power of the dark side,” Darth Vader warned. “You should not have come back.
Grrrr. I find your lack of faith disturbing. Grrrr. You are unwise to lower
your defences. Grrr. You cannot hide forever . . . ”

Bloody thing.

I shook the
batteries out, killing both light and sound. Minutes past that seemed like
hours and somehow I managed to keep my head by playing with the soap-on-a-rope
and breathing shallowly into my sleeve.

From beyond the
door, I heard a pained
‘
Ouch! Aaagh!
’
and the rustle of the
first-aid box, followed by a brown paper bag being slid under the door.

“I . . . I . . . are
you alright, Sal?” Will asked quietly.

“I will be,” I
snapped. “When
you’ve
gone.”

By this time, I didn’t
really
want him to go. The raging inferno inside me was more like a bonfire. Maybe
even a sparkler, and the thought of spending the night alone terrified me. I
kind of hoped he’d burst in, scoop me into his arms and tuck us safely into
bed, but I was hardly going to tell
him
that, was I?

“If that’s what you really
want, I’ll go,” he said flatly. “But remember I love you. More than you’ll ever
know. We’ve got something special.”

I sighed, exhausted and
remorseful.

“
Had
, Will. We
had
something
special.”

Listening to zips
zipping and coat hangers rattling, I stayed stubbornly put until I heard him
trudge downstairs, then sat a while longer, contemplating his words, before
deciding to get off my wet arse and tell him to stop being so melodramatic.

I made it as far as
the sink, when I was stopped in my tracks by the slamming of car doors on the
driveway, followed almost immediately by a bump, thud, crash which sounded
close, drastic . . . and
expensive
.

Thinking
‘
holy shit, he
’
s off again
’
, I lunged for the door handle,
ready to stomp out and evict the silly great boar before he trashed the entire
house. That’s when I heard footsteps pounding up the stairs and muffled voices
in the bedroom.

“
Mrs Moss? Hello? Mrs Moss? Can
you hear me? This is officer Brooks, you
’
re safe now ma
’
am.
Are you able to open the
door?”