‘Who is it?’ Helen asked.

‘It’s the adulterer,’ I heard Mum say.

‘Before they stone me,’ Garv said, ‘could we talk?’

‘Come on,’ I said wearily. ‘We’ll go for a walk on the beach,’

46

I was looking forward to this encounter with Garv about as much as a repeat of the time when I was sixteen and having hundreds of glass slivers removed from the tattered flesh of my knee. Nevertheless, we managed to maintain cordial chat while walking the six blocks to the beach.

‘You cut your hair,’ he said. ‘It’s nice.’

‘Ah, you hate it really, admit it.’

‘No, I like it. It’s very… groovy. Especially the fringe.’

‘Oh, please, don’t mention the fringe. Have you somewhere to stay?’

‘Yeah, it’s near here. I rang Mrs Emily and she recommended the place she’d stayed in –’

I stopped him. ‘The Ocean View. My family are staying there too.’

‘Ohh-kaay. So I’d better have my breakfast in my room if I don’t want to be pelted with rotten eggs in the dining room.’

‘It might be for the best. So tell me, why didn’t you just ring instead of coming all this way?’

‘I did ring, loads of times, but the machine was always on and I felt weird about leaving a message…’

‘Oh, so you’re Emily’s stalker.’

‘Am I? God, my secret double life, I never knew. Anyway, I thought that some stuff is better said face-to-face.’

Up till then I’d assumed that Garv’s appearance was in response to Helen telling him I was out with Shay Delaney. But all of a sudden I was wondering what Garv had to say that merited a face-to-face visit? Could there be any further bad stuff to discover? Yes, actually, there could be: his new girl could be pregnant. The thought was such a shock that, as I stepped on to the beach, I stumbled.

‘Are you still going out with that girl?’ I asked.

To his credit, he didn’t give me any wide-eyed ‘What girl?’ crap. He just waited a while, obviously weighing up what to say, then exhaled.

‘No, I’m not.’

Relief was the first thing to hit, but immediately after, a wave of jealousy slapped me. So it was real. Really real. I forgot all about the two flings I’d had in the past month and I felt hollow and betrayed. A gathering sense of unreality surrounded me.

‘Who was she?’

‘Someone from work.’

‘What was her name?’

‘Karen.’

‘Karen what?’

‘Parsons.’

Driven by a self-destructive prurience, I wanted to know everything about her. What did she look like? Was she younger than me? Where had they done it? How many times? What kind of underwear had she? ‘Was it serious?’

‘No, not a bit. It lasted no length.’ His every word hit me like a dart.

‘Did you sleep with her?’ I desperately wanted him to say no, that it had only been hand-holding and flirting. But, after a tense pause where I held my breath, he said, ‘Yes, twice. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I so wish I hadn’t but I was off the wall.’

‘Why’s that, then?’ I asked stiffly, jealous bile sickening my stomach.

‘I was very depressed. They were my babies, too. But no one was interested in what I felt. I know it was harder for you, but it was killing me too. Then you and me stopped talking and the loneliness was unbearable, and then,’ his voice dropped so low I could hardly hear him, ‘when I couldn’t get it up with you, I felt such a failure.’

‘You’d no bother with her, I suppose. Your fancy woman. And look at what you’ve turned me into,’ I cried. ‘Someone who says things like “fancy woman”.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered.

‘When did it start?’

‘Not until you’d gone. Left for LA.’

I had a good snort at that. ‘Something was going on long before then.’

‘No, we were just… friends. I swear to God.’

‘“Just friends.” I can imagine. Flirting and sharing fucking truffles. You don’t have to sleep with someone to be unfaithful, you know! You can be unfaithful with your emotions.’

He bowed his head.

‘Was it the first time you did this to me?’

‘Of course!’ He sounded shocked.

‘Your only fancy woman?’

‘My only fancy woman.’

‘But one too many.’

‘I know, I know. I wish I hadn’t. I’d give my left arm to go back in time and change things,’ he muttered feverishly.

‘You blamed me, didn’t you? For the miscarriages?’

‘How? It was hardly your fault.’

‘It was. Maybe I’d… damaged myself… when I’d had the abortion. That day in Doctor Collins’s office, I knew you blamed me. But that was OK, because I blamed me too.’

‘I didn’t blame you. You were the one who was angry with me.’

‘I was not.’

‘You felt I’d forced you into trying for a baby. And if we’d never tried, we’d never have had all that misery with the miscarriages.’

I clamped my lips together, unwilling to admit anything, but the feelings were too big.

‘OΚ, I was angry.’ Still was. Furious, actually, I’d just discovered. Our life together had been fine until he’d opened that can of worms. ‘But I wasn’t the one who had an affair, I said, consumed with bitterness.

‘No, you just came to Los Angeles because of Shay Delaney.’

‘What –? I did fucking not,’ I stuttered indignantly.

‘Yes, you did. You could have gone to London to Claire or New York to Rachel or you could have stayed in Dublin, but you came here.’

‘Because of Emily.’

‘Not because of Emily. Or not just because of Emily. There was that thing in the paper about Dark Star Productions and the work they were doing in Hollywood. You could have guessed he’d be here. I’ve been honest with you, why won’t you be honest with me?’

We marched on in angry silence. The bloody audacity of him trying to shift the blame for his affair on to me. Somewhere in the recesses of my brain, a thought began to swim upwards, reaching to break the surface. Before it did, I turned on Garv. ‘Why do you still hate Shay Delaney so much?’