3am and he still hadn't found the toothbrush, or folded out the sofa bed, or made any move towards sleep despite the fact that they both had work in the morning. They were on their second bottle of wine and for the first time in years they were talking. Really talking. Not about Eleanor and her antics, or about work, or any of the designated "safe" subjects. They were talking about themselves. About the fun that they'd had together in the early days, in Boston, before they'd come back to the UK and real life had bitten them hard with long shifts, a mortgage and an unplanned pregnancy to contend with. They talked without arguing which was a massive step. He didn't aggravate her by rewriting history to make himself into the hero of every story and she didn't deride him at every turn for having been young, free-spirited and all too frequently drunk. The more they drank the closer they sailed to the un-discussible; their marriage and subsequent unpleasant divorce. Things that they never spoke of because they'd both behaved badly and the bad feeling still lingered, especially for her. And then, without warning, after at least a glass more wine than was advisable for a work night, she did it: she asked the question that had been playing on her mind for years:
'Why did you do it, Edward?'
'Do what?' he asked slowly, as if he didn't know what she was talking about. It was a conversation that he absolutely didn't want to have but as soon as she asked the question, he knew that he wasn't going to be able to avoid answering. The problem was that he was too drunk and too tired to concoct a half decent excuse for his behaviour, and he didn't want to tell her the truth because that would only hurt her more.
'Marry Bethan. I mean, I sort of understand the one-night-stand bit – these things happen, and she's not unattractive – but marrying her? Really, Edward, the woman's a total bitch' she told him, alcohol loosening her inhibitions and allowing her to say what she really thought.
'You threw me out' he pointed out wearily, relieved that she was more interested in why he'd married Bethan than why he'd cheated on her in the first place because it was the explanation for the infidelity that was likely to hurt her. 'She was pregnant. It seemed like the right thing to do'
'So you married her out of duty?'
'There are worse reasons' he replied, although he couldn't think of many. The truth was, he'd married Bethan because even in the early days she'd shown signs of being totally unreasonable and he'd known that the only way to secure a place in his son's life was to get his name on the birth certificate, and the easiest way of doing that was to put a ring on her finger.
'Like what?'
'Well Mindy needed a visa' he replied with a grin and Serena burst out laughing. He knew that Eleanor and Serena privately referred to Mindy as the "internet bride", which was untrue, but the threat of deportation when her visa ran out had certainly expedited their relationship. He'd never told them as much because they would have found it hysterical, as proven by the tears of mirth in Serena's eyes.
'Oh Edward, you are ridiculous sometimes' she told him affectionately 'You married her for a visa? Is that true?'
'They were going to deport her and I loved her. It's not quite as bad as it sounds'
'She made off with all your money after eighteen months. It's probably worse' she replied, and he knew that she had a point. The unpleasant truth was, he suspected that Mindy had never been in love with him, and had married him with one eye on the visa and the divorce settlement. He didn't tell Serena that much because it was a raw nerve and he didn't want her rubbing salt in the wound. 'If Bethan hadn't gotten pregnant then would you have married her?' she added, changing the subject, which was good, but changing it back to Bethan, which was bad.
'Probably not'
'Would you have come back to me?'
'You chucked me out' he pointed out. Leaving had hardly been his choice. Serena had found out about his ill-advised night with Bethan – not even a night, thirty minutes in a linen cupboard really – and she'd packed his bags for him. She'd never been a great one for second chances.
'I'd probably have gotten over it eventually' she replied, which was news to him, and something that he wished she'd shared with him ten years ago. If he'd thought that there was even an outside chance of getting Serena back then he wouldn't have married Bethan; he'd have bent over backwards to win his wife back. 'It might have helped if I understood why you'd done it'
'Done what?' he asked slowly, realising too late that they were back where he didn't want to be, discussing what had driven him into a linen closet with the hospital bike in the first place.
'Slept with Bethan. I mean we were happy, as far as I know you were getting what you needed a home – unless you have some strange fetish that I don't know about, we had a beautiful daughter. Why would you jeopardise that?'
'It was a mistake' he replied, which was the truth, but not the whole truth. It wouldn't be enough to satisfy her, he knew that, but he still tried because he didn't want to hurt her. He'd hurt her enough already.
'Was she the only one?'
'Yes' he replied. That much was true, at least. Bethan had been his first mistake but that had been enough to bring his life crashing down around him.
'Did she give you something that I didn't?'
'No'
'Well then, why? Did I do something'
'No' he replied again, but he said it too quickly; so quickly that it sounded insincere and her eyebrows shot skywards. Not for the first time in his life he wished that he could go back in time a couple of hours and not start drinking. If he wasn't drunk then he'd never have gotten into this conversation, and if he hadn't allowed himself to get embroiled in it then he wouldn't be about to say something that would ruin their new, tentative truce.
'I did. What did I do, Edward?'
'Nothing. I need a cigarette' he got up, grabbed his cigarettes and ignored the look she gave him as he crossed the room, opened a window and leaned out of it to smoke. Anything to avoid having to look her in the eye and lie to her again.
'I hope you're not going to do that around the baby or Eleanor'
'I'm not completely stupid' he replied, taking a long drag and breathing out slowly. In the silence he could almost hear the cogs turning in her head as she cast her mind back, frantically tried to remember anything that had happened nearly twelve years ago that might have caused her husband to sleep with another woman. The silence seemed to last forever, but eventually he turned back to look at her and watched as the penny dropped and she recoiled slightly.
'You knew, didn't you?'
'Knew what?' he asked wearily, stalling for time in the vain hope that Eleanor would wake up, or the phone would ring, or something else would happen to interrupt them.
'Edward…' a warning note in her voice, telling him not to screw with her. He knew that there was no point in lying. She'd worked out that he knew what she'd done, what she didn't know what how he'd found out.
'I heard you on the phone to your mother' he sighed, sinking down onto the sofa and lowering his head into his hands wearily 'I wasn't trying to listen – I'd been reading Eleanor a story and you were in the bedroom. I just overheard and…'
'You heard me telling her about the abortion?' she surmised, curling her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. Suddenly she looked very small and very vulnerable and he hated himself for putting her in that position.
'Yeah. I heard, and I was so angry. I wanted to hurt you so I…'
'Succeeded by going after Bethan. Yeah, Edward, I can work the rest out. Why didn't you talk to me?'
'There didn't seem like a lot to say on the matter. You'd had an abortion, you didn't want me to know and even if I had confronted you, what would have been the point? The deed was done, it's not like it would change anything'
'If you'd asked me then I could have explained; maybe then you wouldn't have wanted to hurt me by going after Bethan'
'If I had, what would you have said?'
'It's not a decision that I took lightly. You know how bad my pregnancy was with Eleanor. Seven months in and out of hospital with dehydration and high blood pressure and then she was born six weeks early and had to go into an incubator. It was horrendous and I couldn't go through that again'
'It might have been different. Just because you had a terrible time with Eleanor…'
'It wasn't different, Edward. Before the termination I spent ten days unable to keep anything down. You remember; you thought I had gastroenteritis'
'Ah yes' he sighed. He'd known ever since he'd heard her on the phone to her mother that her "gastroenteritis" had been a repeat performance of the virulent morning sickness that she'd suffered when she was pregnant with Eleanor. What he hadn't realised was that it had been reason enough for her to get rid of the baby. 'It might have passed'
'Or it might not have. And even if it had, did we really want a second child? We barely had time for the one that we had. Would it really have been fair on her to bring a second child into the family when we spent so much time at work that she was constantly fighting for our attention'
'She had my attention' he pointed out. 'And to be honest, it wasn't so much that you had the abortion. It was that you didn't trust me enough to tell me about it. Did you really think I'd make you have a baby that you didn't want? Or go through with a pregnancy that was going to make you ill for months?'
'No, I didn't. That's exactly the point, Edward. I knew you'd support me, so the outcome was going to be the same either way. If I'd told you then we'd both have had to live with my decision'
'I'd have sooner that than you go behind my back' he told her gently, putting his arm around her shoulders and giving her a squeeze 'I'm sorry'
'You have nothing to be sorry for'
'Sure I do. The mature thing to do would have been to talk to you instead of storming off and sleeping with the first woman that made herself available. If I'd done that then we probably wouldn't be divorced'
'We both made mistakes, Edward' she told him wearily, resting her head against his shoulder and snuggling against him. It was the closest that they'd been in over ten years and he liked it. She fitted perfectly in his arms in a way that neither Bethan nor Mindy had and the familiar smell of perfume, fruity shampoo and red wine instantly took him back ten or fifteen years, to a time before the misunderstandings and the affairs and the divorce; back to a time when they were happy.
