Chapter 39

I hear a babble of voices coming from upstairs the moment Tom pushes the front door open. There's a faint smell of popcorn in the air, too. I glance at my watch. It's almost eleven. I'll have to go up and tell Georgia to switch the TV off shortly, or politely ask Daisy to turn down the volume. We don't want Mr Stanhope banging on our door, complaining about the noise.

‘Bit loud, isn't it?' Tom comments, picking up on my tension. We kick off our shoes in synchronisation.

‘It is a bit.' I slip my black heels next to Georgia's red trainers, the same shade as Mrs Anderson's stilettos. Her tight expression in the back of the taxi loops in my mind. Our cab pulled up just as I approached Tom at the taxi bay. With the phone pressed against his ear, he ushered me into the back of the cab urgently, miming Sorry. Nick from the practice. Naturally, I didn't want to disturb his important conversation about Mr Horsham's glaucoma, so didn't get a chance to quiz him about Mrs Anderson. Thinking back, Tom was chatting heartily with her companion as if she were invisible, and she did seem a bit edgy, bored, impatient to leave. Did Tom meet Mrs Anderson for the first time tonight? They do say we've got six degrees of separation. It could all be a huge coincidence.

‘We don't want old Stanhope on the warpath, do we?' Tom groans, and I agree, remind him that he's called noise pollution at eight in the evening in the past. Wrenching up my dress, I slip out of my tights, and just as I open my mouth to ask him about Tina Anderson, his eyes slide to my thighs. Unbuttoning his shirt slowly, from the bottom up, he takes in the length of me. I shoot a glance at the upstairs landing. A sound of howling, followed by screaming travels down the stairwell. They must be watching a horror film. Tom is still undressing me with his eyes. Surely, he's not going to seduce me in the hallway. One of the girls could pound down the staircase at any moment. Catching us at it could traumatise them for life.

‘Come here,' he says, voice low.

What's got into him? He's not usually this frisky, not of late anyway. It's that 14% volume wine he guzzled at The Stage. My eyes drop to his torso – not gym-toned by a long shot, but sexy all the same. Tom suddenly stops undressing and pulls me to him. I inhale his scent. Warm, familiar, spicy. ‘We can't,' I breathe, ‘not here. Let's go upstairs.'

‘Where's the fun in that?' he whispers, backing me up against the banister. ‘God, it's been ages…'

‘We can't do it here,' I murmur, as he gently guides me towards the staircase. ‘The girls.' We gaze at each other, drunk on lust, and then I feel the softness of the stair carpet on the back of my thighs. Parting my lips with his warm tongue, we kiss hungrily. My eyes close, Frank's face darts into my mind, his breath on my lips, hands on my arms, and then the TV amplifies, followed by the thump of footsteps on the landing.

‘Stop,' I pant, pushing him off me. ‘We've got a houseguest, a teenage daughter upstairs.'

Tom looks at me for a few moments, breath hot against my face. ‘Yes, yes. You're right,' he says, suddenly snapping out of his lustful zone. We pull apart, dishevelled, heart racing. ‘Sorry, I got carried away,' he says, to the backdrop of a loo flushing, and, with a hand through his messed-up hair, he grins and backs away slowly, fastening his shirt with one button, before disappearing into the kitchen.

Bending down, I tidy our shoes in a neat line against the wall. Above me, footsteps stomp on the landing, followed by the clamour of a door closing, drowning out the sound of the TV. It was Georgia needing a wee. Daisy's got an en-suite.

I ruffle my hair as I study my reflection in the silver framed hallway mirror. I barely recognise the woman that is staring back at me. How can I feel thirty-five yet look like this? My skin is dry and dull. My cheeks have puffed out and my jowls seem more prominent in this harsh lighting. Turning to the side, I pinch the fat around my middle. I've put on half a stone since I quit the gym. My spare tyre is back with a vengeance. I joined Serval because I had low self-esteem and wanted to get into shape. I now look even worse. I'm surprised Tom still finds me desirable. Blood rushes to my face and I have to look away from my reflection.

I've got to sign up with another gym, find myself a decent personal trainer this time. Maybe a woman who will knock me into shape. Tom won't mind now that he knows how important it is to me. We agreed after Frank, no more secrets. I bite my bottom lip. I still haven't told him about Liam, though. If he finds out what happened from someone else it'll end us. I will lose everything – my home, my family, my life. I can't let that happen.

Fuelled with Dutch-courage, I yell out Tom's name. There's a shuffle of footsteps and then he appears, staring at his phone, half his shirt hanging out of his trousers. ‘Tommy,' I say, and he looks up at me. ‘We need to talk.'