The Other Woman Read Online Free PDF

same look as when she’d found that magazine – if she saw some of the stuff that people got hold of, she wouldn’t …
    So, he had stopped going out on Fridays, and had missed his little bit of excitement, though that had been more than made up for by what had happened since. Tonight, however, he had gone out – he had received a call when he got home, inviting him to the do at the football club. He had asked Frances to come with him, but she had refused. Which was, as things had turned out, just as well.
    There were tears in his eyes. He had thought he hated his life, but he didn’t. He didn’t. It was important to him. He looked at his wife, who had been watching television when he had come in, and hadn’t turned her head; neither of them had spoken. They had long ago abandoned conversation. But Frances was important to him, and he had to work out what to do now, if he wasn’t to lose everything.
    The phone rang; Lionel stiffened, and tried to marshal his wits.
    â€˜That’s the phone, Lionel,’ said his wife.
    He looked at her. ‘I know it’s the phone, Frances,’ he said, but still made no attempt to move.
    â€˜Would you like me to—?’
    â€˜I would not’
    â€˜Aren’t you going to answer it?’
    She looked older than he did, though she was three years his junior: he still had a full head of curly brown hair; she had started going grey in her thirties.
    â€˜Yes!’
    He wondered if she should try that hormone replacement business. He closed the door to the sitting-room, and picked up the phone, his heart beating hard.
    â€˜Lionel?’
    His heart somersaulted with relief. ‘Yes – is that Melissa?’
    â€˜Yes.’
    He didn’t often get a call from Melissa Whitworth. He always rather got the impression that she tried to avoid him. He had never been so glad to hear anyone’s voice, because it wasn’t the one he had been expecting.
    â€˜I … I was just wondering … is Simon working late again?’
    He was having difficulty taking in the words. ‘Sorry, Melissa? I didn’t quite catch that.’
    â€˜Simon,’ she said. ‘I phoned the office, but there was no reply.’
    â€˜No, there wouldn’t be,’ Lionel said, unsure of what to say. ‘Sharon closes the switchboard at five.’
    â€˜Doesn’t he usually have a line through to his desk when he’s working late?’
    â€˜ I don’t know!’ he snapped, relief giving way to anger.
    â€˜Why does he have to work late so often anyway?’ she asked. ‘I never see him. It’s after nine o’clock.’
    Lionel had more than Melissa’s sensibilities to worry about. ‘ I’ve no idea,’ he said. ‘Why don’t you ask him?’
    â€˜I would if I ever saw him.’
    The dialling tone hummed in his ear; he replaced the receiver, and stood for a moment in the hallway, trying to sort out what he was going to do.
    Perhaps nothing was the wisest course.
    Judy had tried to reason her way out of the inevitable row which she had failed to stave off, but it hadn’t worked. She hardly participated in the rows; she would defend herself from the more outrageous accusations, but she couldn’t find the words to combat his, and she wouldn’t want to use them if she could. She didn’t want to hurt him back.
    And yet it seemed that she did, all the time, without trying. So he tried all the harder to hurt her, and it worked. She didn’t know if what he said stung because it was unwarranted or because it was true. She didn’t want to know; she just wanted him to stop.
    This was the final phase, when the accusations would come in short bursts between the long silences, like a sniper just letting the enemy know he’s there in case they’ve forgotten their predicament. One such came now.
    â€˜Don’t be silly,’ she said tiredly, in response to the