Free Straight Talking by Jane Green Page B

other in the world, but I’m confused, I need some space.”
    I pulled away savagely. “What the fuck do you mean, what are you talking about? This is about that bitch, isn’t it? What the fuck is going on with you and her?”
    He sighed and said what they always say, “This has nothing to do with Tanya. This is about you and me.”
    “What do you mean this has nothing to do with Tanya? You fucking idiot. Everything was fine before you met her. You’re having an affair, aren’t you? You’re fucking that thick bimbo.”
    “I’m not sleeping with her, if that’s what you mean,” he said. “We’re just friends, but she understands me. I’ll admit I was with her today, but we weren’t doing anything, we’ve never done anything, we just went out for lunch. But I talked to her about this, and she agrees I need some space.”
    I lost the plot a bit then. “You tell that fucking bitch to mind her own fucking business!” I was shouting but my voice was breaking up. I couldn’t believe this, I couldn’t believe this was happening to me, and I slowly collapsed on a chair, sobbing like a little girl, my body shuddering so hard it was physically painful.
    It was like someone had ripped out my soul and torn it in two, and to make it worse Simon knelt on the floor next to me, and started crying too. He put his head in my lap and his arms round my waist and we both stayed like that for a very long time, just crying.
    “I want to know the truth, Simon,” I said eventually. “The very least you owe me is the truth. I don’t care anymore, I know it’s over, but I have to know what happened with Tanya.”
    “Nothing, I told you,” but the nothing wasn’t as emphatic as last time, and I knew all it would take to get the full story was a little gentle pushing.
    “I’m fine now,” I said, wiping my eyes and taking a deep breath. “But I need to know. I know you’ve been having an affair, I just need to hear from you when it started.”
    “We haven’t had an affair. But . . .” he stopped and looked at his hands.
    “But what? It’s OK, you can tell me,” I said softly, encouragingly.
    “I know she’s attracted to me, and even though nothing’s happened because I didn’t want to hurt you, she kissed me. It was just once, ages ago, and nothing’s happened since then.”
    “What do you mean she just kissed you?” I was still incredibly calm, acting out my role to get as much ammunition as possible.
    “That night when I was working late, I was with her and we had been drinking and I ended up back at her flat.”
    The bastard should have stopped then. If he’d looked up from the floor he would have seen the pain in my eyes, he would have seen that he was hurting me more than anyone had ever hurt me in my life, but he didn’t. He had started his confession and he was going to finish. Or not. We’d see.
    “We were sitting on the sofa talking and she kissed me.”
    There was a silence. “What happened then?” I prompted.
    “We did go to bed, but we didn’t do anything. I didn’t sleep with her, I felt terrible. All I could think about was you, which is when I came home.”
    “So if you didn’t sleep with her what did you do? Did she give you a blow job, did you go down on the cunt? WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?”
    “Nothing,” he said wearily. “We just cuddled.”
    “And that’s supposed to make me feel better? What were you wearing, were you dressed?”
    “No, we were both naked.”
    “You fucking bastard,” and I swung at him, but I was frightened by my rage, and just at the last minute, just as my hand was about to shatter his face, I held back and merely clipped his cheek.
    “You lay in bed naked with this bimbo, cuddling her, and you think that’s OK, you think that doesn’t constitute being unfaithful?” A picture of them together flashed into my head, my beloved Simon with his arms round the blonde.
    What I did next wasn’t very dignified, but Jesus, sometimes you can’t help