Free The Long Weekend by Clare Lydon Page A

was just approaching 40? Vic had sleepwalked into being such a cliché it made Stevie gasp at times. But something had to give in order for sanity to prevail and Stevie knew she held the trump card. Plus, Vic’s constant graciousness and apologetic gestures were frankly getting on her tits.
    Stevie decided on a run to shake herself into the right frame of mind for the day. She eased herself out of the bed, being careful not to wake Vic, and pulled her running gear from the case. Then she slipped quietly down to the kitchen which was still home to the debris from the night before, the port glasses and cheese plates perched on the counter top. Vic and Kat had been putting the world to rights last night over some Stilton and Tawny port, leaving no subject unturned.
    After a glass of water, Stevie headed back out into the hallway where their coat collection was hanging like a still-life painting, shoes neatly lined up underneath along the skirting board. She pulled on her trainers, clicked the front door shut and strode up the drive, turning towards the sea, glistening and infinite.
    Her shoelaces weren’t quite tight enough, so Stevie squatted and retied, then rolled her neck from one side to the other, flexing her hips into the bargain, then stretching her arms. She arched her back, looking into the sun until its glare made her squint. Should she go back for her sunglasses? She could squint it out this once . She set her training watch to 00:00 and slowly began to run.
    Stevie never thought she’d become one of those running types, but that’s exactly what had happened. She had a best time for a 5k and a 10k but was yet to go for more than that – she worried her knees might cave in if she did. For her, running wasn’t about doing a marathon or competing with others – she just loved having the time to herself, thinking about her life, running through her day.
    Throughout this whole sorry mess, running had been her constant companion, even more so than before. It cleared her head and had stopped her from strangling Vic on more than one occasion.
    This morning, as she ran round the back of the house and towards the coastal path, she stopped to take in its majesty. As far as the eye could see, cool blue water shimmered in the morning sun, its surface dimpled by the wind. But although it was sunny it was still April, and the wind needled at her legs, wrists, neck.
    Stevie took a deep breath and set off to her right, the dusty path kicking up as her feet connected. The air was incredibly cleansing here, so removed from London. What was it she breathed in at home? In Devon, the air was packaged with an extra shot of freshness, the faint hint of manure coating it.
    As she ran on, daffodils lined her route and blossom spilled itself in the heady breeze. She grinned as she felt her stride click in, her body begin to settle and her mind was finally released. Today, she recalled the day after Vic’s infidelity, the hurt she’d felt. Not even three years married, but nearly ten years together and this was what they’d become.
    ***
    When she’d found out, Stevie had fled back to her native Liverpool, back to the family home, and had lain in her mum’s spare room, wondering why her, why now? She’d have stayed there too if her mum hadn’t made her get up and face the problem head-on. Mrs Wright was not one to pussyfoot around.
    First, Stevie’s cousin Dave had appeared and dragged her out for a night on the town, trying to get her to snog random women in a bid for revenge – but Stevie was not one to play games.
    Then, while she suffered through her hangover the next morning, her mum reminded her she’d taken an oath. For better or for worse, she was now committed to Vic, come what may. Had her mother brought her up to throw in the towel so easily? She had not.
    So, after letting Stevie wallow for a few days, her mum had given her a stern talking to and packed her bags for home, with instructions to talk and sort the sorry