The Last Letter from Your Lover

briefly of the dented one in his study, shimmering with broken glass. ‘The point is, Laurence, that you’ve punished me day after day, let me punish myself. What did I ever do to you to deserve that?’
    He threw a match into the ashtray. ‘You know very well what you did.’
    ‘You let me think I’d killed him.’
    ‘What you thought has nothing to do with me. Anyway, as I said, it’s history. I really don’t see why—’
    ‘It’s not history. Because he’s back.’
    That got his attention. She had a faint inkling that the secretary might be listening outside the door so she kept her voice low. ‘That’s right. And I’m leaving to be with him, Esmé, too, of course.’
    ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’
    ‘I mean it.’
    ‘Jennifer, no court in the land would let a child stay with an adulterous mother – a mother who can’t get through the day without a pharmacy of pills. Mr Hargreaves would testify to the sheer number you get through.’
    ‘They’re gone. I’ve thrown them away.’
    ‘Really?’ He consulted his watch again. ‘Congratulations. So, you’ve made it a whole . . . twenty-four hours without pharmaceutical help? I’m sure the courts would find that admirable.’ He laughed, pleased with his response.
    ‘Do you think they would find the lung-disease file admirable, too?’
    She caught the sudden rigidity of his jaw, the flash of uncertainty.
    ‘What?’
    ‘Your old secretary gave it to me. I have the name of every one of your employees who has become ill and died over the past ten years. What was it?’ She pronounced the word carefully, emphasising its unfamiliarity. ‘ Me-so-the-lio-ma .’
    The colour drained so quickly from his face that she thought he might pass out. He got up and walked past her to the door. He opened it, peered out, then closed it again firmly. ‘What are you talking about?’
    ‘I have all the information, Laurence. I even have the bank slips for the money you paid them.’
    He wrenched open a drawer and rifled through it. When he straightened up, he looked shaken. He took a step towards her so that she was forced to meet his gaze. ‘If you ruin me, Jennifer, you ruin yourself.’
    ‘Do you really think I care?’
    ‘I’ll never divorce you.’
    ‘Fine,’ she said, her resolve strengthened by his disquiet. ‘This is how it will be. Esmé and I will take a place nearby and you can visit her. You and I will be husband and wife in name only. You will give me a reasonable stipend, to support her, and in return I’ll make sure those papers are never made public.’
    ‘Are you trying to blackmail me?’
    ‘Oh, I’m far too dim to do something like that, Laurence, as you’ve reminded me countless times over the years. No, I’m just telling you how my life is going to be. You can keep your mistress, the house, your fortune and . . . your reputation . None of your business colleagues needs to know. But I will never set foot in the same house as you again.’
    He genuinely hadn’t realised she knew about the mistress. She saw impotent fury spread over his face, mixed with wild anxiety. Then they were smothered by a conciliatory attempt at a smile. ‘Jennifer, you’re upset. This fellow reappearing must have come as a shock. Why don’t you go home and we’ll talk about it?’
    ‘I’ve lodged the papers with someone. If anything were to happen to me, he has his instructions.’
    He had never looked at her with such venom. Her grip tightened on her handbag.
    ‘You are a whore,’ he said.
    ‘With you I was,’ she said quietly. ‘I must have been, because I certainly didn’t do it for love.’
    There was a knock at the door and his new secretary walked in. The manner in which the girl’s gaze flicked between them was a banner of extra information. It boosted Jennifer’s courage. ‘Anyway, I think that’s all I needed to tell you. I’ll be off now, darling,’ she said. She walked up to him and kissed his cheek. ‘I’ll be in touch. Goodbye, Miss . . .’ She waited.
    ‘Driscoll,’ the girl said.
    ‘Driscoll.’ She fixed her with a smile. ‘Of course.’
    She walked past the girl, collected her daughter and, heart hammering, opened the double doors, half expecting to hear his voice, his footsteps behind her. She skipped down the two flights of stairs to where the taxi was still waiting.
    ‘Where are we going?’ said Esmé, as Jennifer hoisted her on to the seat beside her. She was picking her way through a handful of