A Conspiracy of Faith Read Free

you,” he added, as though it could ever be a comfort. “We are only us two at the moment. Rose did not fancy it, so she is off on a long weekend. She’ll be back later on today, though.”
    They might just as well have kicked him in the gonads.

2
    She had sat staring into the candles until they burned out and darkness wrapped itself around her. It wasn’t the first time he’d left her on her own, but he’d never done it on their anniversary before.
    She inhaled deeply and got to her feet. Lately, she’d given up standing by the window to wait for him, had stopped writing his name with her finger on the pane as it steamed up from her breath.
    It wasn’t as if there had been no warning signs the time they first met. Her best friend had had her doubts, and her mother had told her straight out. He was too old for her. There was something shifty about him. A man you couldn’t trust. A man you couldn’t fathom.
    So now she hadn’t seen her friend or her mother for a very long time. And for that reason her desperation increased while her need for human contact was greater than ever. Who could she talk to? There was no one there.
    She gazed into the empty, orderly rooms and pressed her lips together as the tears welled up in her eyes.
    Then she heard the child stir and pulled herself together. Wiped the tip of her nose with her index finger and took two deep breaths.
    If her husband was being unfaithful, then he would do well not to count on her.
    There had to be more to life than this.

    He came into the bedroom so silently only his shadow on the wall gave him away. Broad shoulders, arms wide open. He lay down and drew her in to him without a word. Warm and naked.
    She had expected sweetness, but also well-considered apologies. Maybe she’d been afraid of the slight scent of some strange woman and guilt-ridden hesitation in all the wrong places, but instead he grabbed hold of her, turned her roughly onto her back, and began greedily to tear off her nightclothes. The moonlight was in his face. It turned her on. Now the waiting, the frustration, the worry, and the doubt were all gone.
    It was six months since he’d last been like this.
    Thank God, at last.

    “I have to go away for a while, sweetheart,” he said without warning over the breakfast table, stroking the child on the cheek. Distracted, as though his words didn’t mean anything.
    She frowned and pursed her lips to keep the inevitable question inside for a moment. Then she put her fork down on the plate and sat with her gaze fixed on the scrambled eggs and bacon. The night had been long. It was still with her, an ache around her pelvis, but also the kisses and cuddles when they had lain there spent, gazing warmly into each other’s eyes. Until now, it had allowed her to forget all thought of time and place. Until now. For at this moment, the pale March sun forced its way into the room like an unwelcome guest to illuminate the facts. Her husband was going away. Again.
    “Why can’t you tell me what you do? I’m your wife. I won’t tell anyone,” she said.
    He sat with his cutlery half-raised. His eyes grew dark then.
    “Seriously,” she went on. “How long am I supposed to wait this time for you to be like you were last night again? Are we back to where we were before? Me not knowing what you’re up to, and you hardly being present, even when you’re here?”
    He looked at her with piercing eyes. “Haven’t you known from the start that I can’t talk about my work?”
    “Yes, but…”
    “Well, then. Let’s leave it at that.”
    His knife and fork clattered against the plate, and he turned toward their son with something supposed to resemble a smile.
    Her breathing was steady and calm, but despair surged inside her. It was true enough. Long before their wedding, he had explained to her that he was unable to speak about what he did. He might have hinted it was something to do with intelligence, she couldn’t really remember anymore. But as