Amends

Jerry watched his wife, her hesitant hand gestures and nervous tongue wetting her lips as she explained how it could have happened. How she forgot to take her birth control or mixed them up with her vitamins or her migraine tablets, and even though they had agreed when they got married that they wouldn't have children, that perhaps this was a blessing in disguise.

She talked very fast and repeated herself, her eyes darting in his direction and looking away. It was strange seeing her like this. She was usually a very confident speaker, comfortable talking in any situation; large crowds, off the cuff. Her work required it and she was very good at her job. But it wasn't her out-of-character flustered speech that perturbed Jerry, it was that she was obviously lying.

It was not a hard thing to identify, especially for Jerry who had been trained to spot the telltale signs. The deliberate ambiguities, the emphasis on particular details that couldn't be verified, the apologetic confusion of dates and times. He realised she had been lying to him for some time but he hadn't noticed. It wasn't some kind of superpower that triggered whenever in the vicinity of a falsehood. It required focusing on a target and observing. He had never tried to assess his wife in such a manner because he had decided when they got married that he would trust her.

The relief of finding someone you didn't have to worry about stabbing you in the back was the whole point of marriage. And in this beautiful, accomplished, smart woman he had found someone around whom he could be at ease. Apparently he had been mistaken.

"Aren't you going to say anything?" Cynthia asked him.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, hunched over so his arms rested on his knees. "Who's the father?"

She blinked. "Is this really the time to be making jokes?"

"Cyn, I can't have children. I had a vasectomy a long time ago."

She said nothing for a long time, keeping perfectly still, and then shook her head as though waking herself up. "You never said anything."

"No, I didn't. You said you were on the pill to regulate your periods and that you didn't want to have children. I didn't have anything to add."

Her jaw tightened and he could tell she was stopping herself from wetting her lips.

"But sometimes... sometimes it still can... it can still..."

"I have it checked every medical. Which I have every six months. But even if that wasn't the case, it's very obvious you're lying and, for some reason, trying to convince me to raise someone else's child."

He looked at her with flat clarity in his eyes. She knew he had regular medicals twice a year for his work. She put her hand to her mouth and sobbed, just once, and closed her hand like she had caught it. She walked towards the bed and sat down next to him.

Jerry rose at the same time and walked over to the dressing table.

"Who is he?"

"It's not like that."

"I don't know what it's like. Who is he? Someone from work, I assume. You don't really have the opportunity outside of work."

She looked up at him with angry, accusing eyes, at his indifference, his refusal to let her explain. She looked down at the white carpet.

"It was the trip to Stockholm. He got me drunk. Very drunk. I think he put something in my drink, I'm not sure. I blacked out, didn't remember what happened. I woke up in his hotel room. He had videoed it." She looked up at him to gauge his response. His response was the same--flat and impassive. "The things I did with him, I've never behaved like that. Would never..." A look of revulsion spread across her face. "I looked happy. Euphoric. No one would believe I wasn't acting willingly."

"I would have believed you."

Her face paled. "I was stupid. I was humiliated and ashamed and confused. He made demands and I... I thought if I bought myself some time, I'd be able to come up with something, some way..."

He nodded like he understood but his eyes were still cold.

"I understand what you're saying. I see the position you were in. I believe you. But that's only until you agreed to help him come after me."

Her head shot up. "I didn't. I would never."

"You agreed to get pregnant. You agreed to convince me it was mine. He already got you to betray me but he wanted more. He wanted you to see me as his helpless victim. And you agreed to help him."

"I was the victim," she screamed at him. "Me. You're blaming me."

There was no reaction from Jerry. "Yes. He was to blame for what he did to you, and you're to blame for what you did to me. I get it. You were traumatised, confused, easy to manipulate. He's clearly good at handling people in that condition. But when he came after me, none of that should have mattered. So what if you were humiliated or embarrassed or ashamed? So what if he had a knife to your throat? You should have been ready to lay down your life before you let anyone touch me, let alone do it for them. I would have for you. That's why I married you."

She put her head in her hands. "I made a mistake," she said between sobs. "I was stupid. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." She lifted a tear-stained face towards him. "Please."

She waited for a response. He seemed to be thinking. Finally, he lifted his head and looked out of the window.

"When I was a kid, five or six, I was terrified of spiders. Just fell apart when I saw one, you know? Screaming, running out of the room. Then one day my sister was lying on the floor, on her back, and a spider crawled across the carpet towards her. I just grabbed it in my hand, squashed the life out of it. I can still remember how disgusting it felt, but I had no choice. Me or my sister. Had to be me."

"You never told me you had a sister."

"No. She died a long time ago."

Cynthia had never seen such a pained look in his eyes and she felt wretched and ashamed for making him relive something so painful.

"What's his name?"

She held his gaze but said nothing.

"You're sorry but you're still trying to think of a way to protect him." He shook his head.

"No. I just. I don't want you to do anything you're going to regret."

He almost smiled but it faded into a disappointed frown. "What I do is hardly any concern of yours, is it? You can't protect someone you put in the line of fire yourself."

She turned her head away. "Harry Brunswick."

"Address?"

She looked back at him, this time startled.

"Cynthia, I have his name and his place of work, do you think it would be hard for me to find out for myself? I was just hoping you might make things a little easier for me after making them so bloody hard."

His eyes were so very disappointed, she couldn't stand it. She told him the address. He nodded once and then walked out into the lounge. She followed him, moving quickly.

"What are you going to do?"

"It's probably better you don't know, don't you think?"

He took his jacket from the closet by the front door and put it on.

"Can I trust you not to call him? I don't really want to have to tie you up until I come back."

His words confused her, like he was making a joke she didn't understand. Then she realised he wasn't joking and that he was quite capable of doing as he said.

"I won't call him. Ever. Whatever happens, I'll stand by you. Please believe me."

He raised his eyebrows like he had no idea what she was blabbering on about. She wasn't sure either.

"Stay here. I'll be back in a few hours." He picked up the car keys from the dish by the door and left.

Cynthia stood there for a while, her mind blank. Then she went around the marble-topped island into the kitchen area where she poured herself a large glass of red wine. She went around the island into the lounge and sat down and put the glass on the coffee table. The enormity of what she had done hit her all at once.

She couldn't understand it, how she had gone from that horrible night to this moment. How she went from victim to accomplice. What she had done was horrifying but it had happened so slowly, in such incremental steps, that she had only ever focused on each step as she took it. The moment Jerry had exposed the lie, it was like the blinkers had come off. Like Jerry said, the moment his safety became compromised, she should have done whatever it took to protect him, including sacrificing herself. And she didn't. And there was no way to justify that.

Jerry returned at a little past three in the morning. She was still sitting in the same place, the glass of wine untouched. She started when the door opened and then a sense of relief washed over her.

He dropped his keys in the dish and took off his jacket. The right sleeve of his shirt was stained brown. A deep reddish brown. Her heart jumped in her chest.

"What did you do?" she whispered.

He looked her way but didn't say anything. He took off the shirt as he stepped into the kitchen half of the room and put it in the washing machine. He started taking off his other clothes.

"Jerry."

"You don't have to worry about him anymore." He stuffed all his clothes in the machine and searched the cupboards for washing powder.

"Above your head."

He found it and added some to the washing machine drawer. "Quite a collection of videos he had. I wonder what happened to all his other conquests."

Cynthia's hand went to her chest. Her heart was beating madly.

"Anyway, at least that's taken care of." He started the machine completely naked. "What do you plan to do?"

"About what?"

"You're pregnant, aren't you?" He was just standing there, his faded tattoos and his various scars which he had a different story for each time she had asked about them.

It took a moment for her to understand what he was asking her. "You want me to get rid of it."

"It's not what I want that matters." His tone was light, all the more unsettling for the lack of anger he had every right to.

She looked at the floor. "If I get rid of it, will you..."

"Again, it's your choice, it's got nothing to do with me."

"Oh, like you'd be happy for me to have it."

"I didn't say that. Once you tell me what you want to do, I can make my decision about what I want to do. I mean, I don't blame the kid."

She laughed mirthlessly to herself. "It's hardly a choice, is it? I keep it and it's over. I get rid of it and..." She looked at him questioningly.

"And nothing. This isn't a negotiation. If you keep it, yes, I won't be too keen on continuing our relationship. If you don't, I'm not sure, probably still won't be too keen. I don't know what I did or didn't do as a husband to make you treat me the way you did but I'm pretty sure I didn't deserve this. Have a think about it. I'm not trying to pressure you and I'm not making you any promises. You finally get to make your own decision."

He walked past her naked and into the bedroom. The shower started.

Her decision. That was rich. Her only hope of salvaging anything was to have an abortion. And even if she did, there was no guarantee. Why was she even considering keeping that bastard's child? She remembered how he had got her to agree to come off the pill. He had made it sound so fulfilling as he had slowly fucked her and whispered in her ear. A win-win. She would have the child she always wanted and Jerry would be a wonderful father, just as she always knew he would be. She hadn't even realised she wanted a child until that moment. He had made it seem like it wasn't his decision, it was hers. Just like Jerry was doing.

No. She was being unfair. Jerry wasn't the one instigating, he was reacting to what had already happened. He was just protecting himself. He wasn't attacking anyone the way Harry had attacked her and made her attack him. And he wasn't covering up his intentions with honeyed words and false promises. She picked up the wine glass and went over to the large window that looked down at the city lights.

After some time, Jerry reemerged in jogging bottoms and t-shirt, his short hair still wet.

She turned from the view. "Will you give me a chance to make this right?"

"Go to bed. You've got work in the morning."

"I'll call in sick."

"No, don't do that. It's important you turn up and act like nothing's happened."

"And how am I supposed to do that?"

"The same way you did it with me. I've got to get some work done." He went down the hall to his office and closed the door.

She stood motionless for the longest time. Then she put the empty glass down in the kitchen and went to the bedroom. She removed her makeup and brushed her teeth. She took off her clothes and got into bed. When the alarm rang at six, she was still awake.

After she showered, she did her hair and makeup just like any other day. She dressed and made sure she looked presentable in the wardrobe mirror. The least she could do was not draw any unwarranted attention, to herself or to him. Whatever had happened last night, she owed him her wifely support. And he was right, she had put on a flawless performance when she wanted to mislead him, could she in good faith do any less on his behalf?

When she arrived at work, everything seemed very normal. Her secretary greeted her and started listing her meetings. Cynthia cancelled some, moved others, asked for a coffee and some phone calls to be scheduled. After about an hour or so, she wandered over to Harry's office and saw his secretary looking a little lost.

"Is he about?" she asked, poking her head through the door.

"Actually, no. To be honest, I don't know where he is. Can't get hold of him."

"Oh. Well, tell him to give me a call when he gets in."

She went back to her office and then took an early lunch.

The clinic wasn't far. The procedure didn't take very long. Suppositories that would take a few hours to do their work. She returned to the office and took care of some calls. She finished up early and went back to the clinic where she sat on a commode for thirty minutes until she got the all-clear. She cleaned herself up and went home.

Jerry was still in his office with the door closed. She considered making herself some food but wasn't hungry. She sat on the leather armchair and waited. He knew he didn't like to be interrupted when he was working. The office was full of screens that required his full attention or lives could be lost.

He emerged about an hour later and the living area was dark. He turned on the light and she blinked at him.

"I did it. I got rid of it." She knew it sounded like she was offering him a dead baby like it was a token of her regret but it was hard to make it sound like anything else. "What now?"

He pursed his lips and shook his head like he had no idea. He poured himself some wine and a glass for her and set it in front of her. He took a seat opposite on the settee.

"It's all still very raw for me." He took a swig and emptied half the glass. "I'm not sure you could count on anything I said right now."

"I know it was my mistake. He's to blame but I handled it about as bad as I could. I acknowledge that. I accept that. I was wrong. I'm sorry. You don't know how sorry I am." She paused to let him speak but he just took another sip. "I don't know what to do. Please, tell me. I'll do anything."

"Don't you just want me to take his place? I tell you what to do and you do it and nothing is your fault. You're just following orders."

"I just need a little guidance, that's all, Jerry. A hint. Just give me a hint if it's even possible. I'm lost right now."

He looked at her with no expression.

"Sometimes, we send in an operative, some piece of shit we need to keep an eye on. Send them in as a mistress, whore, something that suits his tastes. Tough job. They see it all, the executions, the rapes, the darkest things imaginable, and somehow they get turned. They fall for the fucker, warn him he's being watched. Fuck up the whole operation. I don't know, there's something in the female psyche makes them vulnerable to a powerful cunt." He shrugged, looking into the middle distance. "Not always, but when they fall, they fall hard. Some sort of thrill, a rush, maybe. I don't know." He turned his head towards her. "The thing is, even if we gave it another go, you've learnt your lesson, won't make that mistake again, forgive and forget... one day, middle of a perfectly pleasant fuck, a memory will pop into your head. It's the extreme stuff that lingers. Something he did, something particularly nasty or cruel, and it'll turn you on. You'll be ashamed of yourself, embarrassed. You'll say nothing and bury it, but it'll keep coming back. And other flashbacks. More guilt. And you keep burying them and they keep coming back, eventually it finds a way to leak out. Another guy finds you, or you find him."

"So I'm just damned for eternity? No way out?"

"Well, it is possible to supplant those memories. Replace them. But in order to do that, the new memories have to be even more extreme."

Cynthia nodded. "You make me do even worse things until his pale by comparison."

"I don't make you do anything. It's up to you to replace your memories, it's not about me taking over from him. I'm not going to threaten you or coerce you or make deals with you the way I assume he did. You choose what to do and if you succeed or fail it's down to you. And only if that's what you want to do."

"You keep asking me what I want to do, what do you want to do?"

"I don't know. I keep questioning if I was wrong to trust you, or if that was the right thing to do and I was just unlucky. " He shook his head and dragged his fingers through his short hair. "It's quite a debilitating thing to face, such a clear example of bad judgement. Do I have to reassess every relationship now?" He stood up. "Work helps me keep distracted, stops my brain screaming at me for not seeing it coming. I don't know. I didn't want to watch you for any signs. I guess that was my mistake."

He walked back to his office and she watched him go. She had never seen him struggle before. It was one of his most impressive qualities, his ability to make a snap assessment of any situation, and she had taken it away from him. He had allowed her to be a vulnerability and she had punished him for it. She dropped her head and cried properly for the first time since he'd found out.

She went to work the following morning as normal. She sat down at her desk and asked her secretary for coffee.

"Any news on Brunswick?"

"Nothing," said her secretary. "They've moved Sally to the third floor."

"So his office is up for grabs?"

Her secretary smiled. "I'll look into it."

How easy was it for her to lie? She didn't even have to think about it, she knew just what to say to make herself seem just like herself, and not the mess raging inside her head. Clearly she had chosen the wrong profession. As an actress she would have been drowning in Academy Awards. She sipped her coffee and tried to think of something that would bring her husband back to her. She had to show him she was worth trusting again.

The day proceeded like any other until just before lunch when a police officer asked for a few minutes of her time.

She introduced herself as Detective Lane and her rather gruff partner as Detective Cole. She was a smartly dressed woman in her thirties, brown hair brushed straight and piercing grey eyes.

"So you haven't heard anything from Mr Brunswick?"

"No. Is he really missing?"

"Hard to say at this point." The detective smiled mechanically.

Cynthia could see the woman was fishing. She had spent enough time in depositions and contract negotiations to be able to read a bluff hand.

"But it isn't normal to start looking after only a day, is it? You must suspect something." She leaned across her desk, all curiosity and on the hunt for gossip.

"Actually, the family asked us to look into it." Detective Lane appeared mildly embarrassed.

Harry came from old money. He had connections. His family had even more. It made sense that they would use them if one of their own disappeared.