Don't Be Afraid by Daniela Sacerdoti Page B

kitchen while I cooked dinner with what I’d found in the cupboard.
    The feeling he was up to something – that he was trying to tell me something, and he was waiting for the right moment – was growing stronger by the minute. This is what happens when you’ve been married for eight years: you start reading each other’s minds. I waited.
    â€œI need to speak to you,” he finally said.
    â€œI knew it.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œI knew you had something to tell me.”
    â€œI found someone. For you, I mean.”
    My stomach knotted. I should have been grateful he was trying to help me, but I was scared, scared that my painstakingly created routine would be upset and that I would have to confront my demons. Terrified of change. Terrified they would make me do things I was terrified of.
    Terrified, full stop.
    â€œA therapist? A Skype therapist?” I took a deep breath. “I might think about it . . .” I said quickly. I knew it’d be no use, but I would do it, if it were asked of me. If it got everyone off my back.
    â€œNo, it’s not a therapist. You look exhausted, love,” he said, stroking my cheek. “Let me make you a cup of tea and then I’ll explain.”
    â€œI’ll make it,” I said, filling the kettle while a pot of pasta boiled on the stove. It was all so . . . normal. Like nothing untoward had happened. Like our lives hadn’t been turned upside down by what I’d tried to do.
    Making dinner. Drinking tea. Quiet domesticity.
    And the abyss of my mind ready to open, ready to swallow me.
    â€œYou know the way I’ll be out for work a lot,” Angus began.
    â€œYes.”
    â€œAnd you’ll be on your own.”
    â€œYes. But you think I can’t be trusted.”
    â€œWell, it’s more that . . . I can’t relax if I don’t know you’re okay, and you don’t answer the phone, and anyway I can’t be texting or emailing, I’ll be working . . .”
    â€œBut you don’t need to worry about me,” I said, and the absurdity of it hit me. I’d just tried to swallow enough pills to end it all. But sure, he had nothing to worry about.
    How could I convince him I would never try it again? That I would never put him through that again? That I was relieved I was alive?
    â€œWell, I do. I do worry about you. A lot. So Torcuil and I found someone to be with you.”
    â€œHere? In this house?” I felt a cold finger travel down my spine. My hands were shaking, all of a sudden.
    â€œYes. Her name is Clara. She is coming tomorrow . . . She’ll just be spending time with you, that’s all. See that you are okay.”
    I turned my back to him, holding the counter with both hands while the kettle clicked. “No.”
    â€œBell . . .”
    â€œI said no!”
    â€œOkay, fine.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œI said fine. You don’t want strangers in this house, you manoeuvred things so that you wouldn’t get visits from the Crisis team or whatever it was called . . . so it’ll be me keeping an eye on you. I’m leaving my job.”
    I turned around to face him. “You can’t leave your job! And it’s not just a job ! It’s your life!”
    â€œWell, I don’t have to work for the orchestra. I’ll just tell them no, teach music somewhere.”
    â€œYou can’t!”
    â€œYes, I can. I have to.”
    â€œPlease don’t. I couldn’t bear it . . .”
    â€œThen meet this woman.”
    â€œThis is emotional blackmail!”
    â€œNot exactly. It’s just that I love you. It’s as simple as that. And I won’t leave you alone, not when you’re in this state.”
    Silence. Mutinous on my part, angry on his.
    â€œBell. I lied for you. So that you could have things your way. Now please will you do this for me!”
    â€œLook. Fine, okay. But only when you’re not around. And