3

STAR

H

is words don’t even register. I shake my head. I can’t have heard right. “What?” “Oh, darling,” he croons. “Don’t look at me like that. You know I can’t take it.”

“What are you talking about, Nigel?” I ask slowly. “I’m an addict. I’m addicted to gambling,” he mutters. “Gambling?” I repeat stupidly.

He nods, a pained expression on his face. “What? At work?”

“No.” He exhales loudly. “In casinos.”

I stare at him blankly. Nothing makes sense. We’ve been to a casino once. Two years ago. We sat together at a blackjack table. Nigel refused to play, but I did. He looked on with a slightly disapproving expression as I played three rounds and gleefully collected my winnings. Three hundred pounds. “But you don’t even like gambling!”

He runs his fingers through his hair. “I like it too much.” “Since when?”

He shrugs. “Recently. It started off as just a little fun, small amounts, letting off some stress. You know the intense stress I’m under in the city.”

“Stress?” I echo.

“You have no idea how much stress I have to cope with at work. It wrecks you.”

“What? I begged you to leave your job, but you insisted that you thrived on the high-powered stress. Your exact words were, ‘Thank God stress is not a woman, or I’d have to fuck her.’ So don’t you dare tell me that you started gambling because of the stress.”

“Well, whatever the reason was, I started gambling, okay,” he cries. “It’s not really my fault. I was only gambling small amounts. Everything would have been fine if this stupid guy at work didn’t tell me about a place where we could make a killing. That’s where it all went wrong. I was so sure I’d get it all back. I was so close to winning, Star. You don’t know how close. If only I could have had another chance …”

“I don’t believe this,” I whisper to myself. “I wanted to tell you.”

I gaze into his eyes. There is a hint of recklessness in them. The ability to put everything on one throw of the dice. I wonder why I never noticed it before. “So why didn’t you?”

“I was afraid. I didn’t want you to love me less. I love you so much, Star.” “Who do we owe this money to?”

Something flashes in his eyes. “You don’t owe anyone, Star. It’s me and only me, who owes this debt.”

“No, everything that happens to you, happens to us.” My voice sounds louder, more secure. I can already feel my backbone straightening with steely determination to make it right. I’m like my Nan. When bad things happen, I pick myself up, dust myself off, and I’m ready to carry on with the journey. Yes, it’s a setback to my lovely plans, but we’ll work through it. We’ll get professional help for Nigel to beat his addiction. We’ll get back on our feet in time.

“We’ll sell this house. There must be more than enough equity in it by now to cover that debt,” I say. He drops his eyes guiltily.

“What?”

“There’s no equity in it,” he says quietly.

“How can that be? We’ve had it for five years.” He looks at me beseechingly. “I remortgaged it.” “You remortgaged it without telling me?” I gasp. He drops his eyes again and nods slowly. “Christ, Nigel.”

“I know. I know. I fucked up.”

I just cannot believe what I am hearing. “What about our savings account? We still have that. Right?” “No.” His voice is so quiet it is a whisper.

My hand flies up to cover my mouth. “The apartment you bought for me in Spain?” He screws his eyes shut. “Sold,” he says in an anguished voice.

“How could you sell it? It was in my name?”

“I forged your signature,” he admits, looking ashamed.

I press my palms to my temples. This can’t be happening. Closing my eyes, I take slow breaths through my mouth. When I open my eyes, I will wake up from this nightmare. In, out. In, out. I lift my eyelids. My husband is staring at me with that I’ve-been-a-naughty-little-puppy-but-please-don’t- scold-me-cause-that’s-what-we-puppies-do expression. I feel sick. I should be angry, but I must be too shocked, because I don’t feel anything.

He reaches out a hand and touches mine, and I feel that first flare of boiling rage. He refused to let me work because he said it was his job to take care of his woman, and look what he has done. I snatch my hand away.

“Jesus, Star. Don’t pull away from me.”

“What the hell did you expect from me after you tell me you’ve been living a life of deceit, and you’ve gambled away every last bit of wealth we had?”

“Maybe if I thought you would have reacted differently I would have told you about my problem sooner.”

My eyes widen. “Are you trying to blame me for your gambling habit?” I explode incredulously.

“Of course not, but if you weren’t such a paragon of virtue it might have been easier to confide in you.”

I gasp at the unfair accusation.

“Do you know how difficult it is to confess an addiction to someone as blameless and perfect as you are? You have no vices, no weaknesses, no bad habits at all. You don’t drink, you don’t swear, you don’t smoke, you don’t gamble, you don’t tell lies, fuck, you don’t even watch porn.”

I shake my head in disbelief. “You selfish bastard. How dare you blame me for being a good and loyal wife to you?”

He opens his mouth to argue and I raise my hand. “I don’t want your money. You earned it. You want to blow it all away. Go ahead, but we were supposed to have a baby next year.”

He starts as if he has completely forgotten that we’ve earmarked next year as the time we start our family. As if he doesn’t know that I’ve already began to paint the little bedroom next to ours yellow.

“I gave up my independence because you said I’d want for nothing. You promised we could start a family next year. How could you do this to me?” I shout.

“I’m sorry, Star, I never meant to hurt you.”

“Well, you have, Nigel. You’ve stuck a knife in my heart.”

“Hell, Star. I know I messed up bad, but I’m trying to be straight with you now. You’re right, I was a selfish bastard. You’re too good for me. I know, I don’t deserve you, but please. I don’t want to argue with you. I don’t blame you at all. You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I want to tell you everything. No more lies. No more secrets. Please, Star. Everyone deserves a second chance.”

I try to rein in my growing anger. Instead of recriminations I should be trying to help. We need to talk. To work this out. This is bigger than my hurt or anger. “Okay, let’s talk.”

“You have no idea how fucking sorry I am. I wanted to just end it all last night.”

I take a deep breath. The shock of his words makes me feel almost light-headed. He actually thought about ending it all. Leaving me here to carry on without him. I look at him with new eyes. In a few minutes, my whole world has been turned inside out, everything I believed has been proved to be lies.

He looks back at me sadly. “But I knew that I would only be leaving you in a bigger mess because the money has to be paid back. One way or another.”

“Who do you owe the money to, Nigel?” My voice sounds distant, calm, rational, even though I feel as if we are standing at the roof edge of a sky-scraper in high winds.

He pauses and clasps his hands so tightly, his knuckles become white. When he speaks, there is an odd expression in his eyes. “Nikolai Smirnov.”

My brow furrows. “Who is he?”

His eyes narrow. “You don’t know him?” “Why would I know him?” I ask, confused.

His mouth turns down at the corners. It’s a strangely sulky expression, and my brain notes it with surprise.

“You tell me,” he says.

“Stop playing games, Nigel. What the hell are you talking about?” I ask, barely holding onto my temper.

“Maybe you know him by a different name? Russian, tall, at least six feet three or four. Broad, very fit

—”

I shake my head impatiently and interrupt him. “I don’t meet men. You know that. Why would you think I would know him, anyway?”

He makes a dismissive movement with his head. “Forget it. He’s the owner of the gambling club I was telling you about before. I’ve met cold bastards before, but he fucking takes the cake.”

My eyes widen. “Did he threaten you?”

His voice is bitter and a touch frightened “Yes, he wants his money. I told him I’d get it somehow. I just needed a bit of time, but he had his men grab me and hold me down on a smelly pool table. You don’t know how terrified I was. He came close to breaking my hands with a fucking hammer.”

At that strange, surreal moment, I feel no love in my heart for my husband. He seems like a stranger. Someone I never knew. Someone who just smashed my wonderful life into a thousand pieces. “Why didn’t he, then?”

He looks down at the table and his hands become fists. “Because …” That coldness in my heart grows. “Because what, Nigel?”

Tears crawl down his cheeks. “Because he wants you.”