I Know Everything About Her
Who was that calling?
Matthew started, nearly dropping his phone.
No one. Just another cold caller…
Victoria didnt look up from the cucumber she was slicing for the salad. That was the third cold caller tonight. An interesting figure, for someone who always complained nobody ever phoned him except for his mother or the delivery man.
Matthew tucked his phone into the pocket of his jeans and walked over to the fridge, though it was obvious he had no idea what he wanted. He stood there, peering into the shelves as if he were searching for the answer to some riddle of the universe. In the end, he closed it without taking anything.
Dinner will be ready in twenty minutes, Victoria said.
Alright.
He disappeared into the lounge, and a moment later, the television blared into lifeeven louder than usual, far too much for their little flat. Victoria smirked to herself, chopping in rhythm.
…A week after the odd phone calls began, Matthew started coming home late. At first, it was just one evening. Then two in a row. By the end of the month, he was strolling in at nine nearly every night.
Its the new project, he would explain, taking off his shoes in the hallway. The client is nervous, my managers climbing the walls.
I see.
Victoria would place his reheated dinner in front of him and sit opposite with a book. She never asked for details, never wondered aloud about which project this could possibly be or why it required such overtime. Matthew seemed to expect questionsperhaps he rehearsed answers as he walked home. But when none came, he looked lost, unsure what to do with his carefully planned excuses.
Arent you angry? he asked once, nudging a fork at his half-eaten shepherds pie.
About what?
Well… me always being late.
Victoria turned her page.
Work is work.
He nodded, quite clearly dissatisfied with her calm. Liars never seem at ease when you believe them without question.
The gifts began appearing in early December. Earringsnot for a birthday, not even for an anniversary, just because. Then a silk scarf purchased from a boutique theyd passed on many a Saturday, to which Victoria had never shown the slightest interest.
Youll like it, Matthew said as he proffered the box. I thought it would suit your beige coat.
Victoria unwrapped it, trailing her fingers over the soft material.
Its lovely.
Do you really think so?
Of course.
She tucked the scarf away in her wardrobe, alongside things she seldom wore. Matthew looked relieved, a brittle kind of happinesslike a man whos been granted forgiveness before hes even confessed.
Money trickled away easily, almost carelesslya new television, though their old one worked perfectly well; a fancy coffee machine, which Victoria had only ever mentioned in passing; tickets to a theatre show with the best seats in the house.
Victoria thanked him for everything, always with a gentle smile, while quietly piecing together the clues: the scent of foreign perfume at the collar of his shirt. Messages he read in the bathroom while the tap ran noisily. The new habit of placing his mobile face down.
…The Christmas do was held at a restaurant overlooking the Thames. Victoria wore the beige coat and silk scarfMatthew absolutely beamed at the sight. His colleagues bustled around buffet tables, people had begun offering toasts.
Anna approached while Matthew popped off to fetch drinks.
Could I borrow you for a moment?
They wandered to the window, away from the clatter.
We barely know one another, Anna began, fidgeting with her handbag strap, but my husband works in Matthews department.
I remember.
Its just Anna unlocked her phone gallery. Last week, I was in the city centre. Saw this entirely by chance. Sorry, I wasnt sure whether I should show you or not.
On the screen, Matthew had his arms wrapped round a dark-haired woman. The next picture, they were kissing outside a restaurant.
Victoria studied the photos. Her face remained smooth and calm.
I know how this must look, Anna rushed on. Like Im meddling, but I thoughtyou ought to know.
Thank you.
Are you… alright?
Yes, thank you.
Anna gave a hesitant nod.
I wont tell anyone. Not even my husband, I promise.
I appreciate it.
Matthew returned, holding two glasses of champagne. Victoria took hers as usual and smiled politely. He didnt notice a thingfar too dazzled by the hunt for a tray of canapés.
They rode home in silence. Matthew put on the radio, humming along, while Victoria watched lamplight slip past the window and pondered how people are afraid of being caught out, yet leave footprints wherever they go.
Nice night, that, Matthew said, parking by the building. Did you have a good time?
Very much.
She took her time going up. The weeks rolled on, the same as ever: breakfasts, quiet dinners, idle chat. Matthew kept working late. Victoria kept quiet.
The gifts did not stop: a gold bracelet for New Years, a spa membership, freedom to spend however much she pleased on redoing the kitchen. Victoria accepted it all with grace.
Then, in January, the bank transfers began. Smallish sums£150 here for a massage, £200 for a facialist, £300 for new boots.
Mum, Ive sent the money, shed say.
I can see that, love. Her mother, Margaret, never asked why. Victorias voice on the line told her enough. Everything will come right in the end.
I know.
Victoria regaled Matthew with stories of Day Spas, boutiques, private clinics. Hed nod absently, never bothered by the figures. What did it matter, after all, how costly each session was, so long as his guilt could be bought for any price?
Posh handbag, he noticed once, catching the branded carrier in the hall.
Italian leather.
Its beautiful.
The bag had cost only £30 in the January sales. The other £470 went to her mother. Matthew didnt know the differencetruth be told, hed stopped noticing anything but his phone and the endless meetings.
Margaret put away the money in an account under her own name. Victoria hadnt explained, yet a mothers instinct needed no explanation. Something was brewingsomething serious.
Why dont you come over for the weekend? Margaret would ask.
Not yet, but soon.
Victoria quietly drained the family savings: English lessons shed never taken, a fitness club that didnt exist, a fancy dentist no one needed.
Matthew agreed to every expense, eager as a man paying off his tab in advance. Each transfer, another indulgenceone more stone in the wall of his peace.
Do you need anything else? hed ask of an evening.
Ill order that bedding set tomorrow, theres a special deal on.
Of course.
He never asked what shop, what deal. All too easy to fool someone drowning in their own lies.
By late February, the joint account held only eight pounds and forty-three pence. Victoria checked the balance one morning while Matthew showered. She looked at the number and closed the app.
That night, she made his favourite fishcakes and laid the table in the lounge rather than the kitchen.
Whats the occasion? Matthew asked, puzzled.
Sit down.
He sat. Victoria remained standing.
I know about her.
Matthew froze mid-bite, his face draining from pink to grey in a moment.
About who?
Dont, Matthew.
His fork clattered on the plate.
How… how did you
It doesnt matter.
He tried to rise, but his legs wouldnt move. Victoria watched, calm and nearly indifferent. After so many months preparing for this moment, she felt nothing now but tiredness.
Vicky, I can explain
No need.
It was a mistake, I
Ill be filing for divorce tomorrow.
Matthew gripped the edge of the table.
Wait. Please, lets at least talk about this
No.
Victoria turned and left for the bedroom to pack. Matthew stayed behind, staring at the cooling fishcakes, the game finally over and lost.
Margaret had the door open before Victoria could knock.
Ive made stew. The bed is ready.
Victoria hugged her mother there on the doorstep. For the first time in months, her shoulders unclenched and she felt the weight lift.
Thank you, Mum.
Eat first. We can talk after.
The divorce was quick and quiet. Matthew didnt argue; he had the flat now, and the account was already empty. There was nothing left to share.
Victoria signed the papers with a light heart. No bitterness, no revenge. Only relief.
…Half a year passed with Margaret in a blink: work, novels, long rambles down the same old streets she knew by heart. Then, one day, the estate agent called with good news.
One-bedroom in a brand new building. Within your budget. Would you like a look?
Victoria did.
The mortgage was approved in a weeka sound credit history, steady job, and that same down payment from the last of their old savings.
She picked up her keys on a bright August day. The weighty bundle sat comfortingly in her pocket.
That first night, she stayed on an inflatable mattress in the empty flat. The furniture was set for delivery in the morning but she didnt want to wait. She stared up at the blank ceiling, thinking about how long the year had felt.
No regrets. No ‘what ifs.’ Only silence, scented with fresh paint and new beginnings.
Victoria smiled to herself in the darkness.
In the morning, shed brew coffee in her brand new pot, and drink it gazing out her window. Then, slowlyone step at a timeshed start to make this place her own. Methodically, as she had planned her escape from a marriage built on lies.
Patience and calculation. Thats what had brought her here, and thats what would carry her forward.
