Chapter 1: Gemma

Gemma had decided to share the story online, though she prefaced every post with the same careful warning: this was not something easily forgiven, and she sincerely hoped no one would imitate what she had done.

She was thirty-four now. The events had taken place years earlier, in the summer of 2005. Born and raised in Peterborough, she stood five foot two with fair skin and a fuller figure that measured thirty-four, twenty-six, thirty-six. She had married Josh at twenty-eight. After the wedding they moved south and built a modest semi-detached house on the outskirts of London. Life felt happy enough. Their intimate moments were satisfactory, though Gemma privately acknowledged that Josh’s endowment remained modest. She never spoke the comparison aloud; she feared it would wound him.

Four years into the marriage Josh received a promotion. The salary rise was substantial. The drawback arrived with it: frequent overnight stays at project sites beyond the city. Gemma offered to travel with him. Her own position as a public relations officer for a mid-sized firm anchored her to London. As his absences stretched longer their shared nights dwindled. Her appetite, however, only sharpened. Whenever Josh returned they went several rounds until he collapsed, spent and smiling.

Then came the day she would never forget: the first of June 2005. Her mother telephoned to say that Dad—Nat—would be attending a seminar in London the following day and wished to stay with them for three nights. Gemma assured her it was no trouble. “Our home is yours, Mum. Why aren’t you coming too? I could take you shopping.” Her mother explained she was tied up with commitments and asked Gemma to look after him. Gemma promised she would. She rang Josh to tell him. He sounded disappointed; he was due to leave for another site the next day and would miss the chance to share a pint with his father-in-law.

The following morning Gemma collected Nat from Heathrow. They spotted each other across the arrivals hall. She waved. He approached with his familiar smile. “Hello, love.” “Hello, Dad. It’s been ages—how are you?” They chatted lightly while she drove him home. On the motorway she asked why he had not taken the hotel his company had booked. He said he preferred their company to the usual post-seminar drinks with colleagues. “I’m getting too old for late nights,” he added with a small chuckle. Gemma glanced across and teased him. “You don’t look old at all, Dad. If my colleagues saw you they’d think I was out with a wealthy gentleman.” They both laughed. Inside her chest a sudden flush of embarrassment rose at her own words.