Falling in Love Again (9 page)

11

ALISON

‘I’m afraid it’s true.’

Brian’s pale eyes (singularly unattractive in a man!) were milky with sympathy across the table of the expensive Italian restaurant he had insisted on taking her to, when she had rung after Ross’s revelation.

A talk is all I need, she’d tried to say but somehow she’d let herself be talked into a full blown dinner by her husband’s partner. It had been hard enough to swallow a piece of toast since David had walked, let alone anything else. How ironic that she’d been trying to lose that extra half stone for years and now it had fallen off her. She must be at least a size twelve now.

‘I should have warned you perhaps.’ Brian’s voice had always got on her nerves with that rather squeaky tone. At partners’ dinners, she had tried her best to be polite but now she suddenly had this terrible compulsion to scream.  To shout that she didn’t want his sympathy. Just the facts.

‘I don’t understand.’ She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. ‘You and David signed a partnership contract. He can’t just get out of it.’

‘That’s exactly the point.’ Brian leaned towards her and she could smell his breath. Ugh! ‘There was a get out clause, allowing one of us to terminate the partnership after fifteen years.’

‘But what happened to the money he put into it?’

Brian shrugged. ‘He took out his agreed share.’

Ross’s words came back to her. He’d gone abroad. That was where he was going to spend it. Bastard! Alison didn’t do anger. Perhaps it was because her own parents had been placid people; the kind who never had an argument. But now she was beginning to feel something warm and hot rising up through her chest. ‘And what about this woman. Primrose?’

Brian coloured. ‘Ah, you know about her, do you?’

‘For God’s sake, this isn’t a guessing game.’ She pushed away her bowl of mushroom tagliatelle, suddenly feeling revolted by it. ‘This is my marriage, we’re talking about. A marriage that lasted nearly thirty years until six weeks ago. I need to know what happened.’

‘All right.’ He squirmed uncomfortably on his seat. ‘I’ll give it to you straight. Primrose was on secondment from another firm to help David with a case on . . .’

‘Fuck that.’

The words shocked her – and, she could see, him too. ‘What did she look like? Was she married?’ Did they have sex in the office, she wanted to add. How long had it been going on for?

‘Skinny, actually.’ Brian looked as though he’d just tasted something rather unpleasant. ‘Wore shapeless tops and trousers. Thinnish hair and frankly, very boring. None of us could understand what he saw in her.’

She pounced. ‘So everyone knew they were having an affair?’

He was playing now with his napkin nervously. ‘They did spend a lot of time together and go out to dinner to discuss the case. It set a few tongues wagging to be honest.’

‘How long? How long was this going on for?’

‘Almost as soon as she joined, actually.’

When had that been? Exactly when
had
David mentioned – casually, oh so casually – that a woman from another firm was helping him with a case that was proving quite complex. But she’d been busy with Jules; desperately trying to nag her into working so she could get her grades, at the expense of neglecting her own husband so even when she’d met this Primrose (the name stood out which was why she remembered it) at the company dinner, she still hadn’t twigged . . .

‘You mustn’t blame yourself, you know.’

Oh God. He was trying to hold her hand now, squeezing it reassuringly. Immediately, she pulled it away but – heavens! – he was hanging onto it, staring at her with something odd that she hadn’t seen before. ‘You’re an attractive woman, Alison.  And I love the way you’ve done your hair. Different isn’t it? Shorter but very chic especially with those dangly earrings. You’ll have men queuing up round the block before long if you don’t have already . . .’

Scraping back the chair, she signalled madly at the waiter for her coat. ‘I’m sorry Brian. But I have to go.’

Caroline, of course, had roared with laughter when she called as soon as she got in. ‘What – that awful man with sandy hair and gold-rimmed specs? The one you had over to dinner last year when I’d just left thingamajig?’ Her sister frequently forgot the names of men she took up with and then promptly disposed of.

It had been a small dinner party, Alison recalled, where her sister and Brian could talk if they chose with enough guests – four others – to divert them if they didn’t choose. Indeed, they’d plumped for the latter option.

‘How could he possibly think I fancied him? The only man I want is David.’

‘Maybe he didn’t. Fancy you, that is.’ There was a slurping sound down the phone, suggesting her sister was having her usual evening glass of wine. ‘Perhaps he was trying to boost your confidence.’

‘Thanks.’ Alison plonked herself on the bottom step of the stairs; her favourite position. Somehow, sitting on a sofa seemed too comfortable for this kind of conversation.

‘Just goes to show what can happen, though doesn’t it, Alison? Splitting up is all about moving on. Creating a new image. Like your hair. Ever thought of having a makeover?’

‘No.’

‘Don’t say it like that.’ Her sister’s voice softened. ‘Listen, why don’t you come over to my place. Ross has gone now, hasn’t he?’

Too true. The silence around her was screaming in her ears. So too was the tidiness. For years, she had despaired over the wake of clothes, dirty plates, newspapers left on the floor . . . But now, with everyone gone, things stayed clean when she cleaned them. Everything was in its place. Even Mungo, sleepy in his basket, who didn’t like his evening walks now the cold nights had set in.

‘The problem,’ said Caroline as though reading her mind, ‘is that you’ve got a double whammy. Divorce and empty nest. And that reminds me, I’ve got the name of a good lawyer when you’re ready.’

‘I’m not.’

‘Alison, none of us are. But you have to get real. Have you got the house on the market, now it’s been valued?’

‘No.’ Wildly she looked around at her lovely hall with its black and white tiles and ornate mirror over the pine chest. The mirror that she and David had bought in France all those years ago. It was bad enough losing her husband. Bad enough not having the children around – Ross hadn’t been able to get back to his flat fast enough the other week, having delivered his message. But she wasn’t losing her home too.

‘It’s what happens, I’m afraid. When I . . . ’

Alison let Caroline’s words drone on. There was something at the back of her head. Something that that man Ed had said at the meeting. It was when he’d said that his lodger had got him to come along. That was it! His lodger!

‘How much would one pay for a room in a house, nowadays, do you think?’

‘A room? Come on Alison, you could do better than that. You should be able to afford a two-bedroom flat once you’ve split the house although granted, it might not be in such a desirable area.’

‘I mean how much could I charge if I rented out the children’s rooms?’

‘You can’t do that! Where would they go?’

Alison was already climbing the stairs, the cordless cupped between her shoulder and ear, and wandering round first the spare room, then Ross’s and then Jules’s. ‘It’s not as though they come home much, is it? I’d keep Jules’s room of course for the holidays.’

Onto their room. David’s wardrobe. Throwing the doors open, she yanked at each coat hanger, flinging it on the floor.

‘What’s that noise, Alison?’

‘I’m having a sort-out.’

His suits. All of them. And that Pringle jumper she’d given him last Christmas. On the floor. Onto Oxfam.

‘Can’t you do that when we’re not on the phone? I hate it when you don’t listen.’

When
she
didn’t listen?

‘I think renting a room to a stranger is a crazy idea. You don’t know who you could get.’ Her sister’s voice went quiet for a second. ‘You could come and live with me. I’d quite like the company. Alison? You still there. You seem to be breaking up - and I’m not just talking about the reception, darling.’

Alison flung a rather nice blue and white striped Jermyn Street shirt onto the bed. How could she possibly live with her sharp-tongued sister? She’d always been glad she could give each one of her children their own room. She and Caroline had shared until Caroline had gone away to university and it was an experience which still haunted her. That awful lack of privacy! The fuss her sister had made when she, Alison, had wanted to read at night and Caroline had insisted on playing loud music.

‘That’s very kind,’ she said, flinging the pile of clothes over the stairs before returning to the kitchen. ‘But I think we’re both a bit too old for that, don’t you?’

‘Maybe.’

As if in agreement, Mungo made a snorting noise.

‘What’s that?’

‘The dog.’

‘Thank goodness for that.’ Her sister giggled. ‘For a minute, I thought you’d brought this Brian home with you after all!’

‘No way.’

That was odd. Mungo was making another strange noise from the corner of  the room. A low gurgling at the back of his throat. And his eyes! The dark irises had sort of disappeared up the top of the whites. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong . . .

‘Caroline, I’ll ring you back.’

Hands shaking, she desperately tried to remember the vet’s number. There it was. On the kitchen blackboard with everyone else’s number, including David’s mobile.  No-one would be in at this time but there’d be an emergency number.

Sitting next to Mungo – that weird, hollow, rasping sound was getting louder – she waited impatiently for someone to pick up. ‘Please. I need some help. My dog’s not well . . . ’

12

KAREN

Karen frowned. ‘How many jigsaw puzzles was that again?’

The woman sighed at the other end of the phone. Not surprising. Ever since Hayley had delivered her bombshell, Karen hadn’t been able to focus at work. For the first time in her life, she could hardly look at Adam, knowing they each had a secret to hide from the  other. His was only a small one in her view. Redundancy was nothing compared with ending a life. A life which her son didn’t even know existed.

Even holding the pebble didn’t help.

‘Forty three puzzles,’ the woman repeated. ‘1000 pieces each except that one has got 986 and another, 974.’

What kind of lives did these people live? Who in heaven’s name, had the time to sit down and count out the number of pieces in a puzzle that would only fetch a fiver or so and would be better off down at the charity shop. How would a puzzle-counting woman like this cope with the kind of problems that she and her group were facing?

‘They’re pretty.’ The woman’s tone was defensive as though she could hear Karen’s thoughts. ‘And there’s a roll up mat so you can move the puzzles around.’

Puzzles! Everything in Karen’s life had suddenly become a puzzle all over again. Just after she’d taken such care to get it straight. She felt so muddled about everything now and that business over Ed hadn’t helped. Her mind shot back to the coffee she’d had with him and that tall, leggy blonde who had swept by in her sports car to scoop him up afterwards. She only hoped he was going to turn up at tonight’s meeting after her warning not to jump into another relationship too fast.

The meeting! That reminded her. She couldn’t be late.

‘Right.’ Her fingers flew across the keyboard. ‘Got it now. Forty three puzzles. 1000 pieces each. Two incomplete (slightly). Phone number?’

‘Best give you my mobile. I don’t often get to my landline in time.’

Karen tried not to groan with frustration. She didn’t have time right now for a chat.

‘My daughter’s not right, see. Thirty two she is. It’s not easy getting her in and out of the wheelchair any more. But she can do jigsaws! My, how she can do jigsaws. That’s what I keep saying to the doctors. I mean, if she can do 1000 piece jigsaws like that in less than a day, she’s got to have more up there than they’re giving her credit for. What do you think?’

Karen walked home that night, in need of air even though it was nippy. The woman with the disabled daughter had thrown her. As had Hayley and Adam. She’d always thought they were a perfect couple. But a wife (she saw them as married even if they weren’t) who kept a secret from her husband, choosing instead to share it with her mother-in-law? That wasn’t good.

‘Hi, Mum. How was your day?’

Adam was already in the kitchen making tea. He did that sometimes, using the spare key he still kept after moving out to Hayley’s parents’ house. ‘Earl Grey or builder’s?’

‘Builder’s please.’

Don’t say anything she told herself. Let him tell you.

‘Don’t you want to know why I’m not at work?’

Her heart fluttered. At last! He was going to tell her about his redundancy!

‘It’s because I’ve got a new job! Fantastic, isn’t it? I’ve just been for the interview and they told me straight away.’ His face shone. ‘The money’s almost twice as much. Maybe now we can get a place of our own or have another baby.’

Karen felt physically sick. ‘What does Hayley say?’

Adam handed her a slightly chipped
Best Grandma in the World
mug. ‘Haven’t told her yet. She had to go to the doctor this afternoon. Nothing serious. Just a tummy pain she’s been having.’

Maybe, Karen told herself as she cuddled Josh on her knee in front of children’s television, Hayley’s ‘tummy pains’ were nothing to do with It.  Perhaps she’d changed her mind. Maybe . . .

‘Here she is!’ Adam’s face was pink with excitement as he leaped up to greet his wife. ‘Hayley!  You’ll never guess what’s happened.’

One look at Hayley’s ashen face told Karen all she needed to know. Those scared hazel eyes which said – just for a second – that it was all over now and whatever you do, don’t ask me about it or tell Adam.

‘What?’ Hayley sank down onto the sofa next to her, reaching out for her son. To Karen's embarrassment, Josh remained firmly in her lap. ‘Want Gran-nan.’

‘Please yourself.’ Hayley leaned back, closing her eyes. ’What are you trying to tell me, Adam?’

‘I’ve got another job! And the money’s fantastic! We could have another . . .’

Karen couldn’t just stand by and listen to this. ‘She’s not well, Adam. Look.’

In a second, he was by her side. ‘Sorry, love. I wasn’t thinking. What did the doctor say?’

‘Something about the time of the month.’ Hayley still had her eyes closed. She could remember that, thought Karen. Remember the time when it was easier to close your eyes.

Karen reached out for her hand. ‘Bit heavy is it, love?’

Hayley opened her eyes, shooting her a grateful look. ‘It is rather. In fact, I think I’ll go to bed if you don’t mind.’

Adam hadn’t understood of course. Men didn’t, in her experience. Periods were something you didn’t talk about even if they were actually secret abortions.

‘She didn’t congratulate me,’ he said, when they had finished off a bottle of something fizzy between them – something she really shouldn’t have done what with the meeting that night. But goodness, had she needed it!

‘Hayley’s not well, love.’

‘You don’t understand.’ He hesitated. ‘I was made redundant, Mum. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to worry you. But it really upset us especially as we wanted to try for another baby. And now I’ve got a really great job. I thought she’d be pleased.’

‘She will be. Give her time.’

But now, as Karen made her way to the Memorial Hall – better hurry or she’d be late! – she wasn’t so sure. Before leaving, she’d looked in on Hayley in Adam’s old room with his posters still on the wall. ‘You won’t tell him, will you?’ was all she’d said and Karen had shaken her head quietly.

But it didn’t feel right, telling lies. Not right at all.

‘Hello?’ A tall, rather gawky man in his late fifties with rimmed spectacles was hovering by the gate. A purple aura over his head, which indicated he was in need of healing. ‘Is this the right place for the Divorce group?’

‘It is but  . . .’

‘Thank goodness for that. I kept ringing the number in the paper but it was the wrong one – did you know that? – so then I rang the classified ads section and they told me where it was being held at and at what time. But I couldn’t make the first meeting because I was in the States on business and so I thought, well, I’ll just come along to the next. Hugh’s the name by the way. Hugh Gregory.’

All this was said in one long breath without so much as a flutter of a pause so Karen was unable to chip in. But now he’d stopped, her immediate reaction – which was to have said that it was too late to join the course – changed. To say he looked desperate, wouldn’t have been overdoing it. Despite his well-spoken voice, there was something raw in his eyes which screamed out shopping for one in Tesco and lonely nights in front of a dull DVD.

‘Of course you can join,’ she said kindly. ‘And don’t feel too nervous. We’re a friendly lot. Tonight’s meeting is called Moving On. Why don’t you come on in?’