Walking Back to Happiness (32 page)

‘Were you the woman who broke up his marriage?’ asked Juliet, without opening her eyes.

‘No. His marriage was breaking up when we met him at the ante-natal classes, and then it finally finished when Natasha was born. I had nothing to do with it.’

‘Really.’

‘Yes, really.’ Louise sounded offended. ‘I might have been a shoulder to cry on, but it wasn’t like that. It was about . . .’

’It never is, is it? How it looks.’

‘Don’t be like that. Do you want to know what happened?’

Juliet wasn’t sure she did, but Louise seemed determined to get it off her chest, and short of throwing her out of the van, she didn’t have much choice.

‘Peter doesn’t listen to anything I say,’ began Louise. ‘He used to, but now he doesn’t. He just comes home, demands a breakdown of the day’s events, and thinks that’s parenting. He didn’t listen when I said I was worried about taking time out. He’s not listening when I tell him . . . when I tell him I’m not sure about having another baby yet. It’s killing our relationship. Michael and I had actual, adult conversations. He made me laugh, he told me about stuff I didn’t know. I was going
mad
on maternity leave, Jools. No one ever wanted to talk to me about anything other than Toby.’

‘That might be because the one time I tried to invite you round for lunch on your own, you bit my head off and said I wouldn’t understand how totally impossible it was to go out for lunch until I had children of my own.’

‘Yes, because just getting him out of the house is such a production, and then finding a sitter, or somewhere to take him where it’s safe for . . .’ Louise paused, as the implication of what Juliet had said sank in. ‘I’m sorry if you felt pushed out,’ she said, sounding genuinely ashamed. ‘To be honest, I’ve been so exhausted I barely know what I’m saying half the time.’

It was so rare to hear Louise apologise that Juliet had to stop herself commenting on it. ‘It’s OK,’ she said. ‘So it was just talking, was it?’

‘To begin with. I mean, don’t you find he’s the easiest person to . . .’ She caught herself. ‘Sorry. Michael just made me feel like I was actually connected to the outside world again. He knew interesting things. He knew interesting people. Like Peter used to, before he started this company and turned into a workaholic computer nerd.’

Even though Juliet couldn’t see Louise’s face, she could sense the frustration seeping out of her. Louise had always itched to move in more glamorous circles than she did. Her university friend Esther worked on
Ready Steady Cook
, and Louise was always banging on about her ‘friend at the BBC’, as if she produced
Question Time
.

‘It’s all right for you,’ said Louise. ‘Ben had interesting friends. He had
friends
, for God’s sake. Peter plays online wizard games. With fat truckers in Tucson who call themselves Glwedyr the Good Witch.’

Juliet managed a reluctant smile. Ben’s sunny ability to get on with people had been one of the qualities she’d loved most about him. He
knew everyone, from the jobbing teenage lawn-mowers right up to Longhampton’s sole old-school posh family whose Gothic folly he’d landscaped. And he could chat happily to them all, in the supermarket or in the pub or in their garden.

‘It’s a good thing in a man, being able to talk,’ she said.

Was that what she’d responded to in Michael – having someone to talk to? It couldn’t just have been that. She talked more to Lorcan, and he made her laugh, and there was nothing there.

Louise was off again, letting the words spill out as if she’d never had a chance to tell anyone. ‘We tried not to talk about our home lives too much, but it was pretty obvious neither of us was really happy. I tried to tell you that time, hoping you’d say, “Absolutely, Peter’s taking you for granted,” but you went off on one. And then Ben died. I just thought, Oh my God, we could all die tomorrow, so why am I the one being good . . . ?’ She shook her head in disbelief.

Like she’s the first person who’s ever had
that
little revelation, thought Juliet. She turned to look at her sister, who was staring straight ahead as if the scene was playing in front of her on the windscreen.

‘I saw you in the hospital, sitting outside the room where they’d put Ben, and it made me wonder who I was living for,’ Louise continued. ‘Me, or everyone else? I’ve always done the right thing. Always. And where’s it got me? So I took Toby round to Mum’s, said I had a dental appointment, called Michael, and we . . .’ She stopped.

Silence filled the van like poison gas.

‘You what?’ said Juliet.

‘What do you think?’

Oh, come on, own it, thought Juliet. I’m not going to let you off the hook that easily. ‘Here?’

‘No.’

‘Where, then?’

‘Coneygreen Woods,’ said Louise, after a long pause.

Juliet swivelled to face her sister. ‘But it was October! And that place is full of dog-walkers!’

‘I didn’t know that! I don’t have a dog, do I? I wasn’t thinking of romantic locations; I just wanted to grab Michael and do all the things I’d been trying not to think about doing for months. It wasn’t a rational thought process. I just didn’t want it to be my house, or his house, or some hotel.’

Juliet sank back in her seat. She wouldn’t be able to see the woods in the same way now. Not that she could imagine Louise overcome with animal passion, half naked up against one of the oaks, but she could sort of see
him
, his shirt tugged out of his cords, his strong arms against the bark. She blinked away the image before it could take root and upset her.

‘And then what?’ she asked.

‘And then it wore off. I saw how devastated you were without Ben, and I had one of those blinding flashes about what would happen if Peter found out. I didn’t want to break up Toby’s family. I still love Peter, deep down. I didn’t want to be . . . the person I thought I was turning into. I wanted the old me back again.’

‘Is that why you went back into career mode?’

‘Yes.’ Louise studied her fingernails. ‘I’d have gone back the next day if I could, but it took quite a few months to talk to Douglas and persuade him to juggle the department around to fit me in. I’d more or less said I wasn’t coming back until Toby was at school, so he was a bit surprised when I changed my mind. I know, I know,’ she added. ‘Don’t remind me what I said about formative years and all that crap. I said a lot of things I now know to be categorically wrong.’

‘But you could have just stayed at home and kept your knickers on,’ suggested Juliet, mercilessly. ‘You could have joined a different baby group. Taken up knitting.’

Louise let out a groan. ‘It wasn’t like that. It was about
me
.’

Why am I so angry? Juliet wondered. Why do I want to punish her? Is it because she’s betrayed Peter, risked her marriage and still thinks she’s some kind of victim? I’m the one whose marriage is over and I had no choice in the matter.

‘I take it you didn’t tell Peter?’

Louise looked sick. ‘No. It’d be selfish. That’s my punishment, not his.’

‘But if you’re so unhappy about living with Peter that you’re looking around for random men to
listen
to you, don’t you think he has the right to know? In case there’s something he can do about it?’

When she didn’t reply, Juliet persisted, annoyed. ‘You can’t just wind the clock back and be the person you were before all this happened. God, if there’s one thing I’ve learned this year it’s that. Stop being such a martyr and take this as a wake-up call. Change
changes
you. You’ve had a baby. And we’ve all had a bereavement. Only a raging egomaniac wouldn’t need to stop and have a think about their life after that.’

Louise didn’t look at her. ‘That’s what I’m trying to do.’

‘By getting back in touch with your fling?’ she snorted. ‘Interesting tactic. Did you get it from the Internet?’

‘That honestly wasn’t what I thought I was doing. I thought . . .’ Louise bit her lip. ‘I don’t know what I thought. It was a crap idea. I never used to have crap ideas.’

Juliet didn’t dignify that with a response, and they sat in silence, staring at the hanging baskets of wilting geraniums clinging on to life outside Michael’s brand-new townhouse.

We must look like we’re staking the place out, thought Juliet. The two of us, in a gardening van, parked outside his front door – and we’re not even here on behalf of his ex. If it hadn’t been happening to her, she’d have found it funny.

Louise cleared her throat, embarrassed. ‘Can I . . . have the letter back?’

Juliet had almost forgotten she had it in her pocket. She withdrew it slowly. It was crumpled, and thin. ‘What did you actually say in this letter?’

‘It doesn’t matter now. I promise I’ll talk to Peter,’ said Louise.

Juliet hesitated, then handed it over. Louise ripped it in half, then ripped the halves in half, then shoved it in her bag. Her hands were trembling as she did up the magnetic fastener.

‘Just like that?’ said Juliet. ‘You came here to talk to him, but now . . . you don’t need to?’

Louise clutched her bag like a child hugging a teddy bear, her eyes staring fiercely out of the car. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I’m the one who needs talking to.’

She rubbed her fingers under her eyes to catch the smeared mascara, and belatedly, as her own anger subsided, Juliet saw how distressed her sister was. She reached over to comfort her, dislodging Minton from his perch. Juliet was still furious – with herself, with Louise, with Mike – but she could tell something was very wrong in Louise’s home, and it made her sad that she hadn’t known the half of it.

‘I’m so sorry, Jools,’ Louise sobbed into her shoulder. ‘It’s bad enough me doing this in the first place, but now I’ve spoiled it for you too. I’m such a bitch! I deserve this, but you don’t.’

‘Don’t be stupid.’ Juliet stroked her hair. ‘It was one date. Well, it wasn’t even a date. It was just a night out.’

‘Michael’s a really lovely guy. And I guess he’s definitely single now.’ Louise raised her head and tried to smile but her eyes were miserable. ‘Are you seeing him again?’

Can’t deal with this now, thought Juliet. Got to get home. Sofa.
Time Team
. Minton. Tea. Maybe even a sneaky Nytol and the duvet.

‘Let me take you back to work,’ she sighed. ‘Before the neighbours report us for stalking.’

The radio was on upstairs when Juliet opened the front door – she’d totally forgotten about Lorcan and his grouting lesson. Her heart sank. She needed to be alone to unpick the messy knots of what she’d just discovered. Right now, Juliet genuinely had no idea what she thought. It was all too weird.

Quietly, she started backing out. I’ll do a few more laps round the park, she thought, see if Hector wants an extra walk. Pretend I got an emergency call from someone with a bored Alsatian.

But Minton was halfway up the stairs before she could stop him, and about two seconds later she heard Lorcan yelling, ‘Not in the grouting! Not in the— Oh, you dim dog!’

She closed her eyes.

‘Hey, Juliet! School started forty-five minutes ago! Are you looking for a detention or what?’

His accent – funny, familiar, friendly – gave her the same sinking-into-the-sofa feeling as the opening credits of
Come Dine  With Me
.

Maybe she didn’t need to go out. Maybe it was better to distract herself with DIY. She didn’t have to discuss Louise’s weird secret life.

‘Sorry I’m late,’ she said, climbing the stairs. ‘Bit of a detour.’

Lorcan was sitting in the bath, in a Cream T-shirt covered in speckles of grouting. His arms were speckled too. As was his hair, which had curled and pouffed out in the humid air. He grinned when he saw her, and pointed at Minton, who’d jumped into the sink. ‘Your man there’s put his mark on the bathroom.’

There was a perfect small pawprint in the corner of one tile, where it joined the neat line along the bottom.

‘I can go over it later,’ he said.

‘No, leave it,’ said Juliet. ‘Like a signature. OK, where do I start?’

Lorcan seemed surprised at her determined attitude, but showed her how to pipe the grouting between the shiny tiles, talking and explaining in his easy way as she grappled with the applicator.

‘Hey, you’re good at this,’ he said, approvingly. ‘Can I get you to come and do next door?’

‘It’s just icing.’ Juliet finished the line. It was perfectly straight. It gave her a buzz to think that’d be there for years now. ‘Piece of cake. Literally. Now what?’

‘Start again up here. Gently . . . So did Spaniel Man keeping you chatting in the park?’ Lorcan asked. He sounded a bit too casual. ‘Where’s he taking you next? A recital? The ballet?’

‘No. I didn’t see him today.’ Juliet put the nozzle against the next tile. ‘Anyway, it’s not a date . . . situation.’

‘No?’

‘No.’ She squeezed and pulled, focusing on the squelch of the paste. The whole point of grouting was to fill her mind with something other than Michael and Louise, but Lorcan’s easy company was making it hard not to spill the lot.

‘He’s just a friend.’ Michael was handsome, considerate, the kind of man even Aunty Cathy would approve of, but Juliet couldn’t get past the fact that even if he’d been separated, he’d known Louise was married. He’d probably even met Peter over a breast pump.

She shook her head to get rid of the image. ‘He’s a
client
. I’m not ready for dates yet. The books say you’re supposed to wait until you’re not comparing people with your dead husband any more.’

‘Ah, the books,’ said Lorcan wisely. ‘And were you? Comparing him?’

Juliet considered. ‘It was more that he was very
unlike
Ben than like him. Cerebral. In a suit. Maybe that’s just as bad. Going for the polar opposite.’

‘I’m no expert –’ Lorcan busied himself cleaning a smear of grouting off the last tile – ‘but I don’t think you ever stop comparing, when someone’s made that sort of impact on your life. It’d be more weird if you could just wipe your mind clean, if they’ve meant something to you.’

Juliet glanced over. Lorcan seemed rather guarded. ‘Are you speaking from experience there?’