by Pamela Fudge
He was silent then, perhaps realising for the first time that he had gone too far. We ate without speaking for a while, and normally that would be fine, but all enjoyment in the food, delicious as it had been, had completely gone for me and there was a tension in the air that could have been cut with a knife.
In the end Stuart gave up first. He pushed his plate away and said, ‘I know what you’ve said, Evie, but you must admit, it is pretty hard to swallow the fact that you and Owen lived together for fifteen years – fifteen, Evie – and I’m expected to believe that nothing of a remotely intimate nature ever happened between you.’
‘Do you know,’ I said, placing my knife and fork neatly side by side on the plate and then throwing down my napkin beside it, ‘I actually expect you to believe whatever it is you damn well please, Stuart. It’s actually not my job to convince you. I don’t even care anymore what you believe, because you obviously choose not to believe me. Why on earth would I lie about such a thing? Why? Tell me that.’
Challenged like that Stuart didn’t seem to know what to say.
‘what exactly are you expecting from me – a confession? Why would I feel the need to confess to you about something that – even if it was true – is quite clearly in my past? Why would I bother to hide it if Own and I did have a sexual relationship all these years because, Stuart, that would be absolutely none of your business.’
‘So you did,’ he began, looking ridiculously pleased to have scored some sort of point.’
‘Do you know what?’ I said, finally exasperated beyond bearing, ‘Think what you like, because I really couldn’t care less. Waiter?’ I raised my hand and my voice, Can we have the bill, please?’
‘Oh, no, Evie, don’t be like that.’ It seemed to dawn on Stuart, rather belatedly, that he might just have completely overstepped the mark. ‘Look, I’m sorry, really sorry. Please sit down. Come on, you must admit it is a hard story to swallow.’
I sat down, though it was the last thing I felt like doing. I was angry, hurt, very, very disappointed and extremely sad that something so promising was falling apart right in front of my eyes, and all for no good reason as far as I could see.
‘As I’ve already said, I couldn’t live with you for fifteen days without trying it on,’ Stuart said in an extremely feeble effort to turn the whole sordid thing into a joke that he must know I was never going to find the least bit funny.
‘Well,’ I said emphatically, ‘as I’m sure I’ve said before, I think that says far more about you than it does about Owen, and I’ll ask you again, who on earth would I feel the need to lie about mine and Owen’s relationship to you or anybody else? It would have been far easier over the years to just let everyone think what they liked – just as most of them did. Instead we tried to be totally honest and risk being pooh-poohed because it seemed important to us, and even more to our children, that we tell the truth no matter what.’
‘OK, OK, I’m prepared to accept that you’re telling the truth because, after all, as you’ve said, why would you lie?’ Even as Stuart spok I could tell that he was the one who was lying, but I could no longer be bothered to challenge him, especially when he continued: ‘It’s not just about Owen, though, is it? Although I have to say he never seems to be off the doorstep these days and I find that concerting enough. I’d have thought you had enough to do with the five children but, as I said before, now there’s Arthur and even his son whom you’ve taken under your wing.’
I decided not to throw the very recent contact with my family in Australia into an already complicated equation, or even the thawing of relationships with the neighbours in the close, but just said mildly, ‘Don’t you have any friends in you life, Stuart?’
He laughed shortly, ‘Well, I don’t collect them like you do, that’s for sure. What I would like to know is when you are going to find time for your writing and time for me?’
‘Things will settle down, especially now the children are more or less off my – our – hands. Real life often means squeezing things in and some things have to take priority over others at times. That’s life – especially family life, I’m afraid.’
‘It’s not my life,’ Stuart said bluntly, and I realised then that it was over between us. All I could feel was an over-whelming and immense sense of relief.
The journey home wasn’t comfortable and I had the feeling that Stuart was surprised – even shocked – when I didn’t immediately offer promises to give more time to our relationship, or indicate that I would make a bigger effort to become what he wanted. The truth was that I came with a family and friends, with responsibilities, that I couldn’t – and wouldn’t – just ignore, and I wasn’t going to apologise for that.
I gather Gizmo into my arms as soon as I had closed the front door behind me, and I told him, as I fended off a frenzy of licking, ‘I’m surprised he didn’t complain about the amount of time I spend with you, Gizzie. You know what, little one? Somehow I don’t think I will miss him very much, after all, but I am going to miss you.’
It wasn’t horrendously late, since the evening with Stuart had been abruptly cut short, so I clipped on the little dog’s lead and made my way to the park. It was well-populated with dog-walkers, and I felt quite safe. I knew I was going to miss Gizmo’s company a lot, not to mention the regular walks, though it was good news that Arthur was in fine fettle and returning home tomorrow as good as new.
‘Ah,’ a familiar voice behind me said, making me jump a little, ‘I thought I would find you here as soon as I realised the dog was missing.’
‘Checking up on me, Owen?’ I said lightly, but for once it didn’t bother me, probably because I’d finally accepted that he just cared for me, the same way I would always care about him.
‘Not at all, I’d been out for a pint with Ron and saw that your lights were on when I dropped him off. Back early, aren’t you?’
‘Mmm,’ I agreed, shortly and without comment, but he obviously picked up on something: maybe the negative vibe.
‘It’s not us, is it – me and the children causing a problem? Especially me, actually, now I think about it, because I can understand that not many guys will want an ex hanging around.’
‘But strictly speaking you’re not an ex, are you, given the fact we’ve never been in a relationship,’ I pointed out.
‘Try explaining that,’ he said with a hint of bitterness.
‘Oh, I have, believe me, I have.’
‘You, too, Evie? Ilm so sorry.’
‘Do you know what?’ I stopped suddenly and turned to him in the middle of the path. Gizmo had been trotting ahead but now he gave up on sniffing a tree and came running back to see what was going on. ‘You have absolutely nothing to apologise for and neither do I. What we’ve had all these years has been great and we’ve had the happiest of time – despite the perhaps unusual circumstances.
‘After all,’ I went on, ‘our relationship was never complicated to us or to the children – and they should know how things were between us if anyone should, I’m finally done with explaining and I will never again feel under an obligation even to begin to apologise for having got family life so absolutely right.’
Owen stared at me, then we both burst out laughing, hugged and, arm in arm, with Gizmo securely back on his lead, we made our way home.
*
New Year’s Eve found me wending my way the few steps next door to Ruth and Giles’ bungalow. Like Arthur’s on the other side of mine, these homes had originally been built on very similar lines. Mine had been extended slightly upwards into the roof space and an addition had been added to the back that housed the sitting room end of my open plan living space, but this one appeared to have been almost rippled in size with various extensions, both up and out, and with a smart conservatory added into the bargain. I couldn’t wait to see how it all looked from the inside and rang the doorbell eagerly.
‘Evie, how lovely to see you! Do come inside.’
It was Ruth who threw the door open wide and
I was immediately glad that I had made a bit of extra effort over my appearance. Her fair hair was drawn severely back from a face that was meticulously made up. Her floor-length black off-one-shoulder dress, I was ready to swear, came from none of the well-known hight street chains, unlike my own which had been purchased in the Monsoon pre-January sale and had been an absolute snip.
However, I felt I could hold my own and shimmied inside on my gold killer hels, pleased with my scarlet ensemble, set off my matching dangly earrings that we shown to advantage by my upswept hairdo. For once, I felt I had got it right and was pleased I hadn’t opted for something more casual.
Several neighbours were already inside and I was delighted when Arthur and Ron arrived close behind me. I watched as they were both soon surrounded by well-wishers, all extremely keen to offer help and support should Arthur need it in the future. Gizmo had now been returned to his rightful owner and though I was more than happy that this should be so, I missed that little dog more than I could ever have imagined. However, I was very careful not to say so and just made a promise to myself that I would seriously consider a small pet of my own in the New Year.
‘And what about that lovely man of yours? Is he coming?’ It was the elderly lady whose name I could never remember who lived the other side of Arthur. ‘Owen, isn’t it?’
I automatically opened my mouth to correct her, then, remembering my recent conversation with Owen, I thought better of it.
‘It is Owen, yes, and I’m sure he will be here shortly.’
In fact, as the time went on and there was still no sign of Owen, I started to wonder if he was all right. He had promised not to be late and it wasn’t like Owen to miss a party. He had seemed keen enough yesterday when I’d reminded him about the invitation to this one.
A lively discussion was taking place in the group I had become attached to, about the shortcomings of the refuse collection service of all things, and as my mind drifted I found myself trying to recall what Owen’s plans had been for the day. It was when I remembered he’d said he was going to be working on his own that I really started to worry.
I told myself not to be so fanciful, that he had probably just changed his mind and was even now sharing a drink with the lady he had been seeing. Try as I might to dismiss it, though, the thought that something had happened to him kept coming back to torment me. What if a wall had toppled onto him? What if he’d drilled into an electric cable? He could have fired his nail gun, hit an artery and even now be lying somewhere bleeding to death.
I began to seriously worry and imagine a whole host of worst-case scenarios and cursed the fact that I hadn’t brought my mobile phone. The miniscule evening bag, while very pretty, was worse than useless, being filled to capacity with only my key and lipstick inside. As more time passed, reminding myself that I was being ridiculous didn’t seem to be helping.
‘I thought Owen said he was coming tonight,’ Ron came over to me, looking disappointed. He checked his watch. ‘He’ll miss seeing the New Year in if he doesn’t hurry.’
I almost kissed the big Australian, because he had just given me the excuse I needed to check up on Owen.
I smiled, as if I wasn’t a bit concerned, but said, I’ll go and give him a ring for you, Ron. Just to see where he is. I won’t be a minute.’
Something was wrong, I just knew it was. I felt sick and wondered what on earth the children would do if something happened to Owen – and what I would do.
I flew down the garden path as fast as my heels and flowing skirt would allow me, through the gate – and smack into Owen’s arms.
‘Hello,’ he held me steady and laughed down at me, ‘where are you off to in such a hurry?’
‘Oh,’ I said, you! Where have you been, Owen? You should have been here hours ago. Everyone’s been asking after you,’ I was grossly exaggerating in my aner and I didn’t even care. ‘Oh,’ I huffed childishly, ‘I’m surprised you bother to come at all, since you obviously preferred someone else’s company. You should have stayed to see the New Year in with her.’ Then I thoroughly disgraced myself by bursting into tears and confessed, ‘I was getting so worried.’
‘Evie, I was wasn’t with anyone else.’ He looked down at me, his blue gaze gentle and very warm. ‘I just lost track of time and then carried on to get the job done. You must know it was never going to work for me with any “someone else.” I tried a couple of dates with someone, but it was really over before it had begun.’
‘It was?’ I peeped back up at him. ‘Why?’
‘Because she wasn’t you,’ he said simply. It was only then that I realised why it hadn’t worked for Stuart and me, either.
‘Oh,’ I said.
We stared at one another as if we hadn’t really seen each other before. Perhaps we hadn’t, because all we had craved in those early difficult days was stability and a safe environment for our wounded selves and for the children who depended on us to hold everything together.
We had spent the last fifteen years insisting our relationship wasn’t what it had seemed; now, in less than fifteen minutes we realised at last that it was fast becoming exactly what it seemed. The fireworks exploding and the bells ringing when we kissed were an unexpected bonus.
‘Happy New Year,’ someone called and we smiled at each other.
‘I don’t think there’s any doubt about that,’ I said.
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Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
