by J. A. Baker
It had been a giggle, her days at university, a time in her life that she remembers with great fondness. She made friends, lost her virginity, had a string of boyfriends and one-night stands and on many evenings, drank herself senseless. Getting a degree was an incidental occurrence, something that happened along the way. And now here she is, trapped in a marriage that is deteriorating daily, living in a house that is beneath her aspirations, with few friends and little money. What was it all for? Going to university, making the effort to mix and mingle with Anthony’s colleagues, all those years spent climbing the rungs of a ladder that has been pulled from under her, sending her back down to the bottom with a crash. Is this what she dreamed of when she was a student at Durham, or did she seek something bigger, something better? In truth, she can’t remember making any real plans or having any particular dreams; she just remembers a pulsing sense of excitement at what the future might hold, a wonderful anticipation at the possibility of making something of her life.
And now look at her; a lonely housewife stuck in an average house in a less than average part of the suburbs of North Yorkshire. Her journey from student to grown woman has been condensed into an insignificant slice of nothingness. She has little to show for her life. A husband and two children. No major accomplishments, nothing of any import that marks her out as different or better than anybody else. Just another bland individual; a forgettable face in a crowd of thousands with little to offer.
She dabs on more perfume, applies another layer of lipstick and fluffs up her hair. Does it matter if what she is about to do goes against the grain of all that is deemed good and wholesome? Life has shit on her from a great height. She has nobody to turn to, no friends to call upon, no family to turn to. Her parents are elderly and live their own insular lives in Oxford. She has no siblings left. Her brother’s nomadic lifestyle has put paid to that. The last time she heard from him was before he embarked on yet another soul-searching visit to Tibet just over a year ago. Even before that, contact had been sporadic. Now it is non-existent. She is completely alone, floundering in a sea of unhappiness, reaching out for help, waiting for somebody to breathe life into her slowly dying body.
And now that somebody has arrived.
The floor shifts like quicksand under Kate’s feet as she makes her way over to the door, her heels clicking, the noise echoing in her head, reminding her of what it is she is about to do; reminding her of who she will hurt and what she is about to ruin.
Waiting for the bout of dizziness to pass, she shakes the thought away, glances once more in the mirror and steps out of the room, closing the door behind her.
The light is dim, the room small as Kate walks into the bar, watching out for him, tuned in to every single sound – the boom of laughter from a clutch of drinkers in the corner, the TV in the background, the clink of glasses emanating from behind the bar – they all ring in her head, her senses heightened, her skin on fire. She takes a seat, feeling incongruous in her tight clothing and high heels. Her knees tremble. She places her hands in her lap, presses down hard to stop the obvious involuntary movement there.
Over in the corner. There’s a flicker of something; of somebody. A shadow in her peripheral vision. An approaching figure. Her heart speeds up, her mouth is suddenly as dry as sand. It moves towards her, the shadow, coming closer. She blinks, brushes away an imaginary hair from her face and rubs at her eyes, swallowing nervously as the shadow develops into a fully formed person and sits down next to her.
No! Please, not now!
‘Kate! I thought it was you.’ Gavin has his backside perched on the edge of the wooden stool, his lean body angled towards her. ‘How the hell are you? Christ, it feels like forever since we’ve seen you!’
She is suddenly made of concrete, limbs solid and heavy, her rictus grin a manic split in her face, teeth bared, chin jutting forward. She stares down at her hands, the skin stretched across her knuckles taut and white, the sinews in her neck pulled tight like cat gut. Her nerves are in shreds. Gavin, here, tonight, in this pub. Really?
Her eye twitches. She blinks, flicks at it, leans forward and gives him a light peck on the cheek. He looks exactly how she expects him to look – fresh-faced, dressed immaculately in high-end clothes and smelling divine, his skin recently splashed with expensive aftershave. And calm. He is so fucking predictably confident and calm it enrages her.
‘Oh, you know! We’re fine, Gavin. Ticking along nicely as the saying goes.’
‘Fiona said she’s had a few calls from you. Is everything okay?’
The awkwardness between them is almost physical, a thick veil that has descended, separating them, pushing them in opposite directions. Two friends sitting close together and yet so very far apart. That’s what they are now – discrete people with divergent lives. Nothing to hold them together. No common ground.
‘It’s fine. Really,’ Kate says, attempting to inject an air of conviviality into her tone. ‘We’re absolutely fine.’
Gavin nods, seemingly pleased that she doesn’t want to talk about anything of substance. The relief on his face that the moment has passed without incident is too obvious to disguise. No raking over their change in circumstances, no dredging up of any dirt. Just a stream of banal pleasantries. Easier that way. Less painful. Less embarrassing.
‘Is Anthony here with you?’ He turns and gazes around the pub, his eyes scanning the dark corners of the pub, moving over the crowds at the bar, his dark pupils searching for the man he left behind, the man who was once his friend but got pushed to one side and discarded because he wasn’t hard working enough, wealthy enough. Ruthless enough.
‘No. I’m meeting a friend. Anthony’s at home tonight.’ Kate hopes she has disguised the tremble in her tone, the slight warble that could betray her lies. No, not a lie. She is doing just that – meeting a friend, but not in the conventional sense. Not in the way Gavin imagines.
‘Ah. That’s a shame. Would have been good to have a catch up.’ He shuffles closer and leans into his inside pocket. ‘Look, I realise it’s not the done thing to talk shop while out socially, but tell Anth to give me a call. There’s a position come up at work and I think he may just be in with a chance. There are a few other candidates up for it as well, but nobody with his experience and nous.’ He pushes a business card into Kate’s palm and taps her knee playfully. ‘Tell him…’ Gavin looks away briefly then turns back, his eyes lowered. ‘Tell him he’s missed and to call me, okay?’
Tears blur her vision. She swallows, tries to compose herself, smoothing down her skirt and clearing her throat to speak. The words refuse to come, imprisoned deep inside her throat. Somebody cares. Gavin cares. He cares and understands.
She tries to speak again and instead nods and smiles at him. He holds her gaze then stands and winks before moving away, disappearing into the crowd of people at the far side of the bar.
Kate rummages in her bag, grabs at a tissue, dabs at her face before standing up and turning to leave. This is wrong. Everything is wrong and stupid and miscalculated. She has made a big mistake. She shouldn’t be here. It was thoughtless and reckless to even consider this and she has come close to being spotted. Had Gavin come over a few minutes later everything could have come tumbling down around her, and for all she is angry with Anthony and unhappy with her family life, is that really what she wants to happen? For talk of her purported affair to be bandied about amongst their old friends, her good name sullied, her reputation in shreds?
Weaving her way through the crowd of people standing close to the door, she steps outside, the fresh breeze that laps at her burning face a welcome reprieve after sitting in that dark cloistered place.
The car park is littered with potholes. She picks her way through them, staggering and stumbling, coming close to falling on more than one occasion, her eyes still misted over with unshed tears. Her hand buzzes and vibrates, the phone she is clutching sending small pulses through her skin. She stops and looks down at the message.
Yo
u’re leaving? I’m here sitting at the window.
Kate turns, her gaze locking with the eyes that stare out at her, his mouth set in a thin firm line. He’s angry. Upset. She can see that, understands why, but also had no other option. She had to leave. She shivers, suddenly cold, wants to reply, to explain her abrupt departure but can’t seem to summon up the energy. Everything is an effort, the world and its wily ways sucking every last drop of energy out of her.
Only when she has rounded the corner and is heading back into town to hail a taxi does she stop, resting by a wall while she formulates the right response.
Sorry. Saw an old friend and couldn’t risk it. Perhaps another time…
The reply comes immediately. She doesn’t read it, instead deleting her original message. Deceitful is what this is. Her behaviour, she knows, is unacceptable and duplicitous and yet she can’t seem to help herself. She has been edged into a corner and this is her way of lashing out.
She can’t recall Anthony ever looking at her phone but she isn’t willing to take any chances. Perhaps she will contact her new friend later. Perhaps she won’t. Changes could be afoot after meeting Gavin. Changes that could rekindle her old life, the one she loved and misses beyond reason. The one she now knows she took for granted. Only when something is taken from you, do you realise how precious it really is. Her life was, still is, worth fighting for. Their family life, their friends, the things they had, were all exceptional and irreplaceable and she desperately wants them back. Getting Anthony to accept Gavin’s offer could do just that. It could turn everything around, catapult them back to where they belong. Back to the place they should never have left.
The spring in her step isn’t imagined as she heads back into town, pushing against the tide of people heading towards the pub. For the first time in months and months, everything feels lighter, rosier; the sky that little bit bluer, the colours around her no longer a wash of grey. She can do this. She can live through the present in order to step into a brighter future. All she needs to do is persuade Anthony to make this call. Already she is formulating the words in her head, using all of her persuasive techniques to get him on side. He needs to listen to her, to be susceptible to her ideas about speaking to Gavin. Because if he isn’t – well, that isn’t something she is prepared to consider.
She wants her old life back and now that she knows it is within her reach, she will go to any lengths to make it happen.
12
‘No.’ Anthony’s mouth is set in a tight line, his eyes not meeting Kate’s. He keeps his head dipped, continuing to read the newspaper clasped firmly between his fingers. ‘I will not call Gavin and that is my final answer.’ As if to emphasise his point, he straightens out the paper, its crisp rattle an affront to Kate’s ears.
She keeps her initial reaction of anger and disappointment under wraps, was prepared for this and refuses to let it throw her off track. Anthony is a stubborn man. This was never going to be an easy task. He might be resolute now but she can work on him, soften him. Make him see it from her point of view.
‘Anyway,’ he says, his tone inscrutable, ‘you never did tell me who you were going out with. I thought you said you didn’t have any friends here?’ Without waiting for a reply, he looks up, a sudden realisation dawning in his eyes. ‘And why are you back so early? Did the mysterious friend not turn up?’ He lowers the paper, drums his fingers on the table, agitation building in his features. A second passes, two, three. Their low, controlled breathing fills the space between them.
He closes his eyes. Kate assesses his every move, every nuance of thought, every damn thing about him. Anthony is a cool customer. Always has been; cool, calm, detached, keeping his deepest sentiments and feelings well hidden. She used to love that about him, that he wasn’t overly emotional, that he wasn’t given to bouts of uncontrolled anger or spells of turmoil as some of her friends’ husbands were. Always composed and dignified, his reactions to situations were predictably polite and measured. It was one of his most attractive and defining features. Now it irritates her, makes her feel unspeakably frustrated. How long is she supposed to sit here, trying to work out what the hell is going on inside his head?
‘I get it now,’ he says, almost hissing at her. ‘I see it all, what you’ve been up to.’
Kate’s heart pounds. Perspiration springs out on her face, tiny translucent beads coating her neck and top lip. She has been ultra-careful, deleting messages, making sure to speak when Anthony was out of the house. He can’t know what she had planned. It’s impossible. Her scalp prickles and tightens, her skin flashes hot and cold.
‘I haven’t been up to anything. I have no idea what you are going on about. I was going to have a drink with Sylvia that I used to go to yoga classes with. I met her in town the other day and we arranged to meet up. Or am I not allowed to do such things now?’
Sylvia is a safe bet. Anthony didn’t know anybody from Kate’s yoga classes. He wouldn’t know Sylvia if he fell over her in the street.
‘So you say.’ More finger drumming, the sound of his nails hitting wood fills the room, an eerie echo. ‘But I’m willing to bet that that is a lie.’
A wave of dizziness forces her to hold on to the edge of the desk for balance. He doesn’t know about her real reason for going out. He can’t. This is a wild guess, a way of knocking her off balance, making her think that he’s one step ahead. He isn’t. He is grasping at straws here, his judgement way off beam.
‘It’s not a lie. Why would you say such a thing? I know we’ve had our problems lately but do you really think so little of me that you’re prepared to label me a liar?’ She shakes her head, more to clear the woozy sensation that is taking hold than anything else but is aware he will construe it as a rebuff, her way of processing his words as an insult.
‘Because it’s too much of a coincidence, that’s why. You disappear for a night out with a friend I’ve never heard of and then all of a sudden out of the blue, Gavin appears with an offer of a new job. Don’t insult my intelligence, Kate. Just be honest and tell me you contacted Gavin and met up with him on my behalf, begging him to find me a position back with the old firm.’
She tries to stop the laughter, the look on his face telling her that he isn’t taking her response to his suggestion too well, but his summary of events is so far removed from the truth that it truly is laughable. To add to that, she is flooded with relief, euphoria at her secret remaining just that – secret. It almost amuses her, his ignorance, the way he is putting two and two together and coming up with five. Anthony knows nothing about her real reason for going out. He has completely misjudged her, scrambling about to make sense of it all and as a result, has tried to piece together two separate events, jamming them in place.
‘Oh, Anthony. You are so funny sometimes.’ She bends down and faces him, trying to catch his eye, to rekindle some sort of bond between the two of them, a bond they once shared, the same bond that is loosening and unravelling by the day. If she can grasp onto one last strand of the thin fabric that still connects them, there is a chance she can make this work, help weave together a new stronger net that will save their crumbling relationship. Because she does want to make this work. She wants them to be a happy family again with a cohesive approach to their everyday lives. Just not like this. Not here in this house or in this town. Not while their children attend a less than adequate school. She wants their old lives back and now it is suddenly possible. It is all within their reach. She just needs to persuade Anthony to call Gavin. She just needs to make him see that this is a good idea and holds such promise, that this one short call could actually help turn their lives back around and help them all to flourish. Her, Anthony, Alexander and Jocelyn, all of them right back where they belong.
‘I was sitting there in the pub, waiting for Sylvia to arrive when Gavin spotted me. He came over and asked how we were.’ Kate hands him the phone and places her palm on his knee, her touch light, undemanding. Affectionate even. ‘Here. If you don’t believ
e me, why don’t you ring him? Ask him whatever you like but I can guarantee his story will be the same as mine. It was a chance encounter. Nothing more, nothing less.’ She smiles, trying to keep her voice soft and amicable, not coarse or angry or any other emotion that will further rupture their fragile relationship. They are already miles apart. This new job opportunity is perfect for him, a chance to repair their broken marriage and give their children the best possible start in life.
As things stand, their prospects are bleak. Both Alexander and Jocelyn will have to fight for everything they get – exam results, university places, job offers. Having Searton School on their CV would afford them a greater chance in life. She isn’t so stupid or selfish to think that everything would automatically get handed to them. They will have to work for it. Of course they will, but a private education gives them a leg up and doesn’t everyone want that for their offspring? Why can Anthony not see that? For an intelligent man, sometimes her husband is obtuse to the point of being almost blind to what is going on around him.
He turns away from her, blinking rapidly, a sign she knows from old, a trait that tells her he is thinking, trying to work out his next move. A breath is suspended in her chest, a pocket of air that she cannot release until she knows what he is going to say or do next. Everything hinges on this moment, how he chooses to react.
