Thanks For Nothing, Nick Maxwell

by Debbie Carbin

  As I’m driving, suddenly the image of Glenn embracing that mysterious woman at Sainsbury’s car park pops into my head. It feels so weird to know something about Sarah’s husband that she doesn’t know. I mean, the fact that he’s having an affair is one of the few things I do know about him. It’s like it’s poisoning my brain. I can’t tell Sarah what I know because I also know that Hector was planning to talk to Glenn about it and get him to stop, so Sarah may never find out. But there will always be that little black kernel of knowledge nestling in my head. It is never going to go away.

  And the image of what would happen to Sarah and Jake if she does find out is sickening. Sarah trying to cope alone, short of cash; Jake a child of a broken home, seeing his dad every second Sunday. I can’t think about that. Maybe Hector has already had words with Glenn and the whole thing is in the past.

  When Sarah answers the door five minutes later, I know that’s not true. Her face is pale and blotchy and she has dark circles under her eyes, which are red and watery. I conclude in that second that she knows. But she can’t know that I know. And I can’t let on that I know she knows.

  ‘Sarah, are you all right?’

  ‘Crap as it goes. You’re looking really well.’ She turns away from the door and walks back up the hallway to the living room, so I follow her in, closing the door behind me.

  In the living room, Sarah is sweeping a load of books, toys and clothes off the armchair, then she sits on the sofa, so I assume the empty chair is for me.

  ‘Thanks. Where’s Jake then?’

  ‘In bed, Rachel. It’s quarter past eight. He’s only six.’

  He’s six. I must write that down in my diary. ‘Is he all right?’

  She shrugs. ‘Same as ever – lazy, rude, unhelpful. The light of my life.’ Obviously she catches sight of the expression on my face and adds quickly, ‘Oh, but you know, he’s brought so much joy too.’

  I smile gratefully and she grins and we share a rare moment of connection – like when we were at school. I haven’t had a laugh with Sarah since . . . well, since she started seeing Glenn.

  ‘Come in the kitchen,’ she says standing up. ‘We can have a fag out the back door.’

  This time my ears do the ‘BAROOOOGA!’ thing. ‘You are smoking?’

  The shrug again. ‘Why not? It’s a small pleasure when I’m here on my own in the evenings.’

  ‘So where’s Glenn?’

  She pauses in the act of putting teabags into two mugs. ‘Well, he says he’s working . . .’

  I don’t like the way this is going. Obviously Hector has not done anything at all about Glenn – either that or Glenn didn’t listen – so the affair is still going on. And now Sarah’s lip is trembling. Oh no.

  ‘What is it, Sarah? You don’t look very well.’

  She turns to face me full on and leans against the counter behind her. Her eyes are shining with tears. She sniffs.

  ‘I could be wrong, and I probably am, which makes me feel really guilty, you know, cos what if he really is working all this overtime to get some extra cash together for us all? But then sometimes, when he comes in late from work, he’s just so . . . you know, and then sometimes he smells like . . . oh . . . as if he’s been . . . as if he’s been . . .’

  ‘As if he’s been what?’ Although I think I know the answer.

  ‘As if . . .’ She rubs her face and eyes roughly. ‘As if he’s been with a woman.’ She lets out a huge shaky breath and smiles at me weakly. ‘Do you think I’m being ridiculous? I am being ridiculous, aren’t I?’

  ‘Um . . .’ Arses. What on earth am I meant to say now? Either way, we both lose. ‘Oh, Sarah. How awful for you feeling like this. Have you been sleeping?’

  She shakes her head.

  ‘I didn’t think so. You’re torturing yourself with something that probably isn’t even happening.’ Dear God, please forgive me, it’s for her own good. ‘Have you spoken to anyone else?’ In reply, God kindly sends me a flash of inspiration. ‘What about Glenn’s brother, have you spoken to him?’

  ‘Hector? No, why would I?’

  I feel a little surge just hearing his name spoken out loud. ‘Well, I just thought he might know if there’s anything . . .’

  ‘Anything what?’

  ‘Well, just that as their mum died recently, maybe that’s got something to do with it.’

  She stares at me for a few moments, and I’m bracing myself for the acerbic comment that’s coming: ‘Oh, yes, Rachel, of course, losing his mum will cause him to be out all night and come home smelling of perfume. Why didn’t I think of that?’

  But it doesn’t come. Instead she says, ‘You know, Rachel, I hadn’t even thought of that. Hector has been behaving really strangely the past couple of weeks. He was very down on Christmas Day – well, that’s understandable, so was Glenn – but he didn’t come for dinner and it’s the first time he’s not had anyone to be with, since all that business with Miranda. And since Christmas he’s gone all sullen and quiet. Even seeing Jake doesn’t seem to cheer him up. Maybe he’s not just grumpy, maybe he’s suffering more over Celia’s death than I thought. And maybe Glenn is too and I haven’t even noticed, I’ve jumped straight to the wrong conclusion about him. So he’s feeling desperate over the loss of his mum, and instead of supporting and comforting him, I assume he’s having an affair. Christ, what kind of person does that make me, then?’

  I heard none of that after the word ‘Miranda’. I blink at her and she’s looking at me, obviously expecting an answer. ‘Um, well,’ I shrug, non-comittally, ‘could it have been the business with Miranda that was making Hector grumpy?’

  She shakes her head. ‘Don’t think so. I mean, he was very bad at the time, I remember, moping around, hardly speaking. But he kind of snapped out of it suddenly during the summer. Got back to his old self almost overnight. He must have decided his grieving period was over and it was time to move on, I suppose. It was remarkable.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yeah. He’s been really cheerful and smiley the last couple of months – until just before Christmas, I guess. No, I reckon they’re both suffering with the realization that she’s really gone. There are stages of grief, aren’t there? So the first couple of months it probably hadn’t even sunk in, and now . . .’ She smiles broadly. ‘They’re miserable because they’re missing her so much. That’s fantastic! Thanks, Rachel.’

  ‘’S all right.’

  She reaches into a cupboard and brings out a metal canister that says ‘Flour’ on the front. Inside this is half a bag of flour with the top folded down, and inside this is a dusty packet of ten Silk Cut. She grins as she blows the white film off it and walks to the back door. ‘Coming?’

  These cigarettes are so floury they’re like those joke ones you have when you’re a kid, the ones that just empty powder everywhere when you blow through them. It’s all right, stop fussing, one quick puff won’t do any harm. Anyway the taste of flour mingling with the tobacco and smoke gives it a kind of wholesome, home-cooked flavour.

  ‘So how did you know about Glenn’s mum dying, anyway?’ Sarah says suddenly, blowing a smoke ring, which might have been a flour ring.

  ‘Well, you told me, of course.’

  ‘Oh. I don’t remember that.’

  ‘Well, you did. Otherwise how would I know?’

  ‘True.’

  After two drags, I feel like I could puke up what I had to eat three weeks ago, let alone yesterday, so I flatten it under my shoe on the patio.

  ‘Oh Rach, what d’you do that for? I could’ve had that later.’

  ‘Sorry. Sarah, you said something about some business with someone called Miranda. What was that all about?’

  Clumsy, aren’t I? But I can’t think about anything else. My brain has got snagged on this name and I can’t get free. I can’t even think about a better way of asking. But Sarah’s feeling better about her own situation now, and is ready to discuss someone else’s misery.

  ‘Oh, yes. Poor H
ector. I think he really loved her. Miranda Waters. They were together for more than three years. We thought they would get married. Little Jakey as a page boy, can you imagine it?’ She takes another drag.

  ‘And?’

  ‘Mm. Well, she fell pregnant last year – no, year before last now. I was so excited about a new baby in the family. Little cousin for Jake to play with, you know. Anyway, everything was going along fine, Hector was all excited about it, and then suddenly she was off the scene completely. Just gone.’

  ‘Bloody hell. What happened?’

  She shrugs. ‘Don’t know. Hector never said and we didn’t like to ask.’

  ‘Did she . . . die?’

  ‘Oh God no. Just left him. Or he kicked her out. Really, I don’t know. He never talks about it. Never even mentions her name. Anyway, we heard from a friend of a friend that she lost the baby after that. Hector was pretty devastated.’

  ‘How awful.’

  ‘Well, yes, but like I said he seems to have got over it recently. But we never did find out why they broke up. Probably to do with Hector’s work.’

  ‘What exactly is Hector’s work?’

  ‘He’s got this computer business out on the business park. He’s never away from it – everyone and everything always come second. It’s caused him quite a few break-ups in the past.’

  ‘Hmmm.’

  ‘Anyway, what do you want to ask me about babies?’

  ‘Oh, yes. Shall we go inside? It’s freezing out here. And I’ve got some choccies in my bag for you, to say thanks.’

  ‘You didn’t need to do that,’ she says, heading back indoors eagerly.

  ‘I know, but I stopped for cheese anyway, so I thought—’

  ‘Cheese? Oh Rachel, you shouldn’t eat that. It’s far too full of fat and salt.’

  Well, that was a close one. Somehow I managed to divert Sarah’s suspicions, but it won’t hold for long. It’s like Val’s husband’s accountant all over again. Val was eager to believe anything that explained what was going on, so she didn’t have to face what was actually going on. I mean, who pays their tax bills weekly? It doesn’t sound very likely to me.

  But Sarah did the same thing. She accepted the first life-line I offered her, but as soon as she remembers that Glenn’s absence and mysterious overtime has been going on at least since Jake’s party, which was weeks before his mum died, then it’ll all fall apart again. There’s only one thing to be done. I am uncomfortable contacting him after all this time – it’s been three weeks – and he said goodbye so finally on Christmas Day, but this is a legitimate reason to call. I’m trying to convince myself that I’m not like one of those desperate types that keeps phoning me days or weeks after I’ve said that I don’t want them to phone me any more.

  ‘Hello?’ I’ve called him at home. He sounds so tired.

  ‘Hi, Hector, it’s Rachel.’

  ‘Rachel. Hello. How do you do that?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Know the exact moment when I am at my lowest, in greatest need of a perk, and call me then.’

  ‘I don’t . . . I’m sorry, do you want me to call back later?’

  ‘NO! I mean, no, this is the perfect time. Again.’

  ‘Oh. Good. How are you?’

  ‘Oh, you know, so-so. How have you been? And how’s Plum? Getting big now, I expect.’

  ‘Not too bad. I’ve had another ante-natal session with Katy.’

  ‘Really? How did it go?’

  ‘Great. She gave me one of those little yellow and black flags to pin on my arse when I go outside.’

  He bursts out laughing. ‘Oh, Rachel. I’ve really missed . . .’ He stops suddenly and my ears are aching with wanting him to finish.

  ‘You’ve . . .?’ I say, trying to coax the rest out of him.

  ‘Nothing. No. So how was your New Year?’

  ‘Pants. Yours?’

  ‘Quite good, actually.’

  ‘Really?’ That is not what I wanted to hear.

  ‘Yeah. Caught up with a few people I hadn’t seen in a while, you know. Had a few laughs, swapped a few stories.’

  I’m feeling all flustered and angry, thinking about him being with other people, like maybe Miranda, and then something occurs to me. ‘You were at the office, weren’t you?’

  ‘Well, all right, if you must know, yes I was. I can’t lie to you, Rachel.’

  ‘So it was pants?’

  He’s laughing again. ‘Yes, you’re right. I was in the office, on my own, emailing someone in New York.’

  ‘I was on my own too.’

  There’s a small noise, as if he’s sat forward in his seat suddenly. ‘Were you? But why?’

  I shrug, even though he can’t see me. ‘Who wants to go out with someone looking like this?’

  He makes a little sound in his throat, almost like a growl.

  ‘Pardon?’

  He clears his throat. ‘Nothing. I just can’t bear . . .’

  I crush the phone to my ear so hard it goes pink and starts to throb. He’s driving me nuts with this not finishing his sentences. ‘Yes?’

  ‘Never mind. I just want you to be happy, Rachel. Are you?’

  This sounds like friend mode again. Am I happy? Right at that moment, curled on my sofa with Hector McCarthy on the other end of the phone, yes, I am. My lips are millimetres from the mouthpiece and I imagine his, the same distance away at the other end. We’re almost kissing.

  ‘Erm . . .’

  He’s making end-of-the-call noises. Quick, think of something to say. And then I remember the reason why I rang him in the first place.

  ‘Hector, I’ve just been to see Sarah and I’m a bit worried about her.’

  ‘Are you? Is she all right?’

  ‘Well, yes, she’s not ill or anything. But she’s very down and keeps crying. She thinks Glenn’s having an affair.’

  ‘Shit.’

  ‘Yes, he is. I just wondered . . .’

  ‘If I’ve spoken to Glenn about it yet?’

  ‘Well, yes. I know it’s really none of my business, it’s between you and Glenn, but she’s one of my oldest friends, you know? He’s your brother and you love him; well, she’s like my sister. My real brother is this really annoying ten-year-old kid who never stays in the same place for longer than a minute, so Sarah’s my stand-in.’

  ‘I love the fact that you really care about her. I do too. And the fact is that I have done nothing about it. I don’t even know why. I was all set to do it and then Mum died and then . . . Well, since then, I haven’t felt much of an interest in anything. I’m sorry, Rachel. I’ve let you down.’

  ‘What are you talking about? Don’t be silly. It’s nothing even to do with me, so how can you possibly have let me down? In fact, from a purely selfish point of view, you’ve been the most . . . I-I mean, you’ve always . . . I couldn’t have . . .’ Oh God, now I’m doing it.

  ‘Well, that’s good to hear,’ he says, a smile in his voice again.

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘You’re very welcome. Listen, I’ll go and see him this week, OK? I shouldn’t have left it this long, particularly if Sarah’s starting to suspect something. I just hope I’m not too late and this can all be sorted out.’

  ‘Me too.’

  ‘God, it makes me so angry, what he’s doing. It goes against everything I believe in. You don’t mess around in a long-term relationship, especially where kids are involved, even if . . .’

  ‘What?’

  He pauses and I can hear movement at the other end. ‘Doesn’t matter. I’m not thinking straight, just ignore me. Over-work, probably.’ He pauses and I’m about to speak and then suddenly he starts talking again and his voice grabs me and drags me in, pulling me down with him, it’s so dark and intense. ‘Rachel, do you ever get sick of doing the right thing? All around me I see people doing and saying things to suit no one but themselves, and they’re happy and enjoying life and seem to have everything, and here am I, sitting alone in the office at Christ
mas, alone again at New Year, tearing myself into pieces, trying to do the right thing. God, why is it always so hard? What’s the use of trying to be a good guy when all it gets me is misery? Don’t I ever get to be happy? Isn’t that what it’s all for, so that I can enjoy some happiness one day? Because I’m starting to think I don’t want to be a good guy any more, Rachel. Christ, I so don’t want to any more.’

  Can you see my goosebumps and the hairs on my arms and neck all raised? His voice is always heavy and low, but just then he sounded so raw and wounded, his voice all throaty and hoarse it took all the air out of my lungs and sent me plunging into an abyss of lust, and I don’t expect to be coming out again. He’s clearly dreadfully unhappy about something, struggling with inner turmoil, torturing himself every moment and in desperate need of some help.

  It is a huge turn-on.

  He’s fallen silent now but is breathing heavily and I feel I should say something because he sounds like he’s waiting for my reaction. Or he’s as turned on as I am. All I know is Hector is a good guy and I don’t want him to stop.

  ‘But you are a good guy, Hector,’ I say very softly. ‘You’re one of the best people I know. You can’t stop being that because then you stop being Hector McCarthy. And that wouldn’t be fair. On the world.’

  He sighs deeply. ‘I don’t know about that. What do I owe the world? What about me, for once?’

  ‘What’s wrong, Hector? This is not you.’

  ‘Rachel. I only wish I could tell you.’

  ‘But you can! We’re strangers, remember. You can tell me anything.’

  ‘No. We’re not strangers. We haven’t been strangers for a very long time, you know that as well as I do. And I can’t tell you this. Not while . . . Not ever. I’m sorry.’

  I’ve closed my eyes and leaned back in my seat. And look at my face – lips slightly parted, cheeks flushed, head thrown back. Is there anything more sexy than a tortured man?