Look to Your Wife

by Paula Byrne

  At the centre of the exhibition was the Mad Hatter’s Tea Party, in the room entitled ‘The Cabinet of Curiosities’. It was like seeing the inside of McQueen’s tortured, troubled, but always extraordinary mind. Shoes, dresses, and accessories were arranged in floor-to-ceiling cabinets, accompanied by the sound of slashing scissors. There was a fetishistic quality to the accessories: gimp masks, leather harnesses, headdresses with impala horns, a cuirass made of glass, a corset of coiled aluminium. And feathers: peacock, pheasant, ostrich, and duck. There was a lacquered coat of gold feathers: Icarus. McQueen loved birds, especially birds of prey. That was the distinctive shape of his cut, known in the trade as his silhouette. Why his clothes moved, swooped and took flight.

  Afterwards, in a nearby bar, she tried to explain her love for McQueen.

  ‘He’s like Chanel. Kindred spirits. They were both from humble backgrounds and understood the importance of hidden beauty. It was their aesthetic. Chanel said, “Luxury is the coat a woman throws inside out over an armchair, and the underside is more valuable than the exterior.” Did you know what McQueen had tattooed on his upper right bicep? Shakespeare: “Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind”.’

  Sean gazed at her.

  ‘And, as with Chanel, his unique talent was in moulage (that’s draping, to us), cutting, moulding, pinning, and slashing fabric on the live body. They often didn’t bother with cutting patterns. True genius. Just slashing the fabric.’

  Sean watched, listened, wide-eyed, mouth dropping in adoration. He loved to hear her talk with such animation, twisting her strands of dark hair with her long, tapered fingers as she rhapsodized.

  ‘Sorry to bore on.’

  ‘You’re many things, Lisa, but you’re not a bore.’

  ‘Oh, well, as McQueen often said, “It’s only clothes”.’

  As they left the bar, he grabbed her and pushed her violently against the wall, kissing her with such an intensity that she felt frightened. She wanted to call a halt, but she couldn’t. She had to finish what she had started.

  CHAPTER 15

  Queenie

  On the way back to the station, Sean put his arm around her shoulder. Oak, she thought. He’s an oak tree. She had before never felt so safe in all her life. It was that simple. He was a healer. He would take care of her and Emma. She just knew that. She was ready for the next step.

  He kissed her again as they said goodbye at the station – he was staying in London for the evening. He had told his wife that he was seeing an old friend from medical school. On the train journey home, Lisa took out her phone, went online, and bought some very sexy lingerie.

  As soon as she got out of the taxi in front of the Headmaster’s House, she saw that Edward and the children were waiting, expectantly, for her. She knew from their guilty faces that something was up. She was the one who should have felt guilty, not them.

  It was George who couldn’t contain himself.

  ‘Mama, look what Daddy’s done! It’s a puppy. A real-life puppy.’

  It was true. Edward handed her a tiny, white ball of fur. It snuggled into her arms, lifting its small, compact head over her hands, and then snuggling back underneath. For Lisa, this was utter love at first sight. This tiny creature was so soft, so vulnerable.

  ‘Mum,’ said Emma, ‘she’s called Queenie. You know, for Alexander McQueen. It’s been our secret. She’s a Pomeranian. We wanted to surprise you. It won’t be more work for you. We’ll take her out, every day.’

  Lisa put her down. Queenie made a puddle on the floor.

  ‘And Emma will train her. So you don’t have to worry about that, either. Are you happy, darling?’ said Edward.

  ‘Yes, yes. I am very happy.’ Lisa burst into tears.

  *

  But she couldn’t stop herself.

  LoveLaurieLee @AsIWalkedOut

  She takes off some of her clothes and slips into the bed beside me.

  LoveLaurieLee @AsIWalkedOut

  My brain drowsy but my body fresh and awake. It’s been cold under those scant blankets but now I feel I am standing naked in front of a fire.

  LoveLaurieLee @AsIWalkedOut

  A dark one, her panther tread, voice full of musky secrets, her limbs uncoiling on beds of moonlight.

  LoveLaurieLee @AsIWalkedOut

  I remember the flowers on the piano, the white sheets on her bed, her deep mouth, and love without honour.

  LoveLaurieLee @AsIWalkedOut

  L puts on her nightdress with such a soft, slow twist to her body that I think of salmon & the play of rivers & the gentle gestures of smoke.

  LoveLaurieLee @AsIWalkedOut

  I sit hunched in bed, watching her silent grace, a woman, alive, adoring the hour, the closed door, my eyes and the promise of sleep.

  LoveLaurieLee @AsIWalkedOut

  I cannot think why lovers leave their beds.

  RETWEET

  Lisa Blaize @Lisa_Blaize

  I cannot think why lovers leave their beds.

  DM from @FrJohnMisty: How many times do I have to tell you?

  DM from @Lisa_Blaize: What?

  DM from @FrJohnMisty: Ammunition?

  DM from @Lisa_Blaize: Just an innocent quote from Laurie Lee about his passionate love affair with Lorna Garman. Did you know about this?

  DM from @FrJohnMisty: Don’t know and don’t care. Please be careful. What’s going on?

  No reply.

  DM from @FrJohnMisty: Have you crossed the line?

  DM from @Lisa_Blaize: No I haven’t. And even if I had, it’s none of your business!

  DM from @FrJohnMisty: OK then. Be careful. I love you.

  DM from @Lisa_Blaize: I know you do!

  DM from @FrJohnMisty: Then get off Twitter!

  DM from @Lisa_Blaize: You must have been on it to see my RT. Pot, Kettle, Black!!!

  DM from @FrJohnMisty: Stop overusing exclamation marks. I feel like you’re shouting at me.

  DM from @Lisa_Blaize: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

  DM from @FrJohnMisty: I liked your Grauniad article, but don’t read the below the line comments.

  *

  Lisa was proud of her review. It was the first time she had written for a national newspaper. She hoped it would be a platform for more commissions – nothing had yet come on the back of her monthly column – and a spur to herself for the second book. Maybe a literary agent would see it, and sign her up. That would make it so much easier to sell the book, when she finally wrote it.

  On one of her rare excursions into her email account, she found that her old tutor from the Manchester School of Fashion had written to say that her review was as witty and provocative as McQueen himself, and a tribute to his artistry and truly unique vision.

  She couldn’t stop herself from going below the line and reading the comments on the review, something she had made a point of never doing with her City & County blogs.

  Zellie

  I will go and just look at them for what they are, beautiful objects. Since McQueen is dead, unless you have any quotes by him to ‘explain’ anything, best not bother.

  BingoTango

  Unless you’ve got it from the horse’s mouth, keep quiet.

  Igglybuff

  I thought the armour like and/or fear inspiring qualities came from his desire to protect women. He spoke of seeing his sisters go out to work, and what they encountered at work (hostility from colleagues, lasciviousness from men) and wanting to protect them. He would help his sisters put together outfits to protect them, make them appear invincible, make it easier for them to go out into the world. I’ve always thought some of his designs were an extension of that mentality.

  CharlesRyder

  You should visit the Balenciaga museum in Getaria. It is a stunning homage to the designer’s artistry and innovative talent, referencing historical and social contexts, artistic influences with visual examples (e.g., a gown displayed beside a painting or photograph), and in relation to the work of contemporaries. The visit begins with a sho
rt film about his life, and I find that this helps to ground the pieces as items of clothing created for a particular woman, and, in some cases, occasion, rather than viewed in a vacuum, merely beautiful objects behind glass. The McQueen pieces look magnificent, shame about the lack of biographical information. It is disappointing if visitors need to purchase a £45 catalogue to fully appreciate the experience.

  Yoda

  I don’t think you get it.

  REPLY TO Yoda

  CharlesRyder

  DO explain then, master Yoda. I am sure we would all be interested to know your special insights. Ms Blaize seems to know what she is talking about.

  42BrickBats

  This comment was removed by a moderator because it didn’t abide by our community standards. Replies may also be deleted. For more detail see our FAQs.

  Spencer Ramsey

  What, for instance, was going on in Britain when he launched his ‘bumster’ trousers, his moulded leather bodices, his crippling ‘armadillo’ shoes? What do these designs tell us, if anything, about ourselves? ‘Ourselves’ being a vanishingly-small clique, of course.

  Midlands Man

  Would love to see you, Lisa, in one of his corsets.

  ZarkDenie

  This so-called fashion historian clearly does not understand ‘fashion’. What a dreadful article. Waste of time reading it.

  God, what saddos, thought Lisa. Who has the time and energy to post comments online?

  *

  Lisa Blaize @Lisa_Blaize

  There is no way back for me now – Alexander McQueen.

  LoveLaurieLee @AsIWalkedOut

  I want you to grow old and repulsive, so no one will look at you.

  LoveLaurieLee @AsIWalkedOut

  Her nipples were dark berries.

  LoveLaurieLee @AsIWalkedOut

  Her hair is sweet smelling, I swim in her mouth and her nails in my flesh are like a bitter wind.

  *

  Text exchange:

  You left tiny finger bruises all over my body.

  I shall have to be more careful next time. You left me three deep back-scratches.

  Oh no. I’m so sorry. Will your wife notice?

  She sees nothing.

  I won’t do it again.

  I want you to. I love them. I love you.

  I love you too.

  What’s the softest part of a woman’s body, Lisa?

  Inner thigh?

  No, eyelid. Will you meet me in Amsterdam? I’m going on a conference.

  Yes.

  You’ll be safe with me.

  I know. How did you sleep last night?

  Slept very badly and feeling very ‘yearny’. Should I think about you less or more?

  All the time.

  You looked stunningly beautiful today, as you always do, and you make me so very happy.

  Tu si ’na cosa grande pe’ me.

  Altrettanto. Sx

  CHAPTER 16

  The End of the Affair

  It was the anniversary of their first date. Edward had arranged a special dinner, but that morning he called Lisa to the drawing room.

  ‘Lisa, I’ve got something to ask you.’

  ‘What is it, darling?’

  ‘You tell me. I’ve cancelled the dinner. I know what’s going on. Please tell me the truth. You’ve never lied to me in your life.’

  ‘I haven’t. So, go ahead.’

  ‘Are you having an affair?’

  ‘No. I’m not having an affair.’

  ‘Lisa, you’re on the edge of a precipice.’

  ‘No, I’m not. I’m at a crossroads. They’re very different.’

  ‘Do you love him?’

  ‘Yes, I do.’

  ‘Do you love me?’

  ‘Yes, I do.’

  ‘Are you going to Amsterdam?’

  ‘I don’t know, Edward. I’m very tired. Probably. How did you know?’

  Sean had been making the arrangements for Amsterdam. Infuriatingly, there was no mobile phone signal in his wing of the hospital. He had needed to confirm flight times, so he had resorted to Twitter, contacting Lisa via a Direct Message. Lisa, meanwhile, had realized that, following the success of the review of the McQueen exhibition, she might receive email requests to do other work. So she had asked Edward to clear the junk mail from her inbox. Because she had stopped going on email herself, she hadn’t realized that Twitter sent notifications of DMs to the email account with which one had registered for the service. In sorting through Lisa’s inbox, Edward had gone cold upon seeing a message headed ‘Mr Sean O’Connor (via Twitter)’. It read: ‘Mr Sean O’Connor has sent you a Direct Message’, and then ‘19.35 on the Friday night, Heathrow to Amsterdam, BA0444, pack that lingerie. Xx.’

  ‘Edward, please don’t tell anyone.’

  *

  Edward had made his discovery the previous night. He had remained eerily calm. Come on, he said to himself, you handled many a crisis at SJA. The key was not to react hastily. There had been times when he had spent an entire night thinking about how to deal with a delicate staffing problem. How to make the best of a bad situation. A knee-jerk reaction was the worst possible response. It was a million times harder to apply this to his private life, to quell the anger and agony of the thought of being betrayed by the Lisa he loved more than all the world, the woman for whom he had left his first wife, and with whom he had endured the anguish of Emma’s heart condition. But he had stayed calm when Moira was using every trick in the book to keep him in the first marriage, and he damn well wasn’t going to give up on the second one without a fight. Especially as this time his children were involved.

  He thought about his strategy. He had no ideas. That’s a first for me, he thought, wryly. He idly googled the phrase ‘what to do when you discover that your wife is having an affair’. The first site that came up was called goodmenproject.com. The advice was surprisingly simple, and, it seemed to Edward, exactly right:

  Give it Time

  Though it may not seem possible, the affair will likely run its course. If you love your wife and see a future where you’re able to forgive, hang in there. Affairs are founded on lies and deceit and tend not to grow into a deeper connection. If you’re willing to put effort into saving your marriage, part of what that requires is biding your time and waiting to see how it plays out.

  He lay awake all night. Yes, he would give it time. He would give Lisa the freedom to make her own decision.

  *

  ‘Of course I won’t tell anyone, Lisa. You must do what you must do. I know you’ll be discreet. Just remember that I love you and that I am always here for you.’

  Lisa and Sean had known that the day would come. Sooner or later they would be found out. Lisa prided herself on her discretion. She had always thought that it would be Sean’s wife – she’d see a text on his phone or something. They had arranged what they would do if it happened. A coded message via Twitter. If it were sent, they would lie low. No texts. And Twilence.

  Lisa Blaize @Lisa_Blaize

  Hi tweeps, let’s play best novels. Graham Greene’s best? I nominate The End of the Affair.

  *

  She cried in Edward’s arms and told him that her chest hurt.

  ‘Lisa, your problem is that you’ve never had your heart broken. That’s not a good thing. You will never truly empathize with your fellow human beings if you are the one who always leaves.’

  ‘I hate the word empathize. Why don’t people just say sympathize? When did empathy become trendy, like synergy and blue-sky thinking? It’s all bollocks, Edward. And yes, I haven’t had my heart broken, except when Emma fell ill. That’s heartbreak enough. Well, now I know how it feels for everyone else, and I’m a bit old for it, frankly. This should happen when you’re a teenager. Not when you’re a happily married mother of two, getting on for forty.’

  That night, Lisa thought hard about heartbreak. She consulted Dr Google and found that there was a condition called Takotsubo syndrome. She went straight to
Wikipedia:

  Takotsubo cardiomyopathy, also known as transient apical ballooning syndrome, apical ballooning cardiomyopathy, stress-induced cardiomyopathy, Gebrochenes-Herz-Syndrom, and stress cardiomyopathy is a type of non-ischemic cardiomyopathy in which there is a sudden temporary weakening of the muscular portion of the heart. Because this weakening can be triggered by emotional stress, such as the death of a loved one, a break-up, or constant anxiety, it is also known as broken-heart syndrome.

  Bloody Hell, she thought. So you CAN die of heartbreak. All through that night Lisa and Edward talked about the madness of love. Edward, with his passion for Shakespeare, talked at length about A Midsummer Night’s Dream. He talked about the cruelty of Oberon, sprinkling the love juice on his wife Titania’s eyes, so that she would fall for a donkey.

  ‘Do you think Shakespeare was being filthy?’ Lisa asked. ‘You know, donkeys have a reputation for large members … so Bottom, with his ass’s head also, we have to believe, has a very large …’

  ‘Lisa …’ Edward shifted very uncomfortably. He did not like that sort of language. He had a puritanical streak, and disliked talking about sex and body parts. Lisa loved to tease him.

  ‘And the thing about Bottom is that he just goes with it. He just doesn’t consider that the queen of the fairies is out of his league, that he’s punching above his weight. But love can be like that. One minute, one person has all the power, and the next minute it changes. Shakespeare understood this, didn’t he?’

  ‘Of course he did.’ The little pocket edition of the play was by the bed. Edward flicked through it and found a quote:

  ‘“The more you beat me, I will fawn on you. Use me but as your spaniel – spurn me, strike me, neglect me, lose me. Only give me leave, unworthy as I am, to follow you”.’

  He put down the book as he warmed to his theme, turning a marital crisis into an intellectual discussion.

  ‘There’s so much self-immolation when it comes to love. And self-hatred. Love can so easily turn to hate. Some Tudor philosopher – Giordano Bruno, was it? – actually said that hate’s a kind of love. Obsession, that’s all it is. The lunatic, the lover, and the stalker are of imagination all compact, they have such seething brains – that’s what Shakespeare would have said if he was around today.’