An Autumn Affair

by Alice Ross

  Julia slipped out of the pub unseen, and sought out a relatively quiet café. Cradling a cup of coffee, she sat in the corner deliberating over what to do. If this was the beginning of the end of their relationship, then she’d rather make a clean break of it. Get it over with in one fell swoop rather than dragging it out, wondering each time Max was due to visit if he would cry off again. Wondering if, all the time he was with her, he was wishing he was back in Cambridge. She sucked in a deep breath and leaned back in her chair, her gaze landing on a middle-aged, grey-haired couple at the other side of the room. They both had a pot of tea and a scone in front of them, and in-between drinking and nibbling, neither of them said a word. A depressing thought hit Julia with all the force of an atomic bomb. Would that be her and Max in a few years’ time? Or were they already like that – an old married couple well before their time? After all, in sixth form they’d pretty much always been on their own. Were they missing out on their youth? Would they look back in years to come and regret not making more of what should have been the best years of their lives? Had Max already realised that, which was why he didn’t want to come to York any more?

  Panic coursing through her veins, Julia slammed a handful of change down on the table and stumbled out of the café, her heart racing, her mind made up. She had to finish it with Max. For both their sakes. And she had to be firm. She knew Max too well. He wouldn’t want to hurt her. He’d insist everything was fine; that she was talking rubbish; making mountains out of molehills; looking for problems where there weren’t any. While deep down, she had no doubt he’d be breathing a huge sigh of relief.

  Taking a few minutes to compose herself, she headed once again to the pub. And this time directly over to him.

  ‘Ju!’ he exclaimed on seeing her. ‘What are you doing here? What a lovely surprise.’

  The expression on the face of the flaxen-haired beauty next to him told Julia she thought otherwise.

  Max, though, didn’t seem at all fazed. ‘I hope you’re staying over tonight. There’s a huge party at one of the houses down the road later.’ He reached out an arm and pulled her to him. ‘It’s great to see you,’ he gushed, planting a kiss on the top of her head.

  Despite all the bustle around them, and the icy glare of the flaxen maiden, Julia thought she might burst into tears.

  ‘Can we, um, go somewhere and talk,’ she stammered.

  A wave of concern washed over Max’s mud-streaked, handsome face. ‘Of course. Is everything all right?’

  Julia couldn’t reply.

  They weaved their way out of the crowded pub and found an empty bench around the corner.

  ‘You’ve got me worried now,’ said Max, taking hold of her hand the moment they sat down. ‘Something’s wrong isn’t it? You’re not ill, are you?’

  Julia shook her head as tears began streaming down her cheeks. ‘No. I’m not ill. It’s nothing like that.’

  ‘Then what is it?’ he pressed, reaching across and brushing the tears from her face. ‘Is it me? Have I upset you in some way?’

  ‘I think we should break up,’ she blurted out.

  The expression on Max’s face was one of utter dismay. ‘Break up? B … but why? Have you met someone else?’

  ‘Of course not,’ she snapped, amazed that he could even think such a thing. ‘I just feel that we’re too young to be in such a serious relationship.’

  Max gawped at her for what seemed like an eternity before saying, ‘But I thought we were happy together. I thought we had something really special.’

  ‘We do … we did. But we shouldn’t be talking about marriage and stuff at our age. We should be enjoying ourselves.’

  ‘We do enjoy ourselves. I love being with you.’

  ‘What? In my room? Watching telly?’

  ‘Yes. I love being in your room watching telly.’

  Julia shook her head. ‘No, you don’t. You’d much rather be with your mates down here. Playing rugby and going to the pub. And so you should. That’s normal. Us acting like an old married couple isn’t.’

  Max sucked in a deep breath and reached for her hand again. ‘What’s brought all this on, Ju?’

  Julia shrugged as she fumbled around in her bag, eventually producing a tissue. ‘I don’t want to discuss it, Max. I know you’ll try and talk me out of it, but deep down you know it’s the best thing for both of us.’

  *****

  ‘Mum, I know it’s short notice and everything, but would you mind if I had a party for my eighteenth?’

  Wandering into the kitchen, Miranda came to an abrupt standstill. She gawped at her daughter sitting at the central island; her beautiful daughter on the verge of a landmark birthday. A birthday Miranda had completely forgotten about. A sharp jab of self-hatred landed in the centre of her chest, almost causing her to topple off her heels. Of all the self-absorbed, self-centred, narcissistic … She could go on but what, frankly, was the point? In depressing summary, she was a terrible mother and a selfish cow. She looked at Josie, who gazed back at her so expectantly, that tears began burning the back of Miranda’s eyes. She might have morphed into the worst mother in the world, but Josie was still the most brilliant daughter. Clever, hard-working, independent, caring, and not the least bit demanding. In fact, with the exception of this perfectly reasonable request for a birthday party, Miranda would have been hard-pushed to recall the last time Josie had asked for anything. The girl seemed perfectly content with her life; secure in herself; happy with who she was. States with which, Miranda suddenly realised, she’d never been acquainted. And, having spent almost a quarter of a century unsure of her place in the world, states she envied. Adding to the cocktail of emotions already surging through her veins, a sudden tsunami of weariness crashed over her, causing her legs to weaken. Making a clumsy bolt for the island, she sank down on one of the stools opposite her daughter.

  ‘Are you all right?’ asked Josie concernedly.

  Attempting to pull herself together, Miranda managed a nod.

  ‘Look, it really doesn’t matter about the party,’ began Josie, evidently regretting her request. ‘We could just go out for a pizza or something. Or we could order pizza in and …’

  As Josie wittered, Miranda’s heart contracted as she recalled all the good times the two of them had spent in the past. When they’d been so close, sharing everything. Of course it was natural those times would become scarcer. Josie had her own life now, and didn’t want to spend every minute of it with her mother. But that didn’t mean they couldn’t still have fun together. A sudden ridiculous thought hit Miranda. While she’d been feeling sorry for herself, yearning for someone genuine with whom she could spend quality time, the very person had been right under her nose: her own lovely daughter. The daughter she’d been seriously neglecting while she flailed about with Lydia, searching for that elusive something that would make her feel like she belonged. Well, she didn’t have to look any further. Miranda belonged right here. With Josie. And she was going to kick off what she hoped would be the start of their rekindled relationship by giving her the best eighteenth birthday party ever. One Josie would remember for her entire life.

  She forced the corners of her mouth upwards and met her daughter’s gaze. ‘What a great idea, darling. Of course you can have a party. You can have whatever you like.’

  Josie’s face lit up. ‘Really? Are you sure it won’t be too much trouble?’

  ‘Of course it won’t,’ Miranda assured her, injecting every scrap of energy into sounding upbeat. ‘It’ll be fun. And you won’t have to worry about a thing. I’ll make all the arrangements. All you’ll have to do is enjoy yourself.’

  A small frown appeared between Josie’s eyebrows. ‘That’s really kind, Mum, but I wouldn’t want anything too … too … flash.’

  Miranda balked. Oh my God. Is that how her daughter now saw her? As some kind of bling queen? Someone with too much money and crass taste? But then again, maybe that’s exactly what she’d become. Deciding this was not the time to
dwell on the comment, she quickly rallied and plastered another smile onto her face. ‘It will be very tasteful, I promise.’

  Josie’s excitement returned in the form of a wide grin. ‘Do you think Dad will be able to make it? I’d really love him to be there.’

  Miranda’s smile waned and she bit her lip. Damn. She should have seen that one coming. Of course Josie would want her father at the party. But, as much as she loved her husband, seeing Doug was the last thing Miranda wanted. She’d planned on having the whole termination business behind her before she had to face him; ideally with a couple of weeks between the two events so she could pull herself together and bury the whole ghastly episode deep in the recesses of her mind. Not that she could tell Josie any of that. Doing her utmost to maintain her positive tone, she said, ‘We can ask him, but it’s probably best not to raise your hopes. You know how busy he is at the moment with his latest …’

  ‘… project,’ cut in Josie. ‘He’s always busy with his latest project.’

  ‘He works very hard,’ pointed out Miranda. ‘And we’re the ones who benefit. Look at this lovely house we live in.’

  ‘I know,’ huffed Josie. ‘I know I’m lucky. But I’d rather live in a small house and have Dad at home, that’s all.’

  For the second time in minutes, Miranda’s heart constricted. Never before had she heard Josie admitting she missed Doug. But of course she did. The two of them were constantly phoning, texting and Skyping. Proof that even Doug’s prolonged absences couldn’t break their unique father/daughter bond: the bond cemented immediately following Josie’s birth. She fleetingly wondered if the child would miss her if she were away so much. After the way she’d been flitting about with Lydia over the last couple of years, the answer unfortunately didn’t require much contemplation.

  ‘Maybe we could fly out and see Dad in a couple of weeks,’ she suggested brightly. ‘We could make a holiday of it.’

  Josie shrugged noncommittally, before sliding off her stool and running out of the kitchen.

  Chapter Six

  Paul didn’t quite know why he’d suggested the whole family go tenpin bowling that evening.

  Other than it seemed an age since they’d done anything as a family.

  And that he’d been feeling incredibly guilty about what was happening between him and Natalia.

  Not that anything was happening. Really. Other than him thinking about her every minute of the day. Particularly since their game of squash. The image of her in that skimpy outfit, nipples straining against the thin fabric of her top, beads of sweat trickling between her firm breasts. The way those tiny shorts had …

  ‘Dad. You’re up,’ shouted Leo.

  Paul almost toppled off his stool. He was up. In more ways than one. ‘Oh, er, my turn, is it?’ he bumbled, jabbing his fingers into the bowling ball as, with some difficulty, he dragged his mind from Natalia’s tiny white shorts, and back to the pleasant evening he was supposed to be spending with his family.

  ‘You okay?’ Julia asked, as he took his place at the head of the bowling lane. ‘You seem a bit distracted.’

  ‘Oh, just work stuff. You know?’ he breezed. ‘Now, everyone. Watch the master in action.’

  Having launched the ball down the lane, Paul watched as it executed a beautiful curve into the gutter and disappeared from view without knocking over a single skittle.

  ‘That was rubbish, Dad,’ said Faye, snorting with laughter.

  ‘I was just testing the camber,’ chuckled Paul. ‘And now that I have, I’ll know exactly what angle to bowl at next time round.’

  ‘Yeah, right,’ said Faye. ‘Now watch me. This is how it should be done.’

  Faye drew back her arm and, in one smooth move, hurled the ball towards its destination. Seconds later, all ten skittles had been toppled.

  ‘Yay!’ she shouted, jumping up and high-fiving Julia.

  ‘Wow,’ Julia exclaimed. ‘Am I glad you’re on my team.’

  ‘Well done, Faye,’ said Leo. ‘I didn’t know you had it in you.’

  ‘Of course she has it in her,’ cut in Paul, putting his arm around Faye and hugging her to him. ‘She’s my daughter.’

  They played for another half an hour, Faye achieving a strike every time, before Paul suggested going for ice cream.

  ‘Well, this is really nice, isn’t it?’ he exclaimed, as the waitress placed three tall ice-cream sundae glasses on the table, each one overflowing with strawberries, cream and chocolate sprinkles. ‘Us out as a family.’

  ‘I’m having a great time,’ said Faye. ‘But that’s probably because I enjoy nothing better than thrashing my brother. And you don’t know what you’re missing not having one of these sundaes, bro,’ she continued, whipping a huge dollop of cream off the top of her glass with her finger. ‘This is divine.’

  ‘You should be worried about your cellulite, not bragging about your bowling,’ remarked Leo, chuckling. ‘You’ve been lucky, that’s all. Me and Dad are just warming up.’

  ‘We should make an effort and do more stuff like this,’ said Julia, scooping the cherry off the top of her sundae with her spoon. Once a month at least.’

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Paul. ‘We should.’

  And he meant it. Once he’d firmly established himself in the moment, and not let his mind wander to all-things-Natalia, he’d thoroughly enjoyed himself. And it was good to see Faye smiling for a change. While Leo breezed through life, his sister seemed to suffer more than the usual amount of teenage angst. Paul felt a tinge of guilt that perhaps they focused too much on Leo with all his high achievements, and not enough on Faye. It couldn’t be easy for her, after all, living with a sibling who outshone her at every turn. Except – obviously – at bowling. She’d been like a different girl this evening. A pleasure to spend time with. He and Julia really should make a concerted effort to help build up her self-esteem. Before she went off to university.

  God! Paul could hardly believe that that time was so imminent. It seemed like only yesterday when Julia had announced she was pregnant. And for all the last eighteen years had blurred into one, that was one day Paul would never forget …

  He’d met Julia when she’d been visiting a friend of hers at Durham University, where Paul was studying for his Master’s degree. A red-hot June day, exams just finished, spirits were high, hormones raging, and alcohol flowing. The river which meandered around the city had been crammed with students in the wooden boats normally hired out to tourists. Paul, attempting to row a bawdy crowd of six over to a landing strip on the opposite riverbank, had thudded straight into the boat occupied by Julia and her friends.

  ‘Hey! It’s not the bloody dodgems,’ Julia yelled back, as the plastic cup full of red wine she’d been holding spilled all down her white T-shirt. ‘Look what you’ve done,’ she exclaimed, standing up in the boat to demonstrate the extent of the damage.

  In his semi-inebriated state, Paul hardly noticed the spilt wine. What he did notice were lovely pert breasts, delectable long legs, a glorious mane of chestnut hair, and amazing brown eyes flashing with rage.

  ‘I’ll buy you another drink later,’ he shouted back, amidst the lewd comments being bandied by his mates.

  ‘Don’t bother,’ Julia sniped. Before sticking her nose up in the air, flicking back that lustrous hair, and turning her back to him.

  For all that, in the intervening hours, copious more amounts of alcohol were consumed, and various typical end-of-exams pranks undertaken, Paul couldn’t shift the image of the girl in the boat from his mind. When he spotted her and her mates in a pub in town later, he’d scarcely believed his luck. She’d changed her clothes and was now sporting a pink and yellow sundress, her mane of hair clipped back in a messy ponytail. She looked, he thought, completely adorable.

  ‘Remember me?’ he asked, courage bolstered by the ridiculous amount of lager sloshing about his veins.

  ‘No. Should I?’ she retorted, those incredible brown eyes twinkling with what he later discovered to be humour.<
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  ‘Dodgems. Red wine,’ he proffered by way of explanation.

  She screwed up her nose as if attempting to make sense of the information.

  Paul had been transfixed by the smattering of freckles across its bridge.

  ‘Ah. Yes,’ she eventually conceded. ‘You owe me a drink.’

  They started seeing each other immediately after that. But it was always down to Paul to make the arrangements, to suggest a suitable day, to think of things to do. While he thoroughly enjoyed being with her, he could never be quite sure what Julia was thinking. He knew she’d had a serious relationship before him, with some guy called Max, but she never seemed to want to talk about it, so Paul didn’t push it. And, as she was in her final year, and he knew how desperately she wanted to achieve a good degree, he trod carefully.

  It was five months down the line before they properly consummated their relationship. They’d slept together in the same bed on many occasions, but they’d never had sex. Naturally Paul, like any red-blooded male in his prime, had attempted the event several times, but Julia had never been ready. Then, one day, completely out of the blue, she’d turned up at his room in Durham. And, without waiting for him to speak, ripped off his clothes, before removing her own. The result had been dynamite.

  ‘What made you change your mind?’ Paul asked afterwards.

  Julia shrugged. ‘It was time.’

  The physical side of their relationship continued in that incredible way. Until, only weeks after graduating, and still searching for a job, Julia turned up at the house in Bristol where Paul was now working, sharing a house with three other guys. The moment he set eyes on her, he guessed something was wrong. She looked pale, drawn, completely exhausted.