Thursdays in the Park

by Hilary Boyd

  ‘What’s up? Are you OK? You look dreadful.’

  Jeanie managed a smile. ‘Thanks, just what a girl needs to hear.’

  ‘I didn’t mean that, but you’ve gone so pale.’

  ‘I’m fine, really.’ She hastened to the shelf with the olive oil and yanked off a bottle at random. ‘Just tired.’

  ‘Hardly surprising,’ he commented dryly. As they got in the car, he went on, ‘Don’t worry, I’ve decided to go home today, after lunch. I think it’s better.’

  She nearly said that he didn’t have to, that it was fine for him to stay; it was habit and she felt so sad for him, for them. But she resisted, realizing that she was barely holding on till she could be alone again. The silence in the car was solid, dead. They had nothing more to say to each other.

  ‘Will he be OK?’ Chanty gazed out into the street after her father’s departing car. The meal had been subdued, almost hurried, everyone dying to be able to dispense with Christmas niceties. Chanty looked utterly exhausted, holding her swollen body with both arms as if in an attempt to keep it together. Alex remained largely silent.

  ‘Did you fight?’ Alex asked when he came back from putting Ellie down for her nap.

  ‘No. Well, sort of . . . the usual back and forth. I think he’s finally realized it’s over.’ Without warning, Jeanie began to cry and seemed unable to stop, try as she might in front of her daughter and son-in-law. But they did not react with the horror and embarrassment that she expected, as if they had long been waiting for it. She felt her daughter’s arm go around her.

  ‘I’m so sorry, this is the last thing you two need to deal with right now. I’ll be OK, it’s just been so hard. I love your father, but I can’t live with him any more, and that makes it harder. That toy box is so beautiful, Ellie loves it. This isn’t to do with your dad, he’s a good man, but it just doesn’t work any more . . . I’m so sorry.’ She babbled on, splurging out everything that came into her mind on the subject of George and her marriage, and her listeners just nodded sympathetically.

  ‘Do you think he’ll stay down there?’ Alex asked eventually.

  Chanty nodded. ‘He told me he likes it, likes the people. Sally comes in more often. He’s got his two obsessions, the clocks and the garden. I don’t think he’s as lonely as we think.’

  Jeanie’s tears began to slow. ‘It’s just so sad,’ she said quietly.

  ‘And it’s really over? I mean forever? How can you be so sure, Mum, if you still love him?’ Chanty queried.

  ‘I’m sure, I really am sure,’ Jeanie said firmly.

  23

  Jeanie lay on the sofa and played Chet Baker over and over again. She let the music sink into her, flow round her, through her, the long, sweet notes taking her back to those unforgettable moments that changed her life. Tonight, for the first time since she had embarked on the separation, she felt free to indulge these memories – because George had finally understood.

  Ray’s present could mean only one thing, but she hesitated before she got in touch with him. This moment of hope, before the stomach-churning uncertainty of a love affair, seemed so precious to her.

  Her Boxing Day text to Ray asked if they should meet.

  His reply to Jeanie agreed that they should.

  Her text to Ray said: In the park, midday?

  He sent her kisses in reply.

  She spent a lot of time that morning in front of the bathroom mirror. Bright sunlight with nowhere to hide, she thought, then chided herself for her vanity. For once she really cared what she wore, tearing clothes from her cupboard she had never worn, trying them on, discarding them in a panic. In the end practical considerations won out – it was cold, it was lunchtime; she would wear jeans, boots and her favourite cream cashmere sweater.

  He was there when she rounded the bend that led to the playground, sitting on the bench by the ducks where she had so often found him in the past. Her heart nearly somersaulted at the sight of him.

  He stood when he saw her and for a moment they both seemed frozen in time, time past and time present.

  ‘Oh, Jeanie,’ Ray whispered, holding out his arms to her. And she went to him, leaning close against his chest, his arms tight round her, and felt an almost insane happiness.

  There seemed nothing to say, as if saying anything would break the spell, so they wandered, mostly silent, hand in hand through the park, down the hill and on to the Heath, to the only cafe they thought might be open on a bank holiday.

  ‘You have no idea how much I’ve missed you,’ Ray said, when they were seated in the warmth of the winter sunlight on rickety metal chairs. Dogs swarmed round the area, their owners pulling and nagging at them to rest while they drank their coffee.

  ‘I have,’ she said, with feeling. Neither of them could stop smiling.

  ‘But you thought it wouldn’t work with me.’

  ‘No, I thought I shouldn’t leave George.’

  ‘So what changed your mind?’

  ‘You, I suppose.’ She laughed. ‘Then I saw you with that beautiful girl and I thought it was all over, that you’d moved on.’

  Ray looked puzzled. ‘What beautiful girl?’

  ‘You can be honest. I saw you together, under the umbrella. You seemed very close.’

  Ray thought for a moment, then suddenly threw his head back in laughter. ‘Mica, that was Mica! You thought we were an item?’

  ‘Well, you had your arms round her . . . you looked very close,’ Jeanie said, disconcerted by his laughter.

  ‘That’s my assistant. She helps manage the centre. That day under the umbrella she’d just told me she was pregnant! Oh, Jeanie, that’s hilarious . . . you jealous of Mica! You have no idea.’

  ‘OK, OK, don’t make a meal of it, it wasn’t funny at the time. I didn’t just feel jealous, I thought I was going to throw up then and there on the pavement,’ she admitted. ‘And die,’ she added.

  Ray nodded. ‘I know what you mean, believe me. I was sick and in despair for months thinking of you with your husband.’

  ‘I owed it to him. He still thinks my leaving is partly triggered by the abuse, that I’m disgusted by what happened to him – which I am, of course, but not in the way he thinks. And you. He sensed you, even when we weren’t seeing each other.’

  ‘Were you ever honest with him? About us?’

  ‘No. Did he need to know how I really felt?’

  Ray shrugged. ‘Probably not.’

  ‘You think I should have told him?’

  ‘I don’t know, Jeanie. It’s not for me to say. I’d like to think honesty is the best policy, but plant an image in a man’s head and it can drive him insane.’

  ‘More insane than his imagination?’

  ‘Perhaps not.’

  ‘Let’s not talk about George,’ she said, reaching for his hand.

  ‘No, let’s not.’ For a minute they seemed lost in the still surprising reality of being with each other. ‘Jeanie . . . do you think we could make something of this? You and me?’

  She took a deep breath. ‘We could try,’ she answered, laughing softly.

  Ray shook his head. ‘That’s the thing. I never need to try with you. I don’t think I’ve felt such absolute ease before with anyone, ever. It’s what broke my heart when you left. I knew I’d never find that again.’

  ‘Shall we walk?’ Jeanie suggested. ‘It’s getting cold.’

  ‘I thought . . . I thought maybe we could go back to mine?’ Ray smiled.

  Suddenly, blissfully, Jeanie realized there was no reason in the world why she shouldn’t go.

  Their lovemaking was as sensuous, as passionate as before. But this time there was no desperation, only joy. The sadness of impending loss that had overshadowed all their previous moments together no longer tormented them.

  Afterwards, Jeanie lay in Ray’s arms. His hand played softly along the bare skin of her arm.

  ‘This is heaven,’ he murmured.

  She lifted her face to his, and kissed him on the mouth
. At first softly, then more urgently. Suddenly the sound of her phone interrupted them. She sighed and reached for it. As soon as she saw the number, she knew.

  ‘Alex?’

  ‘I’m taking her in now. I’ve got Ellie with me. Can you collect her from the hospital?’ She could tell his apparent calm was only a veneer. ‘The contractions suddenly speeded up or we’d have rung sooner. Where are you? I don’t think it’s going to be long.’

  ‘I’m on my way. Fifteen minutes.’ She snapped the phone shut and threw herself out of bed. ‘Chanty’s in labour. I’ve got to get Ellie.’

  Ray sat up. ‘Wow . . . good luck, hope it all goes well.’

  She bent to give him a quick kiss and was gone, running back up the hill to the maternity unit, her heart soaring with happiness.

  Little Rebecca Anne was born perfect, weighing nearly eight pounds. Chanty had been too late for an epidural, but the birth was not deemed a difficult one – easy for everyone else to say, Chanty had retorted. Ellie thought her little sister a great novelty for about twenty-four hours, then was jealous as hell. But Chanty took it all in her stride, enjoying, perhaps, the contrast with Ellie’s first months, when she had been virtually a single mother.

  Still Jeanie waited to tell her family about Ray. Still she dreaded the reaction from them, and the inevitable accusations.

  ‘Just tell them, darling,’ Rita nagged her. ‘I mean, what can they do? They won’t like it, but it’s your life.’

  ‘Yes, but if I wait it’ll be better; the more time there is since leaving George, the less they’ll fuss.’

  ‘If you wait, someone else will tell them for sure. They’ll see you and Ray and report back. There’s always someone.’

  ‘But what if Chanty won’t let me see Ellie and the baby? She hates Ray. I know she thinks he’s responsible for me leaving her father.’

  ‘Well, she’s right, he is. At least one of the reasons. But Chanty’d never stop you seeing the kids. Of course she hates him now, but she’ll come round eventually. She loves you, she’ll want you to be happy.’ She paused, and the look she gave Jeanie was pure sympathy. ‘No one said this was going to be easy, darling.’

  ‘But you don’t think there’s anything wrong with us being together, do you?’

  ‘Oh, darling, of course I don’t. I’m insanely jealous, but that’s a separate issue.’

  Jeanie laughed. ‘More wine?’

  ‘Thanks.’ Rita held out her glass. ‘I worried you were being impetuous, leaving George. Even though I knew you weren’t happy, I thought it was a blip, that you’d settle down, like so many couples do. It felt too dangerous . . .’

  ‘For someone of my age,’ Jeanie interrupted her friend.

  ‘Yes, for someone of your age.’ She raised her glass. ‘But cheers, darling, here’s to love.’

  ‘I’ll tell Chanty soon. I will.’ She made the promise as much to herself as to her friend. And she knew this was the final hurdle, that whatever the outcome, until she’d told her family, she would never be properly free to love Ray.

  It was three weeks since she had met Ray on the park bench, three weeks since Rebecca’s birth. She talked to Ray every day; they met as often as they could, either Ray staying over at her flat, or Jeanie going to his. Their lovemaking amazed them both, particularly Jeanie. She had never imagined feeling so physically in love.

  ‘Will you take me sailing?’ she said sleepily, as they lay in bed together one night. The sheer joy of him being beside her made her dizzy. She felt childish and light-hearted in a way she could not remember. ‘A boat in the Adriatic, the sun on our skin, salt on our lips and in our hair, a cool breeze as we lie on the wooden deck, the sails white and still above us. Nat told me you were there last summer. It’s what I imagined.’

  Ray shifted beside her. ‘Come the spring we’ll be gone, we’ll borrow Phil’s boat and take off. We can go wherever you want.’

  ‘What about our work?’

  ‘Even you and me are allowed a holiday, no?’ She heard him chuckle in the darkness. ‘You’ll have to learn aikido, Jeanie, and stop worrying. You think about everything to a standstill – it’s not healthy.’

  ‘Do I? Sorry, it’s just been very stressful for a long time now. I think it’s become a habit.’ She turned towards him. ‘How has Nat taken it, us being together?’

  ‘She was surprised, I think – she had no idea – but pleased. She likes you and so does Dylan. And I think she’s relieved I’ve fallen for a proper person and not some teenage bimbo.’

  There was silence. Both knew that Jeanie was putting off her conversation with her own daughter.

  ‘OK.’ Jeanie came to a decision. ‘OK. I’m going to tell Chanty tomorrow.’

  Ray didn’t respond. She had said this before, many times, in the last few weeks. She knew he didn’t believe her.

  Chanty rang the following morning, when Jeanie and Ray were having breakfast in her flat. It was as if she had heard Jeanie’s thoughts.

  ‘I’m venturing to Crouch End with Becca this morning, Mum. Ell’s at nursery, and I thought we might meet for a coffee at the Italian? Sort of see what the world looks like again.’

  ‘That’d be lovely. What time is good?’

  ‘I should be there about eleven, depending on feeds. Alex is going to pick up Ellie, so I won’t need to rush back.’

  ‘See you there, look forward to it.’

  She looked guiltily at Ray.

  ‘You can’t back out now,’ he grinned.

  ‘It’s all right for you to say,’ she retorted, her stomach already churning at the prospect.

  ‘You make out she’s a monster. I mean, how bad can it be? She’s probably guessed anyway.’

  Jeanie took his empty cup and went to fill it from the coffee machine.

  ‘Why would she, when every time over the past few months that your name’s come up I’ve protested that I’m absolutely not seeing you.’

  Ray shrugged, clearly more amused than sympathetic.

  ‘She loves you, trust in that,’ he stated simply, taking the cup she offered but retaining her hand in his and planting a light kiss on her palm.

  Jeanie took a deep breath. ‘Rita said that, and of course I know it’s true.’

  ‘But you still feel guilty about me.’

  She nodded. ‘Yes, well, not about you so much as about breaking up the family.’ She paused. ‘And I suppose part of me feels there is something a bit indecent, at my age, about being in love.’

  ‘Yeah, brilliant, isn’t it? A proper pair of reprobate old bats, you and me. We should celebrate it.’ Laughing, he grabbed her and pulled her down on the sofa. ‘Take care or I’ll make it really hard for you to get to work, or see your daughter, or go out at all today.’

  In the end, Ray’s refusal to believe there was a problem began to wear off on Jeanie, and she walked down the hill to Crouch End with a confident step.

  ‘Mum, if you promise me you weren’t in touch with him till you separated from Dad, then I believe you.’

  ‘You do? Well, your dad won’t.’

  Chanty sighed, one hand pushing the pram back and forth, the baby fast asleep, wrapped against the cold in a cute white woolly suit and hood with rabbit ears.

  ‘No, obviously Dad won’t, but I’m telling you, I trust you, Mum. This bloody man seems intent on causing nothing but trouble for our family,’ she added, angrily.

  Jeanie fiddled with the sugar packets in the centre of the table, shaking the sugar from end to end of the narrow waxed-paper tubes.

  ‘Everything was just fine between you and Dad before he reared his ugly head. I mean, where does he get off on breaking up thirty-five years of a perfect relationship – and our family?’ She glared at her mother. ‘I hate seeing you fall for it.’

  This was going just as badly as Jeanie had feared, but she felt her hackles rising at the unfair insult to Ray.

  ‘It wasn’t a perfect marriage, Chanty.’

  ‘Of course you say that now, and invent
all sorts of problems that never existed in order to salve your conscience.’ In her anger she was rocking the pram violently back and forth, but Becca slept blissfully on.

  Jeanie could no longer control herself.

  ‘The truth is your father refused to have sex with me for ten years before I met Ray, and worse, refused to tell me why. He just moved out one night, saying he couldn’t do it any more, and that was that.’

  She watched Chanty’s face.

  ‘Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.’

  ‘Why? Why then?’ Chanty asked, ignoring her mother’s apology.

  ‘It was the day he bumped into Acland. It brought it all back, apparently, the abuse.’

  ‘So you had no idea what his reasons were?’

  ‘Not at the time, no.’

  They sat in silence for a moment.

  ‘Listen, darling, I never meant to tell you this, and I don’t expect a sympathy vote for my behaviour. It was me who ruined the marriage, not Ray. Me and your father.’

  ‘That must have been very hard, the Dad thing. . . ten years is a long time.’ She sighed. ‘I suppose he just couldn’t bring himself to tell you.’

  ‘No, and I understand that now. But it didn’t make it any easier at the time.’

  ‘So when Ray came along . . .’

  ‘I wasn’t looking for someone to jump into bed with. If I’d wanted that I’d have done it years ago. I’d just resigned myself to how it was by then. But your dad killed something, a trust I thought we had, when he wouldn’t talk about the problem and seemed to have no concern about how it affected me.’

  Chanty gazed across the cafe. ‘Do you love this man, Mum?’ she asked, not looking at her mother.

  ‘Yes, darling,’ Jeanie replied, taking a deep breath. ‘Yes, I do.’

  Epilogue

  It took Jeanie a while to remember. She hadn’t sailed for over forty years, and never much beyond the Norfolk coast. But Ray was a patient teacher, and in fact took enormous pleasure in helping Jeanie find her way around the sailing boat. Magda was beautiful: white and sleek and strong; a dream to sail, Phil’s pride and joy. They picked her up in Brindisi, then headed across the Adriatic, pottering up the Dalmatian coast to anchor in tiny coves, swim in the crystal-clear azure water – still cold in April, or what Ray laughingly described as ‘refreshing’ – or take the dinghy ashore to explore the ports and tiny villages along the way. Ray was nimble and fit about the boat, much more so than Jeanie. But as the days wore on, she began to find her feet.