by Adale Geras
‘That’s not how Maureen sees it. She feels Adrian’s had a lucky escape from a girl – and a family – who were nowhere near good enough for him. Her words not mine.’
Joss looked down at her plate in embarrassment. ‘I know she must feel terrible. I did too, when Zannah first told me. I … I had nothing against Adrian, Gray, but I can’t pretend I’m not pleased that she and Cal are getting back together. I’m sorry.’
‘No need to be.’
Silence fell between them. What should she say now? Would he speak first? He took a sip of his coffee. He said, ‘I’ve rehearsed a meeting like this a thousand times. I didn’t think it’d ever happen.’
‘I didn’t either.’
‘Maureen and I are divorcing, Lydia. I told her in March that I wanted to leave her. Shortly after Zannah called off the wedding.’
The red and white squares on the tablecloth swam in front of Joss’s eyes. She felt slightly nauseous. ‘What reason did you give?’
‘I told her I didn’t want to live with her any longer.’
‘Did you tell her about me?’
‘Yes. But I said we hadn’t seen one another for months. She didn’t … doesn’t believe me. She thinks … Well, you can imagine.’
‘I don’t know what to say, Gray. Those pictures at Christmas … the ones she sent Adrian on the camera phone … they upset me.’
‘I’m sorry. Part of me wanted you to be upset. I wanted you to be feeling as bad as I was … ’
‘You and Maureen looked so happy together, like a holiday brochure.’
‘I was … never mind. It wasn’t like that, I swear. Every day was endless. I haven’t stopped thinking about you. I’ve left home. I’ve got a job in London. This is where I’m living now.’ He pushed a piece of paper across the table. ‘I’ve written down my new address and phone number for you. It’s in Muswell Hill … a lovely apartment. Everything’s changed, Lydia.’
She knew what he expected her to say. He wanted her to follow his example. Ask Bob for a divorce. Leave home. Start a life with him. She folded the paper in half without looking at it, and put it into her handbag. Then she said, ‘Zannah and Cal’s wedding is less than a month away. I promised my daughters, Gray. I promised Bob, too, but that’s … Well, I can’t. I can’t start it all again. I’m sorry.’
He leaned forward and glared at her. Joss flinched. ‘Let me get this quite right, so that I make sure I’m not twisting what you say. You’re not going to leave your husband. Is that right? Even though I’ve left Maureen?’
Joss nodded. She knew no words would convey what she wanted to say, so she kept quiet. Gray was white with fury. ‘I can’t believe this. You’re trotting out the whole fucking promises thing all over again. Haven’t you had enough time to think better of that crap? This is just a rerun of what you said in November. I cannot believe you’re going to throw away what we have again … I just can’t believe it.’
‘Nothing’s changed, Gray. I’m still bound. You know I am.’
‘What I know is that you’re selfish and cowardly. I’ve broken up my marriage and my career and you’re not prepared to do anything. Nothing at all. Oh, no, your cosy little life has to go on exactly as it always has and I’ve just been an inconvenience that tripped you up for a bit but which you’ve now got sorted out to your satisfaction.’ He stood up suddenly. ‘D’you want to know something, Lydia? I’ve just this second realized and, okay, I’m a bit slow on the uptake, but it’s clear to me now. You don’t love me. You’re absolutely okay without me. I saw you at the reading. You were completely self-possessed. Perfectly poised. You weren’t tormented or upset in any way that I could see and that’s the bottom line. I can tell you’re fine without me because you’re not prepared to give up one single thing. You’re not going to try to bend even one of those completely pathetic principles of yours. Not for me. Okay. Goodbye. That’s it. There’s only so much shit I’m prepared to take. Stay and finish your sandwich. I’m going.’ He flung a ten-pound note on to the table and rushed out of the café.
Joss sat there after he’d gone, paralysed. All the time he’d been talking, she’d wanted to interrupt him and explain, tell him why, beg him to wait just a little longer, but he’d given her no chance. How could he have misunderstood her so completely? Has she really seemed composed? Happy? I’m not, she wanted to shout. Really, I’m not. She could text him. She could phone him and say it was all a huge mistake and of course she’d leave Bob and come to him. She’d been mad, stupid, ridiculous. She loved him. She took her mobile out of her bag and stared at it, blinking back the tears. What would I say? she asked herself. The wedding … I can’t tell Zannah all this now. Not after what she’s been through with Adrian. And Bob … if I couldn’t leave him before, what’s changed? Nothing, except that Gray’s even more furious than he was in November. He’s left Maureen. Joss knew he’d expected her to fall into his arms and she hadn’t. She couldn’t, not yet. Would she ever be ready? She had no idea. She felt as though the scab on a wound that had been healing quite well had suddenly been torn off. She was bleeding and in pain all over again.
Friday
Maureen looked at the calendar. Just over a week to go to the wedding that ought to have been Adrian’s. For a few days after that announcement from her Fucking Bastard Husband – and that was how she’d always think of him from now on: she used all three words every time he came into her head – Maureen had been ablaze with rage and fury. She’d simmered for ages after he’d told her, walking round the house and swearing to itemize every single object in every single room and lay claim to the whole lot. He’d told her that woman wasn’t in touch with him, and if you believed that you’d believe anything. No, she had her claws into Graham all right. Now that Mr Bartram had sorted out the legal side of things, she felt safer. Nothing she did now could change the fact that the house was hers and a sizeable settlement as well, but Maureen was damned if the Prize Bitch was going to lay her fingers on so much as a teaspoon from her kitchen. Fucking Bastard Husband was rich enough to start all over again and the last she’d heard was a card with his bloody new address and phone number on it. And a note telling her about his new job, as if she gave a shit. He’d obviously gone and found a love-nest that was just the thing for creeps with no morals who ditched wives they’d been living with for more than three decades in favour of wispy poets with no tits to speak of. And what’s more, she thought, that daughter of hers has inherited both her titlessness and her homewrecking capacities.
Much of Maureen’s time over the past couple of months had been spent doing things with Adrian to cheer him up and she thought she’d almost convinced him that a move to Guildford, at least to live, wasn’t completely out of the question. He was feeling better already, she could tell, even though he did still go into deep glooms and miseries occasionally, moaning on about Zannah and how unhappy he was. When he was in that mood, it was up to Maureen to emphasize the positive, to bolster his confidence. Once they were on that plane and off to Barbados, all would be well, she was sure.
Today, she was the one in need of bolstering. As what was to have been her son’s wedding day approached, she felt worse and worse about missing out on the wonderful, no, the perfectly beautiful arrangements she’d made. She regretted things that she knew were completely ridiculous, like seeing the cake she’d designed actually there on the table. She was even cross, at some level she didn’t understand, that she wouldn’t now be able to assess how Zannah’s wedding dress had turned out. Even worse, she’d never have the satisfaction of all those people seeing how much better-looking, how much more expensively dressed she herself was than that Gratrix mouse. Now, she was sitting at the computer feeling a little woozy. She hadn’t slept well, although she’d swallowed a couple of pills last night – and who could blame her? Even after liberal applications of Estée Lauder concealer, her eyes still weren’t up to scratch. She couldn’t help it. She was crying altogether too much. She looked like a cartoon character with red lines dr
awn in squiggles all over the whites of their eyes. This usually meant they’d been hit over the head and flattened by an iron frying pan. Like me, she thought. I’ve been hit over the head. That’s what it feels like.
She squared her shoulders and turned on her computer. Zannah had already written letters to the guests who were now no longer welcome at the wedding. Mercifully, no one had sent any gifts yet so there had been none to return. She’d received a cheque for Genevieve’s deposit from Zannah, and it gave her some pleasure to think of the ghastly Gratrixes having to tighten their belts. As she stared at the screen, an idea came into her mind. It was so startlingly simple, so beautiful and so devastating that she wondered why it had only just occurred to her. She thought about it for a few seconds. She hadn’t been in touch with anyone from that family since Graham had told her of his intentions, because she was damned if she was going to lose her house as well as her husband, but all that was taken care of now and she could do what she wanted. Fucking Bastard Husband swore blind that that woman and her husband hadn’t discussed divorce. Well perhaps, Maureen thought, it was time they did. Why should that bloody woman be sitting there looking forward to a divine wedding next week, when Maureen herself was in this turmoil? Let her have a little turmoil of her own. At first, Maureen thought of writing directly to Prize Bitch but she could delete the email and pretend it had never arrived. No, she’d got something much more effective up her sleeve … something quite deliciously nasty. Here was a chance to make that woman wish she’d never laid eyes on Graham, and at the same time her message would in all probability wreck the wedding. Fantastic. Better than her wildest imaginings of revenge. She intended to write the kind of words it would be impossible to ignore and she knew exactly who would be getting them. Brilliant. Terrific. A revenge that would be all the more pleasant for having been delayed a few weeks.
Maureen felt suddenly hot and sweaty, as though she’d been running. She clicked on compose in her email and stretched her hands before hitting the keys. She typed quickly, stabbing each letter with her scarlet-tipped fingers. Then she pressed SEND without reading through what she’d written. Maybe that last bit was rather OTT but what the hell? How often did you learn that your entire life was in ruins? Serve the whole lot of them bloody well right, Maureen thought. I don’t give a twopenny damn what happens to any of them.
*
‘Joss? Are you busy?’
She looked up from her desk and saw Bob standing in the doorway. He was holding a piece of paper in his hand. Joss was so surprised to see him there that she started to get up.
‘No, it’s okay,’ he said. ‘If you’re working, this’ll wait. But I wanted to show you something.’
‘What is it?’
‘An email. I printed it out. I thought you should see it.’
Joss did get up then. ‘Come in, Bob. Take the chair. You look … I’ll sit on the bed.’
He gazed at the piece of paper and didn’t say anything for what seemed a long time. Joss found that her heart was pounding. It occurred to her that this was the first time in years that he’d even crossed the threshold of this room and she pushed that thought to the back of her mind. Bob said, ‘It’s from Maureen. I think you should read it yourself. I’m sorry to have to show you such a thing.’
Joss took the sheet of paper from him and started to read:
I feel you should know that my bastard of a husband is divorcing me. He claims to be in love with your wife and I know for a fact she’s been screwing him for years. Adrian has had a lucky escape from your family and I hope that the whole lot of you rot. Maureen.
’You’re not saying anything, Joss.’
‘What d’you expect me to say? She’s a vicious woman and I wish you’d deleted the message without bothering to print it out.’
‘Is there any truth in it?’
Joss looked down at her hands. ‘No. No truth at all. You know our history, mine and Graham Ashton’s. I promised you I wouldn’t sleep with him again. I’ve not seen him since November. Or been in touch with him. He did come to my reading in London a couple of weeks ago, but there were other people around in the theatre. Nothing happened.’
She covered her face with her hands. Surely in these circumstances it was okay to lie a bit. She didn’t know what to think. She wanted to scream abuse at Maureen. How could she do this? How could she hurt them so, simply because their daughter had broken up with her son? But it’s not only that, she told herself. It’s me and Gray. She can’t bear it that he doesn’t love her any more. She thinks we’re together. He hasn’t told her the truth. She thinks we’re still lovers.
‘Joss? Joss, look at me, please.’
She took her hands away from her face and sat up a little straighten ‘What are we going to do about it?’
‘I don’t know. I’m not sure whether I believe you.’
‘You’d rather believe a harridan who’s clearly demented with rage, is that it?’
‘She’s lying, is she? About you and her husband?’
‘Yes. What she says there is a lie. We have not been, as she puts it, “screwing for years”. I told you. Before he turned up at my reading – unexpectedly, I should say – we’d not even been in touch by email since November. I promise you that’s the truth, Bob.’
‘Ah, but is it the whole truth?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Please think carefully before you answer, Joss. I mean it. And don’t lie to me. You implied, when we discussed this, that the whole matter was nothing very much. A storm in a teacup and easily overlooked. Is it possible … Do you love this man?’
She opened her mouth to deny it. She was surely a good enough liar to carry such a thing off. Then the word came out, almost in spite of what she’d planned to say. ‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘I do love him. Desperately. It’s not going anywhere, but I can’t seem to stop myself. I’m so sorry, Bob.’
She got up and went to the window. She could feel Bob’s silence growing behind her. What would he say? How could this conversation continue?
‘Desperately,’ he whispered, and Joss cringed. How could she have let that word slip out? He went on, ‘What about me? D’you love me?’
‘Yes. Of course I do, but … ’
‘But what? Clearly not desperately. I want to know what’s in your mind, Joss. We’ve been married for more than thirty years, for God’s sake. Can’t you tell me what you feel? Explain things to me? I’m begging you … ’
‘Okay,’ Joss said. ‘Okay.’ She came to sit on the edge of the bed again and took her husband’s hand. ‘It’s hard, but I’ll try. I’ve loved you for years. I’m used to you. We get on well. We have Zannah and Em and Isis to bind us together. You’ve looked after me from the very first day we met. You’ve provided a home and money and comfort and companionship, and all those things that are so important. That’s why I promised you I wouldn’t see Gray again. I didn’t want to hurt you. I didn’t want to … well, to disregard what we’ve always had. And I thought that if I didn’t see him then the kind of feelings I have for him might fade. Or go away altogether. But they haven’t. I’m sorry, Bob. I’m not going to do anything about it … Perhaps over time … ’
‘And how is what you feel for this man different from your feeling for me? Where does the desperation come from? I want to know. I’d like to be able to understand.’
‘He’s more … interested in things I’m interested in. My work. He reads my poems. He writes poetry. He’s more involved in my thought processes.’ She could have added, but didn’t: he sees me. He thinks I’m beautiful. He notices my clothes. He tells me he loves me all the time. Or he used to.
‘It’s the sex, isn’t it?’ Bob was frowning. ‘The desperation has to do with sex … ’
‘Oh for the love of God, stop it! I don’t want to hear one more word about “desperation”, all right?’ She was shouting and forced herself to be calmer, to speak more quietly. ‘I don’t want to talk about that, if you don’t mind.’
; ‘I’m not enough for you. I don’t satisfy you. Probably never have. Go on, deny it.’
‘Don’t be so stupid. Of course you’ve “satisfied” me. I refuse to discuss this, okay?’
‘Not really but I suppose you’re right. Especially if you’re not seeing him.’
‘Exactly.’ Joss nodded.
‘Your reticence on the subject speaks volumes, however.’
‘I don’t know what you’re saying.’
‘You could have told me, reassured me … Oh, never mind, Joss. You’re right. The whole topic’s unseemly. I won’t mention it again.’
‘Thank you,’ Joss said, under her breath.
Bob stood up and went over to the door. ‘It’s just over a week till the wedding. Not a word to the girls about this, d’you understand? It was that woman’s intention to put the kibosh on Zannah’s wedding and I’m not allowing her to do that. D’you promise? Not a single word?’
‘I promise … But what …’
‘I’m going downstairs now. There’s the conference in Birmingham starting tomorrow. I’ll think about what’s best to do. Good night.’
Joss stood staring out of the window for a long time after he had gone. Why was he the one to make the decisions? Why shouldn’t she? Maybe, she reflected, because I don’t know what to do. She sat on the divan bed and tried to imagine what was going through his mind. Maybe tomorrow she’d be able to gather what his thoughts were before he went off to his conference. How troubled could he be by all this if he could even contemplate driving to Birmingham to sit in seminars and lectures? No, that wasn’t fair. Bob had always used his work to bury any worries he may have had. It was one of the things that irritated her about him. He never came to her to pour out his fears, his dreams. Would she have felt differently about him if he had? Joss had no idea. She wondered what the chances were of her getting a good night’s sleep.
