by Sara Downing
Yesterday had been exactly what I’d needed and I have woken up feeling much more on top of things this morning. I have resolved not to impinge on the Brookes’ family Sunday too much, having monopolised half their weekend already. Instead I plan to keep myself to myself today; I have a bit of prep to do for work tomorrow, and might even go into school to do it. It would just be easier than hanging around here, making them feel like they need to entertain me or keep me occupied. They need their family time today – the girls are around for the whole day, which only happens on a Sunday, and it’s important I don’t get in the way of that.
So by eleven in the morning I am in school. It’s a bit weird as I hardly ever go in at weekends, but also quite cathartic too; familiar, but different enough not to feel like a normal working day. Fortunately there are no other cars in the car park, so I will be alone. I haven’t heard from Tom this weekend. Normally we text fairly regularly, but I know he is giving me some space to do what I have to do.
I hadn’t actually come out and said to him that I was finishing with Mark, but had implied as much, and although it would be easy to drop him a quick line saying ‘I’ve done it!’ or ‘That’s it!’ or something similar, somehow it doesn’t seem appropriate, and I feel I don’t want to devalue what I’ve been through by turning it into a triumphant, exclamation-marked proclamation. I’d rather wait and tell him face to face, and impart the news with a little more gravitas, give it the status it deserves. He’s just as unlikely to text me for similar reasons. It’s all just better left for when we next meet, and when the new week comes, we can start to move on and see what the future holds for us both.
A couple of hours later I am engrossed in my work, and feeling really good about how far I have got with my planning, when I hear the back door to the school swing shut with a bang. I know I should go and investigate, and in the corridor come face to face with Tom. It’s a bit of a shock as I hadn’t expected to see him until tomorrow, and so haven’t really yet thought through what to say to him, so soon after breaking up with Mark.
‘Grace, what a wonderful surprise!’ he says, kissing me quickly on the lips and holding onto both of my hands. ‘Are you OK?’ he asks, probably wanting to avoid having to ask me directly if my plans had been put into effect.
‘Good thanks, didn’t expect to see you here either. I’m staying at Evie’s so I thought I’d give them all a bit of space today and get some work done.’
‘So, if you’re staying at Evie’s does that mean……?’ he begins gingerly, and I can’t really blame him for not wanting to come out and say it. Nor can I blame him for the brief flash of pure joy that passes over his face. He quickly tries to hide it; he’s a good person and he knows he needs to hear me out, let me explain everything in due course. But it’s no surprise that he would feel elated that there is now, in theory, no impediment to the relationship between the two of us ploughing ahead at full speed.
He leads me to his office and sits me down. ‘Tell me about it all, Grace. That’s if you want to, of course.’
‘There’s not much to say really, other than it’s over between Mark and me. Eight years of ‘us’, consigned to the dustbin.’ I try not to sound too down, as it’s not actually how I feel. Today I have a great sense of release and relief, but when prompted to talk about it again, it’s easy to slip back into the momentousness of the act and get dragged back down into the mire.
Tom pulls me to him and we just sit there, my head on his shoulder, feeling the warmth from his body. He doesn’t make a move to kiss me, and I feel sure it’s because he must be terrified of frightening me off at a fragile moment. It must have occurred to him how easy that could be; newly split up from a long-term partner, not every woman would necessarily want to jump into the arms of a new man, even if he is one she has tested the waters with a little beforehand. His position is still in jeopardy to some degree, I can see that, and no doubt he can too – I could mutate at any moment into a crazy, mixed up person, not wanting involvement with any man until she has well and truly got over her ex.
‘What are you doing here on a Sunday, anyway?’ I ask, moving back from him and changing the subject in an attempt to dispel the mood from the air.
‘Oh, I was at a loose end. Couldn’t stop thinking about you actually, and wondering what was happening,’ he runs his fingers through his hair, ‘and work is a good distraction, so, well, here I am. Added bonus to find you here, too, though,’ he grins.
Suddenly I am really glad he is here. We would have had limited time to talk tomorrow, and he would have been bursting to hear the news I was bursting to impart. At least we have been given that opportunity today. Neither of us would have been the first to make contact this weekend so if it weren’t for this chance encounter we would both still be wondering about a lot of things.
‘Come for some lunch with me,’ he proposes. ‘No pressure, just lunch in a pub somewhere. We can chat, relax, and do something normal with our day off, rather than be stuck here working.’
‘Yes but look what happened last time we tried to make it to a pub,’ I laugh, ‘and haven’t you got work to do?’
‘Nothing that won’t keep,’ he replies. ‘I’m only here because I couldn’t think what else to do to pass the time till I saw you again.’
Then he does kiss me properly. Just gently, tenderly. It’s luscious and bolts of lightning-lust sear up through my body. I still feel it’s not quite right though, too soon, and I don’t want to rush things. I want us as a couple to work and I want us to get the order of things correct, not be too hasty to rush into a full-on relationship. I know we have already slept together, but that was before I was single, and feels different now somehow. We no longer have the restrictive boundaries that we had before the weekend, but that doesn’t mean that now the fences are down we need to make a bolt for it. Also I am still in mourning for Mark to some degree, and I need to give myself time to grieve for the relationship that was.
‘Just lunch, then,’ I accede, pulling away from him, but keeping hold of his hand so that he doesn’t think he is being entirely rebuffed.
And we have a thoroughly delightful time. We spend the afternoon in the village pub garden, eating, chatting and laughing. The day is warm and balmy, the Pimms flows, and we are both totally relaxed with each other. We don’t talk about anything heavy or serious, we don’t mention Mark, or where Tom and I are heading. We spend the time starting to get to know one another properly, which is something we haven’t really done yet, and it has all the feel of a first date. We make each other laugh with stories of our youth, tell tales of our families and all their idiosyncrasies, and discover more about each other than we have had the opportunity to do until now. It’s perfect and wonderful, and the afternoon flies by.
It’s early evening before we finally agree, with a huge chunk of reluctance, that it’s about time we went our separate ways. Tom is only just within the legal limit for driving, I should imagine, and thankfully I left my own car in the school car park, but it’ll only be a short walk to work from Evie’s in the morning. Tom offers to run me back to her house, but I decline. I don’t think it would be a good thing for my friendship with her to arrive back, clearly somewhat tipsy, chaperoned by Tom. They might not even spot him dropping me off, but for now I don’t want to take that chance. Not until I’ve had an opportunity to speak to Evie properly about this new man in my life. I don’t want to get ‘sprung’ at this stage and have to make excuses for my behaviour. I know in reality Evie has no entitlement to an explanation for anything I have chosen to do, but all the same I feel I owe it to her, and to our friendship.
‘Will you come to Frannie’s wedding with me in a couple of weeks?’ I ask Tom drunkenly as I walk with him to his car.
‘I’d be honoured,’ he replies, smiling. ‘Are you sure, though? Will you be ready to be seen with me in public places by then?’
‘I’m at the pub, with you now aren’t I? You know, that pub in the village where we both work and where no d
oubt someone will have seen us together on a Sunday afternoon and put two and two together. How more public can you get than a pub?’
‘Well, they might think we’re having a planning meeting?’ he jokes.
‘Yeah, right, we always do that on a Sunday afternoon over a jug of Pimms,’ I reply, then add, ‘Now there’s an idea. Maybe we should put that one to the rest of the team. Alcohol always helps, I find.’
‘I think you’re a little bit tipsy, Grace,’ he laughs, stroking my face affectionately. ‘Go back to Evie’s and have a relaxing evening and I’ll see you tomorrow. Thanks for today, it’s been great, and I’m glad you’re OK,’ and here he leans in a bit closer and whispers, ‘And I’m glad you’re mine.’ He kisses me one last time, and climbs into his car. ‘You are, aren’t you?’ he adds, looking up at me, the confidence of his previous comment suddenly gone.
‘I am,’ I reply.
I practically skip back up the hill to Evie’s, a combination of the alcohol pumping through my veins and a wonderful sense of being at the beginning of something very big and exciting. Evie’s car is not on the drive, so presumably they have gone off somewhere for the afternoon. Can’t blame them for wanting to avoid the lodger, in case she should return home full of woe and want to talk about her break-up all over again. No, I’m sure they don’t think like that about me really, but all the same it is nice to have some space, in a neutral environment, to get my head together and think things over. I really am genuinely sad about breaking up with Mark, but I know I have so much to look forward to with Tom, and the sense of expectancy and excitement is overwhelming.
I grab my book and head for the patio and one of the squishy, comfy loungers. I’m still there, snoring away, when Evie and James arrive back with the girls. I wake up and shiver, feeling the chill as a gentle evening sun has now taken over from the full-on heat of the day. Sober, at least, after a long nap, which is something.
‘Hi Grace, how was your day?’ Evie asks.
‘Yeah, good thanks, got lots of work done.’ I leave it at that.
‘We met up with Alex and the kids, she was asking how you are. Surprised to hear you are our new resident!’
I bet she is. I haven’t really spoken to Alex much about my relationship with Mark, since she revealed that the two of them had become good friends. It just seemed disloyal, somehow. But I know I will have to. Whatever my friend’s reaction is going to be, I owe it to her to tell her everything that’s going on, not because I feel I need to justify my actions, but because she is one of my best friends and we normally share everything.
‘She said she’d grab you at school tomorrow, but she’s coming next Saturday, too, so we’ll have a good catch-up.’
‘Great,’ I say, trying to sound more enthusiastic than I feel. It’s going to be tough explaining my complicated and somewhat adulterous love life to my two best friends.
Nineteen
‘Round One’ of shopping completed, two intense hours of retail therapy under our belts and our credit cards have taken a substantial hit. Three pairs of well-laden, aching arms are ready for a trip back to the car to dump the heavy bags before we head off to find somewhere for lunch. This is a source of dispute at the moment, and my two friends are scrapping like a pair of teenagers. Evie fancies the revolving sushi bar in Selfridges, Alex says she gets motion sickness watching it all go round and in any case doesn’t see the point of raw tuna and rice – it’s not real food. I would just be happy with a glass of water and somewhere to sit down for five minutes. I seem to be living on air since last weekend; I haven’t fancied food in the slightest all week. Probably down to ‘new relationship euphoria’, the reason why so many women newly in lurve shed the pounds like they’re on some kind of magical diet. It’s an oft-proven theory, and here I am, a walking casebook for the phenomenon.
Finally, and after some well-timed refereeing from me to stop world war three breaking out in the ranks, we settle on an Italian restaurant with a terrace overlooking the shops. We can eat, and people-watch, wear our designer sunglasses and look like proper ‘ladies who lunch’. Perfect.
In our devotion to retail therapy, no one has yet mentioned my, or anyone else’s love life, but I sense the moment could be fast approaching. More than anything, I am unsure of what Alex’s reaction is going to be, especially when I tell them about Tom. I don’t know why I feel like I need her approval quite so much. I can’t quite get my head round this strange feeling I have that she might actually take Mark’s side in the whole débâcle, instead of mine. I think I just want my friends to be able to respect my decisions, and still love me and accept what I’ve chosen to do. After all these are the friends with whom I have shared so much, they are hardly going to judge me, are they? But then Evie’s own marriage is so rock solid and perfect, and Alex still has her dead husband on a pedestal of perfection, so I am the only one to have officially failed, not only to get a ring on my finger, but to be able to make my relationship work and last. And here I am, newly split from a long term partner, jumping into the bed of a new man, and that man no less than my boss! Whatever will they think of me?
They are on their second glass of wine each (fortunately for them I am today’s designated driver), before Alex asks me, ‘So, Grace, how are you? How’s it all going?’
‘It’s been a funny old week,’ I reply, trying to break the subject in gently. I tell them (well, Alex, really, Evie has heard it all before) about the break-up, recounting the conversation that Mark and I had had, what then ensued, and how I came to be Evie’s new lodger. She listens sympathetically, and doesn’t at any point venture to make a stand for Mark’s case. She doesn’t mention if she has seen him this past week, and I’m not really sure I want to know, in any case. I’m sure he is suffering too, but I have no desire to hear about it – we both have to manage to survive this in our own ways, and we will. ‘I’m OK though,’ I add, ‘I’m getting there.’
I consider this a good juncture at which to mention Tom, and take a deep breath before launching in.
‘There’s something else I have to tell you both.’ I have their undivided attention instantly. ‘There’s someone else. But before I tell you who, you have to believe me that he’s had nothing to do with Mark and me splitting up. It would have happened regardless. We grew apart and that’s that.’
‘Grace, you sly old thing!’ Evie snorts with a giggle, looking astonished, but the huge smile she beams out indicates that she is at least pleased for me. ‘How did you manage to keep it so quiet?’
‘It’s Tom, isn’t it?’ Alex asks, her face a picture of disapproval, and my silence just affirms her suspicions. She looks far from enthusiastic about the whole idea, and her gaze wanders outwards towards the passing shoppers, instead of inwards into our conversation, as though she can’t bear to look at me.
‘No way!’ Evie giggles, still in her high-pitched, excited squawk. ‘I knew he liked you, but I was only teasing you the other day,’ she goes on. ‘He is gorgeous, thought, can’t say I blame you! That hair, those muscles, mmmm… So, have you two………?’
‘Evie, how can you?’ Alex butts in, cutting Evie’s enthusiasm dead. ‘Grace, I can’t believe you’d do that to poor Mark, he doesn’t deserve that,’ she goes on.
‘I thought you’d find it hard, Alex, that’s why I made it quite clear first that it has absolutely nothing to do with my splitting up from Mark.’
‘Don’t be so silly, how can it not? Can you honestly say you would still have left Mark by now if you didn’t have Tom lined up and waiting?’ she asks.
I hate arguing with my friends, but it’s as I’d feared. I knew Alex would jump to Mark’s defence, seeing him as the wronged, cuckolded partner in all this, even though she’s my friend first and foremost, not his. And nor is she usually so quick to judge, she can be a lot more open-minded when she wants to be. But I’d had a bad feeling about telling her, and I’d been right.
‘Yes I would, and I can say that in all honesty,’ I explain. ‘I’ve
tried so hard in my head to keep the two things separate. I’ve never done anything like this before, you know that, but I knew Mark and I were over well before I realised I was in love with Tom. I’ve tried to do the right thing, Alex, really I have. You can’t say Mark and I haven’t tried time and time again to get things back on track. And I know it’s kind of clichéd, but you can’t help who you fall in love with. You know, ideally I’d probably quite like to be completely on my own right now, to get over Mark properly, and all that. But Tom is there, he’s waiting for me. He’s not going to rush me into anything, but I’m very, very glad I’ve got him. And it’s not a rebound thing, either. I just love him, simple as that. He makes me feel wonderful, and beautiful, and happy. That’s how it is.’
Despite Alex’s negative vibes attempting to put the dampers on, I can’t help the glow that spreads across my face, and I feel myself blush.
‘Please be happy for me, Alex. I didn’t do any of this on purpose, and I definitely didn’t set out to hurt Mark. We made the decision together that we should go our separate ways. It’s been coming for a while now. It’s hard for both of us.’
‘I’m sorry, Grace,’ Alex says. ‘It’s just that I’ve seen quite a lot of Mark this week and he’s so cut up about it all. He’s so sad, poor thing, and when I saw you happy and full of this new love it seemed wrong, somehow. Unfair.’
‘I’m sorry too, Alex,’ I reply. ‘I know you two have become quite close, and you must think I’ve moved on and forgotten him already, but I haven’t. We spent eight years together, for goodness sake. He’ll always be a massive part of my life, you can’t just forget all that. Just because I’ve had the opportunity to move on sooner than he has, don’t resent me for it, please.’
She pulls me into a big hug across the table, and we whisper our ‘Sorrys’ into each other’s shoulders. I think we will be OK. It’s understandable that she should feel for Mark, he’s probably talked to her more about our problems than I ever did, so no wonder, really.
