‘We could look at that, I guess. In the East, this phase in life is for peace and contemplation, the family brought up, the job done. The last section of life is for meditation.’
‘That’s right, Matt. I didn’t know you were into Eastern philosophy.’
‘I’ve read a bit but, back in the real world, it would also be worth doing a programme on finances. So many of my generation thought we’d never grow old and aren’t prepared for it, so maybe some advice from the experts on how to make the most of it. Savings, pensions, budget. Get one of those money-market experts in.’
‘Excellent idea.’
‘Thanks, Debs, you’ve been so helpful, when it was supposed to be me helping you.’
‘Not really. I just jotted down the different approaches. It’s talking to you that’s made it all come to life.’
‘We could make a good team.’
She raised an eyebrow. ‘We could.’ Woah, I thought, was I imagining it again, or was that look she gave me loaded? There was definitely a frisson of something there.
‘But aren’t I taking up your time?’
‘Hell, no. I love doing stuff like this.’
We spent the next half-hour writing down ideas and brainstorming more and, by the time we’d finished, we had the makings of the type of series that might just be a winner.
‘Debs, you’ve been a marvel,’ I said, ‘I’ll write all this up and tinker with it when I get home.’
‘Do send me a copy, I can see if I can add anything else.’ She reached out and put her hand on my arm. ‘I’ve really enjoyed it.’
‘Me too. I can’t thank you enough.’
‘My pleasure, Matt.’
‘And, hope it’s not too much to ask again but … would you mind not mentioning this to Cait?’
‘Of course not. I understand, but my philosophy has always been it’s best to have no secrets between couples, especially after what happened with Fabio and me.’
‘And usually I’d agree, but it won’t be for long. I just don’t want to give her false hope. I’ve had enough experience in the world of media to know that the best ideas can get buried sometimes.’
‘I understand.’
‘Thanks, Debs, you’re a star. Now. Do you want to look over the copy I’ve done for some of your brochures? I feel bad that we’ve ended up working on my stuff more than yours.’
Debs took my notes for her website, glanced down them and nodded. ‘Perfect. It seems we really are on the same wavelength. And of course I want to pay you for your time. When you’ve finished, could you let me know how many hours you’ve spent and what your rate is.’
‘Absolutely not. Especially after what you’ve just contributed to me. No. You’re a friend and I don’t charge friends. It’s been a pleasure, an absolute pleasure.’ I also got the feeling that she’d only offered me the work in the first place to help with our finances. Having just had our ideas session, it was clear that Debs would have been more than capable of updating her brochures herself. She hadn’t needed me at all.
‘Then at least let me set you up for a massage session with one of our therapists. I know these past weeks must have been a strain on you, and you could probably do with some real relaxation. We have some very good masseurs here and I could set you up with one of the best. Also our secret. On the house. I insist. I wouldn’t feel comfortable otherwise.’
In the end I agreed. It had been years since I’d had a massage and she was right, the last weeks had been a strain.
I left the spa feeling on top of the world, buzzing with ideas and renewed energy and couldn’t wait to get home to my computer to write them all down. Thank you, Debs. You’re not so bad after all.
20
Cait
I sat in a room on Tuesday morning with a group of young folk who looked like university graduates, all busy on their phones while we waited to be seen. The job we were lining up for was in telesales. My heart wasn’t in it, but my head kept telling me that I must be serious and at least try and earn something. After a few minutes checking each other out in between texts, we were led into a room, handed sheets of paper and pens and a questionnaire.
I knew I wasn’t in with a chance. I was at least forty years older than the other applicants so decided to have some fun with my form.
1) What is your motivation for getting the job? I need to get out of the house. My husband’s driving me barmy.
2) What do you feel you could bring to the job? My handbag and my lunch.
3) Do you use Twitter and Facebook? If so, what would you post on there? Photos of my bare bottom.
4) Do you prefer to be liked or to be right? Both. This is the right answer.
5) Do you drive through amber lights? Yep. Don’t we all?
6) Describe yourself in three words? Too old for this job. That’s five words. Soz.
7) What are your strengths? I do a great impersonation of Marilyn Monroe singing ‘Happy Birthday, Mr President’.
8) What are your weaknesses? Chips.
9) If I were talking to your best friend, what would they say you need to work on? My upper arms because they are a bit flabby.
10) If you could be any superhero, which would it be and why? Superman so I could wear underpants over my jeans.
11) What’s in your fridge? The head of my dead husband.
12) If you were written about in the paper, what would the headline be? Elderly lady flashes her bits in Waitrose.
13) What might you not like about the job? Dealing with people.
14) Worst moment of life? This.
15) Why do you think this is the job for you? My horoscope said so.
16) Would you say you are a tolerant person? What a stupid question, you idiot. Of course I am.
17) What do you do at weekends? Anger management courses.
18) What are your assets? Have a bike.
19) How would you demonstrate leadership skills? Arm wrestling.
20) When can you start? I’ll have to ask my mum.
21) Have you ever done anything you regret? Possibly filling in this questionnaire.
I left my questionnaire on the desk with the others on the way out. I knew they wouldn’t contact me because I’d put Mrs Anne Droid as my name and Cloud Cuckoo Land, Planet Earth, The Universe as my address.
It felt good to be juvenile sometimes.
I got home to a quiet house and a heap of bills. I felt deflated after my burst of rebellion earlier as I sifted through the pile. It was all very well acting like a fifteen year old, but the harsh reality of life soon caught up as shown by the invoices in front of me reminding me that we had to find a way to get by somehow or other. When the going gets tough, the tough look on Facebook, I thought as I switched on my laptop.
There was a private message from Tom. It said: Please call ASAP and text me your mobile number. Mine is 077733320.
I called his number and he picked up immediately. ‘Cait. I’m so glad you called.’
‘What’s the urgency?’
‘I need to see you.’
‘See me? Why?’
‘I’ll tell you when I see you.’
‘But—’
‘I’m on my way to Bath now. Can you get away?’
‘Tom, you’re scaring me. Has something happened?’
‘Yes. No. Nothing bad. I’ll be there in … about an hour. I can wait if you can’t get away for a while or even stay a night if you can’t see me today.’
‘No. I could. I’m not doing anything that can’t wait.’ I searched my mind for somewhere to meet him. Somewhere we wouldn’t be seen. ‘I’ll meet you in the botanical gardens in Victoria Park. They’re near the centre of town and you can park.’
‘OK. See you about 5.15. And keep your phone on in case I get lost or am held up.’
Matt was out so I was able to change and put on some make-up without being questioned. First I put on a smart navy dress. Blargh. No. I looked like a bank clerk. I’m meeting him in a park, for heaven’s sake, I
told myself. Put on something casual. I put on an Eastern-looking top. No. It was too evening dress. In the end I settled for my coral dress and some ballet-style slip-ons. I was intrigued. What could he possibly want? I wondered as I drove down to the gardens, parked, then found a secluded bench where I hoped that we wouldn’t be seen. I texted Tom to tell him where I was.
I wished I’d taken a book because it felt like eternity sitting there. It was a beautiful afternoon and there were lots of people about enjoying the late afternoon sun. Some glanced over. I twiddled my thumbs and felt oh so conspicuous, like there was a sign over my head saying, ‘Waiting for a lover, shouldn’t really be here.’
Tom arrived after half an hour, slightly breathless as though he’d been running. I got up to greet him as he came towards me and he grinned and swept me into one of his bear hugs. It was heady stuff having such an attractive man be clearly so pleased to see me. Even in jeans and white shirt, he looked charismatic, and I couldn’t help but grin back at him.
‘Sorry, sorry, couldn’t find a parking place. Have you been waiting long?’
‘Just got here,’ I lied.
‘So what’s going on?’ I asked when he let me go and we sat on the bench, turned towards each other.
He took one of my hands in his and took a deep breath. ‘Your text. It seemed to be giving me, us, the old heave-ho. So, I’ll be blunt. Seeing you again stirred up a lot inside of me and since then, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. In fact, I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind. I know it’s been forty years but … you know the real thing at our age. We were so young when we were together, and yes, it was all there then, the connection, the ease we have, but in my ignorance, my naïvety, my utter stupidity, I thought that was how it would be with other women, that bond, that unspoken understanding we have with each other – more than that, the recognition of having met someone exceptional. When I was with you, I took that for granted, imagining it would be there with so many others along the way, but I was wrong. It’s rare and precious. I didn’t know that at the time. Anyway, it’s taken me the past forty years we’ve been apart to realize that no, it isn’t like that with others. What we had was special, is special. I know you feel it too. You do, don’t you?’
‘Er …’
‘I should have known it back in our twenties but then … maybe not. I may have spent a lifetime wondering what else, who else lay out there and been as restless as you might have been with me, so maybe it was for the best that we both played the field, had experiences. Not that I didn’t love my wives, I did, and not that I haven’t had lovers, I have, but what we had is extraordinary. I know that now. You mentioned soul mates last time we met. I believe you were, are, mine, and I owe it to myself, and to you, to say so. Are you OK, Cait? You look pale.’
‘Christ, Tom, that’s quite a speech. I … I hardly know what to say. Unexpected is a word that comes to mind.’ Overwhelmed is another, I thought. It’s unreal. One minute I’m wondering how to pay a gas bill, the next I’m sitting in a park with a handsome older man who is claiming I’m his soul mate.
He grinned. ‘I know. Mad, isn’t it? And at our time of life? Who knew something like this could happen? But, oh Cait, I can’t begin to express how seeing you again has made me feel. Like I’ve come alive again, woken up. You do feel the same, don’t you?’
‘Tom, I’m married. I did feel that you were my soul mate once, you know I did, but that was many moons ago. Why are you here? What do you want?’
‘Remember our promise to each other? To always seek adventure? To never grow old. Well, I have a proposal. Something I want to put to you.’
‘Oh god.’ I got up and took a deep breath, and he stood up next to me, then he pulled me towards him. He put his hand on my chest, not in a sexual way but as though putting his hand over my heart. ‘What’s going on in there, Cait? I mean, really? I sensed something in you that’s restless, discontent. I felt it when we met in London. Not so much by what you said but by what you didn’t. Are you happy in your marriage?’
I could feel his breath on my skin, the warmth, weight and pressure of his body touching mine. Parts of me that had long been buried were stirring, awakening, firing a surge of desire through me. Tom leant towards me and grazed my bottom lip with his. My whole being wanted to respond but I panicked and tried to pull away. I glanced around. ‘Anyone could see us here,’ I said.
He smiled and there was that look I remembered so well – as if the whole world was for his amusement, me included. ‘Let them. I know you feel it. We could have a lot of fun, you and I, Cait Langham.’ He pulled me close again, and though part of me wanted to give in, to lie down on the grass there and then, feel his lips, his body on mine, in me, possessing me, filling me, I was also aware of where we were, of people milling about in the distance.
I took a gulp of air. ‘Let go. I can’t think or breathe. I can’t do this. Not here. I mean, not that I’d do it anywhere else. I’m married. I can’t just go snogging in the park like a teenager.’
He groaned with frustration but he let go and stepped back. He pulled me to sit on the bench again, took my hand, held it then put it to his lips and bit it.
‘Ow,’ I cried though it wasn’t a painful bite, not physically. I understood the gesture. He wasn’t the only one who was feeling the intensity of desire and not being able to act on it.
‘Sorry but you’re driving me crazy.’ He rubbed my hand. ‘I didn’t mean to hurt you.’
‘You didn’t, not really. It was just unexpected.’
‘You haven’t really answered my question about your marriage. Are you satisfied?’
‘I … Sometimes. OK. Not lately but—’
‘I thought not. I could always read you. I felt something held back in you.’
‘It’s a phase. We’ll get through. All relationships have their rough patches.’
‘Get through? Is that enough? Life is short. It’s up to us to make the most of it. Surely there is more than making do, living with only being moderately satisfied?’
It felt spooky to hear him vocalize my private thoughts. Is it enough? That was exactly what I’d been asking myself these past months. I felt a rush of anger. ‘Christ, Tom, who are you to ask me these things? I don’t feel comfortable talking about my marriage with you after all this time. You can’t swan down here and ask me things like that.’
He nodded. ‘I understand. Sorry. I didn’t mean to pressure you, but if these last few years have taught me anything, it’s that you have to embrace the moment, take the risks. Cait, remember what I wrote to you after I’d left – that meeting when we were young was bad timing. A lot of water’s gone under the bridge since then, but now …? We’re older, maybe not much wiser but maybe a little. We know what we want and what we don’t. I think we owe it to ourselves to find out if we do belong together.’
‘Together as in together together? A couple?’
He nodded. ‘That’s what I’m proposing.’
‘Are you out of your mind, Tom? We hardly know each other any more. Forty years is a long time. I’m not the same person you knew back then. I have knobbly knees now.’
Tom laughed. ‘Me too. I’ve changed too but I’m still Tom and you’re still Cait. And I remember the sex we had, don’t you?’
I did and tried to push away all thoughts of it. ‘We were twenty, Tom. I doubt if we could even get into some of the positions we used to.’
He thought for a while then smiled. ‘We could try.’
‘You’d be disappointed. I mean, how do you still do it at your age?’
His eyes twinkled. ‘Very slowly,’ he said in a way that was loaded and I felt myself blush.
‘Get behind me, Satan,’ I said. ‘Stop it,’
Tom laughed again. ‘If that’s how you like it, I’m sure that could be arranged. Look, bottom line is, I still feel a connection to you. What have we got to lose? You’ve had recent losses, me too, and they do make you think, don’t they? Is this it? We can either settle
for a life of familiarity or take a gamble and take what we have, grab on to it, hold on to it. Maybe it’s not all over for us yet. Maybe I’m out of my mind, but hooking up with you again could be the mother of all adventures, an adventure to end all adventures. We know time is limited. Life isn’t a rehearsal: you only get one shot at it. We all make mistakes, and surely one of them would be not to pursue something through fear or caution. At the end of our lives, we don’t want to look back with regret for what we were afraid of, do we? Maybe one of my biggest mistakes was letting you go. The loss of our loved ones has been a cruel reminder that we’re only passing through on this journey of life and no one gets out of here alive. I believe that now, more than ever, we have to seize the day, be prepared to take a risk and embrace what opportunities come to make the most of what’s left of our lives. We could at least try.’
‘Try? How?’
‘You. Me. See where it goes.’
‘I keep reminding you I’m married, Tom, or have you forgotten that?’
‘Do you feel like this with him?’
I thought back to the night Matt had come home drunk and slumped down on the floor. Not fair, I told myself, he’s rarely like that. I also thought back to the last time Matt and I had made love, and what a flat experience it had been.
‘Oh god, I don’t know what I feel. I’m not sure what to say or think. I’m in shock.’ Things like this don’t happen to women like me, I thought.
‘Sorry, it must be a lot to take in,’ said Tom. ‘Think about it. Are you willing to take a risk? Throw everything that’s safe and familiar up in the air to have an adventure with an old rogue who always loved you.’
‘But you didn’t always love me. You left me.’
‘I did love you. I do love you. I know that now.’
‘I need a stiff drink or two or three and I think I must go and buy some fags.’
‘I didn’t know you smoked.’
‘I don’t. See what you’re doing to me. I’m ruined. One more meeting and I’ll be on the hard drugs.’
Dancing Over the Hill Page 15
