I sighed. ‘You’re probably right. Let me think about it. I’d have to pick my moment, though.’
‘I just don’t want you to make a mistake you’ll regret. If you tell Matt, he could never accuse you of betraying him.’
I nodded. She was right. If it had been anyone else who’d got in touch, I probably would have mentioned it to Matt. Maybe I would, one day, but not this week.
*
Matt
Time for a heart-to-heart, manly discussion, I thought on my way to meet my brother in town early evening.
‘Cait and I have been looking for a counsellor,’ I said when I’d got to the pub and Duncan had bought us two beers at the bar.
‘What for?’
‘That’s what I said.’
‘Counselling you say?’
‘Yeah. Marriage guidance.’
‘You going to do it?’
‘Don’t think I have much choice. We’ve seen a couple but didn’t feel they were right, one more to go.’
‘Ah. I get what you’re doing. Going along with it. Good tactic. Agree to everything, say you’re sorry a lot even if you’re not quite sure what you’ve done. Women seem to like that.’
‘Well, not exactly. I am prepared to give it a go if we can find the right therapist.’
‘Nah. You either get on or you don’t. Did you see the game last night?’
‘I did.’
‘Gregson played a blinder.’
‘He did. Did you ever try it?’ I asked.
‘Try what?’
‘Counselling – with your ex?’
‘Me. Nah. Load of bollocks. When it’s over it’s over, no need to pay to have a slanging match with some bearded hippie acting as referee. Is it over with you and Cait?’
‘I don’t think so, but she’s not happy.’
‘Women never are. Probably hormones. If they’re not premenstrual, they’re postmenstrual or menopausal. Buy her some flowers.’
I should have known it would be useless to try and talk to Duncan. He had two failed relationships behind him and now lived alone in a flat on the edge of town.
‘Right. Thanks.’ Hopeless, I thought. No wonder he’s single. Time to contact my old mates.
*
On the way back from the pub, I bumped into Debs coming out of a wine bar. She looked pleased to see me and a little drunk.
‘Hey, Matt, how’s the project coming along?’ she asked.
‘Good. In need of work still but it’s progressing.’
‘You off home?’
‘I am.’
‘How about a nightcap before you head back? We could talk about the series a bit more.’
‘I …’ I was about to say no but thought, why not? Debs was so helpful before. I had nothing to lose. ‘Sure, why not?’
Debs grinned and pointed back to the wine bar she’d come out of. ‘Come on then, first round’s on me.’ She linked her arm through mine and led me into the bar where we found a quiet corner.
‘So, how’s it going?’ Debs asked after we’d ordered a bottle of wine.
‘Fine. I’m thinking of doing one programme on people who have had success late in life. Could be inspiring.’
Debs put her hand on my arm and looked deep into my eyes. ‘I meant with Cait.’
‘Why? Has she said something?’
Debs hesitated. ‘No, course not – well, a little, but I know that every relationship needs a bit of work sometimes. That’s why I gave her the counselling session vouchers. Did she tell you about them?’
‘Ah yes, she did mention them.’
‘It must be a big adjustment being home full time after being out at work for so many years.’
I nodded. ‘We’ll get by.’ I wondered if Cait had mentioned our two futile attempts to find our own therapist. It didn’t sound as though she had, so I decided not to say anything either.
‘I also thought having sessions might give you some insight into the emotional side of your retirement journey for your TV series,’ Debs continued.
‘Really? How?’
‘Many couples stop really talking, take each other for granted. If you went along, you could see it as research and maybe at the same time get something out of it yourself.’
‘Yes, good idea.’ But not if you’d met the two therapists we’ve seen so far, I thought.
‘Have you got anyone you can talk to?’
I laughed. ‘Duncan, my brother, though he’s a fat lot of good – about as much emotional intelligence as a potato.’
‘Haven’t you got a close friend to confide in?’
‘I …’ I thought about my old freinds. I used to be able to really talk to Tony, my mate from university. ‘Actually no, Debs, not at the moment.’
‘It only takes one.’
‘You’re so right.’ I’d get in touch with Tony first thing in the morning. ‘One friend can get you through anything.’
Debs was looking at me with an intense expression that made me feel slightly uncomfortable. Oh Christ. I hope she didn’t think I meant her. Backtrack, Matt, backtrack. ‘Enough about me. What about you Debs? How’s things in your life?’
Debs grimaced. ‘Hasn’t Cait mentioned my long list of date disasters?’
I shook my head. ‘Disasters?’
‘Dates. They’re either too old, too short or too boring.’
‘I would have thought you’d have a queue of men lining up for you.’ I indicated the crowded bar. ‘I’ve seen a few men check you out already.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes. You’re a great-looking woman. Who wouldn’t be interested?’
‘Not the ones I want,’ she said, and gave me that intense look of hers again. ‘And to tell you the truth, Fabio leaving me knocked my confidence.’
‘His loss. He was an idiot.’
Debs looked pleased at my reaction. ‘That’s kind of you, Matt, but let’s not ruin the night by talking about Fabio.’ She raised her glass. ‘A toast to the future and new possibilities.’
‘To new possibilities,’ I said as I raised my glass. I had to admit, it felt good to be sitting in a bar with an attractive companion who appeared to be enjoying herself every bit as much as I was.
33
Cait
‘Who’s next on the tour?’ Matt asked as we set off for our third marriage-guidance meeting.
‘Gina Marshall. Older lady. Maybe our age.’ She had good reviews on the Internet, but after our last two encounters I didn’t hold out much hope.
‘Still can’t relate to my age,’ said Matt.
‘Me neither.’
‘What if we don’t like this one either?’
‘We take to drink and drugs.’
‘Sounds like a plan to me.’
‘Good, because I can think of more enjoyable things to do on a beautiful June morning,’ said Matt as he looked up at the cloudless sky.
We got to a village on the outskirts of Warminster and found the address we’d been given. It was a twee-looking place, with white cladding and a garden planted country-style with delphiniums, lupins and foxgloves at the front.
A woman came to the door, along with a Jack Russell that began to hump Matt’s leg. Great start, I thought as she pulled the dog off.
‘Hi, I’m Gina. Sorry. This is Bertie. He’s a bit over-friendly, as you can see.’ She had frizzy white hair, round brown eyes, a chubby small frame and was dressed in a stylish, navy smock dress. She exuded warmth. She led us inside and into a room at the front of the cottage where she indicated that we should sit on a sofa covered with a crocheted patchwork throw and turquoise cushions. The room smelt of a recent log fire, had one wall lined with shelves that were crammed with books. On others hung what looked like Aboriginal paintings; a stone Buddha sat on a low table by the window. The place had a cosy feel and I immediately felt at home.
‘I know you told me a little on the phone about how you want to work on your relationship, but how are you feeling about being here?’ Gina asked afte
r she’d settled herself in a chair opposite. ‘Let’s start with you, Matt.’
I heard him groan. I knew he was thinking, not another ‘how do you feel’ session.
‘Apprehensive, if I’m honest.’
Gina turned to me. ‘And you, Cait?’
‘Also apprehensive. I don’t really know what to expect.’
Gina nodded. ‘Understandable. Embarking on something like this can be daunting. How about first I tell you a bit about how I work? I like to think of myself more as a life coach than a therapist, so rather than analysing feelings, I work more with making goals and thinking about what you’d like to change in your life, why and how. We might look a little at what’s been holding you back from achieving what you want, but I aim to help people move forward from where they are, not spend too much time reliving and picking over the past.’
‘Sounds good,’ I said and glanced at Matt. He nodded.
Gina laughed. ‘But I am going to ask a bit about your past so I can get to know you. How about we start at the beginning with when you two met. What first attracted you to each other? Matt?’
Matt thought for a few moments. He smiled. ‘We met at a friend’s party in London. Cait’d recently returned from India. She was brown, glowing and beautiful, with long hair down her back.’ He laughed. ‘She wore ankle bracelets and toe rings.’
‘An old hippie,’ I said.
Matt nodded. ‘Nothing wrong with that. She seemed different from other women I knew at that time. Interesting. We had a good conversation about her time away. She was fired up with ideas on how to change the world.’
‘Is that when you got together?’ asked Gina.
‘Oh no. It was some time after that. Years, in fact, when we met again, purely by chance, remember?’
I nodded.
‘It was in a park in North London. A Saturday. I think you’d started teaching by then, hadn’t you?’
I nodded.
‘I took her for supper at an Ethiopian place. We got on well. I liked her view on life; she made me laugh as well as think. We began dating after that.’
‘Cait?’
‘As Matt said, we met at a party. That’s right, I’d just come back from India. I was drifting, not sure where to go and live, what to do. I liked him but, at that time, I wasn’t looking for a relationship; in fact, I didn’t know what I wanted. Later, though, when we met up in the park, Matt made an impression. He seemed safe, solid.’
‘That makes me sound boring,’ said Matt.
‘No. Not at all. You seemed dependable, yes, but not boring. You knew where you were going, were so full of energy and ambition. I liked that. It was a nice contrast to the men I’d met on my travels, many of whom had been drifting as I was. I think you’d just started working in TV, had a ton of ideas and confidence.’
Matt sighed. ‘What happened to that man?’
Gina turned to Matt. ‘Has something happened to that man?’
‘Age,’ said Matt. ‘No work. How long have you got?’
Gina looked at her watch. ‘About forty-five minutes, or more if you choose to come back.’ Matt laughed. I could tell he liked her. I did too. ‘We’ll get back to that either today, Matt, or in another session. But back to you, Cait. Go on about when you first met.’
‘At first, on my return to the UK, I didn’t want a relationship—’
‘Why was that?’ asked Gina.
‘Oh … disillusioned by men.’
‘And why was that?’
I felt myself blush. If I carried on I’d be telling her all about Tom. ‘I guess my head was full of romantic notions back then and the men just didn’t measure up.’ I laughed. ‘I blame the Brontës and Jane Austen. Maybe I was looking for a Darcy or a Heathcliff.’
Gina nodded. ‘Darcy OK, but Heathcliff was a head-case.’ She was watching me very closely and I blushed again then cursed myself. She’d know there was something I wasn’t saying and I prayed she wouldn’t keep digging.
‘I know, but he and Cathy in the book had such a passion.’
‘Ah … passion, soul mates,’ said Gina. ‘Is that what you wanted?’
I shrugged. ‘I thought I did but … well, it wasn’t happening. By the time I met Matt again, I’d changed my mind about having a relationship, and maybe I didn’t have such romantic expectations.’
‘That sounds as if you made do, compromised,’ said Matt. He didn’t look happy. ‘You lowered your expectations and settled for me. A compromise.’
‘No. Sorry. I didn’t mean it to sound like that. No, I wanted someone like you. Someone I could trust who wouldn’t let me down.’
‘Had someone let you down, Cait?’ Gina asked, and I noticed that Matt was also watching me closely.
‘Uh … sort of. I was in my twenties and most of the men were immature; their idea of commitment was to stay the night.’
‘So no one special?’
‘No. No, in fact in India I was in an ashram and we were all celibate.’
‘Really?’ said Gina. ‘Had something happened to make you go and live in an ashram?’
Inside I was squirming, but determined not to talk about Tom, despite Gina’s digging. ‘It was the time of love and peace. We were all looking for God.’
‘Woodstock and all that,’ said Gina and smiled. ‘I loved that song by—’
‘Joni Mitchell,’ I said. ‘Or Crosby, Stills and Nash. By the time I met Matt again, I’d been re-evaluating everything and I was ready to settle down. Bumping into him was good timing, and it wasn’t a compromise, Matt, you mustn’t think that. I just didn’t know what I wanted before then.’
He inclined his head slightly, as if to say he’d heard what I’d said but he didn’t look convinced.
‘And what do you hope to get out of the counselling?’ asked Gina. ‘What’s brought you here?’
I looked over at Matt. He gestured with his hand that I should answer. I took a deep breath. This was hard. Talking to friends about our problems was bad enough, but it was worse coming out with things in front of a complete worse. ‘We … I … we seem to have grown apart lately.’
‘Lately being months or years?’ asked Gina.
‘Months,’ said Matt at the same time as I said, ‘Years.’
‘Which?’ Gina asked.
Matt shrugged. ‘I’d say a year. Since your mum and Eve died. Wouldn’t you, Cait?’ He looked at Gina. ‘It’s Cait who’s unhappy.’
‘Really?’ I said. ‘You’re perfectly happy?’
‘Well, of course I’m not,’ said Matt, ‘not when I can see that you’re unhappy. What I was trying to say is that I am, was, happy with the relationship, with you.’
‘When did your mother die, Cait?’ Gina asked.
‘Over a year ago, and then my best friend Eve.’
‘Oh, I am so sorry, that must have been very hard for you,’ said Gina. She looked at me with such kindness, I felt myself well up. ‘Still raw is it?’
‘I …’ I was surprised that my grief was so close to the surface. I thought I’d dealt with it by shutting it away and didn’t want to break down in front of her and Matt. I sat up and took a deep breath. ‘I’m coping.’
‘Have you given yourself time to grieve?’
‘I … Sort of.’
‘I meant have you let it out?’
I shook my head. ‘Not really. There didn’t seem any point, it wouldn’t bring them back and it was too painful to even think about either of them, so I decided to get on with life, fill my days and distract myself.’
‘Block it out?’ Gina asked gently.
‘I suppose so. I didn’t know what else to do. It felt too devastating to dwell on what had happened, so I decided to get on, keep busy.’
Gina nodded. ‘It can be scary and overwhelming. Also when a parent dies, friends and family always ask how the remaining parent is and quite right too but as a daughter, the loss of a mother is also great.’
I felt myself well up again. What she’d said was true but no one ha
d expressed it before. All the enquiries after Mum had died, had been ‘how’s your dad doing?’ and I’d chosen to put my grief aside and be strong and cheerful for him.
‘People also have different timescales on grief. Some shut themselves away and howl from day one, others not for months or sometimes even years. You’ll know when you’re ready.’
‘If ever,’ I said.
Gina nodded. ‘Yes, but it can take a tremendous amount of energy to maintain the wall needed to keep that level of emotion inside. When you’re ready, I’d encourage you to let some of it out.’ She smiled kindly at me. ‘Whose idea was it to come to counselling?’
‘Mine, though it was a friend who suggested it initially,’ I replied. ‘It felt that we had nothing to lose. You see, we don’t talk any more, not really.’
‘What do you want to talk about, Cait?’ asked Gina.
It felt as if she was directing all the questioning to me. I thought: Matt’s the problem, isn’t he? He’s the one who doesn’t communicate. Why doesn’t she interrogate him a bit more?
‘Oh I don’t know. Everything.’
‘Have you talked to Matt about the loss of your mother and friend?’
‘I … No. Not really. He knew what was happening and there was nothing he or I could do about it. He couldn’t bring Mum or Eve back.’
‘Do you think you might have blamed him for not being able to fix it?’
‘Blame him? Heavens no. Why would you say that?’
‘As you said, your attraction to him was because he was dependable, a man who could be relied upon, but he let you down this time.’
I shook my head. ‘No, of course not. I didn’t think that at all.’ At least I don’t think I did, I thought.
‘And what specifically do you want to talk to him about now?’
‘Why we’ve grown apart.’
‘OK. How does this manifest?’ asked Gina. ‘This feeling that you’ve grown apart.’
‘Oh … we’re just not close any more. Even before Matt lost his job, we lived separate lives—’
‘You just lost your job, Matt?’ Gina remarked.
‘A few months ago.’
Dancing Over the Hill Page 27
