"It sounds like you've nothing to lose. It's worth a try."
"No it's not. And, all right, maybe I've nothing to lose, but you have. So stay away from me, Pen."
"No."
"No? What do you mean, No?"
"I mean, No: I won't stay away from you. And anyway, what do you mean: stay away from me?"
Phil looked around. He couldn't believe they were having this suddenly heated conversation in the Co-op. It was empty, fortunately, except for the girls on the till who were obviously straining to hear what was going on. He lowered his voice a little. "I mean, you're still married. Don't risk it. Your marriage, your family - it's the most precious thing in the world. It's just a pity we have to lose it before we realise it."
"How about a crap marriage? Is that still important?"
"But your boys. You have to protect your boys. Pretend it's not crap for their sake."
"Listen to yourself Phil. Are you saying it's okay to live a lie? That's as bad as letting people change you into whatever they want you to be. That's living a lie too, remember? And we're not like that any more. We are not a lie, Phil!"
We are not a lie!
That's what she'd said, and it hit him squarely in the face. It had puzzled him for a long time, what it was that bound them, and it was simply that: they were not a lie - except for the locket in Penny's pants - which would have taken some explaining, but it was complicated and anyway, Phil didn't know about it yet.
"Phil?"
"It's not your problem Pen. It's not your fault. If anyone has to go and see Sally it's me. If anyone has to punch Trevor in the nose, it's me."
He was paralysed though. She could see that. He wouldn't do either of those things. "Are you all right, Phil? I mean are you safe? Have you somewhere to go?"
"Yes, I'm at my brothers, like you said."
She nodded, as if thinking through to a future that Phil could not imagine. "Does Trevor play golf?" she asked.
"Yes."
"And is he a member of Hall-i'th-Wood?"
"Yes,… Penny are you psychic?"
"No - just guessing. Frank plays golf there as well, you see?"
"But I thought you said Frank was okay - he wouldn't make trouble for you, surely?"
Penny shook her head. Phil was right - Frank would not have done anything to deliberately set them up. But it would only have taken a few words of innocent gossip between golfing cronies for names to become known, connections made,… what the gods gave with one hand it seemed they took away with the other. "Run away with me, Phil."
"I know you don't mean that."
"Don't I? How much cash have you got? If we went to the hole in the wall, we could probably raise,… oh,… five hundred quid between us? People have made a fresh start on a good deal less than that. It would get us to,… I don't know,… Ibiza? Come on. Let's do it!"
Perhaps it was her mood, but his resolve vanished, and he found himself chucking in the whole of his life, chucking it in gladly just for the dream of being with her, of travelling somewhere, anywhere with her.
"All right," he said.
"What? Oh,… bless you Phil, but you were right, I didn't mean it."
Phil swallowed back his disappointment. Of course he knew they could not have gone, but for a moment the excitement had been so uplifting, so liberating! And Phil was in desperate need of some excitement. When was the last time he'd felt excited about anything? "Thank goodness for that," he said bravely. "For a minute I thought I was going to be stuck with you for ever."
"I know, but the last thing I need in my life right now is another man's shirts to iron."
"I'm perfectly capable of ironing my own shirts thank you."
She laughed. "That's the spirit." Then she looked again at the contents of their baskets. "We've got one hell of a hangover between us."
"No, I'd never share this wine with you - not at £2.99 a bottle. Don't get me wrong: there's nothing I'd love more than to sit down with you sometime and share a bottle, but it would have to be a more expensive one than this."
"You flatter me. But we had our chance at the retreat and we blew it." I wish we'd done it Phil. I wish we'd made love.
"I know. A pair of tongue tied teenagers, that's us." I wish I'd let you talk me into it Pen.
She smiled, and in her smile Phil felt more love and sweetness than he could remember in twenty years of marriage. "I have to go," she said.
I know you have to go, Pen.
She touched his arm and squeezed gently. "But you will come to class on Sunday?" she said. "Promise, Phil? You need people right now. You need company."
He nodded, then watched her go. He felt like someone cast adrift in a cold sea, watching all hope of rescue go sailing carelessly by. He was freezing, and he was drowning, and she was right: he'd feel better for seeing the faces at the class - Lara and Arthur, and Doc Lin,… but Penny most of all.
On the Thursday evening of that week, Marty was disturbed half way through The Simpsons by a knocking at the door. His mother was in the kitchen angrily stirring a pan of beans. Elspeth was engrossed in Homer's antics, but Marty had seen the episode before and was a little bored with it - still, he didn't like being disturbed between six and half past - even when his mother called to say his tea was ready. When the knock came again he gave an impatient grunt, got up and answered the door hastily, then went to fetch Sally.
"Mum, there's some woman at the door wants to speak to you."
Sally wasn't in the mood for visitors. She'd already had two cold callers and though the beans were nearly burnt, the pizza was still ten minutes away. When she went to the door she was ready to slam it in anyone's face who did not have a good excuse for being there. And she did not know this woman, this rather well dressed, well groomed woman.
"My name is Penny Barnes," said Penny.
It took a moment for the name to register, then Sally closed her eyes as if willing this apparition to disappear. When she opened them and Penny was still there she glared hard, but Penny didn't flinch. "I can't do this now," said Sally.
"Well, that's up to you," said Penny.
"What? What do want? How do you know where I live?"
"Oh,.. I gave Phil a lift back here one evening."
"I don't remember."
"You were out." Did that sound challenging? Could it have been misconstrued? You were out and we had a ball? Penny didn't care - let the stupid woman think what she wanted! No - hold on Penny - you came to smooth things over, remember?
Sally was afraid. Penny didn't fit the picture of a brassy mistress. Her words, her presence, everything about her felt wrong. "What do you want?"
"Have you heard from Phil?"
"Like I'm going to tell you."
"I didn't think you had. He's at his brothers. You should call him."
"I know where he is, thank you."
"Then call him, or go and see him."
"You've got a nerve!"
"I only want to say one more thing, and then I'll go. You've made a mistake. Phil and I are not having an affair. We've become friends, but I've already got a husband and I've never once wanted yours." That wasn't strictly true, thought Penny - but there was a world of difference between what we wanted and what we allowed ourselves to have. "He's lost without you and the kids. This is all a terrible misunderstanding."
But Sally was scowling, angry,… and Penny was thinking: my god Phil! Is she like this all the time?
"He should have thought of that before he walked out, then, shouldn't he?" said Sally.
But you're so predictable Sally - your every word is in my head before you say it! "He left because you didn't believe him. He didn't know what else to do. Now he's in a sick daze, waiting for a call, for a hug, for a sign of love. You can mend this Sally. You can put it right."
"If you think you know him so well, why don't you hug him better yourself?"
Oh, don't tempt me you stupid woman. "You've made a mistake. It's really not like that at all."
"
Yea, like I'm going to believe you."
"Goodbye Sally. Please think about what I've said."
Sally stared after her, unable to measure just how deep her hatred was. It did not matter that somehow she knew Penny was not sleeping with her husband. It did not matter that her father had probably made the whole thing up: she still hated her. And she hated Phil just as much, which was an awful lot of hatred indeed for no apparent reason. No, they weren't having an affair, she knew that, but it was easier to go on believing that they were - the alternative was just too complicated, and Sally liked things simple.
So, he needed a sign that she loved him did he? Well what about her? The only way he knew how to show her he loved her was by pestering her for sex all the time - no matter that they had not made love properly in a decade, it was the impression that counted. And Phil's every look, every gesture, every touch was just a boringly predictable precursor to sex. And all she wanted was flowers and flattery and someone to make her feel important, without the attendant spectre of a tiresome shag hanging over her all the time. But for now the pizza was cold, the beans were sticking to the bottom of the pan, and in the summer there would be no one to mow the grass. And it was all Phil's stupid fault!
"Why don't you move back in with me for a bit?" said Trevor - who was growing a little weary of getting up on weekday mornings to bully the children through breakfast and out to school on time. "Sell the house. I've got five good bedrooms and four are going to waste - you could have your old room back - how's that?"
It did not cross his mind that Emmeline might have had something to say about these plans - but like everyone else, he'd already decided she'd come round to his way of thinking in the end. Sally felt a peculiar tug. She liked her house, liked what she and Phil had done to it over the years - and she would never know the luxury of an en-suite bathroom if she sold up and moved back into her old room. And moving back into her old room meant divorce. It meant solicitors and an impenetrable wall of legality, of settlements and arguments. For now Phil's stuff was still there, his clothes in the wardrobes, his shoes in the porch, his books scattered about. For now it was like he was just a bit late home from work, that he'd come back eventually, a little tired, a little dishevelled, then shuffle into the kitchen and make himself a brew - perhaps call through and ask if she fancied a glass of wine. And all the time he'd been seeing this Penny Barnes - except he hadn't, had he? Oh, yes he had - the brassy bitch had said herself they were friends - and men did not become friends with women, especially good looking women, women with "shag-me" dimples - everyone knew that - everyone had seen "When Harry met Sally". The sex always gets in the way. So what if they weren't having an affair right now?… Given time,… well, it was obvious,…
Phil had never said a word, but her dad had known - that's what the note was about. It wasn't a joke. He'd known the truth and was simply warning her. You couldn't blame him for that - he was her dad and always had her best interests at heart. Yes, Penny Barnes had been pretty enough, in that mature sort of way. She could imagine Phil falling for her - the shameless tart. Even if he was too dim to know it himself, Sally knew better.
"We could even knock through into the box room - it's crying out for a conversion."
"You mean,… an en-suite bathroom?"
"Whatever pleases you, Sally."
At around the same time Penny was putting her point of view across to Sally, Phil was having a long soak in the bath while wondering idly about calling Scrotum and crying off work in the morning once more. He'd only missed the one day so far - the day he'd gone a bit mad with the Tai Chi, but increasingly he was having difficulty psyching himself up to get out of bed and go in. Another machine had broken down that day, given up in despair at its decrepitude. There'd been no way to repair it, and no money to replace it, but so far as Scrotum was concerned the job still had to be finished on time. In short, the firm had become incompetent. But worse than that, the slow decline, the lack of money, the penny-pinching - it all seemed to be just another symptom of a life gone wrong - another thing that wasn't working as it should have been.
He hadn't always felt like this. The firm had been incompetent for a long time but he'd always found a way of struggling on with a smile. Sometimes though something happened - something entirely unrelated and it changed your outlook entirely so that everything thereafter seemed foul. He'd taken to reading up on Buddhist philosophy, following Penny's example, and had become caught up on the idea of non-attachment. He wasn't sure he'd read it right, but he felt detached now, felt better for it too, not quite so dirty, and was looking for still more things he could detach himself from. Work was a pain in the arse and therefore an obvious candidate - except a determination to detach oneself was in itself a form of attachment, and therefore self defeating. So maybe he should just go in anyway, shrug his shoulders at the madness and do the best he could, like he'd always done. Was that the more genuine form of detachment, rather than simply throwing a sickie?
He was trying to think this one through when Rick tapped on the door to say there was a woman downstairs who wanted to see him.
Phil leaped from the bath at once: "Penny?"
"No, it's a Chinese lady. Lynne somebody or other?"
"Doc Lin?"
Phil half dried himself and put on a robe. By now Doctor Lin was in the kitchen, chatting to Rick who was attending to the kettle. She was immaculate - navy blue suit, ivory silk blouse, shiny hair - a very beautiful woman, he thought.
"Ah, Philip. How are you?"
"Oh,… good, thanks."
"No he's not," said Rick.
"No, you aren't," said Doctor Lin. "I can tell by the look of you."
Phil wasn't sure if he was okay or not, but he trusted Doctor Lin, and suddenly decided he was feeling weary and old. She took his wrists. "Tongue please? "
"I'm fine really!"
"Missing Tai Chi, Philip. Tut, tut. Very bad."
"Are you checking up on me?"
"Chi is like a kettle of boiling water. Stop practice, take away the heat, and the kettle will not boil any more. Okay? Ear ringing?"
"A bit."
"Hmn. Take me to bed."
Rick clattered the cups, nearly dropping one.
"You've had a shock, Philip. Let me do this for you. Free of charge. Okay?"
"Erm,… "
She was already taking out a sealed pack of sterile needles, which clarified matters somewhat. Phil's eyes were filling again. Doctor Lin could see he was emotional and smiled. "Philip?"
"Thank you," he said.
"Show me to bed?" She slipped off her jacket and handed it to Rick. "Thank you Richard. This will only take a moment. Tea please - no sugar or milk."
She turned on the bedside light as Phil, rather awkwardly lay down on the small single bed. "Relax," she said, but she sparkled as she said it.
"You're very good at what you do, you know?"
"Yes, yes, Mr. Markham. Now relax."
"Ouch!"
"Breathe in. Now breathe out - relax yes?"
"Okay."
As she began to apply the needles she asked him about Rick. "Richard is married?"
"Erm,.. no."
"Gay?"
"What? No,… he just never got around to it. He likes peace and stillness, I suppose. Marriage and children are not conducive to a peaceful life, are they? I think he took one look at me and that put him off. But what about you? Did you ever marry - you're such a lovely woman I find it hard to believe no one ever asked you."
She chuckled. "You flatter me, Mr Markham."
"Ouch. I thought I was Philip."
"Person is always Mr or Mrs when applying needles - must show respect for patient. Relax please. Someone asked me for marriage once, yes. But career came first in those days - and ambition. Now I have missed the boat, I think."
"And your ambition brought you to Middleton?"
She detected the sarcastic tone in his voice. All right, Middleton was not exactly a pretty town, but she could have sh
own him much worse. "Middleton is not so bad. To a person living in China, Middleton UK sounds as exotic and far away as Beijing or Shanghai does to you. All things are relative and all that matters is balance - balance of self, Mr. Markham. If the self is balanced, anywhere is home."
"That's very philosophical."
"Philosophical? No. Common sense. Don't lose your balance, Mr. Markham. Change is the only certainty in life. Things happen. If we are balanced, good things will happen to us. If we are not, then we invite misfortune. Now relax. I drink tea with Richard. Check back in thirty minutes. Okay?"
The needles were in a different configuration on his body this time - arms, legs, head - he felt weird, but as usual the sensation was not unpleasant. The other things she'd taught him - the Qigong and the meditation also opened up a space for him in his mind, a very warm and relaxing place where he imagined himself settling down. Before thirty minutes were up, he was asleep.
Rick watched from the doorway while Doctor Lin removed the pins, and he winced as she dabbed at the little spots of blood on his brother's skin. "Philip is very tired," she said.
"It was good of you to come."
"He has friends at class. Friends who are worried for him."
"It was still good of you."
"I like Philip. I am his friend, too."
"Will he be okay?"
"More than okay, I think. We just have to get him through this bad patch. Let him find his feet again. Remember himself."
She was smart and sensitive. Rick tried to guess her age. There was such an air of health and vitality about her she should only have been in her twenties, but that was clearly not the case.
"Was it Penny who told you?" he asked, for Rick was intensely curious about the mysterious Penny Barnes.
"Yes."
"What is it with those two? I mean,… I know they're not having an affair,… so?"
She looked at him and sighed. "They were made for each other, a long time ago, Richard. In the mean time, they both marry someone else. This is my understanding."
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