Being Committed

by Anna Maxted

  Then I drove home, let myself into the hallway of my apartment building, where the first thing I saw was a solid mouse-haired woman in black slacks, pumps, and a sleeveless beige V-neck, perched on the uncarpeted stairs reading a fat book with a gold embossed title. Her arms were pale, freckled and untoned and there was something businesslike about her. She stared at me and got up.

  ‘Hannah Lovekin?’ she barked. I assessed her potential as a threat.

  ‘Who wants to know,’ I replied, ‘at quarter to three in the morning?’

  ‘You are!’ she shrieked, throwing down her book and running at me. ‘You little whore, I hate you, you stole my fiancé, it was sour grapes, you didn’t even want him, we were in love, and then out of sheer sour grapes (“share sare grapes”, she pronounced it) you steal him back, and the first thing I know about it is when Mummy reads the bloody Telegraph, you little whore! I’ve been in Monte Carlo on a yacht for the last five days, I only flew in this morning, I didn’t even know my engagement was off!’

  I sidestepped the bodyslam, and said, ‘You don’t want to go down for assault, dear.’

  She stopped, which gave me confidence. ‘And don’t call me “whore” again,’ I said. ‘If you’re Lucy, you’re a bit of a goer yourself, from what I’ve heard.’

  She grabbed the knot of her ponytail and smoothed it so her thick dull hair fell over one shoulder. ‘What? What have you heard? Jasie wouldn’t –’ her lip trembled – ‘he wouldn’t tell you anything. He loves me. You’ve tricked him, I know you have, I know he loves me.’ She sniffed. ‘What have you done with him? He’s not answering his mobile, he wasn’t home all day, all evening I banged on his door every half hour for three hours, and he’s not answering now. I’ve been waiting here for three hours.’

  I could see that Lucy had a lot to learn about Jason. Jason never answered his mobile, the pay-as-you-go phone I’d bought him, at great expense, for his last birthday. He was convinced that whenever he put it to his ear, it gave him earache and left him slightly deaf. ‘It suggests the development of a tumour,’ he’d said. Consequently, he’d always forget it at home, and it was left to me to remind him to put it in his pocket, to switch it on, to power it up.

  ‘Your necklace is twisted,’ added Lucy, wiggling her fingers in the direction of my neck. I stared at her, as I straightened it. ‘If I see something like that, I always point it out to people.’

  ‘Right,’ I said.

  Were we even the same species?

  ‘Lucy,’ I said slowly, ‘come inside. I’m glad you’re here.’

  She flicked her hair, reminding me of an irritable horse, swishing away flies with its tail. I led her into my lounge, where she regarded the grubby pale pink walls with distaste. She turned to face me. ‘I’m confused,’ she said. ‘I cannot picture you with Jasie. He loathes … uncleanliness.’

  I was about to tell her that, for me, the place was pristine, but I was too busy breathing through my mouth. Speaking of uncleanliness, Martine was right. Her breath was awful. I didn’t say anything. Instead, I asked her to sit down, and brought her a glass of water. Then I sat on a chair out of breathing range.

  ‘Lucy,’ I began, ‘I’ll be honest. Jason is in love with you. Not me. You and he are still engaged. I’ve behaved terribly, you’re right. I was jealous. We’re not engaged—’

  ‘Then what’s that stonking great diamond on your ring finger?’ she screeched.

  ‘That?’ I said. I was so out of the marriage loop I’d forgotten the terminology. Ring finger. I ripped off the diamond and shoved it in a drawer. I also noticed for the first time that Lucy was sporting the dead grandmother’s red and black wart.

  ‘I’m so embarrassed!’ I added. ‘I – well, you know he proposed to me once? He let me keep the ring.’ I smiled nervously, fearing Jason had told her the details, but there was no eruption so I presumed he’d seen sense and kept his mouth shut. ‘I, I’ve been wearing it, fooling myself. I put the announcement in the Telegraph. He knew nothing about it. He was appalled.’

  I paused.

  Lucy wiped away tears with hands that did dishes (and looked like it). ‘The poor baby. Shame on you. What’s the time? I must ring him.’ She recovered a mobile phone the size of a brick from her large handbag in a smooth movement.

  ‘Oh, no, don’t!’ I cried.

  Lucy placed the phone in her lap. ‘Why ever not?’

  ‘Because … I think he should call you. We had a long talk, this morning. He made me understand that I had no hope, for us. I had to stop fantasising, move on. Also, I have this … problem. I’m scared of dentists. Haven’t seen one in years and, well, Jason had difficulties with my … halitosis. He hates that in a woman.’

  Lucy placed a hand over her mouth. Damn right, after I’d humiliated myself like that.

  I added, ‘Jason said that he was in love with you. What I did has embarrassed him. He probably thinks you’re furious with him, so don’t be surprised if he’s distant, sheepish even. He might even seem to be avoiding you for a week or so. But only because he’s desperate to explain and terrified you won’t believe him.’

  ‘I see.’ Lucy looked me in the eye, squeezed her handbag to her. ‘I’m going to go now,’ she announced. ‘I don’t expect to hear of you again.’

  I nodded meekly, and showed her out.

  Then I rang Jason. The phone rang forty times before Jason woke up and answered it.

  ‘Jase,’ I said, with a big theatrical sniff, ‘I, I have something I feel I need to tell you.’

  ‘Mm. What’s the time?’

  ‘Late. But it’s urgent.’

  ‘Urggh.’ I could hear rustling, as he sat up in bed. ‘What?’ he said, his voice less bleary.

  ‘I felt that before we actually got married, you ought to know.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘That I love you but that I am also one hundred per cent certain that I never want children.’

  ‘What … You mean, you can’t have children?’

  ‘No. No. I mean, I don’t want children. Ever.’

  ‘But, why? Where did this come from? You’re just tired! You love Jude! You adore him.’

  ‘Jason. I admire him for three minutes then I hand him back to his rightful owners. I, I do not want a family, Jason. I felt, I felt that before you committed yourself to me … instead of Lucy, it was only fair to tell you this.’

  ‘But,’ spluttered Jason, ‘but, but it’s already been announced! I love you, Hannah. But this, this is impossible! I can’t imagine why you left it so late to tell me something so fundamental, so crucial.’

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ I said. ‘I was so scared you would … change your mind. But, but if you did, I would –’ I wondered if I was pushing it – ‘find it in my heart to understand. I suppose I would, eventually, move on.’

  ‘Hannah, I – I’m speechless – how could you do this to me? This is crazy! Everyone has kids!’

  ‘Not true.’

  ‘You never know. This might be a phase. You’re run down. You need a holiday. You might change your mind, in a few months, years—’

  ‘No. Never. I never would. In fact, I’m considering an operation.’

  ‘An operation!’

  We were veering off track. It was time to steer him back. ‘Jason. I don’t know if you’ve had a chance yet, to break off your engagement to Lucy—’

  ‘Yes, well! A fine mess this is! She’s been away … I meant to ring her … yesterday … the day before … today, before she saw the Telegraph, but … well, it’s not the easiest thing to do … and whenever I saw her we ended up … and today I’ve been out all day and when I got home tonight she was out. And now it’s just awful, just awful!’

  I was a little shocked that Jason – a man so polite he couldn’t put the phone down on an automated answering system – had convinced himself that there was any valid excuse for omitting to tell Lucy. Still, I couldn’t complain; it was lucky for all of us.

  ‘Jase,’ I said, ‘I am deeply hurt
by the fact that you and Lucy can’t keep your hands off each other. Particularly when our love life was … tame. But, perhaps that tells us something.’

  I paused so that my wisdom might sink in. Then, I added, ‘For all she knows, I placed that announcement, without your permission or knowledge. For all she knows, you and I were never engaged, it was a fantasy on my part. I mean, obviously, I am devastated, I would be devastated if you were to … but I felt I had to tell you the truth – I mean – is it over?’

  I tried to keep my voice hope-free.

  ‘Hannah,’ said Jason, ‘I am so sorry. But if you don’t want children, I’m afraid it has to be.’

  Chapter 28

  ‘Your dad will be pleased,’ was Martine’s reaction when I told her. ‘Have you rung him?’

  ‘Tell you what,’ I said. ‘Why don’t you ring him?’

  She was annoying me. It was a blessing that Roger would approve, but I’d decided to maintain a little distance. Jason was right: I did always ring him within five minutes of any significant event in my life, and maybe it was his turn to call me.

  ‘I might,’ said Martine. ‘Chow!’

  Martine is the only person I know who still says ‘Ciao!’ five years after everyone else stopped saying it. (Excluding the Italians.)

  I was not in the greatest of moods.

  That might surprise those who haven’t bailed out of an engagement. The relief of knowing I wasn’t to endure a lifetime with a man who would bore and irritate me was wonderful, but physically sapping, like swimming in the sea. I also felt stunned at the success of my plan. I hadn’t just blurted out the mean old truth, I’d told a lie so pure it would bring a tear to your eye. I had achieved the impossible and made a silk purse out of a pig’s ear (or however that saying goes). Admittedly, I could have left Lucy and Jase alone to begin with but, remarkably, no harm done.

  But I felt flat. I stood by what I said earlier. Despite Jason’s faults, there was a part of me that was sad to let him go. I can only compare it to Free Willy. There are women out there who’d understand, women who have devoted a chunk of their twenties, thirties, forties to a man who is decent, amiable, handsome, wrong, who feel sorrow at releasing him into the wild but know it’s for the best. Who regret that it’s not socially acceptable to keep a nice man in a fish tank in the downstairs toilet. And there were other factors. I’d had two hours’ rest before sleep-driving to Charlie’s house for 6 a.m., to continue my impression of a stakeout for a few more hours. I was looking forward to billing Legal Aid to within an inch of their grant, so they’d have less cash to lavish on other wasters like Charlie’s father. I’d got into work at nine thirty sharp, and emailed Greg to tell him ‘no luck on the boyfriend’, but that I’d try again tonight. I didn’t want to lie to his face, that direct gaze melting my brain.

  Greg hadn’t replied for hours, then at 3 p.m. he e’d back. ‘You’re having no luck with this. Perhaps I should assign Ron?’

  While I liked the fact that I could hide behind the poker face of electronic communication, I found it tedious that Greg could hide behind it too. Was he being sarcastic? Or sympathetic? I’d written back, ‘I’ll have another go tonight.’

  I’d also spoken to my mother. It had been a strange conversation. Full of holes, like Swiss cheese. I’d felt hungry after it, eaten half a pack of biscuits.

  ‘How are you?’

  ‘Fine, thank you. How are you?’

  ‘Fine. My engagement to Jason is off, you’ll be pleased to hear.’

  ‘Ah. Shame. Your father said it would be.’

  ‘Oh. Well, anyway, I’m presuming you know that meatloaf is unsuitable for someone with Irritable Bowel? Particularly if the mushroom gravy has five times the recommended salt content.’

  ‘Oh dear. Did I get the recipe wrong?’

  ‘You know you did, Angela.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I must have been distracted by … other things.’

  ‘Oh. Oh. Right. Well. Are all Grandma’s things sorted?’

  My mother sighed. ‘I suppose so,’ she said finally. ‘She left you a box.’

  ‘Oh! I wasn’t expecting— What sort of box?’

  ‘Cardboard.’

  Grandma and I hadn’t exactly got on, but I was a little taken aback. ‘W-what do you think she was trying to say?’

  ‘No, Hannah. There are things inside it. I don’t know what, though. It’s not heavy. It has your name written on it, and it’s tightly sealed. I’ll give it to you when you next come over.’

  ‘Fine. And what are you doing – I mean, rather, how … how are you, ah, feeling?’

  I braced myself for another sigh, but it didn’t come. ‘Bit better,’ she said, as if she almost meant it.

  ‘Anything I can do?’

  ‘Oh, no, no, thank you.’

  I was about to give up – it was like tweezing hairs from your armpit – when my mother said, ‘Hannah?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Are you sad about Jason?’

  I pondered this. ‘I’ll live,’ I said.

  ‘Yes,’ she replied, sounding unconvinced.

  It struck me, as I tapped my nails listlessly on my keyboard, that the exchange with my mother had been near devoid of emotional content and, for once, that wasn’t my fault. I’d tried to eke some feeling from her, but failed. Fair’s fair. I supposed. After speaking to her, I’d yearned for a meaty conversation, where people said what they thought, and called Gabrielle. Either she wasn’t in or she wasn’t answering the phone. Most likely, she wasn’t answering the phone to me. Call me contrary, I was peeved she hadn’t called to congratulate me on my second engagement.

  Or its demise.

  I hoped her rage would have cooled, at least that she’d let me explain, but it hadn’t or she’d have rung me. I wanted to talk to her about Angela; check my mother was OK. I’ve never experienced grief, I don’t know what it does to people. It had certainly changed something in my mother, which made me nervous. Since the funeral, Angela had stopped trying with me, which was why we couldn’t speak. You can’t have both sides holding back. One person has to babble away happily to mask the other’s reticence. My mother was no longer making the effort to do that with me. It meant our invalid relationship had slipped into a coma. I wasn’t sure what I felt about this. But I was certain that Angela confided in Gabrielle.

  I missed her. Everyone I spoke to lately was miserable. I needed a chat with my sister-in-law, who – despite her recent grumpiness – was a cheerful person at heart. I was kind of hoping she’d inject some cheer into my day. A good mood transfusion. Wouldn’t it be great, I thought, as I drove home, if I pulled up in front of my flat and there was Gabrielle on the doorstep. I sometimes do this. ‘Wouldn’t it be great if …’ I think, slyly refusing to acknowledge that I may be asking some airborne entity to grant a wish.

  In keeping with this unofficial pact, I kept my gaze averted from my apartment building until I’d parked the Vauxhall. Then, I looked up. And started. There, sitting on my doorstep, was … Ollie. Yeah. Nice try, Tinkerbell. Back to fairy school you go.

  ‘Ollie?’ I shouted, as if it might not be him.

  ‘Hey, Ner. How are you?’

  ‘Single, how are you?’

  ‘I thought you and Jase were abandoning the hurly-burly of the chaise longue.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Never mind. It’s off?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You don’t sound too upset.’

  ‘I never sound too anything, Ollie.’

  He smiled, at last. ‘Quite right, Ner. You don’t get your knickers in a twist like normal girls.’

  ‘I’ll interpret that to mean I’m stable, rather than abnormal.’

  ‘And there’s my point! Gab would accuse me of calling her mad.’

  ‘How is she?’

  ‘Busy.’

  ‘Still annoyed with me?’

  He shrugged.

  ‘Funny thing is, Ollie, even though the job only entailed taking Jude for a wal
k to a school to watch someone pick up a kid, I actually took him to the park.’

  ‘Gab made it sound like you’d taken him on a car chase. I can’t see what harm it would have done. But, you know Gab. She … feels things very strongly in her own head. She can be unreasonable.’

  I smiled, stiffly. I disliked it when Ollie criticised Gabrielle in front of me. I liked to believe he couldn’t see a flaw. ‘So,’ I said, ‘to what do I owe this pleasure?’

  Ollie laughed, and held up a plastic bag that clinked. ‘Don’t get excited. It’s mostly Coke. I’m driving. Anyway, what are you saying? I can’t come and see my sister? I need a motive?’

  I looked straight at him. Ollie and I were close in spirit. Jack would have said we were as close as two people who were itchy about intimacy could be. Because if I had problems doing a moonie of the soul, so did Ollie. His job as a freelance photographer took him all over the world. He did a lot of stuff for travel and wildlife magazines, adventures to strange, dangerous places. He rejected offers of blue-chip advertising work that would have allowed him to be home by six. He spent a good five months of the year abroad. He’d missed Jude’s first word, ‘Dada.’ (Jude had said it to a photo of Ollie on the wall.)

  I didn’t see Ollie much, and when I did, our conversations were as fanciful as butterflies dancing over a meadow. Our love was solid, but I often felt shy talking to him, certainly about me and my life. Now and then, he or I would have the odd blast of frankness. We never discussed our parents, our feelings towards them, our relationships with them. Instead, we had intricate, detailed, pinhead conversations about characters in TV programmes, which allowed us to open up about other people, make-believe ones at that. CSI was one of our favourites.