by Lucy Dawson
Oddly, I feel calmer as I leave and get back in the car. And when I arrive at the GP’s surgery I find myself thinking that perhaps I will call Leo, say that I will meet him, try to deal with this like adults. We used to live together! Surely we can discuss this, somehow …
I walk into the waiting room feeling strangely detached from everything around me, and automatically adopt my wide professional smile as I approach the reception desk. I could call him once I’m done here. ‘Hello!’ I say warmly, as if my sanity is not in fact teetering on the brink and everything is just fine. ‘I’m Molly Greene from MediComma. I’ve a meeting with the practice manager.’
‘Hello,’ says the slightly hassled receptionist, juggling phones. ‘I’ll let her know you’re here. Would you like to take a seat with your colleague?’
‘My colleague?’ I reply in confusion, as she motions behind me.
I turn, somehow expecting Pearce as that’s the only logical explanation, but the blood drains away from my face.
Leo stands up, dressed in an immaculate suit, holding a laptop bag. ‘Hello!’ he looks completely relaxed. ‘Mary?’ he looks over my shoulder at the receptionist and flashes her a dazzling smile, ‘could you just give us a minute before you buzz Jenny? I just have to bring Molly up to speed on something.’
‘Of course,’ she says instantly.
‘You’re a doll, thanks!’ he replies, eyes twinkling as he reaches for my arm and begins to guide me to a quieter corner of the waiting room. ‘Don’t say anything,’ he says softly, still smiling away. ‘She’s totally bought it – just play along.’
‘How did you—’ I peter out, horrified.
A flash of impatience passes over his face. ‘I phoned MediComma, told them I was your husband, there was a family emergency and I couldn’t get hold of you, did they happen to know where you were so I could contact you? They said you’d be here – and here you are.’ He looks almost smug for a moment but then his expression falls away. ‘So what happened to my phonecall yesterday?’
‘Leo, listen …’
‘No, I think you should listen,’ he says equably. ‘I love you – you know that, and I’ve been happy to keep the grand expansive gestures going, as that seems to be what you want.’ It occurs to me that he’s really quite liking this audacious version of himself, ‘but this “quest” is getting a bit boring now. All of it – this’ – he motions around him – ‘proves I’m serious. No more games now, Molly. Time’s up. As of this afternoon I’m out of the country with work for a week. While I’m gone, decide how you want to play it. If you want to tell Dan yourself – tell him. Otherwise I’m going to sort it when I come back, OK?’ He looks at me impassively. ‘I’ll be in touch unless I hear from you first. Be good BG. I know you’re going to do the right thing.’
My mouth falls open in shock as he gives my arm another light squeeze, turns and saunters out with a cheery wave and a ‘Thanks, Mary! She’s on her own now, so be nice to her!’
‘Molly, you have to call the police,’ Joss says immediately when I finally get hold of her at about six. ‘This is fucked up.’
‘And say what? “I’m being stalked by someone who’s out of the country right now” … they’ll laugh in my face!’
‘He’s bullshitting. Give me his number. If he’s genuinely abroad his mobile will have that different ring tone won’t it?’
I hesitate. ‘You’d have to hide your number – and promise me you’ll hang up if he answers, won’t you? Don’t yell at him, or say anything to antagonise him, please.’
She calls me back moments later, sounding defeated. ‘He is abroad. It did two rings and I rung off. Molly, I mean it, you really have to tell someone about this …’
‘No!’ I insist as cold fear rinses through me, ‘and you can’t either – you promised.’
‘But—’
‘You promised!’
‘OK, OK—’ she says uneasily, as she tries to keep me calm.
He’s not bluffing. And he’s given me one week.
The rest of Tuesday and Wednesday and then Thursday peel away quickly as I try to keep working and acting like nothing is wrong, burying my head in the sand one moment, and then the next being gripped by the panic of imagining sitting Dan down and coming clean, telling him what’s happened and begging him to forgive me. Leo does not send me a single message, he goes completely silent, which on the one hand, allows me to pretend that this isn’t really happening, but on the other, is oppressively ominous.
Friday arrives and I’m sat in the pub after work with my other colleagues feeling spaced-out and numb, while thinking, ‘Should I go home and tell Dan tonight?’
I have three days left now. That’s all.
Pearce is busy telling Sandra and me about the GP who insisted on helping him change a flat tyre on his car earlier in the day. ‘She actually slapped the boot of the Golf like it was a horse once we’d got the wheel on and said briskly “She’ll be no trouble now.” She was brilliant!’ he grins, emptying the dregs of a packet of crisps into his mouth and managing to get the crumbs all over his front. ‘What a woman!’
‘Dirty fat lezza more like,’ Sandra says crossly, taking a sip of her Bacardi and coke.
Pearce stares at her. ‘Because she knows how to change a tyre?’
‘That’s not normal, Pearce,’ Sandra shudders distastefully. ‘Trust me.’
‘My mum knows how to wire a plug,’ Pearce looks at her meditatively. ‘Does that make her, a lesbian too?’
‘Wouldn’t know – haven’t bloody met her, have I?’ Sandra fires back acidly.
I won’t be able to bear it if they start a row, I really won’t. Luckily, Bec calls and gives me an excuse to get up and leave love’s young dream to it.
‘OK, so I’m a bit out of practice,’ she says down the phone, ‘but suppose you were going on a third date with a man you’d met on the internet – who is really nice, and you laughed loads with, and you like quite a lot – would you be worrying about what pants you’re going to wear to dinner with him tonight, just in case?’
‘No!’ I say automatically. ‘I’d be thinking, great start, this bodes well but I only met him a week ago and if he really likes me, he’ll wait as long as it takes.’
‘Phew,’ she says, relieved. ‘Thanks. Just checking – love you.’ And she hangs up.
I’m walking back to the table when Joss rings. ‘No developments then? You OK? Can you even talk right now?’ she says quickly.
I can, but I find that I don’t want to. ‘Not really.’
‘Understood,’ she says. ‘I’ll call you tomorrow instead.’
‘What are you up to tonight?’ I ask, attempting some normality.
‘I’ve got a date,’ she says uncertainly.
‘Same bloke?’
‘Yup.’
‘That’s nice, Joss.’
‘Last Saturday,’ she hesitates, ‘we stayed up talking literally all night. I told him about Mum, Dad – and well, everything.’
Bloody hell. I try not to react to that, I don’t want to scare the horses. ‘You never said …’
‘You’ve got more than enough going on,’ she says quickly. ‘But guess what? On Monday he bought a bottle of perfume into work for me just because I happened to mention I’d dropped mine and it broke everywhere. That was nice, wasn’t it?’
‘Very,’ I say gently. It would be lovely if someone looked after her for a change. I like this man already. ‘Have fun.’
‘Thanks,’ she says gratefully. ‘Moll? Call me if you need me, won’t you? Whenever, it doesn’t matter. Please think about what I said, about telling someone, won’t you?’
I’m pretty sure she doesn’t mean Dan though.
On Saturday Dan cheerfully announces we should go and get our Christmas tree. He takes me for breakfast first, then we go to the garden centre, get the tree home, put it up, and start to decorate it. He then nips out to buy a new set of fairy lights that actually work and while he’s gone I text Leo in tears an
d literally beg him not to destroy my life.
Dan comes back. We pick up where we left off with the decorating and then Dan redecorates it two hours later in good humour when it falls over and all the baubles fling themselves from the branches in a dramatic fashion. I go upstairs to the loo and check my phone. Nothing. I send Leo another text, pleading with him to just walk away. I’m very careful not to incriminate myself and don’t actually admit to anything. I just ask him please to find it in his heart to do what is right. That if he really loves me …
I check my phone again once we’ve gone to bed and Dan is asleep. Still nothing.
I’m almost out of time.
Sunday arrives. Dan gets the papers, I take him out for Sunday lunch because I cannot bear to stay trapped in the house a moment longer, and we go for a long walk across the downs.
‘You know, I realised something today,’ Dan reaches for my hand. ‘This might be our last Christmas. Just us I mean. This time next year, we could be … millionaires!’
He grins at me and I have to look away quickly, pretending to inspect the view so he can’t see the tears that have sprung to my eyes. We could be a lot of things, Dan.
‘Parents – that’s what I was really going to say. We could be parents.’ He winks at me, puts an arm round me and then looks happily out over the fields spread below us.
I hesitate, and then I sway slightly as I open my mouth. ‘Dan …’
He looks at me. ‘Yeah?’
‘Nothing.’ I can’t do it. I can’t. ‘Let’s go home.’
I have nightmares that night and on Monday morning, when Dan has gone to work, I crack and call Leo. It rings – he is still abroad – but he doesn’t answer, it just goes to voicemail.
I take a deep breath.
‘Hi,’ I begin and realise my voice is shaking. ‘It’s me.’ I try to think what to say. ‘I know you’re coming back tomorrow, and what you said you were going to do.’ I pause. ‘I would really like …’ My words come out a little high and I swallow painfully, trying to sound more controlled. ‘Leo, I would really like—’ I try again ‘just to be able to talk to you as us. Lots have things have been said over the last few weeks. But from the bottom of my heart I never meant to hurt you and I don’t think you’ve meant to hurt me either, but please, please let me …’ I have to stop for a moment and close my eyes. ‘I can’t do it …’ my voice is barely more than a whisper. ‘I love him. I couldn’t be more sorry for everything … but I don’t know what more I can say. Please just let me go. Please.’
There really isn’t anything more to say. I hang up and just sit there, hoping he’s going to text or call me.
He doesn’t.
* * *
The following morning I get dressed in a daze. He’s back today.
I switch my phone on. The first call I get is from Antony, who formally invites me to consider redundancy. The day is shaping up beautifully. ‘I’m so sorry to have to do this just before the Christmas party,’ he says, the shame audible in his voice. I feel dreadful for him and want to tell him that really, it’s the least of my worries. ‘Please don’t feel bad, Antony, you’re only doing your job. Does everyone else know?’
‘Yes they do. Pearce hasn’t taken it quite as well as you,’ he jokes, but sadly. ‘Will you give him a ring if you get chance? Make sure he’s bearing up? Listen,’ he hesitates, ‘I didn’t say this, Molly, but don’t accept the offer, all right? Trust me on this. It’ll all make sense.’
Pearce doesn’t pick up when I call him, so I just leave him a message saying I hope he’s OK.
No need to worry about me. He texts back. Guess I have to learn to look out for number one now. Intend to be drunk and unsuitable tomorrow just so you know. Bastards.
But then, five minutes later I get:
Sorry. Didn’t mean it. Shouldn’t be a c**t to you. See you tomorrow. Will be on best behaviour. Promise. X
Poor old bloke.
Then another text arrives.
Leo.
I stop breathing and, terrified, I open it.
I’ve had enough of this.
‘That’s all it says?’ Joss is as thrown as me. ‘I’ve had enough of this’? Her silent confusion carries down the line from London. ‘Is that supposed to mean he’s had enough, he’s on his way over – or he’s had enough, the whole thing’s off?’
‘I don’t know.’ I stare at the five little words and feel the smallest glimmer of hope. ‘You really think that might be what he means? He’s somehow decided this is just not worth it?’
‘Maybe. That’d be a very Leo thing to do, decide at the last minute that he’s bored and just fancies walking away, because he can. I guess we’ll just have to wait out the rest of the day and see.’
‘You’re sure you’re all right?’ Dan looks at me curiously, head resting on his pillow. ‘You’ve just been very, I don’t know – skittish tonight.’
‘Skittish?’ I can’t help smiling.
‘Are you excited about your work do tomorrow night?’ he makes a face. ‘If so, we need to start getting out more, it’d be too sad if this actually is a highlight on our social calendar.’
‘Oh, that reminds me,’ I say. ‘Work – Antony called me today. Asked me to consider voluntary redundancy—’
‘WHAT?!’ Dan lifts his head up in shock.
‘—but it’s fine, he gave me the wink too.’
‘Oh,’ Dan relaxes back down. ‘Meaning you’ll be OK?’
‘I assume so. That’s good isn’t it?’ I say happily.
‘Very,’ he says, relieved. ‘No wonder you’re smiling.’ He looks at me again. ‘Nothing else has happened, has it?’ he asks.
‘No,’ I allow myself a smile. ‘Nothing has happened at all.’
Chapter Twenty-Five
And nothing happens the following day either. No messages, no calls – nothing. It’s like being told a devastating cyclone is heading straight for you, bracing yourself because there is nothing else you can do but wait for it to hit, only to be told it has randomly switched course at the last moment and you’ve been spared. I can’t believe it – is it really possible, just like that, Leo could decide to walk away? Maybe what I said in my last message struck a cord with him … I suppose I’ll never know. But I can certainly live with that.
As I’m drying my hair with forty minutes to go before we have to be at my work do – it should only take us twenty to get to the hotel – it occurs to me that Dan’s cutting it a bit fine.
I’m just deciding I’ll give him another five and then I’ll call him to see where he is, when I hear a thump. Immediately on guard, I switch the hairdryer off and listen, but all that reaches me is Mel next door saying warningly, ‘Jack! No! Naughty!’
My hair is practically done anyway and I don’t really want to put the dryer back on. Instead, I cross the room and get a pair of tights out of the drawer and sit down on the edge of the bed, threading them over my hands to check for ladders, when I definitely hear the front door open.
‘Dan?’ I shout. No answer – all I hear is feet bounding up the stairs towards me, fast.
He bursts into our bedroom to find me sat frozen on the bed in my bra and knickers, hands still buried in the tights.
‘Hello!’ he grins, as he marches round the bed, suit jacket tails swinging jauntily in the manner of a man who has just leapt off a Lear jet and driven at a hundred miles an hour to make it back for the ambassador’s reception. ‘They go on your legs, not your hands,’ he nods at the tights, before leaning in to kiss me. ‘Were you worried I wasn’t going to make it in time? The train was late. Have I got time for a quick shower before we go?’ he looks enquiringly at me. ‘Doesn’t matter if we haven’t, I’ll just put on a clean shirt.’
‘I – we – have to leave in about ten minutes.’ My mind has defrosted and become a blancmange in a glass box, slopping against the sides uselessly. For some stupid reason, when he didn’t answer straight away, I thought it was Leo running up the stairs – I so thought
it was him. It’s going to take me a little while to accept it’s all over I think.
I reach for my dress.
‘Oh, you’re wearing that one are you?’ Dan says, slightly disappointed, as he tucks his shirt in.
‘Why, what’s wrong with it?’ I’m now completely thrown.
‘Nothing,’ he shrugs. ‘It’s just a bit … Why don’t you wear your red one?’
‘I haven’t worn that for years!’
‘I know,’ he says, ‘which is a shame because I really like it – go on, it’s a party! Don’t wear black, everyone’s depressed enough at the minute without you turning up looking like a grieving widow.’ He reaches into the wardrobe and fumbles about, before pulling it out triumphantly and passing it to me.
I take it doubtfully.
‘Trust me,’ he insists.
Moments after I’ve shoehorned myself into it I want to rip it off again. I’ve clearly added a few comfortable pounds here and there since I last wore it, so it’s not so much as clinging over my boobs as hanging on for dear life, the tummy and hips aren’t too bad, but – no, no, no.
‘It’s too booby,’ I insist, ‘There are clients going.’
‘Too booby?’ Dan looks confused. ‘You’ve worn it to weddings and christenings now I think about it. You look amazing and it’s a lot better than that gloomy black thing. It’s Christmas, Moll.’ He peers at me more curiously. ‘What’s wrong? Why don’t you want to wear it?’
‘Fine,’ I say hastily, before he can pick up on any more of my unsettled vibes. ‘I’ll wear it. Let’s just go.’
Dan decides to drive and laughs as my tummy does an immense, audible rumble in the dark car. ‘Bloody hell,’ he says. ‘I hope they’ve got food there, and a lot of it.’
I am actually inexplicably starving, but eating anything in this dress is out of the question. I should have worn the black one. I look like Jessica Rabbit’s much older and fatter sister.
When we arrive at the small hotel and park at the back, Dan climbs out of the car and comes round to open my door for me, patting my bottom flirtily as I walk ahead of him towards the hotel. He’s in a good mood.
