A Most Desirable Marriage

by Hilary Boyd

  ‘What did you think, Mum?’ Nicky gave her an ebullient hug.

  ‘I thought you were brilliant, both of you,’ she said. ‘Brought the stage alive. Interesting concept.’

  Nicky beamed, but Travis’s grin was knowing. ‘Think maybe I detect some dissembling? Or am I being paranoid?’

  She laughed. ‘Totally paranoid.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Nicky asked, catching the glance between her and his friend.

  ‘Play’s not quite doing it for your mom,’ Travis explained. But Nicky wasn’t listening.

  ‘There she is.’ He was off towards the double doors of the library-turned-theatre, gathering up his sweetheart in a close embrace. Amber looked as beautiful as ever – many eyes turned at her entrance – and as vacant.

  Travis groaned. ‘There’s a limit to the amount of coo-ing I can handle . . .’

  ‘I’ll suggest an Indian. She doesn’t do spicy.’

  ‘Yeah . . . do it.’

  Nicky and Amber had a short, whispered exchange and then began making their way through the crowd to join them.

  In the event Jo didn’t need to manipulate.

  ‘Amber’s not feeling so great,’ her son announced before they’d even had time to greet the girl – who offered them a wan smile but no further explanation. ‘I think we’ll head off home.’

  Nicky cast a sideways glance at his mother as if he expected her to object. He was in no doubt that she hadn’t exactly warmed to his girlfriend. But his loyalties were crystal clear.

  ‘No problem, darling.’ Jo could afford to be gracious.

  After the two had said goodbye, there was a sudden silence between her and Travis.

  ‘So were you serious about that Indian?’ Travis said, biting his lower lip as if he were nervous.

  ‘Absolutely . . . if you’re up for it. Or we could get a takeaway and sit outside? It’s so warm.’ Jo felt her body suddenly alive with nerves, as if someone had thrown a switch on a circuit board.

  ‘Sure, sounds perfect.’

  Jo had been hungry earlier, but by the time they were seated at the wrought iron table on the terrace, the cartons of Tandoori chicken, tarka dal, sag aloo, rice and raita between them, each with a glass of wine, she found her stomach was balled so tight she could barely swallow, let alone eat.

  They talked for a while with their usual ease, general subjects that avoided her having to be honest about the play. There was a lightness between them tonight, a lot of laughter. Maybe it was the wine, which seemed to have gone straight to her head, but Jo felt heady and reckless.

  ‘You’re a nightmare,’ she said as the first bottle of wine was set aside for the second.

  Travis raised his eyebrows, his brown eyes lit up in the candlelight.

  ‘Moi? I sure hope you’re not blaming me for your alcohol intake.’

  ‘That . . . and for being so bloody disturbing.’ There, she’d said it. Her words stood solid, suspending the moment.

  ‘OK,’ the sound was drawn out, soft, almost a caress. ‘But hey, you must share some responsibility.’

  They stared at each other. Jo felt unable to move or speak as Travis got up and came round the table. He put his hand beneath her elbow and pulled her gently to her feet, drawing her into his embrace. His body felt so deliciously warm and strong. She looked up at him. The hesitation in his eyes was only momentary, then his mouth was on hers, a soft, fluttering kiss, then another, testing her response. And when a small moan escaped her, his lips pressed hers more confidently, the kiss suddenly urgent and full of desire.

  After a while, Jo, trembling, drew back. ‘This is mad. We can’t . . .’

  He seemed amused. ‘Why not? Why can’t we? You and me . . . both free agents last I checked.’

  Which was true, but she hadn’t got around to thinking of herself as free. She still felt tethered to Lawrence, or at least to his imprint on her life, now his shadow. But Lawrence Meadows had gone. She was, to all intents and purposes, free as a bird. She took a deep breath, sank back against Travis’s chest, inhaling the faint scent of nutmeg and lime on his skin, bringing her arms round his body to caress the small of his back, turning her face up to his for another kiss.

  It was only the sound of the front door that tore them apart. Jo, brushing her hands across her face as if to erase all evidence of Travis’s kisses, shot back to her chair and began picking up the cartons – still mostly uneaten – from the table. Travis snatched up his wine glass and stood with his back to her, looking out on the dark garden.

  ‘Hey guys. Still up?’ Cassie sounded tired.

  ‘Yeah . . . had a takeaway after the show,’ Travis replied, which was lucky, as Jo wasn’t sure she could speak.

  ‘God, I’m knackered,’ Cassie said. ‘Jason is such an old bore. I don’t know why I bother.’ She peered at the curry in the candlelight, reaching over for a piece of chicken and dipping it in the raita. ‘Mmm . . . and we never actually got to eat. Just sat in the smelly pub with a bag of pork scratchings all evening.’

  ‘Do you want me to heat this up?’

  Cassie shook her head. ‘Thanks Mum, but I’m not really hungry any more.’

  Travis helped Jo collect the plates and glasses, taking them inside.

  ‘Tea, anyone?’ she asked. But they both shook their heads.

  ‘I guess I’ll go up,’ Travis said, smiling at Jo. ‘Thanks for the curry, Jo.’

  ‘A pleasure. Thanks for the play.’

  He waved his hand at them both and disappeared upstairs.

  Jo felt dazed, almost disorientated and was relieved that he was gone. She got a glass from the cupboard and ran the cold water.

  ‘So did you like it?’ Cassie asked in a whisper.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Doh . . . the play.’

  ‘Oh yes, the play. No, not really. You were right. But it was fun seeing them act.’

  ‘He’s a real talent, Travis. Don’t you think?’

  Jo nodded. ‘Nicky’s really good too.’

  ‘Yeah, he is. But it wasn’t a big enough part to really stretch him. I think he owed a lot to Travis’s performance.’

  ‘That’s a bit mean.’

  ‘I didn’t say he wasn’t good. I just said you couldn’t really tell from that role.’

  Jo wasn’t about to get involved in what sounded like sibling rivalry. She was barely keeping it together; her body was buzzing, her skin burning with the feel of Travis’s touch. Surely Cassie could see.

  ‘How did you escape the silent Amber?’

  ‘She said she wasn’t well. Nicky took her home.’

  ‘Maybe she should eat occasionally, it helps,’ Cassie said waspishly, then gave her mother a broad grin. ‘I’m kind of enjoying seeing Nicks so besotted. Mr Cool finally meets his match!’

  Jo waited till it went quiet upstairs, then she fetched the rug from the back of the sofa and drew it round her shoulders as she went outside again to sit in the darkness. There was a chill now, the day’s warmth giving way to the autumn night, but the blanket was cosy and soft as she hugged it to her body, preserving the intense pleasure she’d experienced with Travis, the darkness a cloak for her arousal. Questions flitted about her mind: what happens next? Now he’s kissed me, will he want to kiss me again? What if Cassie finds out? But she chose to ignore them and just savour the moment, remembering the desire in his eyes, the feel of his hand on her breast. It had been decades since anyone had looked at her that way.

  There had been years of sensual enjoyment with Lawrence – they had been lucky she felt – but inevitably their physical relationship had been absorbed into the mundane flow of their life, the occasional peaks of intensity taken for granted along with other pleasures, such as the exchange of ideas between them, a good meal in the sunshine, a bike ride by the sea, the children. It was how it should be, she thought now. And had she died in her husband’s arms, she wouldn’t have felt cheated of another passion. But she would not die in Lawrence Meadows’ arms. Not now.

&n
bsp; *

  ‘Coffee?’ She waved the cafetière at Travis as he came into the kitchen the following morning.

  ‘Sure, thanks.’ He hesitated for a split second, looked around, then came over, planting a soft kiss on her cheek, pausing, then kissing her again, this time on the mouth. He tasted deliciously of toothpaste, his skin smooth and faintly scented with shaving soap. ‘Good morning,’ he whispered, his face alight with mischief.

  Jo found her own expression breaking into a delighted smile.

  ‘Good morning indeed.’

  ‘Did you sleep?’ he asked.

  She shook her head. ‘Not a wink.’

  ‘Me neither.’

  He took the cup she offered.

  ‘Travis . . .’

  He held up his hand to stop her. ‘Please . . . don’t say it again. Don’t tell me we can’t, or we shouldn’t, or it’s wrong.’ He shrugged. ‘We’re not hurting anyone.’

  ‘Cassie and Nicky . . .’

  ‘What about them?’

  ‘Just . . .’

  ‘If you don’t want to, that’s different.’ His look was cautious, appraising. She felt her heart contract.

  ‘Want to?’ Her question was like an echo, it was all she could manage.

  He put his mug down, laughed, a soft, musical sound, his hand running up and down her bare arm. ‘Well if you don’t know what I mean . . .’

  For a reply she leaned forward and stroked her fingers gently across his mouth, his breath warm on her skin.

  ‘Oh, I definitely know what you mean.’

  She heard a soft gasp. ‘God . . . don’t do that.’ He pulled her fiercely into his arms, but she heard Cassie’s door and moved quickly away, trying to control her breathing and still the ferocious pounding of her heart.

  Trained actor that he was, Travis greeted Cassie with the utmost normality. Jo, meanwhile, took out the wholemeal loaf she’d made the day before – to pass the time – set it on the board and began vigorously slicing, her back to the room.

  ‘Hi, darling,’ she said, without looking round.

  Cassie, already dressed, her hair freshly washed and shiny, plonked herself down at the table. Jo set the coffee pot in front of her with a mug.

  ‘I’m making toast.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Her daughter hesitated. ‘OK, guys . . . progress on the marital front. Matt and I talked last night and he’s coming up.’ She sounded nervous but Jo could tell she was also pleased. ‘He said he’d take an early train, so he should be here by midday.’

  ‘Is he coming here?’

  ‘That was the plan, but if you think it’d be awkward, we could meet somewhere else.’

  Jo found it hard to focus her thoughts, drag them away from the man only inches away from her, calmly sipping his black coffee.

  ‘Umm . . . it’s up to you, darling. We can make ourselves scarce, can’t we?’ She glanced at Travis, who nodded.

  ‘Sure, I have to be in town to meet a guy about a job this morning. I’ll stay out until I get the all clear.’

  Cassie gave him a vague smile, but didn’t say anything for a moment. ‘I suppose if we’re going to argue, it’d be better not to do it in public.’

  ‘Negative thinking. Not good,’ Travis said, coming to sit next to her. ‘See it as a chance to reconnect, not an opportunity to fight.’

  Cassie stared at him. ‘You obviously haven’t met Matt.’

  ‘He’s right, though.’

  ‘Yeah, well, OK for you two to say. Of course I’m going to try and be positive, but he’s so bloody stubborn.’

  Jo smiled. ‘Takes one to know one.’

  Her daughter glared at her for a moment, then her face relaxed into a grin. ‘Maybe that’s the problem.’

  ‘At least he’s making the effort to come up and meet you, leave the farm for once. That must mean something.’

  ‘I suppose.’ She gave a long, drawn-out sigh.

  *

  Matt texted to say he was on his way just after half past eleven. Jo had been in her office, trying unsuccessfully to write and mostly Googling Travis, finding a number of publicity photos of him which she inspected with care. She had no idea what she would do while Matt was here, or if she should even stay to greet him. As she sat there at her computer, staring at a headshot of the American there was a ping from her mobile. A text from the man himself: ‘Lunch?’

  She barely hesitated, ‘Where?’

  They agreed to meet at a pub by the river in Chiswick. She’d been there once, years back, with Lawrence. She rushed into her bedroom to change, settling on black jeans, a pretty, dark-green vest top with a lacy edge, pumps and a soft, stone-coloured cardigan.

  ‘Wow, you look nice,’ Cassie, still at the kitchen table reading the newspaper, greeted her. ‘Where’re you off to?’

  ‘I thought I’d go into town and potter about. Do you want me to stay and say hello to Matt?’

  ‘Would you? If you’re not here, he might think you’re angry with him or something.’

  *

  Matt looked tired and out of place. He had made no effort to change out of his jeans, heavy boots and anorak – he looked as if he’d come to do the garden – although mercifully the hat was missing. If he’d arrived in the ‘stupid beanie’, as Cassie called it, Jo knew it would have been all over.

  ‘Hello.’ Jo went to hug him.

  ‘Hi, Jo.’ He put his backpack down.

  Cassie got up and they gave each other a self-conscious hug.

  ‘Was your trip up OK?’ Jo asked.

  ‘Yeah . . . pretty much. Took ages. I left at six-thirty.’ He brushed his dark hair off his face, tucked it behind his ear and looked around slightly bemused, as if the environment of a normal house were totally alien to him. Jo was immediately aware that there was no recycling bin – although she did make an effort to recycle bottles and newspapers when she remembered.

  ‘I’ll make some tea,’ she suggested. Cassie hadn’t said a word, and the stubborn look on her face didn’t bode well.

  ‘No, Mum. I’ll do that. You get off.’ She turned to her husband. ‘Mum has a meeting in town.’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘I’ll be back later,’ Jo said, dying to get away from the strained atmosphere. It’ll be better when I’m gone, she thought, searching around for her keys as the silence continued behind her. ‘Text you when I’m on the way back,’ she said to Cassie as she gave her a kiss goodbye. ‘Eat anything in the fridge.’

  She cringed as she let herself out, hoping Matt wouldn’t think the fridge reference was a deliberate dig.

  *

  The pub was ancient, the bar room tiny with an open fire. Travis had texted her to say he was outside, one of the few people to be so – it was quite chilly and looked like rain – seated at a table overlooking the river. Busy on his iPad, he leaped up as she approached.

  ‘Hi.’

  ‘Hello.’

  ‘Is outside OK? We can move if . . .’

  ‘It’s great.’ She sat down next to him.

  ‘You’re not cold?’

  She smiled. ‘Not yet.’

  ‘This place is awesome.’ He waved towards the historic building. ‘You know Alec Guinness and Hemingway drank here?’

  ‘Really?’

  He grinned. ‘You’re not impressed?’

  ‘No, I am. I just wonder what Hemingway was doing out this way?’ Jo almost shook with anticipation beside him. She talked, but she hardly knew what she was saying.

  ‘So how did the audition go?’

  ‘Hard to tell. The guy was super friendly, all over me. But that means nothing.’

  ‘What was it for?’

  ‘Experimental theatre group. They do weird things in warehouses with people wandering about in the dark.’

  ‘Grim. Hate all that. I’ve never recovered from a trendy audience-participation thing at the Roundhouse in the seventies. A chicken landed in my lap and I nearly died of fright.’

  He laughed. She laughed. The formality dropped away.
/>
  ‘Glad you could make it.’ He took her hand.

  They ordered hamburger and chips, diet Cokes. Travis’s choice, but she went along with it – the menu was a step too far for her wandering concentration.

  She knew only one thing. She wanted to kiss him, right then and there, in the open air, at the table by the river. Let everyone see them . . . from the passing boats, from the river walk, from the pub behind them. She held her breath.

  ‘You know this is bonkers.’

  He nodded. ‘Sure.’

  ‘What should we do?’

  ‘Hmm . . . I know what I’d like to do right now.’

  His arm went round her, pulling her towards him. The kiss was tender, drawn out. The flood of pleasure from his touch washed away any need to pin down the future. Life was short. She must savour every tiny, perfect moment she was being offered.

  ‘Did you see Matt?’ he asked, when the arrival of their lunch drew them apart.

  ‘Briefly. Not very promising.’

  ‘Was he angry?’ Travis picked up one of his hot, salty chips and took a tentative bite.

  ‘Not sure. He looked exhausted. And Cassie didn’t exactly welcome him with open arms.’

  ‘Oh dear.’

  ‘Surely they’ll work it out. They’ve only been married for ten minutes.’

  Travis shrugged. ‘Doesn’t take long for a marriage to fuck up.’

  ‘Took me decades.’

  ‘Yeah, but is your marriage fucked? He’s having a moment, maybe you are too. Doesn’t have to be over.’

  She stared at him. ‘I can’t think like that, it drives me mad.’

  There was silence.

  ‘Hey . . . don’t look so sad.’

  ‘Sorry.’ She tried to smile.

  ‘You know you have incredibly beautiful eyes.’

  Lawrence had said so, many times, but that didn’t diminish the intense pleasure she got from Travis’s quiet declaration.

  ‘I wish there was somewhere we could go,’ she whispered, her body on fire, absolutely bursting with pent-up desire. ‘Maybe Matt will whisk Cassie back to Devon . . .’

  Travis didn’t reply.

  It started to rain, just spitting at first, but the wind had got up, the clouds overhead dark and threatening. He held his hand out for hers.