Other Halves

by Nick Alexander

  The lawyer, a certain Steven Bower-Reddington QC, was young, beautiful, exquisitely dressed, visibly wealthy and nauseatingly sure of himself. But he knew his subjects – divorce law and parental rights – just as the teacher who had given me his details had assured me.

  Within the first ten minutes of that outrageously expensive half an hour, he informed me that not only would I be breaking the law if I took Luke on a mere day trip to Calais without Cliff’s permission, but that a family court – which would make any decision in case of dispute between us – would be unlikely to authorise any emigration plans given Cliff’s regular access history, the lack of any problem aspect to Luke’s relationship with his father, and above all, Luke’s own desire to stay put.

  Feeling rather desperate, I offered him my only potential trump card: my husband’s some-might-say-dubious sexuality.

  Bower-Reddington sat up straighter in his chair and rubbed his hands together with something akin to glee. “Homosexuality isn’t considered a crime or even an illness these days,” he told me, “so that might not have much sway over a family court, but given the right judge, it could certainly help us obtain a handsome divorce settlement. What would you say your husband’s estate is worth?”

  I gave him an overview of our finances, and he settled quickly back into his chair. We were hardly poor, but I don’t think our riches were of the kind required to maintain the glint in Bower-Reddington’s eyes.

  “What’s the timeframe for your relocation to the antipodes?” he asked, fiddling with a diamanté cufflink.

  “I’m not even sure it’s definite,” I told him. “I’m just trying to get an idea what my rights are in all of this. But my partner, James, is already there. So if I do decide to go, I expect it will be sooner rather than later.”

  “Your new partner is Australian?”

  “No, he’s English. He’s my husband’s brother, in fact.”

  “Ah,” the lawyer said, and his shoulders slumped a little further.

  “ ‘Ah’?”

  “Though I obviously have no judgement about it myself, the fact that you’ve left your husband for your brother-in-law is unlikely to sway a family court or a judge in your direction. In the hands of your husband’s lawyer, it’s all likely to sound a little tawdry. And that’s putting it mildly.”

  “Yes,” I said, blushing deeply. “Yes, I can see how that could pan out.”

  “Still, we can always have a bash. As long as you have the funds to cover costs should we lose.”

  By the time I left his office, I felt as if I had been supping with the devil. His clammy handshake somehow lingered with me, and I ached to get home to wash my hands. In fact, by the time I got back, my disgust with both him and myself felt so acute that I headed straight for the shower. Whatever the solution to my divorce with Cliff was, it wasn’t something I was going to let Bower-Reddington sully with his beautifully manicured hands. At least the consultation had made me aware which path I didn’t want to take.

  I phoned James that night and told him what the lawyer had said.

  “I guessed as much,” was his blokey reply.

  I had been feeling fraught and emotional all evening, as I had waited until it was late enough to call, and I doubted I would get through the conversation without tears. Indeed my throat started to constrict mere seconds into the conversation.

  “So unless I can convince both Luke and Cliff then . . .”

  “I don’t wanna upset you Han’,” James said, “but that simply isn’t going to happen.”

  “I know, but I can try.”

  “Sure. Try by all means. But we need to work out a plan B.”

  “I can’t leave him James. You get that, right? I can’t just up and leave my son.”

  “Of course! But I can’t come back either. I mean, I can come back – of course I can, for visits – but not to live.”

  “I know that.”

  “So what do you want to do?” James asked.

  I frowned. “What do I want to do?” I repeated.

  “Yes.”

  “I can’t even see any options.”

  “Well there are a couple.”

  “Are there?”

  “Yeah. I mean, the obvious one is that we carry on going back and forth. When we have the time and the money.”

  “Or?” I asked, bracing myself. I had a bad feeling about option number two.

  “Or I guess we can give it up as a bad job.”

  I held my breath and squeezed my eyes tightly against the welling tears.

  “Han’?”

  “Is that what you want?” I asked, struggling to control my voice, which, unable to decide if it wanted to lurch into outrage or sobs, was instead wobbling madly between the two. “Do you want to give it up as a bad job?”

  “Well . . . No. No, that’s not what I want. What I want is for you to be here with me.”

  “And you know that’s what I want too.”

  “But I don’t want to see you unhappy. And lately we seem to be heading that way.”

  I couldn’t speak, and eventually James continued, “So, if that’s what’s best for you . . . if you want to call it a day, well, I’d understand.”

  I lowered the phone, swiped a tear from my cheek, then lifted it again to my ear.

  “Hannah?”

  “It’s just . . .”

  “Yes?”

  “. . . It’s just that I don’t think I would meet someone else,” I said. “Ever.”

  “Of course you would.”

  “That came out wrong. It’s not what I mean. I mean that I don’t want someone else. You’re not just someone. You’re you. It was . . .” I gasped as a batch of free-flowing tears began to cascade down my cheeks. “It was always you,” I croaked. “From that first time.”

  “I know. I know that,” James replied softly.

  “What we have is so special James. So I can’t just give you up, any more than I can give Luke up.”

  “Then there’s your answer.”

  “Where?”

  “We carry on as is for the time being.”

  “For the time being?”

  “That’s all anything ever is Han’. As long as it’s bearable . . . as long as it works, as long as we can.”

  “I suppose.”

  “You’ll come out during holidays. I’ll come back whenever I can. And we’ll see what happens next.”

  “I can’t come out till Easter either,” I announced. “I only get a week for half-term and it looks like I’ve got Luke. Cliff can’t take him because he’ll be finishing all the accounts. But I could maybe come out at Easter. It’s right at the end of March this year, so it’s after the financial year end.”

  “I don’t think I want to wait until then,” James said.

  “Do you think I do? You do believe me, don’t you? I really can’t . . .”

  “What I meant was that I was thinking about the last week of February.”

  “For what?”

  “For a visit. I reckon most of the big stuff will be sorted by then. I could probably manage two weeks, maybe even three.”

  “Really?” I asked, starting to cry again, but with different, happier tears.

  “Sure.”

  “That would be wonderful, James. Oh please do.”

  “But it doesn’t fix anything. You need to realise that. It’s gonna be difficult.”

  “I know.”

  “Being apart all the time is hard. But financially it’s gonna be shitty too, Han’. These flights are a grand a pop. There’s only so many I can afford in a year.”

  “I know that. But please do. I can pay half this time if you want.”

  “No, you’re all right. I can manage this one, but eventually it’s gonna be a problem.”

  “I know. God I miss you.”

  “I do too. Oh.”

  “Oh?”

  “Gio has just appeared. I’ve gotta go do farmer stuff.”

  “Right. Go on then.”

  “You’re
OK?”

  “Now that I know you’re coming I am!”

  I laid down the phone and crossed to the kitchen calendar so that I could count the weeks between now and the last week of February. He’s coming back, I thought, then, he really must love me. It was only then that I realised I had been doubting it. I chewed the inside of my cheek and allowed myself to break into a smile.

  I worried about the conversation with Cliff all week, running and re-running various scenarios, practising useful key phrases in my head over and over to the point where two of my work colleagues commented that I seemed distracted.

  I finally plucked up the courage to phone him to request a meeting. James had just booked his next flight, and I was feeling bold and optimistic.

  Cliff agreed immediately and offered to call in that very night on his way home from work, so I packed Luke off to Billy’s for the evening and cooked one of Cliff’s favourite meals: cauliflower cheese. By the time he arrived at seven though, I had decided against the meal. I was worried it would appear to be little more than a cloying attempt at softening him up so that I could get my way – which in fact it was – and as such, I feared it was likely to have the opposite effect to that desired.

  On arrival, Cliff walked quickly through the house to the kitchen, glancing left and right as he did so, as if to check for hidden assailants. “You’ve had a clear out, I see,” he commented once we were both in the kitchen.

  “Yes. I had one of my spring cleaning frenzies,” I admitted. “The stuff’s just in the loft. I didn’t bin anything important.”

  Cliff nodded thoughtfully then sniffed the air. “Something smells good. Cauliflower cheese?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m pretty hungry. I don’t suppose you have enough for two, do you?”

  I smiled. “I think I can probably manage that. I made enough for Luke and me, but he’s gone over to Billy’s now, so . . .”

  Cliff took a seat at the kitchen table whilst I plated up. “So how have you been?” he asked.

  “Good. Fine. And you?”

  “I’m OK,” he said unconvincingly. “How was Australia?”

  “Lovely actually. It was summer, so . . .”

  “A nice way to spend Christmas then?”

  “Yes. We were on a beach. On the Gold Coast.”

  “You went all the way up to Brisbane?”

  “Yes. That’s where we spent most of the time. On the farm. It was lovely.”

  “Good.”

  I placed the plates of food on the table, and Cliff reached behind him to pull knives and forks from the drawer. “Well this is strange,” he said as he handed me my cutlery.

  “Yes, it is a bit.”

  “Just like old times.”

  “Yes.”

  “So I’m assuming this is about the house?”

  “The house?”

  “This place.”

  “In a way, I suppose it is.”

  Cliff looked confused. He opened his mouth to say something, but then changed his mind and forked a lump of cauliflower cheese instead.

  “Well,” he said, once he had swallowed. “Your cauli-cheese is as good as ever.”

  “Thanks,” I said, hesitating over my next move. Everything was going so well, I was loath to spoil the atmosphere.

  “So . . .” Cliff prompted.

  “This is hugely difficult,” I murmured.

  “Yes, I know.”

  “Could you . . . I know it’s an ask, but do you think you could try to forget that you’re my husband, my ex, whatever, just for a moment?”

  Cliff raised one eyebrow at me quizzically.

  “I’m in a bit of a bind, and I’m not really sure what to do.”

  Cliff nodded vaguely. “I can try,” he said, “go for it.”

  “The thing is that I really liked Australia. I felt like a new me when I was there. And that felt good.”

  “Right. Well, that’s great.”

  “I really liked it,” I said.

  Cliff chewed his lip. “So you want to move?”

  “I think so, yes.”

  “So we have to sell this place.”

  “I guess we do.”

  Cliff shrugged. “It’s fine, Hannah. I already said I don’t want to fight you over any of this. We’ll sell the place and split the proceeds fifty-fifty.’

  “That’s generous but . . .”

  “No buts. That was always the deal. It was always ours and there’s only twenty-grand or so left on the mortgage, so if we sell it, we split it.”

  “Thanks,” I said, stumbling in the face of Cliff’s generosity. “My problem, my concern, isn’t so much about the place. It’s about Luke.”

  “Yeah . . .” Cliff said slowly. “You’re worried he’ll hate you if you leave? Is that it?”

  “No, I . . . Will he? Would he, do you think?”

  Cliff wrinkled his nose. “Probably not. Not if we deal with it properly. Not if we keep everything civilised. He’s pretty adult now. I’m sure he’d understand.”

  “Actually, what I wanted to say is that my concern, my worry . . . is that I don’t think I can bear to leave him. I love him so much.”

  “I know you do. We both do.”

  “So the obvious answer would be for him to come with me.” I swallowed hard and watched him for a reaction, but he remained poker faced.

  “Yes, that would be the obvious solution,” he eventually said, sounding business-like.

  “Oh,” I replied, momentarily flummoxed. “Oh, well, I’m glad you agree.”

  “It would be the obvious solution if Luke wanted to go with you. But he doesn’t.”

  “But don’t you think he needs me? Honestly, Cliff?”

  Cliff nodded. “Yes. He probably needs both of us. But he’ll manage only seeing one of us. He already does to a certain extent during holidays and such.”

  “I just can’t leave him behind,” I said.

  Cliff smiled at me strangely. “OK, let’s play the pretend game the other way around. Let’s pretend you’re not my wife, but a friend. What would you advise me to do?”

  “Oh. I’m not sure.”

  “I am,” Cliff said, flatly. “You’d ask me what I want, and you’d ask me what Luke wants, and then you’d advise me to fight you every step of the way. I don’t want to fight you, Hannah, I really don’t. But you need to know that if you try to force Luke to go with you to the other side of the planet, that’s exactly what will happen. I will fight you, I will throw everything I have, every penny at fighting you, and I will win.”

  “I consulted a lawyer,” I told him, hardening my tone of voice. “Just to get an idea. He said that family courts tend to favour the mother.”

  Cliff laughed falsely. “And I’m sure he told you that, at twelve, Luke’s wishes would be considered paramount.”

  “They did say they’d be taken into account, but . . .”

  “I consulted one too, Hannah. I think it’s best if I’m absolutely clear here. So you need to know that hell will freeze over before I let you take Luke to Australia. And I’m not saying that because I want a war with you. I’m saying it because I love him.”

  “But so do I.”

  “I know that. It’s a tough one. You’ve chosen a guy who lives as far away as anyone ever could. If he lived any further away, he’d be coming back. Now maybe you can get James to move here, though I doubt it, he was never that—. Actually, I’m not going to go there. Suffice to say, maybe you can convince him to move here. But I doubt it. And if you can’t then you’ll have to choose. If you choose Australia, then we could think about Luke possibly coming over in the holidays. Summer, Christmas – that kind of stuff.”

  “Would you even let that happen?”

  “If we’re being civilised about it all, then yes. But be warned, Hannah. I’ve taken legal advice. There is no way you could keep him out there. It would be seen by a court as child abduction. You could end up in an Ozzy prison. And I’m not making that up.”

  I ran
a finger across my brow and shook my head. “I’d never do that, Cliff. You know that.”

  “I don’t think you would either. But I’m telling you, just in case. You can’t. It’s not an option.”

  “I don’t see I have any options. That’s the trouble.”

  “You have a few. You can stay here and continue to see your son. You could get James to move here perhaps. You and I can divorce in a civilised manner, and you can go live on a farm with wonder boy and take a hundred and fifty to two hundred grand with you. Or you can drag me through the courts, lose everything you have, and then go to Australia with nothing. The choice is yours really.”

  “Nice, Cliff. Really nice.”

  “Just honest.”

  “Well, it’s helpful to know where you stand,” I said smiling coldly at him.

  “Your food’s going cold there,” he said, nodding towards my plate.

  “I’ve lost my appetite, I think.”

  “Yes. Me too,” Cliff said, pushing his plate away and standing. “I think I might leave now.”

  I waved towards the hallway. “You know the way out.”

  “Great seeing you, Hannah. Just great.”

  “You too,” I said. “Thanks so much for coming!”

  I barely slept that night. Random images kept popping up in my head: Luke in a car accident and me unable to reach his side; Luke crying for his mum after some kind of heartbreak but not daring to tell me he needed me; women at the school gates talking to Cliff, saying, “She left for Australia? What a terrible mother!”

  I finally drifted into a tortured sleep around three a.m., and awoke feeling thoroughly wired just after six, with a single thought in my mind: that until I had spoken to Luke, my options were not exhausted. I needed to have an adult chat with my son. And that, I knew, wasn’t going to be easy.

  I prepared my speech studiously, even making notes in the back of my diary. I knew I would only have one chance at this conversation, and I was determined to get it right.