by Fallon, Jane
Katie sighed. ‘OK, I'll stop. For your sake, though, not James's. You and Finn.’
Stephanie felt as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She put her arms round Katie and hugged her. ‘So, is that it now, then? We can all just try to get on with our lives?’
‘I suppose,’ Katie said, and hugged Stephanie back, which Stephanie took as a sign that she was telling the truth.
‘We'll get out of your way,’ she said, and moved to go back through to the living room. The sooner she was out of there, the sooner she could get home and just forget about this whole chapter of her life.
James, however, seemed to have other ideas. He was hovering just behind the door, looking purposeful, and as soon as she came through it, followed by Katie, he said, ‘I want to say something.’
Oh, God, Stephanie thought. ‘Everything's fine, James,’ she said. ‘Let's just go.’
‘No,’ he said. ‘Not until I've said what I have to say.’
He hadn't planned to make a speech. He hadn't been intending to say anything at all, if he could help it, knowing that Katie was far more likely to listen to Stephanie than to him. He was just there for moral support, ballast in case Steph needed propping up. Over the past few months he had managed to put Katie completely out of his mind. It was as if she barely existed. She was a blip. A fairly large blip admittedly. He had wanted to forget about her for Stephanie's sake. Now, faced with the reality of her in front of him, he knew that he owed it to her to explain. He had fallen for her naïvety and her sweetness and her trusting nature and then he had destroyed those very things that he had thought he loved. As much as what he had done had been unkind to Stephanie, so it had been equally unkind to Katie, and if he was trying to be a better person, he had to acknowledge that and take full responsibility for what he had done to both women.
‘Katie,’ he began, ‘I want to apologize, really sincerely and honestly apologize, for the way I treated you. It was unforgivable. I was weak and stupid and dishonest and, basically, an idiot. And a bastard. And whatever else you want to call me…’
Katie, in fact, was just looking at him impassively, as if to say, ‘I know this already.’
Stephanie was just looking like she wanted to get out of there.
‘The thing is,’ he continued, determined to say his piece, ‘I made a terrible mistake. You see, the truth is that I never stopped loving Stephanie. I just couldn't see it.’ He glanced at her to see if she had reacted to his declaration, but Stephanie was now studying the floor.
‘I suppose it was a mid-life crisis, I don't know. I guess you'd be able to analyse my behaviour better than I can — you're good at that,’ he said, looking back at Katie, who was now looking him straight in the eye as if challenging him to lie to her any more. ‘And I used you to make me feel I was still young or attractive or something. It's pitiful, I know. And then, before I knew what was happening, I'd started to care for you. To love you, actually. I really thought I did — sorry, Steph…’ Now he looked at Stephanie again. She was still admiring the carpet.
‘Anyway, I wanted you to know that. I never meant to hurt you, either of you. I was a fool who thought he could have his cake and eat it, and then I realized that for me having what I really wanted meant having my marriage and my wife and my son. But by then it was too late. So, I want you both to know that I regret it all and I never meant to mess you around, Katie, but eventually I realized it was Stephanie who I had loved all along. And I still do. And I'd do anything if she'd take me back.’
No one said anything for a moment and James's statement stayed hanging there in the air. And then Katie turned to Stephanie and said, ‘You're not taking him back, are you?’
When James had finished his speech, Katie realized she felt nothing for him. No attraction, no anger, no resentment. It had all gone and she was left with a big, empty sense of nothingness. If she was being honest, she would have admitted it felt good.
‘You're not taking him back, are you?’
‘No!’ Stephanie said indignantly, looking up for the first time in ages. ‘Of course not.’ And then she had cast James a sideways look and added, ‘In actual fact, I'm about to move in with someone else. Well, that is, he's moving in with me. Sorry,’ she said, looking over at James again. ‘I meant to tell you.’
James looked as if he had been hit by a large truck. ‘Michael?’ he said, and Stephanie nodded.
‘Sorry,’ she said again, and Katie started to wonder if she was hearing things.
‘Why are you apologizing to him? And who's Michael?’ She felt irritated with Stephanie. Not just because of the U-turn she seemed to have performed where James was concerned or the fact that she had chosen to reveal their whole plan to him without checking that that was an OK thing to do but because, she now realized, Stephanie had managed to move on to the extent that another man liked her enough to ask her to live with him. It was jealousy, pure and simple. Stephanie's life had worked out OK while Katie had merely humiliated herself by chasing after someone who wasn't interested. The old Katie — the real Katie — would have been delighted for her, would have taken pleasure simply from the fact that there were still happy endings to be had out there, whoever they were for. She had to try and get that other Katie back from wherever she had gone. That other Katie had been happy.
‘Wow,’ she forced herself to say when Stephanie told her, and she thought she even sounded as if she meant it. ‘I'm really pleased for you. That's great.’
James made a sort of grunting noise, kind of like an animal in pain and Katie saw that this news had devastated him. Had he really thought he'd had a chance of winning Stephanie back? After all that had happened? She realized she actually felt sorry for him. Now that she had let go of all the negative feelings, something of her old kind self was returning and she was able to feel bad for him in a way she had never imagined she could. Unrequited love was a terrible thing to suffer from, especially when you'd had it once and lost it. She managed a half-smile of sympathy for him and he responded with a look that contained so much relief, so much gratitude, that she instantly felt good about herself.
Stephanie was edging towards the door. ‘I really need to get going,’ she said. ‘I've got to be back before Finn gets home.’
‘Come back in the car with me,’ James said. ‘Or I can drive you to the station if you'd rather,’ he added nervously.
Once Stephanie had agreed that it made no sense for her to get the train when he had his car right outside the front door, he went off to the bathroom, leaving her and Katie alone.
‘What a mess, eh?’
Katie, buoyed up by the satisfaction that came from knowing she was being a good person, smiled. ‘He's changed, I think. He sounds like he's learned his lesson.’
‘Hey,’ Stephanie said, smiling back at her warmly, ‘Katie's back.’
53
Neither Stephanie nor James mentioned his outburst in the car on the way back. Stephanie decided that the only thing she could do if she was to survive the journey was to turn up the radio and pretend to be asleep. She didn't want to have to tell him there was no chance.
They had stopped off briefly at Sally O'Connell's house, and James had made a genuine and grovelling apology, which Sally had accepted with good grace.
‘I could have sued you for wrongful dismissal apparently,’ Sally had said, ‘but I never would have done something like that.’
‘That's because you're a nicer person than I am,’ James had said. ‘Or, at least, than I was. I'm trying.’
By three it was obvious that they weren't going to make it back by the time Cassie brought Finn home after school, so Stephanie called and asked her to stay on until they arrived, which luckily she agreed to do because Stephanie wasn't quite sure what she would have done otherwise. She really hadn't thought this through when she'd jumped on the train this morning.
By the time they got to the house she was exhausted, but James wanted to come in and say hello to Finn and she knew she had no
right not to let him. Once Finn's tea was ready it seemed churlish not to offer James something, and it was only when they were all sitting round the big kitchen table that she remembered what he had said to her that morning. ‘Did you say you had a new job?’ she asked. The morning seemed like a year ago.
‘I did!’ He looked delighted with himself, his face lit up with enthusiasm in a way she hadn't seen for months, possibly years. ‘It's only three days a week and it doesn't exactly pay brilliantly, but it's at the Cardew Rescue Centre in Kilburn. It's a charity and they see local people who can't afford vet's fees as well as taking in strays. No more dogs in handbags or cats that've had their claws removed in case they snag the silk cushions. Real stuff, you know.’
‘ That's great,’ she said. ‘I'm really pleased for you.’
‘Can I get a dog?’ Finn said, wide-eyed. ‘One that someone brings in that no one else wants. An old one or one with three legs or something.’
James laughed. ‘Maybe. Ask your mum.’
‘Mu —’
‘No,’ Stephanie said, before he could finish. ‘At least, not for a while.’
‘Tell you what,’ James said, ‘if one comes in with two legs I promise you can have it.’
‘One leg,’ Stephanie said, ‘and an eye missing. Then you have a deal.’
Stephanie had plans to make. Michael was supposed to be moving in next week and she still hadn't broached the subject with Finn, let alone cleared out cupboard space and thrown away anything embarrassing that Michael might stumble across, like haemorrhoid cream or support tights. She hadn't seen him for a few days as he'd been away photographing some band or other for a magazine.
She hadn't told him about her jaunt up to Lincoln with James or their encounter with Katie. She had a feeling he wouldn't understand. Natasha on the other hand would, if only they were speaking to each other, but Stephanie had made such a point of avoiding her friend lately that Natasha had cottoned on and had stopped trying to call her. They were still communicating by text messages and notes left around the office. Stephanie knew that, as the person who had created this whole situation, she was the one who would have to make the first move.
‘I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry,’ she said, as soon as Natasha answered the phone.
‘I take it you're sorry,’ Natasha said, and Stephanie could hear there was a smile in her voice.
‘I should never have taken it out on you. I asked for your advice but because I didn't like what you said I got all defensive. It was stupid of me. And disloyal…’
‘And childish.’
‘… and childish, yes, thanks.’
‘And ungrateful.’
‘OK, you can stop now. I'm trying to be sincere for once. The point is that I fucked up and I'm sorry and I want to be friends again.’
‘Accepted, obviously. How's Michael?’
‘Fine. Moving in next week.’
‘Great,’ Natasha said, sounding as if she was trying to mean it.
‘Is it?’ Stephanie said. ‘I'm not sure any more.’
‘Well, don't expect me to give you any advice. Ever again. You're on your own in that department.’
In retrospect, Stephanie thought later, it would have been better to wait until after dinner to tell Michael her news. That way they wouldn't have had to sit there for twenty minutes chewing through their pasta and trying to think what to say to each other.
Michael had been very calm and reasonable, as she had known he would be: histrionics were not his style. He had been shocked, there was no doubt about it. He was telling her about a book he'd been reading about Afghanistan or Azerbaijan, she couldn't remember which because she hadn't been concentrating, so fixated was she on trying to work out how to steer the conversation round to their relationship. Finally she hadn't been able to wait any longer and as soon as he had paused to take a breath she'd heard herself say, ‘I need to talk to you about something.’
He'd realized immediately that something was wrong, of course. Everyone knew that a sentence like that one was never the prelude to good news. He had put down his fork and wiped his mouth, waiting for the axe to fall.
Stephanie had gone over and over in her mind what she was intending to say. She'd even tried it out loud with Natasha, but Natasha had refused to take it seriously and had kept on acting Michael collapsing in hysterics, clutching his chest and shouting, ‘Why? Why?’ Eventually Stephanie had given up.
‘Well, if it all goes wrong,’ she'd said, laughing, ‘it'll be your fault. I hope you'll be satisfied.’
Now she'd forgotten her well-practised words and could only think of platitudes, like ‘It's not you, it's me,’ and ‘We should just be friends,’ both of which she had the good sense not to say. So she'd settled for the blunt but straightforward, ‘I think we should stop seeing each other,’ then sat back and waited to see what he would say in response.
‘OK,’ he said quietly. ‘Is there a reason?’ ‘Well,’ she said, ‘I think maybe I rushed into it.’ This, she remembered, was the angle she had decided to take, part truth but leaving out the stuff about how she knew they'd never last because he didn't have much of a sense of humour. ‘I should have dealt with everything that was going on with James before I let myself get involved with someone else. It was just that I met you and you were really nice and I was really flattered and before I knew it we were getting serious and I, well… I'm so sorry.’
She waited for him to accuse her of messing him around, of playing with his feelings, using him but, of course, being Michael, he just nodded sadly and said, ‘Well, if that's your decision I have to accept it. I wish you'd change your mind, though.’
‘If I'd met you a few months down the line…’ she said, unable to stop the cliché as it forced its way out of her mouth ‘… things might have been different. But I feel like I need to be on my own for a while, sort myself out. Work out what I really want.’ ‘You're not going back to James?’ ‘No! Why do people keep asking me that?’ Michael ate a forkful of food, clearly weighing up what to say next. Even though he was making it easy for her, she wished that, just for once, he would get angry or even cry. He was so lacking in passion, she thought now, so strait-jacketed by politeness. It would drive you mad after a few years. She was doing the right thing.
‘Well, obviously I'm upset,’ he said, telling what he most definitely wasn't showing. ‘I thought… Well, I thought we had something special. But I respect your honesty. Maybe in a few months, if you want to, we could try again. I'd like to be friends at least.’
Stephanie thought about the jazz nights and the gallery openings and the art films, and forced herself to say, ‘Yes, I hope we can too.’
They finished their pasta and salad, making stilted but civilized conversation and then Stephanie yawned and said that she didn't think she could manage dessert, she was knackered and she had to get up early in the morning. Outside in the street they hugged and kissed each other on the cheek, and Michael said, ‘I'll leave it up to you to call me. I don't want to push you.’
‘OK, lovely,’ she said, knowing that she probably wouldn't. She had never been any good at staying friends with her exes.
Back at home James was watching TV in the living room. He got up when he heard her come in.
‘I didn't tell the taxi to wait,’ she said. ‘I thought maybe we could have a drink.’
James sat back down again. ‘OK.’ Stephanie looked as if she might have been crying.
‘Are you all right?’ he asked tentatively.
She sat down on the sofa. ‘I've split up with Michael,’ she said.
James's heart skipped a beat but he tried not to show how happy this news had made him. ‘I'm sorry. He seemed like a nice bloke.’ Oh, yes, easy to be generous now Michael was out of the picture.
‘Don't be. It was my decision.’
There was his heart again, threatening to pound its way out of his chest. Play it cool, he told himself. ‘Right.’
Stephanie looked at him as he
held out a glass of wine for her. ‘Don't go getting any ideas. It doesn't mean… you know. I just want to be on my own.’
James's heart screeched to a noisy halt. OK, so this wasn't yet the romantic happy ending he had been fantasizing about. ‘Of course,’ he said, managing to sound calm and mature. ‘So,’ he said, ‘tell me all about it. Did he cry?’
Stephanie smiled, as he had hoped she would. ‘No!’
‘Did he threaten to throw himself off a tall building if you didn't change your mind?’
She laughed. ‘No!’
‘Doesn't sound like he was bothered, then. He was probably fed up with you anyway.’ OK, so that last statement was taking a bit of a gamble. She would either take offence or find it hilarious.
She threw a cushion at him, laughing. ‘Actually, he thought I was going back to you so he was obviously mentally impaired.’
James smiled. This was all he wanted, his old easy relationship with Stephanie back and the chance to prove to her that he could be a worthy husband. Hopefully, one day, even, to win her back. Making her laugh would do for now.
Stephanie waved to James as his taxi sped off, then closed the door. She was completely on her own for the first time in ten years. Well, on her own with Finn, which was fine by her. No husband, no Michael. It felt good. She was in no hurry to get into another relationship. She would spend some time sorting herself out first, making sure about what she really wanted. There was still one more hurdle she and James had to get across: telling Pauline and John that their marriage was over. She was in no rush to do that now either. She was just going to wait and see what happened.
Acknowledgements
With thanks to Louise Moore, Clare Pollock, Kate Cotton, Kate Burke and everyone at Penguin, Jonny Geller, Betsy Robbins, Alice Lutyens, Doug Kean and anyone I've forgotten at Curtis Brown, Charlotte Willow Edwards, for her invaluable research, and all the people who answered her questions, including Louise Riches, for her vet expertise, Jess Wilson, of Jess Wilson Stylists (www.threeshadesred.com/jesswilson), Jessica Kelly, Jeffery M. James and Steve Pamphilon.
