The Man I Married

by Elena Wilkes

  I wasn’t sure if I was still breathing.

  ‘That’s the only way I can show you – to make a lifetime commitment. Otherwise you’ll say I never said it, or mishear me, or some other nonsense.

  ‘Are you seriously being serious?’ I propped myself up to look at him.

  ‘Perfectly seriously serious. So what do you say?’

  My chin rested on his chest, and I looked into his eyes, disbelieving.

  ‘Is that it?’ He lay back, grinning. ‘Is this your silent response to such a massively life-changing question?’

  I searched his wonky, beautiful face, to see if he was having me on.

  ‘You can’t marry someone after just weeks!’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘You just can’t!’

  ‘Is there a rule book somewhere?’ He raised himself up and patted all around the mattress. ‘You’ll have to show it to me when you find it…’ His hand flopped. ‘Come on Lucy… Two weeks, twenty, a year, ten years. What difference would it make? It won’t make any difference to me… Are you saying it might to you?’

  I was so stunned I couldn’t speak.

  ‘That’s a possibility then?’ He shifted his head quickly. ‘You might change your mind?’

  ‘No… I mean… I don’t know. How can I know?’

  ‘Precisely.’ He waved a hand. ‘How can anyone know? I’m forty-three. You’re… how old?’

  ‘See? You don’t even know how old I am! I’m thirty-four.’

  ‘What’s important is that we’re both of an age where we know our own minds. Some arbitrary, socially acceptable time period for dating…’ he rolled his eyes, ‘… has absolutely no meaning for me. I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you…’

  He held up a warning finger. ‘Possibly not in an apartment that cooks us every night at two hundred degrees Celsius, but I do want to be with you forever. It’s that simple.’

  I laughed, then stopped, then laughed again. I couldn’t get my head around it. ‘I don’t know what to say.’

  ‘Try yes or no.’

  I leaned up and kissed him.

  ‘God, you’re complicated!’ He pulled away and laughed. ‘Is that a yes, then?’

  I kissed him again feeling the room tilt and dissolve into nothing.

  He cupped my chin in his fingers and gently searched my face. ‘I could do with an answer, you know.’

  I took his hand and slid it slowly down until neither of us were asking questions anymore.

  * * *

  The wedding was going to be in the registry office in Camden. I’d rung Lou, who sounded both stunned and oddly delighted.

  ‘Oh my life! Congratulations!’ she laughed.

  ‘So why don’t you come?’

  Part of me wanted her to and part really didn’t. I cringed at the thought of Paul meeting my sister. There was an anxious pause on the end of the line.

  ‘I’d love to, but—’

  The instant feeling of relief in the pit of my stomach was quickly followed by one of absolute guilt.

  ‘—But I can’t really. It wouldn’t be possible, not with Mam as she is. I couldn’t leave her with anyone.’

  The statement made me squirm. ‘We’ll come up then, afterwards.’ I kept my voice cheerful and positive. ‘Maybe we could all go out for afternoon tea somewhere?’ The thought of Paul sitting in the room with the swirling gas fire made me die with embarrassment. ‘Betty’s tea room in The Square, maybe? Mam’d like that.’

  ‘What a nice thought!’

  I could tell Lou was trying to go along with my happy little make-believe, both of us knowing that nothing would ever come of it.

  And then there was the terror of telling Emma.

  ‘I keep thinking,’ I said to Paul one morning. ‘I’m back at work on Monday. I can’t keep getting married a secret for ever and then I’ll feel awful that I never even mentioned it to anyone.’

  ‘You mean Emma?’ he frowned. ‘Were you thinking of inviting her then?’ I could tell he didn’t want to. ‘Don’t you think it would be fantastic if it was just the two of us? We can please ourselves what we do. We don’t have to explain anything to anyone. It would mean more – To me that is.’ He put his hand on his heart. ‘You must say if you feel differently.’

  So that’s how it got to be just me and him. Paul was right. It was truly romantic.

  We stood in the solemn room at three p.m., the sunshine pouring through the long sash windows, me in impossible heels and a flowery dress I’d bought last year and never worn and Paul in a leather jacket that creaked as he reached for the ring. The ladies from the back office acted as witnesses. They stood placidly like quiet cows in the background, their wide eyes taking us in. The ring felt big and heavy on my finger and I couldn’t stop fiddling my thumbnail under the edge. Paul said he wouldn’t wear a ring and I said I didn’t mind. I didn’t mind anything right that moment. It was as though we’d been together for years. I took that as a sign that I was doing the right thing. How giddy I felt. How mad this all was. How wonderful.

  He thanked the registrar and took the envelope with our certificate in it. I had been stupidly pleased seeing the box on the form that said ‘bachelor’ and below it, ‘spinster.’ Neither of us had a proper past and here was confirmation, official confirmation, that this was the case. Now it was just us, all brand new.

  We sat across the table from each other in the gorgeous boutique hotel in Hampstead overlooking the heath. It had once been a coaching inn, complete with mahogany staircase and thick carpets with brass stair rods. The maitre d led us into the conservatory, all hushed and elegant: a sea of white damask tables and muted gold mirrors. Old money opulence. We caught each other’s eye as the waiter pulled out my chair and fussed around for what seemed like forever, asking questions that I let Paul answer. I was so happy. The champagne arrived, the glasses got filled and the ice bucket clanked reassuringly under its napkin. Finally, he clicked his heels together with a stiff nod to each of us and trotted off. We smirked, conspiratorially and I rested my hand on the table. Paul couldn’t stop touching the finger where my wedding ring sat.

  ‘Doesn’t seem real,’ he whispered. ‘Can’t quite get my head around it.’

  ‘I know. Too weird.’ I picked up my glass and we both gazed out at the view.

  The Victorian glass roof and ornate iron windows looked out over the magnificent heath on all sides. We gazed out, appreciatively catching the looks of the other guests who smiled benevolently, guessing, I think, that we were newly married.

  The food was amazing. My dress hadn’t been tight, but it certainly felt it by the end of the meal.

  ‘Wow!’ I licked my lips appreciatively. ‘That was absolutely divine. How was yours?’

  ‘Really, really delicious. Faultless from beginning to end.’ He put down his knife and fork. I laid my napkin to one side and he reached for my hand. The sun disappeared behind a cloud for an instant and then broke through, sending shafts of light to shift into pearlised geometrics across the floor. The champagne bottle listed lazily in its cooler. Paul squeezed my fingers and I looked back at him, totally content. I was feeling more than a little tipsy. The waiter approached and busied himself clearing the plates.

  ‘Can I interest you in dessert?’ He inclined his head graciously.

  Paul darted a look at me. ‘I think we’ll have a break for a few minutes, what do you think?’

  ‘I think we’d better.’ I smiled.

  The waiter moved silently away and Paul squeezed my hand again. I felt blurry and blissfully relaxed. Paul glanced to make sure the waiter had gone and leaned forward as though he were about to say something.

  ‘Go on,’ I smiled.

  His thumb chafed my knuckle. He stared down at my hand. ‘You’re right, it’s totally surreal. How have we got here? It’s like magic.’

  ‘Magical and wonderful,’ I smiled.

  He didn’t say anything. His tongue traced his lip, and he kept a tight hold of my hand. I
detected an almost imperceptible change.

  He stared at the tablecloth for what seemed like forever. ‘This is going to seem like a really big deal to you.’ He shifted in his seat.

  ‘What is?’ My smile caught on my lips.

  ‘But it’s not really. I just think that today of all days, I should be completely and totally honest.’

  ‘Honest?’

  Please don’t spoil this. Please don’t.

  I scanned his face, trying desperately to second-guess and failing.

  ‘I haven’t lied to you…’ He shot a look into my eyes. ‘Nothing I’ve told you about me has been untrue.’

  I sensed something awful. ‘Go on.’ Please no.

  He steadied himself. ‘You know… You know I mentioned… umm… Caitlin?’

  Something inside me contracted.

  ‘Well… What I told you was all true… Only…’ He shifted again and took a better grip. ‘It wasn’t that simple…’ My hand jerked involuntarily.

  ‘Because…?’

  ‘Caitlin and I—’

  The choice of words sent a shot of pain straight into my heart.

  ‘We lived together.’

  ‘Right.’ I slowly took it in. ‘Right. She was one of the women you lived with. You lived together.’ I tried out the words. ‘How long for?’

  ‘Quite a while. Years. I met her when I was at Uni in Birmingham. We lived together there and afterwards.’

  I went cold. ‘But you said—’

  ‘I know. I know, I don’t know why I said different.’

  I shook my head and nearly smiled, wondering if this was some kind of bizarre wind-up. His face didn’t alter.

  ‘Actually… I do. It’s because when we split up—’ he shifted. ‘Caitlin was pregnant.’

  His words punched me back in the seat.

  ‘But that’s it. The lot.’ His hands came up to placate me. ‘That’s the big secret. All my cards are on the table now.’

  ‘She had the baby?’ My voice didn’t sound as though it belonged to me.

  His eyes flitted. ‘I have no idea. I have not seen her from that day to this.’

  My face must have betrayed my thoughts.

  ‘Honestly,’ he went to grab my hand but I wouldn’t let him. ‘I haven’t seen her for years. No contact, nothing.’ He was speaking very quickly. ‘The child, if it was born—’

  ‘If it was born?’

  ‘Well I don’t know, do I? Whichever and whatever happened, it would be practically grown up now. Caitlin probably went back to her family in Ireland. I tried all the contact numbers I had for them, but they’d moved…’ He managed to grab my little finger and he hung on tight.

  I struggled to make sense of it all. His relationship with Caitlin, the one I’d built in my head, this short-lived thing… I saw her again: the dark tumbling hair, the green eyes, the girl-next-door but sexy look. My absolute rival.

  ‘It’s our wedding day.’ The words fell from my mouth.

  ‘I know, I know.’ He leaned across the table earnestly. ‘I should’ve mentioned it before, I should’ve said something, but the thing is… the thing is… It was so long ago, and so…’ He sat back. The diners around me flooded back in a wave of soft chatter, the chink and scrape of glass and cutlery. ‘It was another life Lucy… It’s not now. It’s gone… She’s gone. It’s the past. I know you hate me saying that, but it’s true.* It means *nothing to me. Absolutely nothing.’

  It means nothing. He could have a child out there somewhere and it means absolutely nothing to him?

  I was numb. He let go of my hand and I snatched it to my lap. I looked up to find the waiter standing there smiling down at us, one to the other.

  ‘Sir? Madam? May I get you some dessert?’

  ‘Ah yes!’ Paul cleared his throat. ‘Yes, what a great idea!’ He leaned back expansively, picking up the menu and studying it. ‘I think we’ll have the chocolate and raspberry assiette to share. Is that okay?’ He looked across at me with theatrically wide eyes and I was stunned into a reply.

  ‘Yes… Yes, great… Thank you.’

  The waiter wandered off, leaving me sitting there staring at a small pale yellow spill of champagne on the tablecloth and wondering what the hell had just happened.

  ‘Nothing’s changed, you know.’

  I looked up at him in disbelief.

  ‘Nothing’s any different than it was this morning, or last week, or last month. I’m still the same person.’

  Apart from the fact that he had a life, a proper life, that could reappear at any moment. A grown up child with a beautiful woman called Caitlin.

  I registered his face, taking the parts in slowly, piece by piece. It was true; he looked the same as he had an hour ago, he was identical to the man who stood opposite me and exchanged vows. Identical, but fundamentally not the same.

  ‘How can a child be nothing?’

  He pulled back. ‘I didn’t say that. You’re twisting my words as usual. Look, I don’t know how to explain this so that you’ll understand… I would be lying if I said I never think of it because I do, but it’s not often, and it’s like a… A video of something that happened to someone else. Someone else’s life. Not mine.’ He leaned in and grabbed my wrist under the table, drawing me to him. ‘My life is here with you, right this moment.’ He gave me a little shake. I wrenched my arm away.

  ‘So it was her? That day in the car, was that her?’

  There. I’d said it. I’d laid it out squarely on the table between us.

  His face coloured with anger. ‘Lucy…’ He could barely articulate my name.

  I glared back. But I wasn’t giving in. I’d been made to crawl and apologise and now I was having the truth. ‘Well? Was it?’ I hissed. I scoured his face. I was aware of the other diners in the restaurant but I didn’t care.

  ‘I’m going to tell you something now,’ he said carefully. He was staring grimly at the table edge as though his gaze might bore right through it. ‘I’m going to tell you this because you’ve pushed me. I wasn’t going to, but now I am. I’m going to tell you the whole sad and very sorry story.’

  A crawl of fear inched its way into the nape of my neck. I felt dread and desperation in equal amounts. His gaze didn’t alter but his voice wavered.

  ‘Yes, Caitlin was “the one”,’ he said haltingly. ‘She was the love of my life and all those other appalling clichés.’

  Hot tears pricked the backs of my eyes but I blinked them away. This was supposed to be our day.

  ‘But that was all before I was old enough to know better.’ He paused. I didn’t speak. I didn’t know if I still could.

  ‘We were young enough and stupid enough to think that having a baby was the obvious step. We were not only stupid, but immature and poor. We found a house in Shropshire; it was really cheap, we could afford it and I thought I’d be able to get work. I don’t know what the fantasy was, but reality set in soon enough. Living away from everyone you know, and me on short-term contracts, travelling all over the place, was a recipe for pure stress. We hardly saw each other and her pregnancy forced us to acknowledge that neither of us could cope, either financially or emotionally. I suggested an abortion before it was too late – an insensitive and cruel thing to suggest, I admit – but I was a kid and was panicking. Of course that ended up in more massive, vicious rows. Caitlin struggled, I struggled. She became the kind of girl I couldn’t stand. She went from this funny, relaxed, confident person, to this… this…’ his hands sprang apart, ‘… anxiety-ridden, panicky, obsessive, jealous… nut-case, really. It became more and more extreme. She had wild ideas and was madly possessive. I had to give up several contracts because she didn’t like the fact that young women worked there, I even had to get rid of my dog…’

  ‘Your dog?’

  ‘Yes, she was even jealous of a little animal.’ There was pain in his eyes. ‘I tried to help her, I really did. I begged her to talk to someone…’ He stopped speaking, and I saw the extent of his desperation.
I felt sick.

  He laughed bitterly. ‘And there’s the irony. She did talk to someone – she went and found herself a sympathetic ear in the shape of another bloke—’ he swallowed, ‘her friend’s husband, to be precise.’ I watched as he gathered himself. ‘I don’t think you can imagine how appalling that whole situation was.’

  ‘No.’

  I didn’t know what to imagine anymore.

  The waiter appeared at my side and, with a flourish, deposited a long slim plate, beautifully decorated with flower petals and chocolate shavings adorning tiny cakes, mousses and miniature tarts, all dripping with raspberry coulis and fresh fruits.

  ‘Wow!’ said Paul. ‘Look at this!’

  I attempted to look appreciative for the waiter’s sake.

  ‘Please, enjoy,’ he bowed his head slightly. ‘And, on behalf of all the staff here, may I offer our sincere congratulations on your marriage!’ He looked smilingly at both of us. ‘And to honour the occasion, we would like to offer you complimentary coffee, liqueurs and petit fours which you are more than welcome to take here or in the lounge, whichever you prefer.’

  ‘Thank you, you’re very kind.’ I beamed but I couldn’t stop my face from falling as he moved away.

  Paul held out a long spoon. ‘Come on. Please—’

  But I couldn’t bring myself to take it.

  He dropped it with a clatter and sighed. ‘So she up and left; she just disappeared.’ He blinked in disbelief. ‘She told me I’d never find her, so I can only assume…’ He sighed, ‘I didn’t have much choice, I put the house on the market and I moved out before it was even sold. I just wanted out.’

  ‘How far pregnant was she?’

  He pulled a face. ‘Six months, seven, maybe?’

  ‘She left, that far pregnant with no money and nowhere to go?’ I could only sit there staring.

  He caught my look. ‘Don’t judge me, Lucy. Please. Just don’t.’

  A couple of the other diners glanced round at us and I smiled quickly, pretending that he’d just made some kind of private joke.

  ‘What’s funny?’ He glared round.

  ‘Nothing!’ I whispered. ‘Nothing’s funny. People are looking over, that’s all.’