Suddenly Single

by Carol Wyer

  ‘I think you need to look at that wound.’

  She looked down. The patch of red was spreading.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Nice to meet you, Chloe and you too, Ronnie. I’d better go. Hope you don’t enjoy lie-ins too much. The men will all be on site at about seven.’

  ‘Not a problem. We’re early risers.’

  She attached Ronnie’s lead and picked her way through the site, away from Alex who was striding towards the woman. The snow drove into her face, making progress difficult but soon she arrived back at her new home. Faith was bobbing up and down by the back door.

  ‘Thank goodness. You were longer than I expected and then the snow began to fall heavily. I was beginning to worry you’d lost your way. What happened?’ she asked, spotting Chloe’s torn blood-covered jeans. Chloe kicked off her boots and wiped Ronnie’s feet dry with a towel.

  ‘Slight accident. Ronnie ran away and I tumbled over. I met Thomas’s son, Alex. He’s moved into one of the other houses. He seems nice. He’s got a wife and child.’

  ‘What’s he like?’

  ‘Your type – tall, dark and handsome. He’s the suntanned Greek god we saw when we arrived.’

  ‘Oh, yes. Wife and child? Shame. First aid kit?’

  ‘Kitchen. In a box marked Useful stuff.’

  Faith went in search of it. Chloe released Ronnie who bounded past Faith and into the lounge where he dropped down full length on the carpet in front of the log burner with a grunt.

  Faith found what she was looking for – a green box with a white cross on it. She lifted the lid and pulled out some antiseptic cream and a roll of plaster. Passing them across to Chloe who’d rolled up the leg of her jeans, she pulled a face.

  ‘Ew! Messy. You better put that on it,’ she said, handing over the cream. ‘Don’t know what germs you’ve picked up. Maybe you should get a tetanus jab just to be sure.’

  ‘Faith! I knocked it on some rubble. This isn’t the middle of a rat-infested swamp.’

  ‘I’d get an injection all the same. You never know what’s up here. Anyway, one of your other neighbours came over while you were playing hide-and-seek with Ronnie. Eleanor. She thought I was you. She’s erm, how can I put it? Interesting. Yes, interesting. She’s calling back tomorrow, so no hiding in your bed. You need to talk to her. You’ll be living near her and can’t avoid her forever. She left you the wicker basket. She said she used to watch Desperate Housewives and the women on the show always brought food over for new neighbours.

  Chloe lifted the cloth covering the basket. It was filled from top to bottom with mince pies.

  ‘That’s kind of her,’ replied Chloe.

  ‘Tell me more about Alex.’

  ‘Nothing to tell,’ said Chloe, wincing as she looked at her leg again. It was quite a wide cut. She dabbed some cream on it, peeled back the adhesive on the plaster and smoothed it over the wound.

  ‘He was friendly and likes dogs. That’s all I know.’

  ‘Maybe he has some hunky men friends.’

  ‘Faith, I’m not ready to think about men, hunky or otherwise.’

  ‘I know it’s been hard for you,’ said Faith. ‘But you need to draw inspiration from somewhere. A few fit blokes might be just what you need.’ She produced a smile when she saw the look of horror on Chloe’s face. ‘You’re lovely, Chloe. Just because that arse William decided to behave badly, you shouldn’t give up on all men.’

  ‘I’m not so sure. I can’t see what anyone would find attractive about me. I’m not what men want. They want funny, lively, outgoing women who brim with confidence, not women who try and clamber under the nearest settee at the mere thought of going out or having a conversation with a stranger.’

  ‘You managed an entire conversation with delicious Alex.’

  ‘That was different.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘He was being friendly because I’m his neighbour and Ronnie helped break the ice. Now let’s drop this conversation. I want to open that champagne and celebrate my new start.’

  Faith patted her hand. Chloe was grateful for her friend’s presence. Faith had come all the way from London to help her move and make sure she was okay. Although Faith meant well, Chloe doubted she’d find love again. For a start she was unlikely to get over her own crushing self-defeatism. The separation from William had damaged her far more than Faith could ever know. It had taken Chloe years to gain even a little confidence and self-belief, and William had crushed it all.

  ‘You’re on. Let’s pop the cork and drink to new beginnings.’

  Chloe collected the bottle from the fridge. With her head turned away from Faith she could blink back the tears that had formed. Faith had hit a nerve. Hunky or otherwise, it was extremely unlikely Chloe would ever find another man to make her laugh or be happy.

  Chapter Two

  Sunday, 17th December

  Faith drained her glass and released a lengthy contented sigh. The log burner was still glowing orange, and shadows danced across the floor where Ronnie now lay asleep.

  ‘You made the right decision to leave Appletree and start again,’ said Faith, holding onto the stem of her glass and eyeing it as if it might magically refill itself. ‘This house is much nicer than your old one and William’s a complete tosser.’

  Chloe didn’t respond. She was mellow thanks to the champagne and reality was replacing the excitement of moving. It felt strange being in a house without the memorabilia she’d been used to having around her – the funny animal sculptures she and William had bought together from a local artist, the teapot collection she’d started, the paintings and photographs on their walls she’d looked at every day for the last ten years. It was gone. The smell of the old place, the familiar creaks she’d become accustomed to: the birds that nested every year under their guttering, the crackle of the fire in their large open fireplace and the way she’d sink into the cushions on their old settee were now memories and she had yet to make new ones to replace them. It would take time. William was also memory now – a bittersweet memory.

  ‘It won’t last,’ Faith continued, referring to William’s relationship with Lilly, the Swedish bombshell who was now part of her soon-to-be ex-husband’s life. Chloe knew her friend was trying to be supportive but she didn’t want to discuss William’s latest girlfriend. Whether it lasted or not was irrelevant – the fact was he’d cheated on her and not just the once. Before Lilly, there’d been others and poor dumb Chloe had been too stupid to realise. She threw Faith a smile and pushed herself into a standing position.

  ‘Wine?’ she said.

  Faith waved her glass in response.

  Chloe caught sight of her reflection in the large windows as she walked through to the kitchen. She ought to draw the curtains but there was no one to overlook the house, and by the door, she halted. There was no light pollution at all. The sky was never as inky black as this in Appletree. There’d always been pavements illuminated by street lights or light from people’s homes leaking into the manicured front gardens, or car headlights strobing up and down the road. This was darkness like she’d never experienced before and yet it wasn’t dark. As her eyes grew accustomed to it, she saw the sky was dotted with thousands… no, millions of pinpricks of lights from stars, and the sudden realisation took her breath away. This was magnificent. Faith shouted out. ‘Oy, where’s that wine? You haven’t gone in search of the sexy carpenter, have you?’ She followed her comment with a hearty chuckle.

  ‘Coming.’

  She turned from the door, catching again a glimpse of her face – pale, heart-shaped and framed with long dark brown hair – a face that had aged ten years in the last ten months. She’d never been what anyone would call pretty but she’d looked well and now – now she just looked drained. William had sucked all the joy from her, little by little at first and then towards the end, in huge amounts. If it hadn’t been for the success of her novel and Faith’s friendship, she’d have gone under. She turned away and grabbed the chilled w
ine from the fridge door, reached for a corkscrew in the top drawer and smiled: she’d gone to the drawer automatically, instinctively, as if she’d lived here far longer than a few hours. She took it as a sign that she’d be fine and yanking the cork from the bottle she raised it victoriously towards the lounge.

  ‘You want a fresh glass?’

  ‘Damn right I do… fetch those ones that look like fish bowls.’

  Chloe grinned. Faith was already semi-drunk and would soon be demanding they opened the karaoke app on her mobile and had a sing-along. And why not? The house would probably enjoy it.

  * * *

  ‘What in the name of all things holy, is that racket?’ Faith demanded.

  ‘Workmen.’

  ‘It’s seven thirty a.m. That’s the middle of the night as far as I’m concerned.’

  Chloe chucked the crust from the piece of toast she’d been eating into the air. Ronnie, leapt up and caught it.

  ‘It’s still dark,’ Faith continued. ‘How can they see and work in the dark?’

  ‘Looks like they have floodlights. The area around the barn they’re working on lit up just after seven a.m.’

  ‘Please tell me you were up writing and not just up for the fun of it… Is that tea?’ Faith wondered across to the teapot by the sink, lifted the lid and grimaced. ‘Got any Darjeeling?’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous? Where am I going to find that here? That’s perfectly good breakfast tea. Want a cup?’

  ‘I suppose so.’ Faith slipped onto one of the stools and stared outside into the black abyss of the garden. ‘So why were you up at that time?’

  ‘Ronnie needed to go outside and I didn’t want him running off.’

  Faith’s head moved side to side slowly. ‘Another reason I don’t have animals. I couldn’t bear getting up at that ungodly hour.’

  Faith was a self-confessed city girl. She liked bistros, bars, the theatre, her exercise classes at the upmarket gym in London and the buzz the city afforded. She hated solitude. Chloe knew the true reason she immersed herself in city life: she had a fear of being alone, one that had worsened following the death of her husband, Adrian. Faith came across as a confident, even arrogant, individual, but Chloe knew it was all a front. She was anything but. Having worked in public relations for a company in town, after Adrian died she took up a position in a publishing house and commuted to London by train on a regular basis. It was all part of surrounding herself with work and distractions, and once her list of clients had grown and her name become well-known, she’d decided to set up her own agency. It had meant leaving Appletree and Chloe, but they’d stayed in touch.

  Chloe observed her friend sipping her tea. Faith was showing no signs of a hangover even though it had been two a.m. by the time they’d gone to bed, and the three empty wine bottles now standing by the back door were a sign they’d both had far too much to drink. She recalled singing along to Gloria Gaynor’s 1970’s classic I Will Survive and winced at the memory.

  ‘I have to head back to London this morning.’

  Chloe could barely hide her disappointment. She’d hoped Faith would stay a day or two.

  ‘I got a text message from Marty Woodman, the guy who wrote the cookbook Hot Food for Hot Sex. He’s supposed to be taking part in an interview with Nick Hanson on ITV later today, but he’s thrown a complete wobbly and can’t face it. I need to go along and hold his hand.’

  Chloe had seen the volatile Marty Woodman on television before. He usually ended up walking off the set or hurling abuse at the presenters. It made for entertaining television but kept Faith on her toes and earning her fee trying to smooth over any fallouts from his tantrums.

  ‘You’ll be okay, won’t you?’

  ‘Of course. I have Ronnie and this beautiful house and there’s stacks to do before Christmas.’

  ‘About that: I was thinking maybe you’d like to spend it with me in Barbados. It’s only for a week but I don’t like the idea of you being alone on your first Christmas after the separation. You don’t have to talk to anyone there. You can sit on the balcony and enjoy some sunshine and I’ll be right there with you.’

  ‘But Ronnie…’

  ‘Couldn’t he take a doggy vacation at the kennels?’

  ‘I can’t leave him. He hasn’t had a chance to settle here. Thanks for the offer but I’m not leaving him. I won’t be alone cos I have him.’

  ‘I guessed that’d be your reaction. I had to ask anyway.’

  ‘You’d be welcome to come here.’

  ‘As much as I love you and think your new house is adorable, I must top up my tan and I need to recharge my batteries. Got a lot of new releases in the coming year and I’ll require all my stamina. Sun and cocktails should get me into fighting shape.’

  ‘I’d only fret about Ronnie the entire time.’

  Faith gave a small nod. ‘I know. You don’t mind I have to shoot off earlier than planned?’

  ‘Not at all. The garage is delivering my new car this morning so I’ll be sorted. We’ll go out and explore and buy some Christmas decorations afterwards.’

  ‘And the writing…’ Faith stared at her earnestly. They both knew the effect the marriage break-up had had on her work. Since the day William had confessed his affairs, Chloe hadn’t written a word. Upfront Publishing was expecting a manuscript in the next couple of months and she had nothing to offer them. Faith had tried to buy her more time but the publishers were on a tight schedule and a contract was a contract. Chloe would have to deliver soon or risk losing both it and the hefty advance she’d received.

  ‘I’ll tackle it. Should be easier now I’m here. Give me another couple of days to get straightened out and I’ll start work on it.’

  ‘That’s my girl!’ Faith finished her tea, stood up and threw her arms around Chloe.

  * * *

  With Faith on her way back to London, the house seemed extremely quiet. Chloe almost felt she should be walking on tiptoe as she walked from room to room, nodding in approval at the furniture hastily purchased from websites. It all worked in harmony. William had never agreed with any of her choices. Whenever they’d needed to redecorate, he’d poo-pooed every one of her suggestions and forcefully decided on colour schemes. She shook her head at the memory of them arguing over a settee. With hindsight she could tell he deliberately blocked her. He’d been obdurate and wanted everything his own way, like a child. A child. The words stirred something deep inside her that she couldn’t put a name on. She sighed. How she’d have loved to be a mother. It was yet another choice that had been kept from her…

  ‘I simply don’t want children. They’ve never been part of my life plan.’

  William’s words are like shards of glass piercing her heart. Why hasn’t he spoken to her about this before? The leaflet she’s discovered in the pocket of his jacket has left her dumbfounded. He’s considering a vasectomy. He’s only thirty-eight and yet he wants to ensure he can never father any children. This is something too important to ignore. He continues as if they were discussing their next holiday. ‘You know how I feel about my parents. I wasn’t close to them and I’d make a shit father. I never said I wanted children.’

  It’s true. Whenever they’d broached the subject, he’d said, ‘Not now. My career is my baby.’ She’d taken it to mean he’d want children later, after he’d achieved his goals. He gives her a familiar look, the one that makes her feel she’s got it all wrong. She’s at fault. She hates it when he stares at her that way: a mixture of sympathy and sorrow. It has the same effect every time. She feels inadequate and stupid and wants to apologise, except this time she can’t. He’s taking a huge decision that they ought to make together and she speaks out.

  ‘Why do it behind my back?’ she asks.

  He throws her an incredulous look. ‘It wasn’t behind your back. I didn’t think I needed your permission. Do I tell you what to do with your body? Do I interfere when you get drugs from the doctor or go to therapy sessions to help with your condition?’ The l
ast word jars. She can’t help the way she is. Her fear of social occasions and mixing with people has come from extenuating circumstances that saw her sent to a town near Birmingham to live with her aged grandmother at the age of thirteen. Her experiences at the new school fashioned her into what she is today. William is only too aware of that past and her fears that she is a lesser person than most. It’s cruel to bring it up now. She’s about to say more and tell him how she feels and scream at him, when his face changes.

  ‘God, sorry, babe. I’m bang out of order. I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t think you’d be so upset. I thought you understood how I felt.’

  She’s caught off guard and the fight drains from her. She knows all about his abusive childhood and alcoholic parents, and she can comprehend why he’d be nervous about having children, but to consider doing this and to take away the opportunity from her without giving her any thought, that she can’t understand. He takes her hands between his and looks into her eyes.

  ‘I’m sorry. I had no idea how important it was to you. I’ve messed up big time, haven’t I? I’m so sorry. But I can’t face children. I have you. I don’t need anything else.’

  His dark eyes are wide and sadness pools in them. She can’t fight him. She’ll have to accept his decision.

  The kitchen had French doors that looked out over woods and fields. She stared over the fields into the distance beyond and watched a small flock of sheep moving slowly up the slope, like small white clouds on legs. The past was the past. This was her future. A movement caught her eye. A blur of red, white and blue had scurried through the side entrance and instead of heading to the front door was making its way to the back. Chloe darted for cover behind the island and squatted there, out of sight. She wasn’t up to meeting strangers.