The Day We Met

by Roxie Cooper

  ‘Well, you’re always illuminating my life with art,’ I say. ‘So, I thought I’d give you something from my world. Just open it. It won’t bite!’

  He delicately peels the paper back, slowly removing the Sellotape so as not to ruin the pattern. Pulling the book out, he glances at me quizzically.

  ‘Wuthering Heights?’ he asks.

  ‘Yes,’ I confirm. ‘Have you read it?’

  ‘I haven’t!’ he says, skimming through the pages. ‘Why this book?’

  ‘It’s my favourite novel. I’ll take your doomed lovers at the Tate and raise you Cathy and Heathcliff.’

  ‘Is that why you love it?’ he says, smiling.

  ‘It’s a beautiful love story about two very fiery, passionate people who can be dicks at times,’ I say, raising my eyebrows. ‘Give it a read.’

  It was a good way to break the ice. We’re not meeting at Heathwood Hall today. This is the new era and we’re meeting at a beautiful country pub called the Haywood Arms in a village equidistant between us. We meet for lunch … as friends.

  ‘Oh God! What happens to them in the end?’ he asks, panicked.

  ‘You’ll have to read it and find out, won’t ya?’ I tease, taking a drink of my Diet Coke.

  It feels strange and yet completely normal to be in his presence again. We sit opposite each other, a contrast to previous occasions when we’d sit side by side. He wears a navy-blue sweater which matches his eyes.

  ‘I’m glad we could, you know, do this,’ I tell him.

  ‘Me too. I didn’t like being away from you,’ he says. ‘October was always hard when I knew I wouldn’t be seeing you.’

  Nodding in agreement, I pick up the lunch menus and hand one to him.

  ‘How are things? At home?’ I ask.

  ‘Oh, erm, you know. Fine,’ he says, burying his head into the menu.

  ‘Good. I think I’ll have the shepherd’s pie,’ I say, running my finger over the menu. ‘It sounds delicious.’

  ‘You’re not wearing your wedding ring,’ Jamie states, as his eyes flicker between my face and left hand.

  I instinctively remove it from view by crossing my arms, which is ridiculous as he’s already noticed.

  ‘I haven’t worn it for a few months now,’ I tell him, unsure what his reaction will be.

  ‘OK,’ he replies. ‘So … are you all right?’

  I nod my head quickly. I hadn’t really wanted to get into all this. I don’t wear my ring as a matter of course now.

  ‘Look, I’m absolutely fine,’ I tell him. ‘More than fine.’

  Jamie looks at me, guarded. He knows there’s something I’m not telling him.

  ‘I’m going to leave Matt,’ I blurt out.

  ‘What?’ he says, loudly, throwing the menu down on the table. The gesture, along with his face, makes me laugh, nervously.

  ‘I haven’t been happy with him for a very long time,’ I say, tossing my hair out of my face. ‘I don’t want to waste my life with someone I don’t want to be with. I need to be with someone who loves me.’

  ‘Bloody hell!’ he says, leaning back in his chair. ‘Well, good for you.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I say and smile. ‘Check me out, getting all my shit together. It’s about time I injected some actual happiness into my life for the sake of my girls if nothing else. I owe it to them.’

  ‘Yes, you do,’ he says. ‘And you’re an amazing person, you deserve to be with someone who knows this and fully appreciates you.’

  ‘Yes, I do.’

  ‘Does Matt know yet?’ he asks.

  ‘No, not yet. I need to get it straight in my own head before I go full-on war with him, because he’s going to fight me on everything,’ I explain. ‘I need to be completely prepared. It’s hard with the girls but Dad and Ebony know I’m not entirely happy. I’ll get the kids away for the night and talk to him.’

  Jamie nods. ‘Good plan. Just look after yourself.’

  ‘So,’ I say excitedly, not wanting to dwell on the subject, ‘have you decided what you’re going to do for your main piece in the art competition?’

  ‘I’ve got some ideas, not decided on anything yet.’

  ‘Very pretentious, isn’t it? “The Perfection of Beauty in a Broken World”’ I say, putting on an art critic voice.

  ‘Very.’ He laughs, then sits back in his chair and fiddles with his cutlery. I immediately feel bad in case he feels I was mocking it.

  ‘How does the actual evening usually work? I’m stressing about it already,’ he confesses. I’ve never seen him nervous before, but he does look it now.

  ‘Well, all three candidates have an art space each and present their work to the judges and the press,’ I explain.

  ‘And the judges are entirely independent to the company? So, do you know them?’

  ‘Well, we change them every year to keep it fresh and new. I’ve met them once but I’ve deliberately kept away from them because I know you feel uncomfortable about any kind of influence I might have,’ I say in an attempt to reassure him.

  ‘Look, I know this sounds ungrateful after everything you’ve done,’ he says, gazing down at his food, ‘but, I can’t have you there on the gala evening. I’ll obviously be there with Helen.’

  ‘I know. I’ve thought of this, obviously,’ I tell him. ‘I’m OK with that. This is your night and I want you to feel as comfortable as you can.’

  I see the massive relief in his face. That whole conversation made him so tense – I have no idea why.

  ‘Christ, Matt won’t be there, will he? I don’t fancy bumping into him.’ He laughs nervously.

  ‘No way.’ I shake my head. ‘Matt hates the art award evening. You couldn’t pay him enough to turn up. It bores him to tears.’

  ‘Your dad seems lovely, a really nice guy,’ Jamie says. ‘He’s not going to be at the gala though, is he? I read about how he’s going to be in America on business that week or something?’

  ‘Yes, he’s usually a judge at the event but this year it’s not possible. He’s got to attend a conference in Portland which he’s gutted about, but it’s completely unavoidable. The company has been losing business lately so it’s really important he goes.’

  ‘Ah, really? Nothing to worry about, I hope?’ he asks.

  ‘I hope not. Quite a few customers have chosen not to renew their contracts with us, which has been a huge blow. They’ve taken their business elsewhere, which has really upset Dad. It’s all very odd,’ I say, frowning at him. ‘To be honest, he shouldn’t really be running the art award this year but he insisted on it because he’s never not done it since Mum died. He felt it was important.’

  ‘He sounds like a great man.’ Jamie smiles.

  ‘He is,’ I say proudly. ‘But, actually, the fact he won’t be there should reassure you that the whole process is impartial. You’ll know that – if you do win – you’ll do so fair and square.’

  ‘I can’t even imagine that I’ll win. I’m genuinely just honoured to get this far, that someone thinks I’m good enough to get through to the final. Well, not just anyone – experts in the field. You know …’

  ‘I do know, yes!’ I smile. I’m so happy for him. It’s such a confidence boost. ‘And it would kick-start your career. Even if you don’t win, something might come from it.’

  ‘I’m very excited either way,’ he says, beaming. ‘Thank you so much.’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘Coming back to me.’

  I smile. ‘Thanks for having me back.’

  Bloody hell. This guy. This beautiful relationship – because that’s what it is. It may no longer be an affair, but Jamie Dobson is still the love of my life.

  I drive straight to Ebony’s house and pick the girls up, before going home.

  I’ve become used to this feeling now; a sick, swirling, anxious feeling in my gut. Knowing I’m going back there, to him. What kind of mood will he be in? What will I have done wrong now? How have I ended up here?

  By the time w
e get home, Matt is there and in an absolutely foul mood. The girls run into the house, excited to see him, and burst straight into the study where Matt is on the phone. I hear him yelling at them to get out and they run straight to me, wrapping their arms around my legs for comfort, and crying. Bending down to hug them both, their little wet, hot cheeks stick to mine. Taking them to the kitchen I settle them by popping Peppa Pig on the TV. They’re giggling within seconds.

  I walk into the study where Matt is sitting at his desk.

  ‘Was there any need for that? You really upset them.’ He’s leaning over the desk poring over some papers which he very quickly snatches from my sight as soon as I speak.

  ‘Can’t you knock?’

  ‘I’m not knocking on a door in my own house. This isn’t a school,’ I reply, folding my arms.

  ‘Well, I pay most of the bills.’

  ‘And who pays your salary? My dad.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ he snarls at me.

  ‘Nothing. I’m just not being told what to do in my own house,’

  ‘Well, don’t be so fucking difficult then, Stephanie! Jesus Christ! You push me and push me all the time,’ he yells.

  ‘No I don’t.’

  ‘Yes, you do,’ he says, as if I’m a child. ‘And then I snap and you make out like it’s my fault. But you always drive me to it. I never look for trouble, but you always stir it up.’

  ‘Oh, here we go.’ I laugh, sarcastically. ‘My favourite game – What Else Is Stephanie’s Fault?’

  ‘It always is,’ he interrupts.

  ‘I’m taking the girls out. I don’t want them around you,’ I say, blinking back tears.

  ‘Good,’ he says. ‘Can’t hear myself think when they’re screeching around the house.’

  We walk around the park for hours, kicking hardened brown autumn leaves. Evie holds Adelaide’s hand all the way around and there’s hardly any fighting (they’re getting terrible for that now). Walking through the woods with them is so much fun; picking up sticks and seeing how far we can throw them, covering ourselves in golden leaves and squelching in mud in our wellies. They’re exhausted by the time we get back.

  I pop them to bed and climb into my own, lying awake for ages.

  Thinking.

  People say all the time: ‘Why don’t you leave if you’re that unhappy?’ But it’s not so simple when you have kids. It’s almost like you need something to force you into doing it. People rarely leave a situation unless they absolutely have to. I wish I could talk to my mum about all this. But, then again, I’m not even sure I would. I’d be so ashamed. What would she think of me? Doing this, for so long. A failed marriage with two kids. I’ve made such a mess of absolutely everything.

  Why are you content to only be happy one weekend a year?

  My phone lights up: a message from Jamie. I didn’t expect one of these after today. I guess old habits die hard. A text with a YouTube link:

  Never gonna stop sending these. Just ‘Thinking Out Loud’ … X

  I fell in love with this song when I saw the video. I remember actually crying, as I did. I think it was a mixture of the song, the video and how happy and in love Ed Sheeran and the dancer looked – which is ridiculous, because they’re just acting. But it got to me and I’ve adored it ever since.

  That’s what I want. That. Everything in this song. I want kisses under stars, growing old with someone I absolutely love, adoring every inch of them. All the time.

  I compose a message back simply saying:

  Enjoy the book. X

  Attached is the YouTube link to Kate Bush’s Wuthering Heights, in which she dances about like a beautiful white enchantress. I watch it through to the end myself, before getting out of bed and putting my dressing gown on. I check on the girls in their rooms and they’re out for the count. Evie’s leg hangs out the side of the bed so I tuck it back in, underneath her Princess Elsa duvet cover.

  Downstairs, I calmly open the lounge door where Matt is watching a film. He’s slouched on the sofa, one hand behind his neck. He doesn’t look at me when I come in.

  ‘Matt,’ I tell him. ‘I’m leaving you …’

  CHAPTER 27

  Wednesday 16 November 2016

  Stephanie

  This is the session I’ve been waiting for with Jane. Arriving fifteen minutes early for the appointment, I sit in the waiting room, eager to get in there and spill all of my news. As November peaks and December is about to spring up from nowhere, it seems like 2016 is determined to go out with a bang.

  ‘Start at the beginning, let’s unpack it,’ Jane says, typically.

  ‘I told him I wanted a divorce and he agreed to it. Just like that. No rowing. It was very calm, like releasing a pressure valve for both of us, I think.’

  ‘Good for you,’ she says. ‘A very brave thing to do. And it sounds like you handled it with grace and maturity.’

  It didn’t feel like it at the time. I sat cross-legged on the sofa opposite him, the TV on mute. My heart galloped and my body shook uncontrollably. I always knew the day would come, but I thought it would be more explosive. I didn’t want an argument, there was no point.

  We just didn’t work any more. I’m not sure we ever did.

  But something had been bugging me about Matt’s strange behaviour in the past few months – lots of meetings in the work diary which didn’t add up to where he was, acting very secretively at home and that kind of thing. So I did some digging. I genuinely expected to find out he was having an affair and, to be honest, I couldn’t blame him.

  The truth was far worse.

  We’d agreed that we’d stay in the house for a few weeks until we told the girls. So, I waited until one day when he was away on a business trip to have a snoop in his study. I checked though his personal diary and one thing kept coming up: golf days with a guy called Simon Grayson. Now, everyone in our industry knows Grayson – he’s a dodgy character, not to be trusted.

  But the most disturbing thing about this information was that Simon Grayson is the Managing Director of our rival company. I wasn’t aware that Matt even knew him and he’d certainly never worked with him – so what was he up to? Matt’s good at his job, but nowhere near senior enough to be headhunted by a top dog. And then it all made sense.

  How Carpenter Software Solutions had been losing business to our rivals for the last year or so.

  ‘Matt had been selling details of our price list to our main competitors,’ I tell Jane, the anger in my stomach whipping up as the words left my mouth.

  The first Matt knew he’d been caught out was when he was called into a board meeting with all the shareholders – and me. With his bank statements and personal diary placed in front of him, he looked straight at me, knowing I they could only have come from me. I have never seen anyone look more furious.

  ‘I suppose you’re happy now?’ he growled, walking into my office after he’d been sacked.

  ‘No, Matt. Just sad,’ I replied, honestly. ‘But I think we’re done now, on all fronts.’

  ‘Yes, we are. I want you, and your mental family, out of my life for good.’

  Tears welled in my eyes, which I didn’t want him to see. Inhaling deeply to compose myself, I walked around to the front of my desk, leaning on it to face him.

  ‘Why, Matt? Just tell me why? What did you need that you didn’t have?’

  He stood a few feet away from me in the navy-blue suit I’ve always loved him in. The red tie looked so lovely against it. His blond hair had darkened in recent years, but he’s still got that Scandinavian look about him.

  ‘You, Stephanie,’ he said, without an ounce of hesitation. ‘We’ve been together fourteen years and you’ve never let me in. You always held yourself back. Steph, the Ice Queen. Well, look where it got you—’

  ‘Oh, come on, Matt,’ I interrupted. ‘All you ever wanted was the girl who existed when she was twenty-two. There’s a reason you haven’t seen her for all these years, and that’s because she’s de
ad. For good reason. She was a mess and I don’t want her back.’

  ‘At least she talked to me!’ he cried, in exasperation. ‘She shared stuff with me.’

  ‘Matt, we were a fun relationship which served us both well at the time but we should not have stayed together for this long. We haven’t grown together. We brought each other down.’

  ‘Don’t even start to put this on me,’ he snarled. ‘I put everything into this marriage. It could have worked but nothing was ever perfect enough for poor Steph, the perpetual victim.’

  He was right in one sense, yet so very wrong in others. But none of it mattered. Not any more.

  ‘We both married the wrong person, Matt. I learned more about myself and what I do and don’t want from life from being with you, than I ever will with therapy.’

  ‘Good grief!’ Jane exclaims now, wide-eyed with all this drama. ‘This is significant news. How do you feel about it?’

  ‘Free. Wonderful. Happy … I think.’

  ‘So: where does this leave you with Jamie?’ she asks.

  I look at her, confused, knitting my eyebrows together.

  ‘Why would me and Matt getting divorced make any difference to me and Jamie?’

  ‘Well, it means you’re free now …’

  ‘But he’s not.’ I point out the obvious.

  ‘No,’ she says. ‘But regardless of whether it’s Jamie or someone else … you can finally go out there and find happiness. It may not happen for a while, but you deserve to be in a relationship where you’re happy all the time, not just one weekend a year.’

  Whenever Jane gets on to this topic, I get edgy. I don’t like it.

  It’s like an albatross around my neck, weighing me down. I know she’s always going on about it and there’s a reason for it, but I don’t want to know, quite frankly.

  ‘Well, I’m happy with the situation with Jamie at the moment. It suits me perfectly,’ I lie.

  ‘No, it doesn’t,’ she says. ‘You meet up with a man you’re in love with, masquerading as friends. You’re not happy with that at all.’

  I look at her, stubbornly, in the same way a toddler glares at her mother when she’s told she can’t have a doll in a toy shop. It’s pointless, because Jane always wins these stand-offs.