“Says he, who’s always trying to become an Adonis with a six-pack, in the gym,” I said. “You wait till you’re my age – you’ll see the problem. You’re right, though, life’s too short,” I repeated, stuffing the flapjack into my mouth. “Anyway … tell me about life down in Cornwall – how’s the gallery going?”
“Fine … yea, fine. The summer’s been really busy, so far. Thank God for tourists. It’s dead in the winter. John’s job’s going well. We’ve just heard that he’s been given deputy head, so we’re really pleased.”
“His tendencies towards world domination can be given free reign,” said Jake, sarcastically. “Thank Christ I’m not there any more. How horrendous would that have been.”
“Now you can see how I’ve suffered, can’t you?” said Adam. “Being at the same school as your teaching parents is bad enough, without one of them being Head. Especially when he makes a complete dick of himself by going off with a woman half his age. God …”
“Adam, don’t talk about your father like that.”
“Well, what does he expect? He’s an idiot. I guarantee when I get back from Oz, she’ll have got bored with him and he’ll be out on his ear … serve him right.”
Laura and I exchanged glances. We’d discussed the situation endlessly on the phone, so she knew everything there was to know. She said, “You two will find out that life isn’t as straightforward as you think. It’s not all surfing and parties. We parents make mistakes and do stupid things too, you know.”
“Too bloody right,” said Jake grinning at her. “I know you’re on Adam’s friend list, Anna, but there’s no way I’d let my mother anywhere near mine.”
“Oh well, I’ll pass on any info to your mum, anyway so …”
“I’ll make sure that nothing of any note gets on my wall, anyway,” said Adam. “All you’ll see is innocent pictures of us – you won’t be able to glean anything. Trust me.”
“You will promise to ring if you have any problems, won’t you?” I said.
“Yes, Mum … don’t fuss. It’s going to be fine. Jake’s family will help if there’s anything – if I have my leg bitten off by a shark, I’ll drop you a line.”
“Oh, for God’s sake, Adam, don’t even think about it … and make sure you wear factor thirty at least … “
“Mum … STOP it … we’ll be fine. I’m a big boy now – cut the cord.”
“Well, that’s nice …” said Laura. “Your mum’s just looking out for you, Adam. You’re lucky to have parents who care …”
“Mum, don’t you start,” said Jake, “don’t start the whole there are kids out there whose parents don’t care what happens to them bit. We know we’re lucky, but there comes a time when a man has to leave the tent and go out and kill food for himself, you know. If we were in some African tribe, we’d have gone off with our spears, years ago. It’s time for us to go and find a nice Aussie girl to …”
“Yea, that’s enough,” said Laura. “Just look out for each other. That’s the main thing. Make sure the other one is safe …”
“Yes Mum,” said Jake, raising his eyebrows and sighing at Adam. “Of course we will. Come on, Ad, I think I’ve had about as much as I can take of ‘mothers united’ here. Let’s get the hell outta here.” He pushed his chair back with a loud scrape, picked up his hand luggage rucksack and put it on his back. Adam stood up too. He glanced across at me and said, “Mum, we’ll be fine. Don’t worry … but we’ve really got to go. Waves to catch … beers to drink … girls to …”
“Yea, thanks, Adam,” I said, smiling at him. “And don’t get anyone pregnant!”
“Oh, for God’s sake, Mum, I’m not stupid.”
He too put his small rucksack on and they started walking towards passport control. Laura and I linked arms and walked behind them. We could hear them laughing together ahead and when they got there, they turned round and Adam said, “So … this is it. See you in a year,” and he flung his arms around me. He whispered, “Find yourself another man, Mum. Dad’s not good enough for you. Love ya.” He kissed my cheek and I hung on to him for perhaps a bit longer than I should. I breathed in that unique Adam smell and tried to fix him in my head. He extricated himself from me and the two of them walked away. We stood and watched as they showed their passports and as they turned towards an unseen corridor, they both waved back at us … and were gone.
*
“Well, that was relatively painless, wasn’t it?” said Laura. We were still standing watching where they’d gone. I was almost hoping Adam would pop round the corner again.
“Yes, it was, I suppose. God, I’m going to miss him dreadfully … are you?”
“Yes, of course, but I wouldn’t want him to live with us forever – they’ve got to go out there and make their own lives, haven’t they? Just like we did. We’ll get used to it … I’m sure we will. But I know it couldn’t have come at a worse time for you, Anna … shall we go and have another coffee?”
“Okay … you’ve got a much longer journey home than me … are you sure?”
“Yes, let’s … you can tell me what your plans are.”
We went back to Costa and sat down at the same table. The boys’ absence permeated the atmosphere. Drinking tea this time, I told her about potentially leaving teaching; she made a good point – was now the right time to make such a dramatic change? I had to agree with her that maybe too many changes were not a good idea, but …
She told me about Rocco – he’d had to go to Manchester with the BBC – he’d started off with them as an intern in London, but had done well and been offered a contract. He was now working in Sport and was often going to all the big sporting events. There was even talk of commentating. “Who would have thought Rocco would’ve done so well?” she said proudly. “They’ve all turned out all right, haven’t they?”
“I know. Manchester’s a long way from Cornwall, though, isn’t it? Have you been up there yet?”
“No … he only went a couple of weeks ago. He’s got some holiday coming up – he’s coming down to us for two weeks. So we’ll catch up with him then. Is Holly coming to visit soon?”
“Next weekend, hopefully,” I said. I knew she would have discussed my situation with John. I said, “What does John think about David?”
“Well, you know what men are like, he didn’t say much, but … he did seem quite shocked, actually. His words were, Poor Anna. She doesn’t deserve that. I still just don’t get it, myself. What’s he playing at, for God’s sake?”
“I don’t know, I really don’t. It was so out of the blue. If we’d been unhappy or just drifting apart … anything … but there was no indication. I keep wracking my brains to see if I missed something …”
“Looking back, were there any strange occurrences – did he stay late at work or were there any unexplained phone calls?”
“No, seriously … either I’m naive, or stupid … that’s why it’s been so awful, I think. And if Adam’s right and she gets bored with him and chucks him out … well, I’m not having him back …ever.”
“Really?”
“No … he’s made his bed. I’ve got to get on with the rest of my life now … whatever that is.”
“Well, I’ll always be here for you, Anna, you know that. Any time, day or night, just ring.” She looked at her watch. “I must go – I want to get through Bristol before the rush hour.”
We walked together to the car park and said our goodbyes by the ticket machine. As I walked towards my car and it flashed its indicators at me, I felt more alone than I’d ever felt in my entire life.
Husband gone, son gone. Just my black friend waiting for me at home. I got in, turned on the radio, which was still on Radio One, at Adam’s insistence. The loud, unrelenting jolliness of the DJ with his inane chat, managed to make me feel even more miserable than I already was. I turned over to Radio Four and caught that programme where they discuss people’s lives who’ve just died. Some amazing woman who did charity work into her eighties was bein
g discussed. As I listened to her life, she made me realise that I’ve got at least another twenty years of potential life to live (as long as I stay healthy) and I’ve got to go and live it.
Chapter Seven
Since the day David left until now, I have had precisely three conversations with him. You can imagine how strange this is for me. The man I have lived with forever and discussed every aspect of my life with, has simply disappeared from my radar.
Obviously, when I was at school I saw him every day, but I didn’t have to speak to him. I had to watch him: in assembly; wandering around the corridors and drinking cups of tea in the staff room, if he deigned to come out of his den. Each time I saw him, my body would have the same reaction; my legs would shake and my heartbeat would quicken, as if I was in the first throes of love … but I think it was a physical reaction to his betrayal of me. His mere presence made my body both angry and hurt and the end result was a feeling of sickness, nerves and hatred. Whenever possible, I would walk away from him; I’d find any excuse to leave the staffroom or turn around in the corridor. I’m sure everyone noticed, but I didn’t care – it was the only way I could cope.
So, on the day I got a message, via my pigeon hole, to meet him in his office at 1.15 pm, it was with some trepidation that I knocked on the door. I had considered not going at all – why should I obey his command and come running? But then I realised I should go, even out of morbid curiosity.
His distant Come In sounded monotone from the behind the wooden door; I opened it and he stood up.. “Hello, Anna – come in … take a seat.”
I closed the door quietly behind me and walked towards him, thinking what a weird situation this was.
“What do you want?” I said, petulantly. “Why have you summoned me to your office like this? Couldn’t you just come round to the house, if you have something to say?”
“I didn’t think you’d want me to …” he said, sitting down and looking sheepish.
“Well, get on with it … whatever it is … I’ve got marking to do.” I stared at him with as much contempt as I could muster.
“ … I was just wondering … I was wondering if you were okay?” he said.
“What? You’ve got me in here …”
“Anna … please … I worry about you and I wanted to know if …”
“Look David … you lost the right to ask me anything, a week ago – on the day you left me for someone else. You can’t expect to just summon me to your office like this. I have nothing to say to you.” I could feel tears pushing out, but I was determined not to cry – I couldn’t let him see me crying. I stood up and started walking to the door.
“Wait … Anna … wait. I feel terrible about what I’ve done … I care about you …”
I stopped in my tracks. I said, “How touching.”
“I do care about you. I’m sure, in time, you’ll understand …”
My hand was on the door handle, but I stopped myself from storming out. I came back into the room, marched over to him, went round his desk and said in a low, threatening voice, right in his face, “I will never understand what you’ve done. Never. I thought we were happy. I thought we’d be together forever. I had no clue that you …”
“I’m sorry,” he said, leaning back. “I was happy with you, but then something changed …”
“When? As far as I knew, we were going along the same as always …”
“We were … maybe that was it …maybe we got too complacent …”
“So now you’re blaming me? I thought you simply fell in love …”
“I did … but maybe there was a reason … maybe I was looking for something … something you couldn’t give me …”
“So, this just gets better,” I said, feeling myself getting hot in the face. “You’re a bit bored with humdrum everyday life … so you go looking for a younger model. You’re so predictable, David. We all get bored … God knows, I was pretty bored with washing your underpants and picking up your dirty socks off the floor but … hey, that’s life. I got on with it. I didn’t think of looking for someone else to …fall in love with. I loved you … so I got on and did your washing.” I had to lean on his desk, my legs were shaking so much. I felt drained of everything – as if all the love I’d had for him had suddenly trickled away, along with my self-esteem.
“I still love you, you know …” he said, slumping forward, his head in his hands. His telephone started ringing and he looked up at me and then at the phone.
“You’ve got a funny way of showing it. Answer the damn thing. I’ve said all there is to say.” I walked away and pulled the door open with force. I really wanted to slam it shut when I left, but saw his secretary glance up from her computer, pretending she hadn’t been listening in to our conversation, and I decided not to give her the satisfaction. I closed it quietly, glared at her and walked out, into the adjacent corridor.
I had to get outside – I needed fresh air, like an alcoholic needs a drink. I stormed out into the car park, breathing the cool air down into my lungs as I walked in a confused state, past the bins, past the netball courts and round the back of the bike racks.
I stopped suddenly and stared across the open expanse of green playing fields. I’ve got to get away from this place, I thought. What the hell am I doing, even considering staying? Perhaps without knowing it, that was the first time I formulated that idea – before Lisa even told me about early retirement and lump sums. I just knew I couldn’t stay in the same building with him. It was madness to stay. Not after this.
The second time we spoke was when I tried to persuade him to come and see Adam before he went – and we know how well that went.
The third time, he came round one evening without warning, just after Adam left. I was sitting, cuddling Gaz on the sofa, a glass of wine by my side. I was watching David Attenborough – wild life programmes always fascinated me and this one, in particular, was riveting – it was about animals that mate for life. I couldn’t help marvelling at their straightforward devotion to each other and their utter lack of ‘boredom’ that David claims had pushed him into the arms of another. Animals are so much more honest … and noble.
The door bell went – quite a few thoughts rushed through my head. Who the hell is that, being the first one. The second being, I don’t know anyone who would call round at 8.30 pm. The third one being: Would a mad axe man knock first? And the fourth one, I wish it could be like the film ‘The Holiday’ when Jude Law just happens to be standing on the doorstep.
This one really was wishful thinking. A) I don’t look remotely like Cameron Diaz and B) I’m about thirty years too late and C) What would Jude Law be doing in Stowchester, anyway?
Putting that all aside, I went somewhat slowly to the door and slid the chain on. I opened it slightly, having turned on the outside light and there was … David. I was acutely aware of the difference between Jude and David at that point and also reluctant to remove the chain. I drew the door open as far as the chain would go and said, “What do you want?”
“Can I come in?”
“No, I’m busy.”
“Really?”
“Yes, I am. I have got a life, you know.”
“Please … Anna … I need some more clothes.”
“Why didn’t you ring first?”
“Well, I thought it would be okay.”
“Well, you thought wrong.”
“Can I just pop in for a few minutes?”
“No, you can’t,” and I slammed the door. It gave me such satisfaction that I rather childishly did V signs at him from behind the door.
He rang the bell again and I could hear his muffled voice pleading, “Please, Anna … just a few minutes.”
I undid the chain and opened the door with force. “Come on then, get a move on.”
I found it difficult to be normal with him. How was I meant to react? This was something out of my experience and I know I was behaving like a spoilt brat, but I couldn’t stop myself.
He came thr
ough the door looking as if he was expecting me to lash out at him. Gaz got up and came over to David, wagging his tail. “Hello, ol’ chap,” he said, bending down to stroke Gaz’ ears. Gaz looked up at him with such love in his eyes, I wanted to take him to one side and put him straight – but dogs don’t have all our baggage. They just know who they like.
“So, how are we going to deal with everything then?” I said, slumping down on the sofa. “I don’t want you to keep barging in here, whenever you want. I think you ought to come round properly and move everything …”
“Hold on, Anna, this is my house …”
“Oh, is it? I was under the impression that you’d just moved out to live somewhere else.”
“Yes … but it’s still my house and I have as much right to be here, as you.”
His face was grey – combining both anger and guilt, in equal measures. He sat down on one of the kitchen chairs and stared at me. I wanted to say something reasonable, not get involved in a cat fight, so I said, “Well, legally you’re right, I’m sure, but morally …”
“I realise that, as you say, morally, I have no right – but practically, I do need my clothes, Anna. Couldn’t we just talk about arrangements, sensibly?”
I thought about this – Gaz was now sitting next to me – I felt as if he’d chosen an alliance with me – and drawing him closer for support, I said, “Look, you’ve made your decision. Any ‘arrangements’ as you call them, boil down to this – collect your things and – leave me alone.”
“Anna, it’s very early days, I know and there’s no pressure, but … Suzie and I can’t stay in her flat forever … at some point, we’re going to have to move and then we’ll have to talk about selling this and sharing …”
“Over my dead body,” I yelled, Gaz looking at me with shock.
“When you’ve calmed down, you’ll see that it’s the only way. There’s ‘no blame’ in divorce now, you know – we’ll just divide our assets fifty/fifty.”
He was being so matter of fact about the end of our marriage. The word ‘divorce’ had never entered our vocabulary before and it hit me in the gut. I knew he was right, but I didn’t want to face the reality of it. God, he’d only been gone a few weeks. What was the hurry?
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