by Voss, Louise
‘Huh,’ said Ivan, bemused. ‘Maybe she did tell me.’
Rachel probably had, I reflected. Ivan had a very bad habit of not listening to things he was told.
He tutted. ‘So Mark gave her a puppy. What a dickhead. Poor Rach.’ He sounded affectionate, and I smiled at him for the first time, feeling almost fondness – until I remembered the mess he’d made of all our lives.
I made the tea, annoyed with myself for still knowing that he took his black with one sugar.
‘How’ve you been, then?’ he asked gruffly. ‘How’s the old man?’
I hesitated, then thought: Sod it. He had to find out some time. At least I could be the one to tell him. ‘We broke up. He left me for another woman.’
Ivan looked sheepish. ‘Oh. Sorry to hear that, Susie.’
I shrugged. ‘It happens,’ I said in loaded tones.
‘S’pose it does,’ he acknowledged. Natasha’s card was still up on the kitchen windowsill, mixed in with both Gordana’s and Rachel’s other get-well cards. I actually saw his eyes flicker towards it, and away again.
Suddenly I felt angry. Perhaps it was the humiliation of having to tell Ivan about Billy, or perhaps it mattered more to me than I was allowing myself to admit that Ivan had also cheated on me, but I didn’t want him to get away with it.
‘How’s Anthea?’ I asked breezily.
‘OK, under the circumstances, thanks. Working on a new collection.’
I suppressed a shudder at the thought of another of Anthea’s ‘collections’.
‘And how’s Natasha?’ I added slyly, but in just as matter-of-fact a voice.
He was so startled that his hand twitched in the act of bringing his mug to his mouth, slopping tea on to the kitchen table.
‘Natasha …Natasha who?’ he said, panic flaring in his dark eyes.
‘Natasha Horvath,’ I said, taking a J-cloth from the sink and mopping up the spillage. ‘Elbows, please,’ I added bossily, making him lift his arms from the table so I could wipe underneath them.
‘I recognize the name,’ he stammered.
I stopped wiping the table and stood over him, my arms folded.
‘Ivan. Of course you recognize the name. She’s your bit on the side, isn’t she? Or at least she was, when you were still married to me. And I’m guessing you’re still in touch, otherwise I don’t know how she’d have got that card to you for Rachel. I’m surprised you passed that on – bit careless of you, wasn’t it?’
‘It fell out of my pocket and Rachel found it,’ he admitted, shoulders slumped.
‘So you’re still seeing her – nine years later? That’s quite some fling. Or is it “true love”?’ I made sarcastic quote marks with my fingers. ‘In which case, what are you doing with Anthea? No – on second thoughts, don’t tell me. It’s too sordid. I don’t have any interest in what you’re up to now. It’s what happened when we were still married that interests me.’ I paused.
‘Especially since, nine years ago, she was only fifteen, wasn’t she?’
He buried his head in his arms. I noticed that he was almost completely bald on top.
‘Perhaps she was only one of many,’ I continued, a hard, ruthless streak of pent-up rage flaring within me. ‘All those innocent little Eastern European girls who looked up to you? How many of them did you sleep with and promise to make into superstars?’ I put my mouth close to his ear and hissed into it: ‘How many of them while we were married, Ivan? How many times did you cheat on me, you worthless bastard? This is not a good time for all this to come out, is it? Arrested for downloading obscene photos of children, and then it turns out you’ve had underage sex? You’d lose your club, and your licence. You’d definitely go to jail.’
I had never seen Ivan looking so completely paralysed with fear. He reached out and gripped my forearm hard, his face completely white.
‘Get your hands off me,’ I said, wrenching him away. ‘I asked you a question: how many were there?’
His leg jiggled convulsively under the table, making it jog and the tea spill again. This time I ignored it, and the puddle slid silently to the edge of the table and began to drip in a thin stream on to the floor.
Ivan continued to look at me in terrified appeal.
‘Susie,’ he said urgently, ‘you have to believe me: this has nothing to do with the charges, nothing at all, I swear. I didn’t even know she was that young; she told me she was seventeen.’
I snorted. ‘Seventeen – oh well, in that case, that’s fine …God, Ivan, what were you thinking?’
He didn’t answer. ‘How did you find out?’ he said instead, through gritted teeth.
I put my hands on my hips. ‘Let’s just say I found some pretty compelling evidence,’ I said. ‘You ought to be ashamed of yourself; a man in your position. You give coaches a bad reputation.’
‘What are you going to do?’
I considered, a finger on my chin. I wouldn’t say I was enjoying this – in fact, I felt sick – but I knew Ivan well enough to know that I had to sound like I meant business, or he’d think he had got away with it.
‘I want you to tell me if it’s still going on.’
‘How do I know you won’t tell Anthea?’
‘You don’t. But if you don’t talk to me now, I definitely will.’
He sighed. ‘You probably won’t believe this, Susie, but I love her – Tasha, I mean. We met when I went over to Hungary for three months to coach, do you remember? Ages ago.’
‘You took Rachel with you,’ I said, appalled. ‘Rachel was only a couple of years younger than Natasha!’
‘I had no idea,’ he replied, rubbing his sleeve over the puddle of tea still dripping off the table. ‘I believed Tasha when she told me she was seventeen. If you must know, it scared me just as much. But we kept in touch. You and I split up. I brought her over and had someone else coach her for a few years, but then her visa ran out and she had to go back. She wrote and told me it was all off, and that’s when I met Anthea. But then about two years ago I bumped into her at a tournament with Rach, and …well …it started up again. I’m crazy about her, Susie. I don’t know what to do.’
I almost felt sorry for him. There was a pleading tone in his voice that I’d never heard before.
‘Why don’t you finish with Anthea if you’re in love with someone else? It’s hardly fair on her, is it?’
He spread his hands wide on the table and examined them, as if he was about to have a manicure.
I remembered his hands. They were like unformed implements to him – he couldn’t do anything which required delicacy or precision. He held tennis rackets and cutlery in the same way: fisting them with his grip. No wonder he was no good in the sack.
‘I know. But Tasha, well, she won’t make up her mind about what she wants. I only ever see her when she’s playing in the same tournaments as Rachel. She’s pissed off with me for even having another girlfriend.’
‘Is that why Rachel got such bad vibes from her that time, when Rach beat her?’
He nodded miserably. ‘She’s completely threatened by Rachel. She thinks that I should coach her, Tasha, instead – she only wants me if I’ll commit a hundred per cent to her – even though she won’t commit to me either.’
So I was right. ‘And Anthea’s got no idea about all this?’
He looked up. ‘No. Please don’t tell her, Susie. She knows things haven’t been great between us, but I can’t tell her. I don’t want to risk losing her too. I’m already in such shit with all this computer stuff. Although I didn’t do it, you know – it’ll come out that I’m innocent.’
‘Ivan! That is so pathetic, hedging your bets like that! How do you think Anthea would feel, knowing that you’re only staying with her until you find out whether someone else will have you or not? And what about Rachel? It would be terrible for her to find out that you cheated on me when we were married, and even worse for her to think that the only reason you insisted on coming to her tournaments with her was to see Tas
ha! It’s bad enough for Rachel, knowing that you’re on bail for—’
‘It’s not a barrel of laughs for me, either, you know!’Ivan interrupted querulously. ‘Besides, it’s not true about her tournaments. I come with her because I’m her business manager, not for any other reason. It just happens to be the way I get to see Natasha too.’
‘Convenient,’ I said, walking down the hall and back to release Jackson, who had started to paw and whine at the living room door. ‘OK, buddy, keep your legs crossed. Tea makes me want to pee, too. I have to walk the dog,’ I added coldly to Ivan, unclipping Jackson’s lead from the coat hooks behind the back door. ‘I think you’d better leave now. I need to think about all this stuff.’
‘Right,’ Ivan said, trying to regain his composure. I could see how much he was loathing all this. ‘But please remember, Susie, that there are other people involved here, who stand to get a lot more hurt than you’ve been. Yes, I cheated on you, and I’m sorry. But I’ve got so much on my plate, and besides, it’s ancient history now —’
‘So that makes it OK, does it?’ I flared back at him.
It wasn’t ancient history to me, not right at that moment. I remembered exactly what it felt like to be almost certain that Ivan was lying to me and seeing someone else, but being unable to prove it; the twisted worm of unease which made me hate myself for doubting him, but equally convinced that I had every right to. And now, it seemed, there were a whole lot more reasons to doubt Ivan.
‘I’m not saying that. It was wrong of me. But don’t punish Anthea and Rachel for it. Not to mention Mama – just think what it would do to her…’
That was it. I saw red. I marched over to him and slapped the tabletop hard with my palm, wishing it could be his pouchy, hard-done-by face.
‘How dare you bring Gordana into this! If you had any consideration at all for her feelings, you wouldn’t be such a lying, cheating shit to begin with. After everything she’s done for you – she loves you, unconditionally, and you can’t even give her the courtesy of a chat when she needs one! You do nothing for her unless it suits you; nothing…And now you’re trying to worm your way out of this situation by making out it’s Gordana’s feelings you’re trying to spare? You make me sick, Ivan. I am so glad I’m not married to you anymore. Apart from Rach, I consider the whole time we were together as a total waste. You’re nothing. Billy was twenty times the man you’ll ever be.’
Ivan shoved back his chair and stood up, towering over me. I wondered if he was going to hit me, and almost wanted him to. I wanted to wind him up, make him do something which would prove to everyone what a toad he really was.
‘You think you’re so perfect, don’t you, Susie, lecturing everyone else about their faults, but you need to take a long hard look at yourself, wouldn’t you say? I mean, even Saintly Billy couldn’t stand you, could he? And I don’t blame him. No wonder he cheated on you, you bitter old cow. So, you go right ahead and do your worst, then. Ruin Rachel’s life as well as mine and Anthea’s, if that’ll make you happy. Do what the hell you want – I don’t care anymore. But just don’t try and tell me that you know anything about my life, or what I’m going through, because you know jack shit, OK?’
He was breathing heavily into my face, challenging me with his dark eyes, and his breath was as sour as the insults issuing from his mouth. I marvelled at the number of mornings I’d spoiled, waking up with that breath wafting lies across my face as my welcome to the day.
He turned abruptly, yanked open the back door and stormed out. Jackson was so freaked out by the fury crackling in the room that his hair had flattened against his back, and he didn’t even try to escape out into the garden when he had the chance. He backed up against the wall and shivered.
I heard Ivan’s car start up and screech away down the drive, scattering gravel so far that a few stones rattled up against the glass of the conservatory on the side of the house, in a horrible parody of the lover who throws pebbles at his beloved’s window.
Chapter 39
Gordana
Now that these chips are down, I suppose I must start being a little more honest about some things. My feelings, I suppose. Honesty doesn’t come that easily to me, although I never realized it before. It’s like something unpleasant you find in your mouthful of food at a dinner party: gristle or a fishbone or something which must be dealt with, in the most discreet way possible, with nobody else noticing. Don’t make big fuss about it, just spit it into your napkin and carry on as normal. I do dislike people who boast about how honest they are. It’s so distasteful.
But even though I have said this, I am not going to be completely honest about my prognosis, apart from to Ted. I have decided that whatever happens, I will pretend everything is A-OK, for as long as I can. I mean, what is the point of letting them all worry so much? There is nothing they can do to change anything, if things are not good. Besides, I believe that if you run around weeping and wailing and gnashing the teeth it does not help. Much better to believe that all will be well. ‘The power of positive thought’: I read an article about this in my Woman’s Journal. So I am always going to look forward, and make many plans.
We are going to go on a cruise every year. I am so much looking forward to it. I will wear those funny sweatbands on my wrists to stop me getting seasick. We will of course be asked to dine on the captain’s table. I specifically want to go on one of those cruises which goes to Korčula, to look at Marco Polo’s house.
How funny it will be! I will dress up in my best clothes to get off the ship that day. I’ve seen Marco Polo’s house many times as a child, so I’m not interested in that. All which interests me is to swan ashore, the prodigal daughter returning. I used to dream I’d go back with Ivan a star; but it didn’t happen. Then, in my head, the scenario was of me boasting about my champion granddaughter, but that hasn’t really happened either. Although I will settle for just bringing a few snapshots of our house with me, to show all my old neighbours and cousins and so on. They will gawp in admiration for a while, running their eyes over my beautiful silk suit and my expensive handbag, and then I’ll look at my watch (Tag Heuer, not that it will mean anything to them), and say, ‘Sorry, our cruise ship leaves shortly. We’re off to Greece next. So long!’
But this is all fantasy, and there are more important subjects I must consider too. For one, I think I must be honest with Ted about Ivan. There are a few things that I haven’t ever told him, and he probably needs to know. I tell him everything else, so I must tell him this too.
Chapter 40
Susie
After the scene in Gordana’s kitchen, a lot of things were beginning to come back to me from my years with Ivan: doubts confirmed; small mysteries unravelled. There was one party, a smart LTA bash, black tie and five-course dinner. I couldn’t remember what it was in aid of, but I’d been so looking forward to it. I remember it because it was the beginning of the end of our marriage.
Ivan had been coaching at this academy in Budapest, with Rachel training as an up-and-coming Junior, and I had missed both of them, a lot. Of course I was used to Ivan being away from home, but it was the first time Rachel had travelled with him for any length of time, and three months was a very long time for me not to see her.
At the time I’d had a nagging feeling that Ivan would find it a struggle to have sole charge of Rachel – thirteen, hormonal and stroppy – but I hadn’t envisaged him meeting the love of his life out there, a girl not much older than Rachel herself …I mean, really – how had they begun their courtship? Out for pizza and coke as a threesome? It didn’t bear thinking about.
Anyhow, the invitation to the party had arrived while they were away, for a date about a month after their return. I propped it against a vase on the mantelpiece in the front room, admiring daily its gilt wavy edges and embossed writing. Despite Ivan’s stature in British tennis, I didn’t actually get to go to many parties with him. He usually went on his own.
But this invite was to both of us: Mr and M
rs I. Anderson, and I had already RSVP’d, going to the library especially to consult Debrett’s on the correct way to reply to such a formal invitation. The week before Ivan’s return, Gordana took me to a little boutique she knew, where the owner greeted her with a kiss on both cheeks, and where they both helped me buy a beautiful chiffon evening dress. The dress was purple and a dark, dark blue, with spaghetti straps on the shoulders. It fell around my shins in fronds which wafted when I moved, and made me look, I thought years later, rather like a sexy version of one of the Dementors in the Harry Potter film. I couldn’t wait to show Ivan. One of his rare compliments to me had been regarding my shoulders. I never forgot the night he said I had beautiful shoulders, and after that I always used to wear strappy dresses. I bought sexy underwear too, thinking that perhaps if I made more of an effort, we might resurrect our woeful sex life. It could be a new start.
When the two of them got back from Hungary, things did initially seem to be looking up. Rachel was genuinely happy to see me again, and Ivan was making an effort to be nice. He even let me show him the dress, hanging in our wardrobe in clear plastic, waiting for the night of its debut.
But the week before the party, he came back from the club with a frown and a hangdog expression.
‘Susie, listen,’ he’d said. ‘That LTA party.’
‘Yes? Oh, that reminds me. I have to get my nails done for it. Maybe you could run me down to the hairdresser first, my appointment’s at—’
‘There’s a problem,’ he said, holding up an imperious hand.
‘What? It hasn’t been cancelled, has it, because—’
‘It hasn’t been cancelled. But the thing is, do you remember me telling you about Tracy?’