The Mini-Break

by Maddie Please

  ‘That’s not Mr Delabole then? How is lovely Mrs Delabole? The invisible wife you seem incapable of actually getting? Look, you devious little sod! Stop wasting my estate agent’s time! Making appointments and then not keeping them.’

  He was all innocent bluster. ‘Lulu, Lulu sweetie pie, some mistake! I don’t know what …’

  ‘Yes you do. If you do this again I’ll be on the phone to your boss. I know him remember? Julian Weston-Baker, tall stringy character with an over-inflated sense of his own importance. Pretty much like you, come to think of it. I sat next to him at that Mansion House dinner last year. He spent the evening looking down the front of my dress but I’m pretty certain he’ll remember me.’

  I heard Percy take a deep breath.

  ‘Aw, come on, Lulu. There’s no need to be like that about it. It was just a bit of fun. You’re upset, Lu, I can tell.’

  ‘Percy, if you do this again or anything like this you’ll regret it.’

  I ended the call and turned back to my companion who was standing drumming her fingers against the wall.

  ‘Sorry, Rosie. I might have guessed Benedict was behind this.’

  She was very annoyed. ‘We can’t be expected to deal with this you know. I don’t care who is playing the fool – it’s a total waste of our time. I’ve got better things to do than trail over here, wait for half an hour, and then trail back to the office. It generally means ninety minutes wasted. I thought your partner was moving out?’

  ‘I thought he was. This is just a bit of bloody harassment.’

  ‘Well if it carries on …’

  ‘It won’t. I’ll see to it, Rosie. I promise.’

  She looked doubtful. ‘I’ll have to tell Christy; she’ll be absolutely livid. I’ll persuade her to give it one more try but this is the last time. Okay?’

  ‘I’ll sort it.’

  I watched as she collected her bag and shrugged on her coat.

  ‘And now it’s pissing down,’ she muttered furiously, ‘thanks so much.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  I went into my flat, slung my bag across the hall and closed the door quietly when what I really wanted to do was slam it off its hinges. Then I went to look in the fridge for something unexpected and delicious that I had forgotten buying. Of course there wasn’t anything. There was, however, the usual trail that marked Benedict’s presence: a bag of kale, a half-empty pot of hummus, and a plastic box full of slimy salad leaves. I slammed the fridge door so the bottles inside rattled. Then I went to have a closer look around the flat and every minute I found more and more to annoy me. It was obvious Benedict was very much still around and had made little or no effort to move out.

  If he was clever enough to do mergers and acquisitions, restructure corporations and still have time to have affairs behind my back, then he was certainly able to pack up an Xbox and his collection of striped shirts into bags and take them away to wherever. Yes I knew I should have chucked him bodily out onto his bony arse a long time ago but I just didn’t have the confidence to do it when I should have. If could I take on Ian Hislop in a debate on television and make him laugh, why couldn’t I sort out my private life? I have no explanation.

  But I couldn’t be that surprised, surely. It was my fault; I hadn’t been single-minded enough. If I wanted my life to change I needed to take responsibility for it.

  First of all I put the latest bag of kale down the waste disposal and then I found a roll of bin liners, opened the wardrobe and started pulling things off hangers and stuffing them in. Why did Benedict need so many shirts? Why did he need so many sweaters in so many different colours? There were dozens, most of them cashmere. Then of course there were the suits, the brocade waistcoats, ties, dinner jackets, a white tuxedo still in a dry-cleaning bag, shoes on their wooden shoe trees, heaven knows how many pairs. Not to mention the chinos, T-shirts, polo shirts, overcoats, raincoats, cycling gear.

  And of course the bathroom was similarly stuffed with his belongings. Special huge white bath sheets I wasn’t supposed to use because I once got mascara on one, an electric toothbrush, shaver, vitamins, toiletries, and a set of bathroom scales that he had bought at vast expense to measure all sorts of things: his weight, muscle mass and BMI. I expect there were special settings to discover the air quality, his blood group, star sign and inside leg measurement. They were something else I wasn’t supposed to use, because if I did it would spoil his stored records. So obviously I got on and jumped up and down a couple of times and then I took the batteries out just to make sure.

  By this time I had used up all the bin liners, it was getting dark and I was hungry. I rang Jassy and she answered almost immediately.

  ‘Now where are you?’ she said crossly.

  ‘Back at the flat. I’m clearing Benedict’s stuff out into bin liners.’

  ‘About bloody time too.’

  ‘There’s no food in this place. Want to meet up for a drink?’

  ‘I suppose so,’ Jassy grumbled, ‘although trust me a glass of bloody fizzy water with a splash of lime does not a drink make. Sparkler has a lot to answer for. Ralphie has gone to bloody South Africa for ten days. Ten days! And with me pregnant. Pigging cricket.’

  ‘Why can’t you go with him?’

  ‘Good question. That’s what I said and he went on about how he didn’t expect me to take him to work and I said that’s completely different; there’s no reason why I couldn’t write in a hotel room in Durban while he went off to watch the matches. He wouldn’t have it. I’m beginning to wonder about this “what goes on tour, stays on tour” business. I’ll see you in an hour okay? Maudie has been hanging around my neck every time I go to Dizzy’s. I think she wants to bend my ear about that chap she’s been seeing and I’m not in the mood.’

  We met up in a wine bar that used to be called Vino Vino the last time I looked. It was the usual mishmash of chrome, black wood, and inadequate lighting that meant people were peering at their menus by the light of their mobile phones. Jassy arrived a few minutes after I did, unwinding her scarf and dropping down onto the sofa next to me with a groan.

  I went and got her a glass of something non-alcoholic and she grimaced at it.

  ‘How is Sparkler doing?’ I said.

  Jassy pulled another dissatisfied face. ‘Making herself known. I’ve never felt so awful. So, Benedict?’ she said.

  ‘Not seen him yet.’

  Then she fixed me with a steely eye. ‘Okay, Joe Field. Tell me everything.’

  ‘Oh Jassy!’

  ‘Don’t give me that. You’ve been cavorting with the man next door!’

  ‘I have not cavorted.’

  ‘You’ve slept with him. Shagged him. You’ve had sex with him – whatever you want to call it – and now you say you’re in love with him. Aren’t you a bit old for this, Lulu?’

  ‘No, apparently not,’ I said, fiddling with a cardboard doily that had been placed under my wine glass.

  Jassy’s face twisted with incomprehension. ‘But you’re nearly forty for heaven’s sake. You’re not a teenager. You have people relying on you. Your bank manager, me, Sally, your devoted fan base. I know what this is: you’re having a midlife crisis. You’ve already bought the sports car, you’ve had your teeth whitened, now it’s time to have a wild fling. Really? A Lady Chatterley moment with Joe Field instead of Mellors.’

  ‘No, I can see you might think that but that’s not …’

  ‘Well I can’t think what it is then. You’re talking about selling your flat, a flat that is in one of the best locations in the country I might add. Benedict says you want something nice. Nice? I mean come on. Have you thought this through? Where are you planning to relocate? France? A Greek island? Or are you seriously thinking of Devon with your rustic swain?’

  ‘Look, Jassy, I know it sounds as though I’m losing the plot—’

  ‘Well, you might say that; I couldn’t possibly comment! But in my condition …’

  ‘Something’s happened to me, something I was
n’t expecting, and I don’t know how to deal with it. But I don’t want to live in London any more,’ I said.

  ‘Well if you want to move to the country how about trying somewhere like – I don’t know – Watford or that place that always sounds so nice – Welwyn Garden City?’

  ‘Your idea of what constitutes the countryside is a bit off I’m afraid.’

  Jassy took a sip of her drink, looking crossly at my glass of Merlot.

  ‘The least you should do is make a clean break with Benedict, don’t you think?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then …’ Jassy paused and looked up ‘… now’s your chance.’

  I followed her gaze and saw a grim-looking Benedict shrugging his way through the door and towards us.

  ‘You told him I was here?’ I said, horrified.

  ‘Oh for heaven’s sake, do grow up.’

  Jassy drained her glass and stood up to let Benedict sit down.

  ‘Talk some sense into her will you? I’m going outside to stand next to the smokers.’

  Benedict threw me a dark look. ‘What have you done with my stuff?’ he said.

  ‘I’m packing up for you,’ I said. ‘I’m going to sell the flat and you being in it is stopping that from happening. That and your stupid antics making appointments for non-existent viewings and Percy pissing off my estate agent.’

  ‘Look, Lulu, I’m on the track of something; any day now I’ll be out of your hair forever.’ He reached over, held my hand and looked at me from under his eyelashes. ‘If that’s what you really want?’

  ‘It is,’ I said, pulling my hand away, ‘and is your girlfriend pregnant or not?’

  He had the decency to look embarrassed. ‘Not. That was a complete misunderstanding, nothing to do with me at all. She had a bit of a …’

  ‘I don’t need to hear the sordid details, I really don’t.’

  He shifted a bit closer to me and put his hand on my shoulder.

  ‘Let’s give it another go. What do you say?’

  ‘Oh for heaven’s sake …’

  ‘I’ll make it up to you, honest to God. No messing about ever again. I’ll tell Tess we are over. And Milly.’

  ‘Who the hell is Milly?’

  ‘No one, absolutely no one,’ he said quickly, ‘just – no one.’

  I sighed and I think Benedict saw this as a sign of me weakening because he moved in closer and put his arm around my shoulder.

  ‘I’ve been an idiot, Lulabelle; you know I love you. But you went away and left me on my own, d’you see? I got up to mischief. Like boys do.’

  ‘You’re not a boy, you’re forty-one. But of course I can see this was all my fault,’ I said.

  ‘I didn’t mean that. I missed you, Lu, I really did.’

  ‘I was only away for ten bloody days! Couldn’t you keep your trousers on for ten days?’

  He kissed my cheek and crooned at me. ‘Sorry, Lulu, Benedict’s a bad boy. He’s sorry.’

  He pronounced it ‘sowwy’ and I shrugged him off, immeasurably irritated.

  ‘I’m getting the locks changed tomorrow,’ I said. ‘You’ve got until the end of the day to get your stuff out.’

  His expression of pleading sadness snapped off like a light bulb.

  ‘You cow,’ he said, ‘how am I going to manage that? Where am I going to find a flat in a day?’

  ‘You’ve had weeks,’ I said. ‘I’ve been more than reasonable.’

  ‘And what will you do then? Jassy told me you were pissing everyone off with your insane behaviour. What next?’

  ‘That’s not your problem. I’ll cope.’

  He looked at me with mocking pity. ‘Feeling your age, Lu? Old clock ticking is it? Tick tock, tick tock. Pushing forty, no husband no kids. Life flying south for the winter is it? Starting again at your age isn’t going to be easy.’

  ‘Do sod off,’ I said.

  *

  The following day Benedict turned up at the flat at six thirty in the morning, wandering around with a dejected air, kicking at the black bin liners I had packed up the previous day.

  ‘Where are you going?’ I asked.

  ‘Like you care.’

  ‘I’m trying to keep this civil,’ I said. ‘There may be post that arrives here for you that needs to be forwarded on.’

  ‘Oh don’t go to any trouble on my account.’ He ran a finger across the titles in the bookcase and gave a dismissive sniff. ‘I hear Jassy is in pig?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Okay, Jassy’s pregnant.’

  ‘You do have a lovely way of putting things, Benedict. I bet your silver-tongued speeches rivet the courtroom when you let rip.’

  We had a brisk exchange of views about the ownership of a Le Creuset wok and then I left him to it and went to make sure there were none of his things left in the washing machine. I was further outraged when I found some rather exotic underwear, which was definitely not mine. The next hour deteriorated into a heated argument when we both used words we would undoubtedly regret. Even so I’d like to put on record that Benedict was an unprincipled bastard and I am not borderline obese.

  Eventually we both calmed down and I made some coffee as a sort of peace offering. Apparently there was a removal van arriving by midday, which necessitated humping bags up and down in the lift and infuriating other people who wanted to use it, plus a great deal of door slamming and grumbling.

  Actually I did feel a bit sad about the whole thing; it’s never easy to break up with someone you’ve loved, even if I had known for a very long time that we were not going to go the distance. Benedict must have caught me looking a bit wistful and he seized his moment.

  ‘It’s not too late you know, Lu, we could put all this behind us and start again,’ he said. ‘We could take a holiday somewhere nice. What was that place you wanted to go? Corona or something.’

  ‘Carcassonne.’

  ‘We could go there and forget all about this. My back has been terrible. I’ve been sleeping in Percy’s spare room next to his axolotl tank. It’s very unnerving waking up to see them looking at me. They don’t have eyelids.’

  I looked out of the window. ‘The van is here. You’d better go and load your stuff up,’ I said.

  ‘You’re a hard bitch,’ Benedict muttered.

  A couple of hours and many trips up and down in the lift later, Benedict was gone. It was such a relief even when I realised he had taken all the towels, most of the crockery and nearly all the cutlery. Still, cheap at the price I suppose.

  I moved the big armchair from its place in front of where the television used to be and into the window where I had always wanted it. I sat down with a cup of tea and watched the traffic snarling up the street below as it waited for Benedict’s van to finish loading and drive off. And then with a blast on its horn and a questionable gesture out of the passenger window from Benedict, he was gone.

  *

  It took me the rest of the afternoon to get the place straight again, and by three o’clock the man had changed the front door locks leaving me to hoover up the detritus. Unsurprisingly, my flat now looked strangely bare and characterless, although to be honest the loss of the Andy Warhol prints and the strange African carvings was an improvement in my opinion.

  Now what?

  I rang Christy Church and told her of the developments and then I went out to the corner shop and bought an overpriced bottle of champagne and some snacks. I spent the evening slugging it back, accompanied by salt and vinegar crisps, cheese strings and a Crunchie, all things Benedict wouldn’t tolerate having in the house. I remembered he had once caught me eating a Scotch egg and nearly sent me to have my stomach pumped.

  Chapter Eighteen

  So what next?

  I spent the next couple of days dressing the flat so that it didn’t look as though half the guts had been ripped out of it. I did all sort of pretentious things like setting the table for four with matching placemats and linen napkins (Benedict hadn’t wanted those). It was like an aft
er reveal in one of those TV programmes when the house owner has left a tolerable sitting room and returns to find it with a Schiaparelli pink accent wall and wine glasses wired together to make a chandelier. I was just about finished when I had a call from Sally. My heart sank when I saw her name on the screen.

  ‘How’s it going?’ she said. ‘All that Devon air bringing the colour to your cheeks?

  ‘I’m in Notting Hill. I had to get Benedict out and get the locks changed. I’m leaving it to the estate agent to sell. I’ll be back in Devon as soon as humanly possible.’

  ‘Good. And the book? How’s that coming along?’

  ‘I’ve dumped it for the moment and I’m on to something else.’

  There were sounds of Sally lighting a cigarette. ‘Oh well, I suppose that’s for the best, all things considered. And I hear Jassy is expecting? How exciting. Except she’ll probably be like you and lose all her focus. Do tell me all about your new work.’

  ‘It’s sort of a departure …’ I said, ‘something different.’

  ‘Okay,’ she said cautiously, ‘as long as it’s not too different? I thought it was about time I checked in, see how it’s all going. I’ve been so busy recently, what with one thing and another.’

  ‘Oh yes, I heard you had signed those ghastly twins for some deathless tome on how to be an irritant under the saddle of feminine equality. What are they calling themselves – the Trust Fund Tits?’

  ‘Now then, grumpy, they are doing very well. They are due on I’m a Celebrity by the time their book is ready. Everyone will be after them.’

  ‘Sally, I’m appalled. When they asked Jassy we agreed reality TV was the same as volunteering for Dante’s Inferno.’

  ‘Yes I know. Do shut up. This is different. Look, I was ringing to say we were thinking of coming down to Barracane at some point.’

  ‘Fine, of course. Any idea when?’

  ‘Not sure, it all depends on the special long weekend holiday that’s being planned at Enid’s school. Apparently the teachers need a couple of extra training days to get to grips with the new curriculum, though why they can’t do it in the holidays I don’t know. I blame Brexit.’

  ‘Okay, well I’ll look forward to seeing you both sometime soon.’