by Jane Fallon
‘Evening,’ I said and they both jumped. We all dissolved into fits. Me out of nerves, them from the shock of seeing me standing there, I imagine.
‘OK. So I’m just going to walk out again and pretend I didn’t see that.’
‘He’s teaching me the descant,’ Michelle said, laughing.
‘Oh! I thought you’d hurt yourself.’
She gave me a look. ‘Very funny.’
‘Here,’ Adam said, ladling some evil-looking red stuff from a saucepan into a glass. ‘We’ve made mulled wine.’
‘It’s only the second of December,’ I said, accepting the warm glass.
‘Exactly. It’s December. That means it’s Christmas.’
‘Oh no. You’re not one of those people, are you?’
‘What people?’
I pulled a face. ‘The month-of-forced-jollity brigade?’
‘What can I say? I’m full of the joys of the season.’
‘Don’t mind Tam,’ Michelle chipped in. ‘She goes a bit Scrooge when it comes to Christmas.’
‘That is so not true. I love Christmas. I just love it at Christmas. Not for weeks before.’
‘Well, I warn you,’ Adam butted in, ‘I am going to be unbearable, then, because I can’t get enough of it.’
‘That’s what comes of spending all your time with teenagers,’ I said, reaching over and picking up a cucumber to slice. ‘You have arrested development.’
‘Adam’s helping teach the school choir for their carol concert,’ Michelle said, like a proud parent.
‘Jesus Christ. I thought most of the kids you taught were basically feral.’
‘They are. But they get to miss maths for a week to come and rehearse. You’d be surprised how many of them have discovered a love of singing. You’re welcome to come, by the way.’
‘I think I’m busy that night.’
He laughed. ‘I haven’t told you when it is yet.’
‘I know. Just assume I’m busy every night. Very, very busy.’
‘Well I’d love to come,’ Michelle said and Adam flashed her a smile that spoke volumes.
‘Great,’ he said. ‘I can show you my chair in the staff room. It’s very exciting.’
‘God, I need to sit down.’
Adam was on a fitness drive. This involved him joining me and Ron on walks to Primrose Hill, and occasionally running round in a big circle while I sat on a bench and watched. A delighted Ron trotted after him, tail wagging, tongue hanging out. Both of them panting. It was a bit like having two dogs.
It was paying off, too. He looked a little firmer round the jaw. I wanted to tell him not to go too far. He was perfect as he was. But it was nothing to do with me any more. Not that it ever had been, except in my fantasies.
I had been trying to find an in to the Michelle conversation for a few days. I didn’t know if I kept putting it off because I was scared of fucking it up or because I was scared of what might happen next.
‘You’re trying to do too much too soon. You have to build up to it.’
‘Says the expert.’ He flopped down beside me, Ron at his feet.
‘Actually, I have lost a couple of pounds lately. No idea why, though. Really I was just trying to give you an excuse to stop.’
‘Ah. In which case you’re an authority and I need to do what you say.’
‘I have a date tomorrow night,’ I said as we sat staring off into the distance. I didn’t. I was using this as a segue into the talk I really wanted to have, but also because I thought it might be an idea to put a full stop on it if – and I really didn’t think this was the case – Adam was harbouring any of the same clandestine thoughts about us as me.
Since Michelle’s revelation I had been trying to wean myself off my crush. I had been pointing out all of Adam’s faults to myself. Reminding myself that physically I would not have looked at him twice before I got to know him. I couldn’t tell if it was working. I still felt the urge to reach out and grab his fingerless gloved hand, but maybe it didn’t feel as overwhelming as it had done. I wasn’t sure.
What was stupid was I didn’t even know if he liked Michelle. If I found out he wasn’t interested maybe I could still hold out hope for myself. Eventually. So it wouldn’t feel like I was stepping in and stealing him from under her nose. I knew he should like her, though. If he knew what was good for him.
‘Other Half?’
‘Yup.’
‘Excellent,’ he said. ‘Tell me all about him. Good sense of humour? Must love dogs?’
‘God knows. He looks OK in his picture. Works in the theatre. That’s about it.’
‘What’s his name?’
‘Um … Tim. Or Tom. Something like that. I don’t know why I’m going, really.’
‘Find out first, won’t you? Because calling him by the wrong name really isn’t the way to a man’s heart.’
‘How about you? Any action?’
He shook his head. ‘No.’
I felt a rush of relief, and then I remembered why I was there. Here goes. ‘I was wondering whether to suggest Michelle try it.’
He laughed. ‘Because of how successful we’ve been?’
‘Exactly. Do you think it’s too soon for her to be dating again?’
‘God, no. Although she might think so.’
‘I wouldn’t think she’d need to go online, though. I mean, she’s so attractive …’
I waited. Tried to gauge his reaction.
‘Mmm.’
Great. Very conclusive.
I tried again. ‘Maybe we should try and think of someone for her. Do you know any nice men?’
‘That’s always a disaster, don’t you think? Our idea of who’s nice might be her worst nightmare.’
‘She needs someone kind. Someone who’ll be good to her. She doesn’t care about looks,’ I added hastily. Did I imagine it? Did his ears prick up a bit at that last remark?
‘I’d say Patrick was up there in the looks department. Isn’t he? Although I’m not an expert on men’s sex appeal. I always thought John Stapleton was sexy.’
‘What? Anyway – exactly. And look at what a shit he turned out to be. Patrick that is. Not John Stapleton. Besides, Michelle’s never really cared about any of that. Patrick was just an aberration.’
He pulled the sleeve of his hoody down over his hand. It had turned cold. ‘I think Michelle’s too good for Other Half.’
‘Unlike us, you mean?
He laughed. ‘Right. I can’t imagine her dealing with all the bullshit.’
‘You’re on there. You turned out to be who you said you were. Apart from the very amicable divorce bit.’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘How do you know? I could have a wife and six children squirrelled away somewhere. Or be a serial killer. Just one who likes to get to know his victims very, very well first.’
‘Oh I always assumed both those things about you. You’re right about Michelle, though. She’s way too trusting. She needs to meet someone the old-fashioned way.’
‘Maybe you should encourage her to … I don’t know … join a salsa class or something.’
Oh, for God’s sake. ‘What about you? You’re single. And normal. Ish.’
He snorted. ‘She’s not going to want to go on a date with me.’
‘Would you want to, though? I mean, if she did?’
‘She wouldn’t.’
‘Hypothetically.’
‘I’d have thought Michelle could pretty much have her pick of—’
‘For Christ’s sake, Adam! Do y
ou fancy her or not, because she does you …’
That shut him up.
‘And if you don’t that’s obviously fine, but please don’t tell her I just out and out told you, because I was supposed to be subtle.’
‘Well, that went well.’ He had a little smile on his face and I knew that any ideas I’d been harbouring about me and him together were over.
‘And if you do think you like her and you end up getting together, just know that if you do anything to hurt her I will kill you.’
‘Trust me, I’ve seen what you’re like when someone crosses you …’
‘When someone crosses Mich. There’s a difference.’
‘Does she really …? I mean …’
I nodded. ‘God knows why.’
‘Desperation?’ he said, and that made me laugh.
‘Probably. You’re interested then?’
‘God, yes. She’s lovely. I just never thought …’
‘I mean it, Adam. Don’t ask her out unless you really think there’s something there. Beyond the obvious.’
‘I think she’s pretty perfect.’
‘And you have to let me hang out with the two of you and not feel like some kind of spare part saddo.’
‘Oh God. It won’t make any difference to us, will it? You’re my best mate.’
Was I? I took in what he said and tried it on for size. Discovered I liked it.
‘Not if we don’t let it.’
‘Never. I mean, I can imagine a beautiful life with Michelle and babies and happiness, but I’d still need someone to sit in the pub and moan about the wife to every now and then.’
‘I look forward to it.’
He looked at me. He had finally stopped sweating. ‘This isn’t some kind of elaborate wind-up is it?’
I rolled my eyes.
‘Wow. So what do I do? Ask her on a date?’
‘I think that’s how it works.’
‘As my Year Eights would say, “Shit just got real.”’
‘That’s because they’re thirteen-year-old halfwits. You, on the other hand, are an articulate forty-two-year-old man, so please don’t.’
‘True dat.’
I snorted. ‘OK. I’m leaving now. Call me when you hit puberty.’
I stood up, clipped Ron’s lead onto his collar.
‘I’m heading home for a shower,’ Adam said. ‘I’ll call you later.’
He gave me a hug. Slapped me on the back. I did the same in return.
74
Tamsin
Both Michelle and Adam have insisted that I join them later, even though I tried to protest that crashing their first date was a bit extreme, even for me. In response, Michelle announced they were intending to have a meal at the tapas place on Haverstock Hill that is in walking distance of my flat, and that they were planning on dropping round afterwards whether I liked it or not.
I’ve spent the evening watching TV, wrapping the odd Christmas present (some chocolate-scented body butter for Anne Marie, a scarf from Ted Baker for Ian) and both thinking about and trying not to think about what’s happening down the road.
My inappropriate crush on Adam is receding, but it’s not fully gone yet. I can’t quite let go of the picture I’d created of future us laughing our way into old age. I just have to adjust it. Tweak the dial. Because have no doubt, if he and Michelle decide to go for it there is no chance I will ever be found half naked rolling round on my sofa with him. Even if he wanted to, which he doesn’t and never would. Do I think I’d ever have to worry about Adam being loyal to her? Not for a moment. That man is made out of principles.
I can’t ever take back what I did with Patrick, but now I feel as though I can make amends. I can bring together the two people I love most in the world and watch them forge a happy future. The thought of it makes me cry, but it makes me feel good, too. I’m doing the right thing.
And let’s face it, in the long run Michelle will be ten times happier with Adam than she ever could have been with Patrick, so maybe I did her a favour. Not that I imagine she would ever see it like that.
Do I worry that Adam will ever reveal my secret to her? Not for a second. It would hurt her too much and there’s no way he would let that happen.
The doorbell rings and Ron jumps up and starts to run round in circles. I buzz them in and I know as soon as I see their faces that it’s gone well. They look like two excited children on Christmas Eve. Knowing without a doubt that there are treats on the horizon.
I wait for a pang of envy. Instead I feel a warm glow. A proud parent.
‘So?’ I say before they’ve even taken their coats off.
‘Awful,’ Adam says. ‘I forgot that I’ve only ever seen Michelle when you’ve been there, too. When you’re not she’s like a completely different person. Racist. Homophobic. She called one of the waiters a snivelling little pleb because he dropped her napkin …’
Michelle squeals her disapproval. ‘Obviously none of that is true.’
I join in. ‘Well you did once tell a taxi driver he was a lowlife piece of dog shit because he went up Fitzjohns Avenue instead of through Primrose Hill.’
‘I did not!’ She turns to Adam laughing. ‘That never happened.’
Adam tuts theatrically, shakes his head. ‘It’s always the ones you least expect.’
Michelle ignores him. ‘I’m having a glass of wine. Anyone else?’
She pours for all of us and we flop down – me on the armchair, Adam and Michelle next to each other on the sofa. At one point one of them – I don’t see which – slips their hand into the other’s. I feel happy, sad, envious and relieved all at once. A cocktail of conflicting emotions.
Ron hauls himself up onto the chair next to me, huffing and puffing with the effort. He snuggles in the space between me and the arm, head on my lap, and starts snoring almost immediately. I ruffle his wiry ears.
‘Oh, Adam and I are going to go Christmas shopping at Selfridges after work tomorrow, do you want to come?’ Michelle says. ‘We could eat in St Christopher’s Place somewhere.’
‘Oh … I’m not sure …’ I know they want to be inclusive, to show me that them getting together doesn’t mean I’m out in the cold, but I don’t want to get in the way of their blossoming romance.
‘You have to,’ Adam says. ‘That way Mich can shop and we can moan.’
Michelle pulls a face at him. ‘And you have to be there to help me choose something for Mum and Dad.’
‘OK. But don’t start thinking you have to invite me along on all of your dates because that would be weird.’
‘Just the really intimate ones,’ Adam says.
Before they leave – Adam is taking her home before heading off himself as he has school in the morning. And I don’t imagine either of them are sex-on-the-first-date people – Michelle and I are on our own for a couple of minutes while he’s in the loo.
‘You had a good time then?’
She looks at me. Eyes shining. ‘It was lovely. I felt so comfortable. There was none of that first-date awkwardness.’
‘Because you know him so well already.’
‘Exactly. I feel so happy. Really properly happy for the first time in ages.’
‘Well, you deserve to be.’
‘It’s funny how things work out, isn’t it?’
‘Sometimes you have to go through all the shit to get to the gravy.’
‘Descartes?’ She laughs.
‘One of Adam’s pupils, I think.’
‘Very profound.’<
br />
They leave in a flurry of coats and scarves and promises to meet up tomorrow. I pour myself another glass of wine, settle on the sofa with Ron. I feel relaxed in a way I haven’t done for months. The nagging, self-loathing voice in my head seems finally to have stopped. I sit down at my computer. Log on to Other Half.
I look down at Ron, scratch his head and he sighs with ecstasy.
I feel OK.
1
Paula
I want to make my husband fall back in love with me.
Let me explain. This isn’t an exercise in fifties wifeydom. I haven’t been reading articles in old women’s magazines. ‘Twenty ways to keep your man’. That couldn’t be further from the truth.
I want him to fall back in love with me so that when I tell him to fuck off out of my life he’ll care. Or at least it’ll register. He won’t just think, ‘Oh good.’
I want it to hurt.
Robert is sitting at the breakfast bar in the kitchen while I cook. Oblivious. Nose in his phone. Thumbs tapping away at the keyboard like a teenager. Probably texting her. He has no idea that I know. He looks like the same person. The person who, yesterday, was just my husband, the man I’ve been married to for eighteen years. Today he’s someone who is cheating on his wife. I find myself staring at him, trying to look for tell-tale signs. How could I not have known? He looks up and smiles.
‘What? What have I done?’
As he talks he tilts the screen of his mobile away from me slightly. He probably doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.
I try to mirror his smile. ‘Nothing. I was just thinking.’
He picks up the bottle and refills my glass and then his. This has always been our ritual whenever he’s home in the evenings. I potter around making dinner while he perches on a stool and fills me in on the goings-on at work. Although these days he’s more likely to keep one eye on his phone and only give me half his attention. At least now I know why.
‘Dangerous,’ he says now. ‘Too much thinking never did anyone any good.’
I force a laugh. ‘Well, lucky I don’t do it too often then. Actually, I was trying to decide whether to do rice or mash, so it really was life-altering stuff.’
‘Surprise me. Want any help?’