The Younger Man

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by Sarah Tucker


  As I’m sitting there with tea and cake, talking to his dad about tennis and tennis knee and how they have much better cartilage operations these days, and to his mum about being an only child, and do I ever miss having brothers and sisters—and I say no, because I never had any, so don’t know what I’m missing, I think of my own parents. And how much I miss them. And how much I wish I could have introduced Joe to them. I wonder how he would have been. How he would have reacted to my mum’s faux pas and my dad’s dry sense of humour. I think he would have liked my dad. I think he would. I can hear my dad whispering to me now. I can sense he’s smiling at me, and laughing. I think about my dad as I’m listening to Norman talk about Joe as a little boy. I can feel his arms around me, holding me tight as he did when I was a girl. Like when I used to watch Doctor Who when I was little and I would hide underneath his jumper and watch through the holes at the Daleks and the Cybermen and that episode where the shop mannequin dolls came alive and walk out of the shop window and kill people with their plastic grip. And Mum would come into the sitting room and complain that I was stretching Dad’s jumper and Dad would look up and tell her it didn’t matter, and she would say it did, because she had to wash the bloody thing. And I would stay underneath the jumper, snuggling up, safe from the Daleks being destroyed by Jon Pertwee, who always was the best, most effective Doctor Who in my opinion. If Mum and Dad were alive they’d be over eighty now. My mother would have probably become more neurotic and my father more browbeaten but still the kind gentle soul I remember. He would always say to me, ‘Be patient with your mother, Hazel, be patient. She says stupid things, but she loves you. Remember, if you can’t say something good about someone, don’t say anything at all’. My dad would have made a lousy divorce lawyer.

  As we leave, as the sun is setting, Sheila tells me it was lovely to meet me (I hope it was) and Norman hugs me and tells me that he hopes we meet soon.

  ‘I’m not as good a cook as Sheila unfortunately.’

  ‘Don’t worry, we’ll eat anything, within reason, and if it’s really bad, we’ll bring our own.’

  I think he would have got on well with my dad. And may even have charmed my mother into silence. Well, perhaps not silence. Perhaps gentle banter.

  ‘Do you think they like me?’ I whisper to Joe after five minutes silence in the car.

  ‘Of course. Mum even thought you looked much younger than forty. She said you reminded her of herself when she was younger.’

  ‘Is that a good thing?’

  ‘I think so. Only she was worried Dad might fancy you, too.’

  Joe looks at me and smiles. I know he’s joking this time. ‘They also said they would love to meet again, so if you do want to invite them around, they’ll be happy to come.’

  ‘So they don’t mind their little boy going out with an older woman then?’

  ‘Oh, no, Mum actually said she wished she’d done it. Not in front of my dad of course. It’s just that women age more slowly than men. The age difference isn’t so much when you’re in your twenties, thirties, forties, fifties or even sixties. But when you get older the ten-year gap means more. You become a carer, which Mum is becoming. I don’t somehow think I’ll be looking after you. It will be the other way round.’

  ‘So you don’t see yourself with a younger woman?’

  ‘Younger women irritate me, Hazel. I have nothing in common with them. And anyway, what would I want with one when I have an older one with the body of someone ten years her junior.’

  Joe’s still saying the right thing, at the right time, in the right way. That evening, after Joe drops me off, giving me a long, passionate snog on my doorstep, (no groping, which is so rare and romantic these days—plus he knows I’ve got to be there for Doreen the next day) I call Fran.

  ‘How are you, darling?’ she asks.

  ‘Oh fine, just met Joe’s parents.’

  ‘Nice?’

  ‘Wonderful. But you don’t like someone for their parents, do you?’

  ‘It helps. I don’t particularly like Daniel’s, but he’s worth it. Worth the hassle.’

  I notice Fran’s a bit down. Her voice sounds slightly lower and she’s talking more slowly.

  ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘Oh yes, fine, still having last-minute doubts. Could we meet? I’ve got something to tell you. Something I want to discuss.’

  ‘Can’t it wait till tomorrow, when we go to see Doreen?’

  ‘Not really. It’s just that, well, I’m pregnant.’

  ‘Well done.’

  ‘Yep. Only problem is, it’s not Daniel’s.’

  Chapter Nineteen

  Fran’s Last Year of Being Single

  Fran is surprising me. She’s on the phone at one in the morning. She’s pregnant with another man’s baby one month before she’s due to be married to Daniel. The man she’s cherished for nearly ten years. She’s waited for this moment and she’s got pregnant by another man. It’s not the sort of discussion you should have over the phone with a best friend. We’re with Doreen tomorrow and, well, that’s enough stress for all of us for the next ten years, not just the next twelve months.

  My mind is full of so many questions. Whose is it, what’s she going to do about it, how did she find time, does she love him, does Daniel know, does she love Daniel, is she going through with the wedding, does anyone else know, is she going to have the baby, how does she feel, does she want a hug, does she know of a clinic? I know Fran has thought of all those questions and probably the answers as well and she will tell me in her own time. She does.

  ‘Hazel, I met Paul six months ago at work. There was a physical attraction, but I obviously didn’t pursue it because, well, I’m getting married and he knew it. But we had lunch and tea and coffee after work, that sort of thing, and we made each other laugh. It was fun, and a bit like Daniel and I were at the beginning of our relationship. But it’s not like that anymore. We’ve grown apart. And the irony is, we’re getting married and we’ve grown apart.’

  I say nothing. I just listen. She expects me to speak, but when I don’t, she continues.

  ‘I had sex with him a few months ago, just before you went in for the Brazilian but I didn’t want to tell you then. I wanted to, but couldn’t. I just felt it was last-minute nerves and if anything happened it would be like the last fling. And I’m sensible. Everyone says I’m sensible and I don’t do this sort of thing. You know, behave irresponsibly. But do you know, I wanted to. I’m almost forty and I wanted to do something mad and bad and, well, dangerous, and be wild and adventurous, which I’ve never been in my life. Never been allowed to be and this was it. So I went away with Paul. For a weekend to Le Manoir, Raymond Blanc’s place. We had the Provence Room, very romantic and lots of eating in the room, and off each other, and I was terrified we would be found out but it made the moments even more intense and exciting. Paul’s lovely and I think it’s just lust, not love, but we do have a chemistry. And he’s just divorced himself and likes me, but it may have been a rebound thing, so I’m not sure, but it’s been good so far. You know, what you feel for Joe, I feel for Paul. That buzz. And I don’t feel that for Daniel anymore, but I know that doesn’t last. Does it?’

  She doesn’t wait for me to answer. I think it’s rhetorical anyway.

  ‘Paul knows it was only a passing thing, but we’ve become involved and he doesn’t think I’m being honest with myself and I don’t either, but I’ve got to go through with it. But I can’t have an abortion yet, I’ve got to wait until it’s twelve weeks. And, well, I’m on honeymoon then. Honeymoon. So do I just have the baby and pretend it’s Daniel’s, because I don’t want to abort, or do I come clean with him and admit to the affair and the baby and go our separate ways? I can’t talk to my parents or his parents. And I’m not ready for marriage to Daniel. I don’t feel ready for marriage. I may be forty, but I’m not ready. Some women are in their twenties, but I don’t think I will ever be. And Daniel is wonderful if a bit conventional and I’m not the woman
he first met and I’d make him very unhappy.’

  Slight pause for breath.

  ‘So what do you think I should do?’

  There are some women you expect in life to behave irrationally. There are others you think will never, ever behave in any way that is irresponsible. Fran is one of them. She is as black and white as they come. She is the I dotter and T crosser to end all anal but loveable people. I’m gobsmacked and anxious for her at the same time. She hasn’t been able to share and talk to anyone about this and it would have helped perhaps if she could have done. If she could have spoken to us at Le Pont, or when we went to EuroDisney, or me, at the health club. I’m her best friend and she couldn’t talk to me. But then again, neither could Doreen tell us about the lump. What is it with my friends? I think we can share everything and find out they all have secrets they keep to themselves until it is too late. Until they realise they can’t handle it alone and they need help. They need help.

  ‘And I wanted to tell you at your birthday, I felt I could and then Doreen told you about her lump and it wasn’t appropriate. And I wanted to tell you about the baby at EuroDisney but then Valerie had her baby and then there was Le Pont but Carron was sobbing and it wasn’t right. The timing wasn’t right. My timing isn’t right.’

  At least I feel I’m not the only one who gets her timing wrong sometimes.

  ‘Are you still there?’

  I haven’t said anything and Fran is asking me if I’m still there.

  ‘Yes. I’m still here. Fran, how can I help?’

  ‘How can you help? I’ve balanced what I should do. I’ve balanced what I should do, do my duty, and I’ve balanced what I should do, for Fran, for me.’

  ‘And what should you do for you? What do you want to do?’

  ‘For the day, for the moment, I should go through with the wedding, because that is what everyone expects and I will go down that aisle and be a good wife to Daniel and love him and be faithful to him and have a quickie abortion when I return from honeymoon. That is what I will do. I will not see Paul again. He doesn’t know about the baby and that’s for the best. That is what I should do.’

  Fran does not say this with conviction.

  ‘You are not saying this with conviction, Fran. I’m not convinced this is what you want to do.’

  ‘What I want to do. What mad Fran wants to do, is to have the baby, cancel the wedding and run off with Paul and take a risk. I want to go for it and have the baby and do it with grace. But Daniel wouldn’t understand and my family would disown me and if I felt I made a mistake I could never go back on this. And Daniel would never forgive me and I would lose a friend and he wouldn’t understand, would he? He wouldn’t understand. And then it would be nasty and he would get nasty. And I know you’ve always thought he’s wet and a bit of a drip, but he’s got a dark side and he’d get nasty.’

  I listen to Fran.

  ‘Do you want to marry a man with a dark side who would get nasty? If he loves you, he will be upset but he will let you go. It’s a lot to ask of a man to forgive you, but it’s more to ask of him to marry you and then tell him later on, perhaps even on your honeymoon when you’ve had too much to drink and are overridden with guilt, that you have someone else’s baby and you’re not sure you’ve done the right thing and you may do that.’

  ‘Never.’

  ‘Why not? I did something similar. Women all over the world, Fran, walk down that aisle and are totally unsure they are doing the right thing. I get hundreds of clients say the same thing—both men and women.’

  ‘It’s just something to cover their own back because they feel a failure. That their life has been a failure.’

  ‘I agree. But they went through with it. They did what they thought was the right thing and they lived to regret it. Not all of it perhaps, not having the children bit, but they lived to regret the other bit. And when you walk down that aisle, Fran, you should be a hundred percent sure you are doing the right thing.’

  ‘Can anyone be a hundred percent sure of anything?’

  ‘When you get married, yes. When you get married.’

  I can sense Fran is silently crying.

  ‘Do you want the baby?’

  ‘I would like the baby, it may be the last opportunity I have to have a baby. I know what trouble and pain Valerie went through to have Nelly. I would like this baby. Paul is a good man. I have money. I could bring it up myself.’

  ‘Bringing up a baby by yourself is not easy, even when you have money.’

  ‘I know, but I want this baby and I can’t ask Daniel to support me and I can’t lie to Daniel about the baby being his.’

  ‘Hate to ask, but don’t you use contraception?’

  ‘I do, but, well, it didn’t work. Condom broke.’

  ‘Right, so it was heat of the moment passion.’

  ‘Quite.’

  ‘Worth it?’

  ‘I don’t know. We’ll see, won’t we.’

  ‘So you don’t want an abortion. You don’t want to marry Daniel and you don’t necessarily want to be with the father.’

  ‘Correct.’

  ‘Then you’ve made your decision.’

  ‘But is it the right one?’

  ‘It’s the right one for you, Fran. I will support you in anything you do. As will your friends. Just wish you’d told me before.’

  ‘I know, but we’ve all got a lot on our plates.’

  ‘I know, but we’re friends and if you can’t talk to friends who can you talk to?’

  ‘I couldn’t tell my parents.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘I couldn’t tell Daniel.’

  ‘I know. Thank you for telling me.’

  Silence again. Then Fran says, ‘I’ll see you tomorrow at the hospital with Doreen. Don’t mention anything to her.’

  ‘I won’t if you don’t want me to, but I think she’d like her mind taken off her own problems and think this will distract her. Certainly distracted me.’

  ‘Distracted you from what?’

  ‘Oh, how Joe’s parents were lovely. Made me feel part of the family and I felt, well, very loved up and safe and, well, happy.’

  ‘What’s wrong with that?’

  ‘Because I don’t like feeling too happy. I always think nature has a way of balancing things out and something bad is round the corner.’

  ‘Like this.’

  ‘No, this is not bad. Perhaps the timing was good, Fran, and it’s a sign telling you not to marry. That your life is beginning like Valerie’s is, with a new baby and that’s what it’s all about. Sometimes things don’t go to plan and that’s what makes life fun and exciting and dangerous and unexpected and we’re old and strong enough now to deal with the curve balls that we couldn’t when we were in our twenties.’

  ‘You think so?’

  ‘I know so.’

  ‘Will you be there when I have the baby?’

  ‘Of course. I will also be there if you need some support to tell Daniel and cancel arrangements. I won’t ask how he will react.’

  ‘Badly, but that’s to be expected.’

  ‘How about Paul?’

  ‘He has three children already but I don’t know.’

  ‘Why couldn’t you wait to have Daniel’s?’

  ‘I don’t want Daniel’s, Hazel. How can I want Daniel’s if I’ve done something like this to him?’

  ‘What have you done to him? You’re not married to him.’

  ‘I’ve been unfaithful.’

  ‘You’ve been unfaithful because you were unhappy. Because you are unhappy. Was this an aberration?’

  ‘Well, no.’

  ‘Well, then, you’ve saved him and saved yourself. And as your maid of honour I’m telling you to not go down that aisle.’

  ‘But all the guests, what do I tell them?’

  ‘I will help you tell them. That you’ve called it off. Not postponed it. Called it off. Then you’re not clock-watching for the next round. And be straight, or as straight as you ca
n be with Daniel. Say you’re unhappy and can’t marry him and say you’re sorry but that’s how you feel and see what he says. Listen to what he says.’

  ‘I will. Love you, Hazel.’

  ‘Love you, too.’

  I put the phone down. My hands are shaking. They’re shaking because this is such a weird conversation and a weird day and I wish, how I wish someone had had that conversation with me before I married David, but then I wouldn’t have had Sarah. So perhaps everything happens for a reason. And that’s all I can think about Fran. That this has happened for a reason.

  Chapter Twenty

  Foreplay

  Rip.

  Sunday morning at GoForIt and Angie’s going for it on the under arms and half leg today. As well as the arrow, which I’ve grown quite fond of over the past few months. I’m updating her on my life.

  ‘Has he seen it yet?’ she asks.

  ‘Has who seen what yet?’

  ‘Has your new man seen the arrow?’

  ‘No, Angie. No. We haven’t had sex, though I think I’m falling in love with someone I haven’t made love to. It’s been some time since Joe parted with his girlfriend, but we still haven’t made love. I know it’s weird.’

  ‘I don’t think it’s weird. Perhaps a little unconventional, but think it’s rather charming actually. Now legs apart.’

  I do as Angie says.

  ‘I’ve never done it this way before. It’s always been sex as starters, main course and dessert, but at the age of forty, I’m now finding the excitement in the anticipation. The anticipation of getting naked, of liking and falling in love with someone before making love. My time with Joe—at work and out of it—is one long foreplay. It’s been a strangely nonsexual foreplay. Which is unusual for me, because I’m a sexual being.’

 

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