Moving On (2011)

by Jacobs, Anna

  ‘Only because they stopped you, apparently.’

  ‘They were just joking. I wouldn’t.’

  ‘Somehow I don’t think it was a joke. They were too drunk to do anything but tell the truth. In vino veritas.’

  She watched resentfully as he hung up his outdoor things and shut the wardrobe door. Mr Perfect he was, always keeping things tidy.

  When he went back into the living room, he picked up a book and began to read it.

  How dare he ignore her? She twitched the book out of his hand. ‘Don’t read. Talk to me. I’ve been on my own all day, well, except for a phone call from Brian.’

  He picked up his book from where she’d tossed it on the floor and straightened the pages, then put it carefully on the arm of his chair, keeping one hand on it. ‘What did your brother want?’

  ‘To tell me that Mr Benton had died, the old man next door to Mum’s. Brian wanted me to write Mrs Benton a letter of condolence. As if.’

  She’d dismissed that idea so casually, Jamie frowned at her. ‘Can you not spare the time even to write a letter or send a card?’

  ‘What’s it to do with me? I don’t live there any more. Mum will write and— Oh no, she’s not living there now, either, so she might not know.’ Her face brightened. ‘But Brian said he’d write, so that’s OK.’

  It was the final straw, that casual dismissal of the death of an old man who’d been charming and whose wife of many years would no doubt be dreadfully upset. Jamie stood up, knowing he couldn’t take any more. Just . . . couldn’t. It seemed wrong to say something like this sitting down.

  He took a deep breath. This wasn’t going to be easy. ‘We made a mistake, Rachel.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Getting married was a mistake. I don’t want to spend my life with you. We don’t have enough in common. I’m sorry, really sorry. I’ve been thinking about it for a while and I won’t change my mind. I’ll move out and leave this flat for you.’

  She’d been staring at him in growing horror as his words sank in, but now she suddenly clutched his arm. ‘You can’t mean that. If it’s about the clubbing, I won’t go again. Jamie, tell me you don’t mean that. Tell me you’re just trying to frighten me into doing what you want. And I will. I promise I will.’

  He had to unclench her fingers to get her hand off him, she was clutching him so tightly. ‘I’m not trying to make you do anything, Rach. I’m trying to tell you that except for making love, you and I have nothing in common. Absolutely nothing. What’s more, I don’t like living with you. You’re a slob. This place is filthy.’

  He’d expected her to scream at him, but she didn’t. She stood and stared in complete silence, her beautiful eyes huge; her whole face tragic.

  The trouble was, he’d learned that the expressions on her face meant very little. She got that tragic look if she spilled her favourite perfume or burned a piece of toast and couldn’t get it out of the toaster.

  ‘I’ll go and pack my things, get it over with.’ He remembered suddenly the tales of women cutting up their husband’s clothes because they were leaving, and changed his mind about taking only minimal stuff. He’d take everything in one fell swoop. His parents would let him stay with them temporarily, he was sure.

  It took him nearly three hours to pack, and he had to fight her off to keep her from pulling his stuff out of the case again. It was a good thing he’d bought some new bin liners, because he filled them too.

  She kept flinging herself between him and his packing, begging him to give her another chance.

  He spoke to her gently each time. ‘It won’t work, Rach.’

  ‘But we’re married. And we’ve only been married for two months. You’re not giving it a chance.’

  ‘I think all the fuss about the wedding hid how incompatible we were before. We were so busy we never stopped to talk about anything else. Our marriage won’t work. Not ever. We’re too different, in every way that counts.’

  ‘But we’re so good in bed.’

  ‘That’s not what marriage is about, well, not the only thing.’

  ‘What will people say?’

  ‘I don’t care what people say.’

  She hurled his shaver across the room then turned to look for something else to throw.

  ‘If you damage any more of my things, I’m calling in the police.’

  She lay down across the bedroom doorway.

  He continued packing, then stepped across her, only she caught hold of his leg and tripped him up. He cracked his head on the corner of a table and for a minute could only lie there, stunned.

  ‘I’ve killed him! Jamie, speak to me. Jamie! I’m sorry. Sorry, sorry, sorry.’

  He got to his feet. ‘I’m all right.’ He caught sight of himself in the mirror. ‘I’m going to have a black eye tomorrow, though.’

  Someone knocked on the door. ‘Mr Thomas! Are you all right?’ He hesitated, then went to answer it and found the lady from the next flat looking up at him.

  ‘You’ve hurt yourself.’

  ‘Go away, you stupid bitch!’ Rachel yelled. ‘He’s leaving me and I don’t need you poking your nose into it.’

  Their neighbour glanced from Rachel back to Jamie.

  ‘I tripped,’ he said.

  ‘Or you were pushed,’ she said. ‘The walls are quite thin. I’m afraid I could hear a lot of what was going on.’

  He shrugged, then turned as there was the sound of something else smashing in the bedroom. He ran across to see Rachel standing triumphantly over the ruins of his computer.

  He wanted to weep that it should descend to this, but he forced himself to think. ‘Mrs Upperton, could you please come and witness this?’

  ‘My pleasure.’

  That reminded him that Rachel had upset her a few times now with loud music and been totally unrepentant. ‘And if you could bear to stay while I take the rest of my things on to the landing?’

  ‘Put them in my flat till you can call a cab.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  It was an hour before he was clear, and he took the ruins of his computer with him in case any data could be salvaged from the hard disk.

  He didn’t ring his parents, couldn’t talk about this on the phone.

  When he knocked on their door, his father answered, already in pyjamas and dressing gown.

  ‘I’ve left Rachel. Can I come here temporarily?’

  ‘Of course, son. Need a hand with your stuff?’

  ‘No. The driver and I can manage. Where shall I put them?’

  ‘Your old bedroom is still empty. Why not go back there?’

  He saw his mother standing in the doorway of the living room. ‘I’m all right,’ he assured her. ‘I could do with something to eat, though, if you don’t mind?’

  She nodded and walked off to the kitchen.

  When he’d got his things into his old room, Jamie went downstairs.

  ‘You don’t have to tell us the details, if you’d rather not,’ his mother said. ‘And you can stay as long as you like.’

  Everything twisted round in his head then, and he found himself sobbing against her like a stupid child.

  Thirteen

  Craig went to work early on the Monday. Tasha was in a picky mood, and was letting him know it, so he decided it’d be a good day to go off to the gym. He grinned as he sat down at his desk afterwards. She certainly knew how to go straight for what she wanted. But she was good value as a wife, and he preferred her sharpness any day to Molly’s slackness and poor appearance.

  He had a good day and as usual time flew past. Most of the accounts he managed were flourishing and salesmen from his area were bringing in more orders than any other group in the company. They might grumble at the way he kept a close eye on them and directed what they did, but he always told them to look at the commissions they were earning and decide what they wanted out of life: money or a touchy-feely boss.

  As he was crossing the hall to the executive coffee-making area, a woman came down th
e corridor from her husband’s office. Sour-faced old bitch, he thought as he smiled brightly at her. ‘Hi, Ginny. You’re looking well today.’

  She stopped and smiled back, pretending to be glad to see him, but he knew better.

  ‘So are you, Craig. But then, you always do. Heard from Molly lately?’

  ‘No. Should I have?’

  ‘I thought you might have done now she’s settled somewhere. We ran into her this weekend.’

  He’d been going to move on, but swung round. ‘Where?’ Damn, he’d given himself away. She was smiling like a cat tormenting a mouse.

  ‘Wouldn’t you like to know?’

  ‘Ginny, don’t play games with me. The whole family is anxious about her because she’s not the sort to cope well on her own. And she is still the mother of my children, even if we’re no longer married.’

  She pretended to consider, then shrugged. ‘Well, for your children’s sake, then. Molly’s selling houses in Wiltshire – or more likely not selling them. One can’t imagine her working successfully in sales, can one?’

  ‘Wiltshire? Whereabouts exactly?’

  When they’d finished their chat, Craig moved on, trying to work out what to do about his damned ex. He’d thought he was driving her gradually to the point of selling to him and now, it seemed, she’d not only rented the house to Stuart Benton, who wouldn’t be easy to frighten off, but she was making a living – though he agreed with Ginny for once: a more unlikely saleswoman than Molly would be hard to imagine.

  He didn’t like to think of her living comfortably, not needing to sell the house. The stupid bitch didn’t deserve a place like that, and if she wasn’t going to live in Lavengro Road, why was she being so obstinate about selling it to him? He could raise his price a little, but he wasn’t flush at the moment, because of the wedding, and he couldn’t go much higher. Who’d have thought a one-day event would cost so much? But he only had one daughter, and even if she’d chosen a no-hoper, he’d wanted to see her off in style.

  Well, Benton might have driven the lads away with his paint gun, but the game wasn’t over yet. There were many ways to kill a cat. Benton’s mother was living next door, and she would make a much more vulnerable target. It’d have to be planned carefully, though. As Tasha said, he didn’t want to risk his job or his good name.

  Whistling cheerfully, he began to plan a little outing for the following weekend. This was something he would enjoy doing.

  Rachel didn’t surface until eleven o’clock on the Monday morning. She thought for a minute or two it was Sunday, then suddenly everything came rushing back to her and she began to sob. Her head ached and her eyes were swollen. She couldn’t possibly go to work.

  It was nearly lunchtime when she plucked up the courage to ring her father. He might be angry, no, he would be angry, but he’d not let her down.

  ‘Daddy, I—?’ She started to cry again.

  ‘Rachel? What’s the matter, princess?’

  ‘It’s Jamie. He’s left me.’

  Dead silence at the other end, then, ‘I’ll just check my diary.’

  She heard him muttering and prayed he’d have some time free.

  ‘Sorry, princess, but I can’t come over till after work. Killer day, here. I’ll ring Tasha and see if she’s free.’

  ‘I don’t want Tasha, I want you. I need you.’

  ‘No can do, baby. Hang in there. I’ll see you as soon after six as I can make it.’

  She heard him put the phone down, and it was a while before she realized what the buzzing tone meant and put her own phone down.

  She got up and stumbled into the bathroom, then went to make herself a cup of coffee. Almost as an afterthought, she made herself a piece of toast and spread it thickly with strawberry jam, suddenly ravenous. Three more slices and she felt a bit better.

  Not knowing what to do, she wandered across to sit on the sofa. Noticing something on the floor, with just a corner showing, she picked it up. Some stupid fantasy novel. She hurled it across the room, but that wasn’t enough, so she went to pick it up and began tearing out the pages.

  ‘Try reading that!’ she panted. ‘You and your stupid books.’

  She looked around for other stuff to take her feelings out on, but could find nothing of his left. Nothing, except for the fragments of his computer. She began to sob again as she swept them up.

  It seemed a long day and in the end she fell asleep on the sofa.

  Molly spent the morning catching up on her washing and cleaning the caravan, which didn’t take long, so she sat and read a romance novel for a while, wishing she had the heroine’s courage to go straight for what she wanted.

  When she saw Euan open the sales office just after lunch, she strolled up, looking forward to work. It was so pleasant living here. Her life had really taken a turn for the better. Even the caravan now seemed like home.

  He smiled at her and pulled her into his arms for a kiss, murmuring against her ear. ‘Mmm. Nice.’

  It was far more than nice. It made her whole body feel alive. She clung on to him, letting her breath out in a long, shuddering sigh, then nestling against him, loving the softness of his sweater against her cheeks, the extra kiss he dropped on her forehead.

  ‘What did you do this morning, Molly my love?’

  ‘Mundane things. Cleaning, washing.’ Who wanted to talk about that? If an imaginary heroine could take the initiative, so could she. ‘Kiss me again, Euan.’

  All thought was suspended till he moved away. She stretched her hand out, not wanting to stop touching him.

  He took her hand but didn’t move closer. ‘We’d better not get too steamy. This place is rather public. Phew! It’s been a long time since I felt like this.’

  ‘It’d been a long time for me, too,’ she admitted. ‘And yet, it feels so right.’

  ‘Would you like to move into the house with me?’

  Her breath caught in her throat but she couldn’t quite take that leap. ‘Isn’t it a bit soon for that? We haven’t even . . . you know, slept together.’

  ‘I don’t think it’s too soon at all. I’m quite sure of my feelings. I knew within two days of meeting Karen that I loved her, and it’s been the same with you. I’m so lucky to have met you. But if you need more time, I’ll not push you. I’m sure you’ll be well worth the wait.’

  He raised her hand to his lips, kissing it to emphasize what he was saying, and she had trouble putting two words together, let alone thinking clearly. ‘I’ll . . . think about it. I . . . hadn’t expected to meet someone – and especially not so quickly.’

  ‘Quickly? You’ve been divorced for over a year, and must have separated at least a year before that.’

  ‘But I only started getting my act together a couple of months ago.’ After the wedding, that dreadful wedding, which had been replaying in her nightmares ever since. ‘Before that I let people – my family – walk all over me.’

  ‘Shame on them!’

  But she’d thought about it a lot since the wedding, knew she couldn’t just blame others, had to take some of the blame herself. ‘Shame on me too. I should have stood up for myself.’

  ‘You’re doing it now. I can’t help hoping you won’t make me wait too long to start sharing our lives, though.’

  He sighed and indicated a pile of papers on the desk. ‘These are messages from this morning when the phone was switched through to Avril. Aha!’ He passed one to her. ‘Looks like you’ve earned your first sales commission. The Sarcens have told Avril they definitely want to buy.’

  Molly glanced down at it and happiness bubbled up inside her, not because of the extra money but because it showed she really could hold her own in the world. ‘I never thought I’d make a sale, I just supposed I’d . . . you know, hold the fort when you were out.’

  ‘You’ve got a good manner, and you don’t push people too hard. It’s how I work myself. Dealing with customers honestly.’

  ‘I couldn’t do it any other way.’

  �
�I know. I must get you a company mobile so that you can start taking messages from your clients after hours – if you don’t mind doing it, that is?’

  ‘The Sarcens are coming in this afternoon to complete the paperwork. Could you go through it with me before then? Or better still, you could deal with the final stages.’

  He gave her a wry smile. ‘I’ll go through it with you when I’ve finished checking these messages, but you’re perfectly capable of dealing with it and the Sarcens trust you.’

  He turned back to the papers, so she dusted the displays and tidied them up, trying not to smile too broadly.

  His phone rang and he picked it up. When he put it down, he stood up. ‘I’ve got to go and see Dan. We need to sort out a few details before we start another row of houses.’

  ‘When will the second row be ready?’

  ‘In about a month, perhaps less. There’s all the painting and finishing to do, but Dan has the teams lined up.’

  When he came back, Euan went through the paperwork with her, and there seemed nothing difficult about it. Why had she been so afraid? It was no more complicated than the family accounts and household business she’d dealt with for years.

  After that he went down to work in his own house and, since there was nothing else to do, Molly braced herself to phone her old neighbour on her mobile. ‘I heard about Denis. I’m so sorry, Jane.’

  ‘Thank you. We knew it was coming and at least this way, he didn’t suffer the final indignities.’

  ‘It must be hard on you.’

  ‘It was always going to be hard to be the survivor. We’ve been together such a lovely long time. I don’t know whether you can get back for the funeral.’

  ‘I hope you’ll forgive me if I don’t. I’d rather not run the risk of bumping into Craig. I know it’s cowardly, but I’m still learning to stand up for myself.’ And was still frightened of meeting him.

  ‘I’m not inviting him to the funeral, but I perfectly understand.’ Jane sighed, and after a short silence said more briskly, ‘So. Tell me about yourself. How are things going?’

  When Molly put the phone down, she thought how brave Jane was being. She wished she were half as brave.