Something Like Love

by Catherine Dunne

  She dialled Sam’s number and measured detergent into the soap drawer while she waited for him to answer.

  ‘Rose?’ His voice sounded alarmed. ‘Is everything all right?’

  She laughed. ‘You wouldn’t believe the number of times I’ve been asked that question in the past few days!’

  Suddenly, Jane’s face appeared at the back door. Rose waved her in, pointed to the kettle. Obediently, Jane filled it and pulled the teapot off the shelf.

  ‘Anything wrong at the Bonne Bouche?’ Sam’s voice was curious now.

  ‘No, no, nothing’s up at the Bonne Bouche. I need your help with something rather different.’

  ‘I’m listening.’

  ‘My husband-that-was came to see me last Thursday night, after a rather long and silent absence of eight years.’

  ‘I see. Thursday? Wasn’t that when you were in to see me?’

  ‘Yes indeed,’ said Rose, grimly. ‘He appeared on my doorstep just when I thought I was starting a long, lazy weekend.’

  ‘And how can I help?’ Sam’s voice was more neutral now, Rose thought, as though he had just applied a quick-drying veneer of professional concern.

  ‘Well, I’m not sure yet. I’ve to see my solicitor tomorrow afternoon. But from where I stand, there are some pretty complicated financial details to be worked out in advance of my divorce. I was wondering if you could help me come to grips with all of those.’

  ‘Certainly. I’d be happy to. Why don’t you come and see me after you’ve discussed things with your solicitor – Pauline O’Brien, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Rose, surprised that he remembered.

  ‘She’s great,’ he said warmly. ‘I’ve worked with her before on cases like this, so we both know the territory.’

  Despite her best efforts to keep upbeat, Rose felt a sudden, treacherous stab of depression. No matter how human and friendly their faces, she, Rose, was nothing but a ‘case’ to all these professional bodies, her life no more than disputed ‘territory’. The United Territories of Marital Disharmony. She shook the thought away impatiently.

  ‘Okay, Sam, that sounds good. I’ll call you in the next day or so, and we can take it from there.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Rose. I don’t quite know what to say. Anything I can do to make this easier, I will. I know what an upheaval it can be.’

  ‘Thanks. I appreciate that. Talk to you soon.’

  ‘Bye, Rose.’

  She hung up, watching as Jane warmed the teapot, watching as she swirled around the hot water before throwing it down the sink. It was a peculiarly calming ritual, the sacredness of tea-making.

  ‘Hi. Sorry about that. That was Sam, my accountant. Something tells me I’m going to need him.’

  ‘No problem. I didn’t mean to barge in like that, but I hadn’t heard from you, and I was worried.’ Jane stirred the tea and took their usual two mugs from beside the microwave.

  ‘I should have called. I’m still not sure whether I’m coming or going, to be honest.’ Rose rubbed her hands across her forehead, trying to dispel the fuzzy tentacles of headache that seemed to lodge there permanently now.

  ‘Hey, you weren’t supposed to do anything,’ said Jane, firmly. ‘We’re not talking about good manners here, you know. I just wanted to make sure you were all right.’

  Rose grinned at her. ‘Isn’t it funny how “all right” shifts from one extreme to the other, depending on the context? Given the last ninety hours or so – and who’s counting? – yes, I am all right. Confused, maybe, exhausted, definitely, but still all right.’

  ‘So, what’s on the agenda for today?’ Jane filled their mugs and took the carton of milk out of the fridge. ‘Anything I can do to help?’

  Rose looked at her curiously. ‘How come you’re not at work?’

  Jane shrugged. ‘I took the day off. Lots of leave due. I didn’t feel like going in.’

  ‘Jane,’ said Rose gently.

  The other woman looked up, suddenly busy pouring milk into her mug. ‘What?’

  ‘You’re the best friend, ever.’

  Jane smiled. ‘Cuts both ways, you know. I thought we could . . . you know, get some of the housey stuff out of the way, give you a bit of breathing space. I’m going to the supermarket anyway, why don’t you give me a list?’

  ‘Like the lists we used to make?’

  Jane laughed. ‘We did, didn’t we? Jesus, we’d lists for everything; collecting kids, delivering kids, days for football, days for basketball, days for ballet, days for swimming: all those kits to have ready the night before!’ She shuddered. ‘There are some benefits to them growing older, after all.’

  ‘Speaking of growing older – I spoke to Damien last night. He’ll be here tomorrow evening.’

  Jane nodded. ‘Did you give him any hint of what was up?’

  Rose shook her head. ‘No. I need him to be here before I tell him anything, I have to feel that he’s safe. I don’t care if he lets off steam; in fact, I expect him to. I’d be terrified of the silent treatment.’

  ‘How did the other two take it?’

  Rose pulled a packet of chocolate biscuits out of the cupboard. She tore open the cellophane and pushed the packet towards Jane. ‘Here, special occasion; to hell with calories.’

  Jane grinned. ‘I was never any good at resisting temptation.’ She looked apologetically at Rose, and dipped the biscuit into her tea. ‘I know, it’s a revolting habit. I only do it when I’m among friends. So, any major fallout with Lisa and Brian?’

  ‘No, they both took it pretty well, considering. Brian was furious at first, but he calmed down almost at once. I’d say he has mixed feelings, and happiness is definitely one of them. There was a very strong bond between himself and Ben, always.’

  ‘What about Lisa? Did she remember Ben?’

  ‘Oh, yes, she remembered him all right. Wasn’t too eager to give him any quarter, though. I think she was astonished, more than anything else: eight years is more than half of her life, don’t forget. She was puzzled as to why he’s come back after all this time but there was no anger there, not on her part. I’m trying to keep it that way.’

  Jane reached for another biscuit. ‘I knew you shouldn’t have opened these. Will you send Lisa down to me for dinner tomorrow night, if you need space with Damien here? I know it’s not going to be easy. Send Brian, too, if he’ll come.’

  Rose leaned over and squeezed her hand. ‘Thanks. This shouldn’t be allowed, you know, my husband leading us all this sort of merry dance. Not twice in the one lifetime.’

  Jane put down her mug, grinned. ‘Yeah, well maybe this time you’re the piper: you get to call the tune.’

  ‘Maybe. Remember Groundhog Day – the film that all the kids used to watch time after time?’

  Jane threw her eyes up to heaven. ‘How could I forget? Being doomed to repeat the same day over and over again, until maybe somewhere, somebody finally got it right?’

  Rose nodded emphatically. ‘Well, this is my last chance, my groundhog day. I have to get it right.’

  Jane looked at her directly. ‘You already have. For one, you did a great job of bringing up those kids on your own. I don’t know how you did it – do it. It’s a very lonely station. I’ve always felt that you were very brave.’

  Rose smiled at her. ‘Bravery is when you have a choice; I don’t remember anyone giving me one. And the jury’s still out on the “great job”, don’t forget.’

  ‘Brian and Lisa are solid as a rock; Damien’s had his troubles, but fundamentally he’s a great kid. I’ve a lot of time for him. He really did the business when Ben left: I guess a bit of rebellion was inevitable. Anyway, you can’t have all your kids being good at the same time. It’s against the laws of nature.’

  ‘And speaking of being good, how’s James?’ asked Rose, quietly.

  Jane smiled. ‘Not bad, not bad at all. Made it to school three days last week. I’ll take any improvement I can get.’ She stood up, took the mugs off the table and p
ut them into the dishwasher. ‘Anyway, that’s a problem for another day. You’re looking as white as a ghost again. You should go back to bed for a while.’

  ‘I’ve only been up five hours!’

  ‘So? Wasn’t this always supposed to be your day off?’

  ‘Well, yes, but I guess Thursday night changed all of that. Look, don’t worry about going shopping: I got most of the essentials in the supermarket yesterday morning and the rest can wait, honestly.’

  Jane shrugged. ‘I’m going anyway. I can pick up some easy-to-prepare stuff for you to stick in the freezer. It’s not a big deal. Why don’t you turn off your mobile, unplug the phone and take a book back to bed?’

  Rose waved as Jane reversed out of the driveway, and closed the door behind her. As she climbed the stairs to her bedroom, she felt overwhelmed by a sense of the familiar, the déjà vu that had been thickening all around her over the past few days, like daylight before thunder.

  It was almost three o’clock that afternoon when she woke. She could hear someone downstairs, smell food cooking. Puzzled, she got up, pulled on her jeans and sweater.

  ‘Lisa?’ she called, just as she reached the kitchen door. She didn’t want to startle the girl by appearing suddenly out of nowhere. But what was she doing home from school so early, anyway?

  Rose pulled open the kitchen door. The dishwasher was humming, the floor had just been mopped, and there was a large, rectangular dish of lasagne on the kitchen table.

  ‘Jane!’

  The other woman jumped, busy arranging things on the glass shelves of the fridge. She turned around and her hand flew to her throat. ‘Jesus, Rose. Don’t creep up on me like that.’

  ‘What are you doing?’ Rose looked around her in astonishment.

  ‘What does it look like?’ Jane grinned at her. ‘Don’t worry – I made double the quantity at home, and brought one dish for you. It was no trouble. I’m just heating up soup for lunch.’

  But Rose wasn’t listening any more. She was staring out of the window, not wanting to believe what her eyes were telling her. Over Jane’s shoulder, she could see a solid, familiar figure pause at the end of the driveway.

  ‘Rose? What is it?’ Jane turned to follow her friend’s gaze.

  ‘Quick,’ said Rose, urgently. ‘Come with me. It’s Ben. I don’t want him to know I’m home.’

  Jane nodded. ‘Okay.’ She turned off the hob. ‘Let’s go.’

  Rose moved swiftly out into the hallway, pulling the kitchen door closed behind them. ‘Come on, quickly, up to Lisa’s room. We’ll be able to watch from there.’

  Jane followed her up the stairs. They both crouched at the window, barely lifting their heads above the sill.

  ‘What’s going on, Rose?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said grimly. ‘I made it very clear that I would contact him when I was ready. At the very least, I think I’m entitled to that. I don’t know what he’s doing here. As far as he’s concerned, I’m at work.’

  ‘Where’s the van?’

  ‘I put it in the garage after I left Lisa at school. Don’t ask me why; I just did. I had a gut feeling he wouldn’t be able to keep away.’ Rose could feel herself beginning to grow angry again. ‘Who on earth is that with him?’ She craned her neck, trying to make out the figure standing beside her husband. Ben was oblivious to her presence, she was sure of it. He was looking up at the house, gesticulating, turning back from time to time to talk to his companion.

  ‘I know who that is,’ Jane whispered.

  ‘Who?’ asked Rose, turning to look at her.

  ‘It’s Richard Murphy, the estate agent. I know his wife.’

  Rose felt a buzzing in her ears, a great white heat building up behind her eyes. ‘He’s what?’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Jane, nodding slowly. ‘He has his office near the shopping centre. Look – it’s definitely him. He’s measuring something.’

  Rose watched as Ben held one end of the tape, the younger man the other. She watched as they measured the length of her garden, the width of her driveway. The agent made occasional notes on the clipboard he held in his hands. Rose turned to Jane, keeping her voice quite calm. ‘What is it you said I was, the other day? A set of accounts? How right you were.’ She struggled to stand up, not knowing what she wanted to do, but feeling that she couldn’t just crouch there, doing nothing.

  Jane put a restraining hand on her arm. ‘Don’t, Rose: don’t engage with him now, no matter how mad you’re feeling. Let it go. He’s no idea you’ve seen him. Doesn’t that give you the upper hand?’

  Reluctantly, Rose bent down again. Perhaps Jane was right. She needed to stay cool, keep her wits about her. She watched as the two men made their way back down the driveway to their cars. They stopped, shook hands, took a last look at the house, and then they were gone.

  She turned again to Jane. ‘Can you believe that? God, Jane, I want this over; you have no idea how much I want this over. What if Lisa had been here? What if she’d had a half-day from school, or something?’ Rose’s hands began to shake, her mouth had gone suddenly dry.

  Jane stood up. ‘Come on. Let’s have a cup of tea.’ She held out one hand to Rose, pulled her to her feet. ‘It’s only twenty past three. You’ve time to gather your senses before Lisa gets in. Let’s go downstairs.’

  Rose allowed herself to be led. She was aware that some colder, more calculating part of her brain had just been kicked into action.

  Jane’s words lingered, resonating with her anger.

  ‘You sit down,’ Jane said, as she pulled open the kitchen door. ‘I’ll make the tea.’

  Mechanically, Rose watched as Jane filled the kettle, took mugs out of the dishwasher, engaged in the ritual that was as familiar as family. Her friend’s quiet movements around the kitchen made Rose suddenly feel that she was watching herself: a different self, a very young self rooted firmly in the past. Her life had seemed fixed back then, its contours already shaped and mapped and plotted by the innocence of all her expectations: a husband, a home, the deep thrill of children to come. She remembered feeling grateful that the flux and uncertainty of young adulthood was finally over. All grown up, proudly married, she was now where she belonged, for ever and ever.

  She recalled vividly the first day she and Ben had made this house their home, sitting crosslegged on the kitchen floor, opening their wedding gifts. She saw a young bride, in love with love and all it had promised.

  ‘Happy?’ Rose had asked her brand-new husband, leaning forward for a kiss.

  Ben had smiled at her then, taken her hand, squeezed it. ‘Of course. We were so lucky to get this house at the price we did.’

  She could still remember the sting of disappointment, that childlike falling-down-inside feeling, as her moment of perfect happiness slowly deflated. She’d chided herself then, for being selfish and shallow. After all, Ben had worked so hard to get them this house, in this neighbourhood. Instead of wounded pride, she should be feeling admiration for his skills of negotiation, his persistence, his vision.

  And so she’d brushed off her disappointment, smiled brightly and said: ‘Will I put on the kettle?’

  She’d never thought about that day again until now. It burned behind her eyes, crowding together with the sight of her husband and his estate agent in her garden, measuring up her home.

  ‘You okay?’ Jane asked. She poured tea into their mugs.

  Rose nodded. ‘Fine, thanks. Still sitting here, nearly thirty years later.’ She waved a hand, taking in all the air of the kitchen. ‘Sometimes, I wonder who those people were who married each other all those years ago – me, as well as Ben. They’re complete strangers to me now.’ She felt her eyes begin to fill, looked away from her friend’s gaze. They sat in silence until they’d finished their tea.

  Jane glanced out of the window. ‘Here’s Lisa now. I’d best be off.’ She pushed back her chair and rested a hand on Rose’s shoulder. ‘You know where I am.’

  Rose nodded, arranging her face t
o greet her daughter’s noisy entrance as she burst through the kitchen door.

  ‘Hi, Mum – oh, hi, Jane.’ Lisa raised an eyebrow in mock disapproval. She dumped her schoolbag on the floor, made her way to the fridge, throwing her words over her shoulder. ‘You two being the ladies who lunch again? Thought you never got a minute to yourselves.’

  ‘You go right ahead and torment your mother,’ said Jane, grinning at her. ‘I have my own hooligans. I don’t need you as well.’ She blew Lisa a kiss. ‘You look stunning, kiddo. What’s your secret?’

  Lisa looked at her archly. ‘Youth, perhaps?’

  Rose and Jane smiled at each other, and at Lisa.

  ‘That’s me told,’ said Jane. ‘See you both tomorrow.’ She sashayed towards the back door, making Lisa giggle.

  ‘Thanks,’ Rose called after her.

  Jane gave her the thumbs up, and closed the door behind her.

  ‘You have a good day?’ asked Rose.

  She shrugged. ‘Not bad. I’m going to watch telly for a bit before I start my homework.’ She bent down and hugged her mother. ‘Okay?’

  ‘Okay,’ Rose agreed, touched at her sudden rush of affection. ‘Just for an hour or so.’ She watched her youngest child bound out of the kitchen, and smiled after her. She should have had her father, Rose thought, for all these years. All my children should have had their father. He could have left me, if he’d wanted, but he shouldn’t have run out on them.

  She stood up, gathering the mugs off the table.

  And now he’s back, the man with the measuring tape. The man who calculates the price of everything, knows the value of nothing. And he thinks he has the upper hand?

  He hasn’t seen anything yet.

  Chapter Five

  SARAH WAS WAITING for Rose the following morning as she drove into the Bonne Bouche parking space. It was just before eight o’clock. It looked as though Sarah and her sisters had just arrived. Damn, thought Rose. I’d really hoped to get here before her. She waved, making her smile brighter than she felt.

  ‘Hi, Sarah! Thought I’d beat you to it, just for one morning!’