As she read the text, she realized her head had just caught up with a fact that her heart had apparently known for some time now: her marriage was dead. Yes, it had survived the affair with Susan Peach, but it had been mortally wounded in the battle and somewhere along the line, though she couldn’t quite pinpoint the moment, it had taken its last breath. And still she had clung faithfully, devotedly, hopefully onto it, as she had clung onto so much dead but familiar rubbish.
Lou deleted the message, put the phone down exactly in the place she had found it and picked up a wooden spoon. She was strangely calm as she stirred up the smoked salmon, dill, avocado and cream and tossed it in with the cooked penne, the garlic, onions, green peppers, ground cracked black pepper and herb salt. Phil abandoned his half-eaten cheese sandwich for it and, though he didn’t comment on how delicious it was, he feasted on second helpings. The glazed look on his wife’s face had given him a healthy appetite. There was no pudding, but he was quite full anyway and in the mood for Stilton, port and a big fat celebratory cigar.
Lou was at the sink when he came in for a refill of port. She saw him in the reflection of the window. He was looking out into the garden, the cigar clenched in his teeth.
‘I think I might get some koi carp for the pond,’ he said, and Lou immediately knew when the crippled heart of her marriage had stopped beating. The little, fatal thought that had lain dormant since the night of her birthday, fluffed up its wings and flew slowly across the front of her mind, and she knew that the death certificate of their relationship would bear that date. She had seen it then, but not recognized it. She and Phil were Fat Jack and Maureen waiting to happen. Host and parasite. Two strangers.
Chapter 50
There were no tears as Lou lay alone in bed that night. Maybe her mind was in shock. Maybe she had cried so much in advance of this moment throughout the past three years that she did not need the comfort of fresh tears now. She slept soundly and dreamlessly, peacefully even.
The next morning, she was aware of Phil’s cheerful getting ready for work routine as if she was watching and hearing everything through cottonwool. She even answered his cheery, ‘Bye!’ with an equally cheery one of her own. She set off for Gladys Serafinska’s quite calmly and was totally in control as they shared tea and thickly buttered toast. Then they finally went up into Bernie’s dressing room.
There were quite a few tears in store that day for Gladys, but none for Lou, who felt as if her emotions had gone into hibernation, until the climate was right for them to emerge again. Emotions had no place in what Lou had to do now–she needed her head for that, not her heart. The two women bagged up Bernie’s beautiful suits ready to be taken to the charity shop. One of the bakery lads carried the heavy stuff downstairs, loaded it into his van and took it away to the Cancer Research shop. When it was all done and the empty space had been washed down and Gladys Serafinska had cried her last, she hugged Lou and pressed a thick wad of banknotes into her hand. Lou felt guilty taking it and her expression obviously reflected this.
‘You’ve earned every penny of this, lass,’ said Gladys. ‘I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t gone through these last few days myself. It’s been an experience and a half for me, a fantastic cleansing experience. I thought it would totally weaken me, but the opposite has happened. Do you know, I feel stronger than I have done for a long time. And I don’t feel any further away from Bernie just for letting his things go, like I thought I would. I don’t know why I didn’t let them go before. He was the sort of man who would want someone to benefit from what he’d left; he wouldn’t have wanted me to make a shrine for him. I feel so light. Me, light–imagine!’ Her chins wobbled as she laughed. ‘Thank you, Lou,’ and she kissed her sweetly on the cheek.
‘You really have been giving out my name,’ said Lou, with a feeling akin to pride. ‘I’ve had phone calls.’
‘I hope you don’t mind,’ said Gladys. ‘I think you’re wonderful. Please contact Alice in particular; she could really do with your help.’
‘I will, I promise,’ said Lou, ‘but first I need to do some more clearing out for myself.’
She knocked on the bakery door and Deb waved her over, holding up five fingers, then disappeared to get her bag and coat. Within five minutes, she had set the alarm and locked the door behind her.
‘Hiya,’ she said. ‘Have you finished sorting out our Glad then?’
‘I have,’ said Lou. ‘Got time for a quick drink?’
‘Thought you’d never ask. Come on.’
They went across the road to the Bonny Bunch of Bluebells. It was a clean, if battered-looking place, with just a handful of after-work drinkers enjoying a slow pint.
‘I’ll get these,’ said Lou, turning to the barman. ‘A brandy, no ice thanks, and a—’
‘Diet Coke,’ said Deb, looking wide-eyed at Lou. ‘Brandy? At this time?’
‘Yes, I need one,’ said Lou.
‘I didn’t know you drank brandy.’
‘I don’t.’
Deb noticed Lou’s hand was shaking as she carried the brandy balloon to a darkened booth in the corner.
‘Lou, what’s up?’
‘Phil’s having an affair,’ Lou said without emotion.
Deb sucked in her breath. In part she felt relief that the grubby little secret was out before she could be linked to it in any way this time. ‘How do you know?’ she asked softly.
‘I’ve had my suspicions for a while, but yesterday Phil left his mobile out–deliberately, of course. There was nothing on it, just a few tame messages from some woman called Sue. But another message came up whilst I was holding it. I don’t think he’d allowed for that to happen.’
‘What did it say?’ asked Deb tentatively.
Lou told her.
‘The bastard!’ was Deb’s only comment. The message had left no room for misinterpretation; there was nothing that could be rationalized away. Her instinct was to hug Lou, but her friend looked so stiff–brittle, even–as if she would shatter into a million pieces if Deb so much as touched her.
‘What…what are you going to do?’
Lou took a swig of the brandy and her face squeezed up in disgust. Deb poured some of her Coke over it.
‘That’ll taste better, if you must drink it. Try that.’
Lou drank some; it was better, still not good though, but she needed that warm hit of alcohol because inside she felt frozen solid.
‘You will come and stay with me for a bit,’ said Deb.
‘You’ve got one bedroom, Deb, and I think you did your fair share of babysitting last time.’
‘I’m your friend,’ said Deb gently, reaching out for Lou’s hand. Lou gripped it tight but she showed no signs of being anything but in control.
‘Yes, and you are the best friend I could possibly ever have, but…’ She looked at Deb’s kind, worried face and knew immediately what she was thinking. ‘Don’t worry, Deb, this time it’s different. I know our marriage is over. There are things I need to do and I need to do them alone. It’s the only way I’ll get through this.’
‘OK,’ said Deb, touching Lou’s cheek with soft fingers, like a mother preparing to let a child stand on its own two feet but still on full alert to catch it if it fell. ‘I’m here if you want me.’
‘I know. And I have our lovely café to look forward to. Last time I ran away from it instead of running towards it. I won’t make that mistake again.’
Sue Shoesmith was crying.
‘Phil, please don’t finish this. I think I love you.’
Oh fuck, that’s all I need, thought Phil. He gripped her hand even though his instinct was to make his excuses and leave. He supposed he owed her an extra five minutes. After all, she had been instrumental in the saving of his marriage.
‘Sue,’ he said tenderly. ‘I can’t do this any more. I am still a married man and it just doesn’t feel right.’
‘But you don’t love her and you’re going to get a divorce after Christmas.’
In your dreams, sister. This time next week I’ll be stuffed full of lamb and loving. ‘I’m not sure I can give you my best, and you deserve the best, darling.’
‘I don’t care.’
Oh God! It was like trying to pull your welly–or rather ‘willy’ in this case–out of a lake full of treacle and Superglue.
‘I’m confused and I don’t want to hurt you.’
‘I’ll wait.’
For fuck’s sake! She was Limpet Woman. Her nails were digging into his skin. They’d actually left moon-marks! She was going to draw blood in a minute. When was his last tetanus shot?
‘I’m sorry, Sue. You will thank me for this one day. I’m doing this for you more than me.’
He stood to go but she held on firm. He kissed her on the top of her head.
‘Please don’t cry, love. Don’t throw your self-respect away on me or anyone, do you hear? You are worth so much more. Goodbye, and thank you for bringing some sweetness and light into my life. I’ll miss you more than you will ever know.’
He extricated himself with a sharp tug and she collapsed onto the pub-table like a puppet with its strings severed. Phil made a hasty exit whilst her head was in her hands. The blast of cold Monday-night air as he opened the door hit him like a fresh morning shower. He was free.
Lou looked around her house and made a mental list. Clothes, make-up, treasure box, shoes, handbags, laptop, the recipe books, umbrella, radio alarm, couple of toilet rolls, some blankets. She streamlined it to basic essentials and the barest of emotional possessions. She wouldn’t die if she didn’t take her lovely dining-room curtains–they were just ‘things’ and she could buy more ‘things’. She couldn’t buy back what it would cost her to stay.
She made Phil venison for tea. Beautiful dark red slices with herby shallots and sweet potatoes and green beans sautéed with walnuts. It was even better than her lamb. She made chocolate and hazelnut sponge pudding with Chantilly cream which dribbled down Phil’s chin as he devoured it with the greed of an all-conquering hero celebrating his final victory. She served him brandy and coffee and then, while she was clearing up, he went to sleep in the spare room for the very last time.
Tomorrow, Phil thought happily, he would smile at her and open his arms and she would run into them and everything would be back to wonderful normality with no more of this silly nonsense. The war was over–and he had won. Now he had all the spoils to look forward to.
Lou clicked the dial on the dishwasher for the last time. Then, taking a coffee into the study, she logged onto the computer. Your home is a mirror that reflects what is going on in your life, reminded the words she had put on her screensaver. Well, once upon a time her home was cluttered and confused, but now it was clear and organized. Lou did what she had to do. It was two o’clock in the morning when she logged off and went up to bed.
Chapter 51
This was surely Phil’s lucky day. Titanic Tuesday. Four brand new cars all on finance, a text message from Sue to say that she wouldn’t be bothering him again but she would always treasure their special times, and Des was asking pertinent questions about the Classic Car business and would call round to the house later for five minutes. Yeah, well, Phil would only give him five minutes before chucking him out. He wasn’t going to have his plans for him and Lou that night upset for anything. Fat Jack rang to say someone wanted them to find a Rolls Royce Silver Ghost–and tonight, he had goodness-knows-what to look forward to. Christmas had come fast and early–as would he, if he and his wife had a marathon make-up-sex session.
He had some P.M. Autos champers already on chill to take home with him, and rang up to order a huge bouquet from Donny Badger’s Floristry, which he sent Bradley out to collect. The flowers were gorgeous, if pricy, but if he kept the receipt he could write them off against his tax, couldn’t he? He’d casually ask Lou about that the next time she was doing his accounts.
‘Honey, I’m home!’ he boomed comically as he came through the door brandishing the bottle and assorted blooms, but there was no answer. The lights were on but no one appeared to be in. He called her name but there was no answer. Where was she? He went into the kitchen to plug in his mobile phone, and there he found the letter propped up against the charger. He opened it and read the words on the lined paper.
Phil, I’ve left you. I think you know why. Lou.
He looked around, expecting her to spring out from somewhere and yell, ‘Surprise!’ It didn’t cross his mind that it could be true. Still full of disbelief, he went into their bedroom and paused for a moment before he opened their wardrobe doors. There followed a slight shift in his thinking when he discovered that her clothes were gone, and that her jewellery box and her make-up bag were no longer on the dressing-table, but that appeared to be all that was missing. He nodded and smiled. When wives left, they took half the house and the roof with them. Touché.
‘I get it!’ he said, grinning.
Lou wouldn’t–couldn’t leave this house and all these things she’d so carefully chosen over the years–and there was no way she would leave her new bathroom. Not after the battle she’d had to get it done. She was playing her own little game, showing him she had grown up a bit from last time and wasn’t going to lie down without putting up a fight.
He checked his own wardrobe tentatively, though, just in case. His shirts weren’t ripped up; his trousers didn’t have the crotch cut out of them. No–if she really had left him, there would be more drama to it than this.
Phil defrosted one of Lou’s superb chillis in the microwave and read the letter again. He’d had far too good a day for any silliness to spoil it, he thought, rubbing his hands together. My, there was going to be some red hot loving tonight when she turned up!
Lou carried the last of the boxes up into May’s old flat. At least it wasn’t as jarring on the eyes now that Tom and Deb had attacked it with the emulsion brush. She clicked on the electric fire, hoping the small room would heat up quickly as she felt chilled, both inside and out.
She set down the old cracket she had retrieved from the skip–it hadn’t taken much sanding and waxing to give it a new lease of life–and rested her radio alarm clock on it. Pulling the curtain shut at the side of the bed, she plugged in the bedside light which she had just bought from Argos, along with a cheap double quilt and a pair of pillows. Switching on the radio for the comfort of some background noise, she unpacked some sheets and made up the bed, trying not to think about who might have slept there before her–although, was it in fact, possible to sleep on all those lumps? It could only be good for the back, she thought positively, and she was feeling remarkably positive in the circumstances.
She was just about to put the kettle on when someone pounded on the flat door. That was worrying, as no one could actually get to the door unless they came up through the café–and the café was all locked up.
‘Who is it?’ she asked, grabbing the breadknife from her box of basic supplies.
‘Lou, is that you?’ said Tom’s voice.
She unlocked the door and he came in, followed by his faithful hound.
‘I saw the light on and thought someone had broken in,’ he said, looking around. ‘What are you doing?’
‘I’m, er, moving in,’ she said with an embarrassed little smile.
‘Moving in here?’
‘I’ve left my husband,’ Lou explained. Said out loud, the words made everything seem suddenly very real, very scary. She felt a bit wobbly and reached for the diversion of the kettle.
‘Tea?’ she said.
‘Yes, I will, please,’ said Tom slowly. ‘So, hang on, you’ve left home and you’re moving in here?’
‘Yes,’ said Lou, with her face turned away from him.
‘Why here?’
‘I’ve nowhere else to go,’ said Lou with a shrug.
‘Deb’s, surely?’
‘Deb’s only got a tiny little place and I need to think. This place will be fine for now.’
‘But Lou, it’s cold
and grotty. It’s a storeroom, for Christ’s sake.’
‘It’ll do. Honestly, I’ll be fine.’
‘There isn’t even a wardrobe or a sofa.’
‘There’s a chair and a bed. It’ll do until I get myself sorted out.’
Tom scratched his head in thought and then, having decided what to do, he grabbed one of her suitcases.
‘Right, you’re coming home with me. There’s loads of room at the house.’
‘No, I’m not.’
‘Oh yes, you are. Now move it.’
‘No, Tom,’ said Lou decisively. ‘It’s really sweet of you, but no, I’m staying here. I want to be on my own.’
Satisfied that she wasn’t playing at being serious, he put down the case and dropped heavily onto the chair, which creaked in shock. Lou passed a cup of tea to him. He took up half the room when he stood to take it from her. He was all work-dirty, he needed a shave, his hair was full of dust, he was gorgeous. Then her head went into reverse thrust and suddenly she wanted to go home to the familiarity of Phil and all her nice things and her big warm house. It was all very well when Miss Casserly leaped from stages at college hoping someone would catch her–which they always did–but the leaps got riskier as you got older. She felt as if she had jumped off the edge of the world this time, and realized halfway down how stupid she had been not to attach a bungee rope that could have taken her right back to where she started. In saying that, if it pinged back now, it would probably send her eyeballs into orbit.
‘What are you having for tea?’ Tom’s eyes rested on a bag of crisps on the top of a box. ‘I hope that’s not it.’
She smiled a little at his concern. ‘I’m not very hungry, Tom.’
‘The workmen have started, you know. They’ll be here at seven. They’re ripping out stuff, you won’t sleep past then.’
A Spring Affair Page 31