A Spring Affair

by Milly Johnson

  ‘I’ll be OK. My eyes usually snap open at half-past six anyway.’ She tried to joke but her throat went all croaky. Not that she imagined she was going to sleep much anyway.

  ‘Lou, please, let me help you.’ Tom’s hand came out and at the moment of its contact with her arm, Lou stood up to top up her cup with hot water. Please don’t touch me, she thought. She wasn’t sure what that would release in her.

  ‘I need to think, Tom, please. I’m all right, really. I just need to be alone.’

  He took the hint, drained his cup and reluctantly stood. His head was less than six inches below the ceiling.

  ‘OK, but I’m leaving Clooney. I won’t take no for an answer on that one. He knows where to do what in the morning, when you let him out. I’ll just whip him out now for you. He’s been fed tonight and I’ll feed him myself in the morning when I get into the office.’

  Lou drew some warmth from the cup in her hands. The room was heating up from the bars on the electric fire, but she still felt cold, right down to the bone.

  ‘Very well.’ She allowed herself to be defeated on that point.

  Tom returned ten minutes later with Clooney, a box of dog biscuits, a water bowl and the bean-bag bed that Tom kept for him in the ironmongery.

  ‘Can’t I change your mind?’

  ‘No, you can’t, Tom,’ said Lou. ‘And please don’t tell Deb, not tonight. I’ll ring her myself tomorrow. Please, promise me. I need space and she’d be round here like a flash.’

  ‘You shouldn’t be alone,’ he said.

  ‘I’m not alone.’ She stroked Clooney’s head fondly. ‘You’re leaving me this big bad burglar detergent.’

  Detergent? He felt himself smiling inside at her Louism, despite his concern. He wanted to pick her up and put her in his pocket.

  ‘I do know what’s best for me tonight. Really,’ she said, in a voice that closed the subject.

  She looked so little, so cold, so vulnerable, but he didn’t try to touch her in any way. Her body was missiling out vibes that he was not to do so. He walked out as if in slow motion, giving her ample opportunity to change her mind. But she didn’t.

  Chapter 52

  Clooney and Lou slept soundly, and yes, she had to admit, having him there was a big comfort. It was scarily quiet in the flat and the absence of streetlights made it very dark outside, but the big dog’s snuffles in the night, his little yelps and twitches as he chased something fast, and probably rabbity, in his dreams took the edge off any fears. Plus it helped having a living presence in the room, especially one that she didn’t have to put on a brave face for, who didn’t fuss around her when she sat up in the middle of the night to stare out of the window at the stars and to whom she didn’t need to explain why she was taking a bath at such an unearthly hour in the morning before climbing half-damp back into the lumpy, bumpy bed.

  She couldn’t sleep past six o’clock so she got up, had a coffee and dressed. Clooney got up with her and she took him outside where he went around to his usual spot of grass to do as nature intended. Lou gave him a few dog biscuits to tide over his tummy until Tom arrived. The builders were there at seven prompt, singing loudly to their radio, every rip and bang bringing her one step closer to their grand opening, but that thought gave Lou no thrill. She felt so numb she wondered if she were emotionally capable of feeling anything again.

  Half an hour later, just as Lou had delivered four cups of tea to the builders, female shoes clattered up the stairs and there were no prizes for guessing whose they were.

  ‘How crap a friend do you think it makes me feel, that you can’t ask me for a bed for the night,’ said Deb crossly.

  Oh, that old chestnut, the guilt tactic, thought Lou with a wry smile.

  ‘Coffee?’

  ‘Damn right I want a coffee,’ said Deb. ‘Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving Phil so quickly?’

  ‘Because I just wanted to do it, not talk about it, Deb. Don’t you see?’

  Deb mumbled something whilst she was pouring milk into her cup.

  ‘When did Tom phone you?’ said Lou.

  ‘Seven this morning.’

  Lou shook her head with exasperation. At least he fulfilled his promise.

  ‘You can’t blame him–he’s worried about you,’ said Deb in his defence.

  ‘Well, he shouldn’t be. Why, what did he say?’

  ‘He said “I’m worried about Lou”.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘The bloke’s in love with you–of course he’s worried about you, you daft cow.’

  Lou spilled her coffee all over herself and yelped.

  ‘God, are you OK?’ said Deb.

  ‘No, I’m not!’ said Lou, hopping about in pain. ‘What did you say that for?’

  Deb threw a tea-towel at Lou and went to make her friend another coffee.

  ‘I’m not blind or thick,’ she grumbled. ‘You two might be, but I’m not.’

  ‘Yeah, right. He’s all over you like sliced bread, not me.’

  ‘The expression is, “to be all over someone like a rash”,’ corrected Deb. ‘Except he’s not. He only wants to be my friend–and that certainly is not his primary intention in your case. Lou, the guy’s eyes light up like a kid that’s been told he’s going to be locked in a Toys R Us overnight whenever he sees you.’

  ‘Naw,’ said Lou dismissively. And then: ‘Do they? His eyes? Light up?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Deb. ‘And vice versa, don’t deny it. This is me you’re talking to. I noticed how bloody relieved you were when you found out Tom and I weren’t an item.’

  ‘No, that’s rubbish,’ said Lou, convincing neither of them. ‘He wouldn’t anyway…’

  ‘He wouldn’t what? Fancy someone like you?’ said Deb with a laugh. ‘Well, here’s news for you, Lou Winter: he does and that is because you are gorgeous and you’re sweet and you’re funny and you’ve got great knockers and beautiful eyes, and any bloke who got you should get on his knees and worship you like the sodding goddess you are, every night of his lucky life.’

  Lou stared at her open-mouthed.

  ‘Don’t you dare cry, Lou Winter!’ cried Deb fiercely.

  ‘Then stop saying nice things,’ said Lou, as her eyes started to fill up.

  ‘I can’t lie and tell you that I’m not over the moon about seeing you and that baldy knobhead split up, Lou, but I don’t want to see you hurting and I don’t want you to go through any of this on your own. I’m your friend. Use me, please. Come and stay with me in my bijou pad,’ Deb pleaded, taking her hands.

  Lou said, quietly but firmly, ‘Please, Deb, I need to be on my own. I know what I’m doing. I want to be by myself. I have to get my head straight about things.’ And when Deb gave her the same sort of look Tom had given her umpteen times the previous night, she added, ‘Go on, go to work. I have to see my mother.’

  Deb enfolded her in a comforting, sisterly hug.

  ‘Don’t let her talk you into anything that isn’t right for you. Don’t let any of us try to influence you.’ Deb knew that, last time, she had been guilty of that one more than she cared to admit.

  ‘I won’t,’ said Lou. Not this time.

  By nine o’clock, Lou was on the telephone working her way through the listings for solicitors. She wanted an appointment that day. Number five on the list said that if she could get there for ten, there was a window with Beverley Brookes. Lou said she could and she did. First, she dropped Clooney off at the ironmonger’s with Eddie. Tom, apparently, was on his way in. She didn’t wait to see him; in fact, she positively avoided it. She didn’t want the sight of him fuzzing up her thoughts.

  At the solicitors, she cited ‘unreasonable behaviour’ as just cause. It seemed easier to prove than adultery and she had plenty of rock-solid back-up proof for that one. As she gave Beverley Brookes some cold examples of Phil’s treatment of her over the past few years, she wondered how she had managed to stay sane through it all. When said aloud to a complete stranger, it sounded terrible, but w
hen Beverley Brookes read it back to her, it was worse. How had she put up with so much for so long? When did hurt and betrayal–that Lou Casserly wouldn’t have put up with in a million years–become the norm for Lou Winter?

  Phil would get the divorce papers within twenty-one days, Beverley Brookes said as she shook Lou’s hand on the way out.

  Lou came out into a typical British summer’s dull and drizzly day with the sudden realization that she had started divorce proceedings. It chilled her more than the weather did. And talking of chill, now it was time to tell her mother.

  Phil had slept soundly although it was odd sleeping in that big bed without Lou. Her scent was still on the sheets, which made him feel rather horny. His arm hooked over the space where her body should have been. He knew she hadn’t left permanently. Late last night, just in case, he had gone online and checked their joint bank account: it hadn’t been touched. But just in case, he had transferred the funds over to his personal account. He wondered what she would have on the table for his tea tonight when she came out of her woman-sulk.

  Chapter 53

  Lou ordered a coffee and two crumpets in town. The first bite rolled around in her mouth as if it couldn’t work out the way to the back of her throat. It took her a Women by Women magazine and two more coffees to realize she wasn’t hungry, after all. Then she told herself off for unnecessary procrastination. Her brain knew she was doing it, even if the rest of her was trying to pretend it wasn’t happening.

  It was early afternoon when she got to her mother’s house.

  ‘This is a surprise,’ said Renee. ‘How come you’re not working today?’

  ‘Mum,’ said Lou, standing on her mother’s sheepskin rug. She had decided on the way there to lead into it gently.

  ‘I’ve left my job and I’ve left Phil as well.’

  Then again, the best-made plans…

  Renee didn’t say anything for a while. She digested the information, concluded that it was the truth, and then she reacted.

  ‘Left your job? What on earth have you done that for? Have you taken leave of your senses? And what do you mean, you’ve left Phil?’

  ‘I left him yesterday afternoon.’

  ‘But what for?’

  ‘Because I don’t love him any more. And he’s having an affair.’

  Renee twiddled her necklace. She was counting along the beads as if it were a rosary.

  ‘Elouise, what are you playing at? Do you need a doctor?’

  Even Lou was astounded by her mother’s lack of sympathy. She had thought women of that generation and adultery were an oil-and-water mix, more so than her own generation.

  ‘Mum, I’m not looking for your approval on this. I’m only telling you because you need to know I’m not at the old address any more and I figured you would probably want to know why. I’m not here to answer any questions about it. I know what I’m doing; I’ve instigated divorce proceedings.’

  ‘But I thought you only left him yesterday!’

  ‘Yes, but it’s overdue by three years.’

  ‘You were happy!’

  ‘No, he was happy, I was sodding miserable!’ Lou’s voice crescendoed to its highest pitch.

  ‘I can’t believe it,’ said Renee, dropping onto the sofa.

  ‘Which bit? That Phil’s having another affair?’

  ‘No, that you’re not thinking straight!’ cried Renee.

  ‘But I am, Mum. This is the first bit of straight thinking I’ve done in a long time.’

  ‘Oh Elouise, he got caught sitting in a pub with someone. Once. You didn’t catch them in bed together, did you? I bet you’ve got no proof this time either. I suppose that Deb being around isn’t anything to do with it. Was it her again, stirring things up? Has it crossed your mind that she’s jealous of what you’ve got?’

  ‘What have I got, Mum?’ demanded Lou, bordering closely on angry tears. ‘I’ve got a pig of a man who can’t keep it in his trousers, that’s the sum of it.’

  ‘You’ve got security, a lovely home, money in the bank, a husband with a growing business. Aren’t you going on holiday soon as well?’

  Lou laughed bitterly. That was typical of her mum–thinking of the creature comforts first. ‘I can’t believe it,’ she said. ‘I thought for once you’d be on my side.’

  ‘I am on your side, Lou. That’s why I don’t want you to throw your life away,’ said Renee, with something akin to panic.

  ‘What am I throwing away that’s so great, Mum?’

  ‘Elouise,’ said Renee, almost distraught, ‘marriage is about riding the bad times. Have you looked at yourself to find out why he did it?’

  ‘Why on earth would I do that?’ asked Lou, with an incredulous laugh.

  ‘Because…’

  ‘Because what?’

  ‘No, forget it,’ said Renee.

  ‘No, I won’t forget it,’ said Lou angrily. Let her have her say and get it over with. ‘Because what, Mum, because WHAT?’

  ‘Because that’s what I had to do when your father did it to me!’ cried Renee.

  Lou didn’t move. A pin-drop silence fell on the room, broken only by the soft tock-tock of the clock on the wall by the fire. Even when Lou tried to speak, no words came out. Her mouth moved soundlessly trying to form them, but they got hopelessly stuck behind the hurdle of her lips.

  Renee took a linen handkerchief from up her sleeve and blew her nose with it.

  ‘What do you mean?’ said Lou eventually, on the faintest of breaths.

  ‘I shouldn’t have said anything. Forget it.’

  But something like that couldn’t be forgotten, could it? Something like that couldn’t be stuffed back as if it had never happened?

  ‘No, no, you have to tell me now.’

  Please don’t tell me.

  Renee licked her dry lips. ‘Your father had…an…We picked up the pieces. It was hard but we did it. We didn’t throw it all away for a couple of rough years. It takes time and it was worth it. That’s why I know your troubles will pass.’

  ‘Dad did this to you?’

  Lou couldn’t take it in. Her beautiful, wonderful, kind, smiling father put her mum through this pain? Her dad, who had hugged her when she caught her first boyfriend snogging someone else and told her to forget him and move on because he wasn’t good enough for a Casserly girl.

  Renee didn’t move, didn’t look up, didn’t make eye-contact.

  Lou’s stomach spasmed, not that there was anything in there to throw up. Her head went light and swimmy and she had to steady herself against the big oak dresser by the wall, ironically one that her dad had made.

  Her dad and another woman?

  Lou had to get out. The air in that room was thick and sucked dry of oxygen.

  ‘I have to go,’ she said, groping in her pocket for her keys.

  ‘Elouise!’ Renee called behind her, but Lou was already down the path and nearly at the car.

  She drove blindly to the town park, got out of the car and followed the path up the hill to the folly, which her dad used to tell her was the ‘Unleaning Tower of Pisa’. They’d had so many picnics on the grass there when she was little. Mum wasn’t one for walking (being born in high heels) but Lou and her father and Murphy walked here a lot. He’d carry their picnic basket and they’d sit and open it here amongst the beds of scarlet tulips, and eat egg and cress sandwiches and Twiglets and the cakes that Lou had made, and wash it all down with Ribena for her, a flask of milky, sugary tea for her dad and a big bowl of water for Murphy. She felt close to her dad here. She could see him, stocky and big-shouldered with his large hands that were so gentle with plants and kind to animals. That was the dad she wanted to remember–not a dad who hurt hearts that loved him. Had she been attracted to Phil because she had sensed that deep down they were the same? No, no, no…

  She felt as if someone had scooped out all her innards and replaced them with rocks. She wanted to be dead and not face the questions her head was throwing at her. No, not dead, becaus
e she might wake up on the other side with the same things going through her brain for eternity. She simply wanted to not exist, to slide out of everyone’s consciousness, and for the hole she was in to close up completely over her, so she was nothing. Futures were taken away from people all the time, but Renee’s disclosure had taken away her past–a past that should have been set in stone, unchangeable, a solid foundation. And now it was gone, crushed, and the rubble blown away.

  It was quite dark when she realized she should go home, wherever that was. Her big comfortable house called. She could have a nice warm Keith Featherstone bath and crawl into bed beside Phil. Maybe it would be all right in time, as her mother said. They had been happy once, her mum was right. Well, content–was it the same thing? Lou didn’t know.

  She called in at the White Rose corner shop on the way back to the flat and bought a box of After Eights, a bottle of brandy, some kitchen roll and a set of drinks coasters. It was a ridiculous bag of shopping in the circumstances.

  The silence was hard on her ears in the flat, so she clicked on the radio to release some music at a gentle volume, just to take it away. Then she twisted the top off the brandy and poured some into a cup before tossing it into her mouth. She didn’t get the unravelling-of-the-day warmth that Phil seemed to get from the spirit; it merely burned the back of her throat. It gave her an excuse to sob.

  It was late when Tom let himself into May’s and he went cautiously up the stairs, hearing the melodic burr of the radio filter down through the café ceiling. He knocked gently, but when there was no answer, he pushed open the door and went in.

  Lou was so locked in her grief, head in her hands, sobbing like a child that she wasn’t conscious of another presence until Tom was a step away from her, when it was totally past the time when she might have salvaged any dignity. But Lou’s pride was gone anyway. Everything was gone; she was hollow, empty, had nothing left within her that was capable of feeling anything but pain. He sat beside her on the bed and placed his arm around her shoulder, pulling her into him. She quickly wiped at the salty drops rolling down her face faster than she could clear them.