I shifted the bag of peas off my numb foot and dried it with the towel. ‘Do you think you’ll ever want to marry again? If you found that special person worth the risk, that is.’
Stevie shook his head. ‘I don’t know if I believe in marriage anymore after what happened with Maddy. If making promises in front of your friends and family and signing a legal document means so little to some people that they can walk away from it in less than a year, why go through it in the first place?’ He smiled. ‘I sound very cynical, don’t I?’
I winced as I reapplied the peas. ‘No. You just sound like someone who’s been badly hurt and, after what’s just happened to me, I can completely relate to that. Right now, I’m not sure how I feel about marriage either.’
We moved away from the tricky subject of relationships and chatted more about Stevie’s plans for his garden, the bedroom he hadn’t yet tackled, Sarah’s wedding, and my school play. Another cup of tea later, Bonnie padded into the kitchen and put her head on Stevie’s lap.
‘I need to take her out for a walk. You can stay here if you want or—’
‘It’s fine. I’ve got to go home and face him at some point.’ I handed Stevie the bag of defrosted peas. ‘I hope you weren’t planning on having these for your tea. Unless you fancy mushy peas.’
Stevie laughed. ‘Tempting. But I think I’ll pass. Let me give Bonnie a quick walk round the block so she can do her business then I’ll drop you home. I can take her out for a proper walk later.’
After less than ten minutes he returned. I stood up and put my arms out. ‘Thanks for this afternoon, Stevie. You’ve been amazing.’
He hugged me. ‘I don’t know about that, but you know where I am any time you want to talk.’
‘Thank you.’ I didn’t want to let go. Stevie was shorter than Gary and he carried a bit of weight, making his hold more like a bear-hug. For the first time since shower-gate I felt safe and protected as I relaxed against him and tightened my arms round his waist. Stevie tightened his grip around me. I could have stayed like that for hours, but I had to get home. Reluctantly, I released my hold. ‘You give amazing hugs too.’
He laughed. ‘In that case, you know where I am any time you want a hug too.’
‘Don’t say things like that. You’ll have me on your doorstep at three in the morning demanding a super-hug!’
9
When Stevie pulled up outside 9 Abbey Drive, relief flowed through me to see Bertie back on the drive, closely followed by anger that there was no sign of the Lexus. The calm I’d felt at Bramble Cottage gave way to rage. How dare he go out and avoid talking yet again? What the hell was wrong with him?
Stevie helped me hop to the door and offered to come in and wait with me, but I insisted he go home so he could take Bonnie out for a proper walk.
After we’d said goodbye and I’d secured another super-hug, I closed the door and hobbled down to the kitchen to see if Gary had left me a note because, to be fair to him, he could have been waiting for me and given up; I’d been at Stevie’s for well over two hours. There was no note.
I checked my mobile to see if I was doing him a disservice and he’d texted me to explain his whereabouts, but there was no message either.
✉︎ To Gary
I’m home. Where the hell are you?
Shuffling over to the dining table, I sat for at least ten minutes, staring at my phone, waiting for a response. None came. I called him instead. It rang five times then disconnected without going to voicemail. So he was choosing not to take my call, was he? Right. That’s it. I stabbed at the keypad:
✉︎ To Gary
Have we really got to the point where you’re screening my calls? It’s 6.33pm now. I INSIST that you phone or text me by 6.45pm to let me know where you are and when you’ll be back to talk. Do NOT ignore this text. I mean it!
I hunched over the phone, watching each agonisingly slow minute pass by, challenging him to dare to ignore the text. He ignored it.
✉︎ To Gary
Time’s up. You asked for it…
Holding on to the table, I pushed myself up, rage propelling me down the corridor and up the stairs, almost oblivious to the pain in my ankle thanks to the greater pain in my heart. I pulled a suitcase off the top of the wardrobe in the spare bedroom, marched into my room and threw it onto the bed. Grabbing a handful of Gary’s shirts from the walk-in wardrobe, I shoved them in the suitcase, still on their hangers.
‘I should have done this last week,’ I muttered. ‘I stupidly wanted to give you a chance to explain. To give you a chance to save our marriage. Something you obviously don’t care about seeing as you’ve spent the afternoon with your boyfriend instead of with me.’
As I reached the wardrobe to grab my second load, a thought struck me. What if it hadn’t just been the afternoon he’d spent with Rob? What if it had really been the full day and he’d been lying about going to the surgery? What if he’d been with Rob when he’d replied to my text saying that he couldn’t get away early? What if every late night and weekend in the surgery had been time with Rob instead? Had the two of them being laughing at me for being so clueless? For being so naive? For being so unassertive?
Well, I’d show him how assertive I could be. I stormed into my office and rummaged in my sewing box for my dressmaking scissors. Returning to the bedroom, I closed my eyes as I stood over his shirts and opened the scissors wide. What should I do? Cut off all the cuffs? Cut them into shreds? Or something more discreet like lots of little puncture holes
I closed the scissors and sat down heavily on the bed, shaking my head. Tempting as it was, itching powder in his pants, cutting up his clothes, or running a key down his beloved Lexus wasn’t my style. Changing the locks was, though. I put the scissors away then searched on my mobile for an emergency locksmith and made the call.
Ninety minutes later, there was a new lock on the front door and I’d packed most of Gary’s clothes into two suitcases, a holdall and a suit-carrier. I’d also filled a crate with his favourite CDs and films along with his office in-tray and a couple of files. He kept most of his paperwork at the surgery so hopefully he wouldn’t need access to the house for anything else.
The locksmith had taken pity on me struggling up and down the stairs with my poorly ankle and had kindly carried everything into the garage, no questions asked, although the sympathetic look in his eyes told me that he knew exactly what was going on. He probably encountered the same sorry tale on a regular basis.
✉︎ To Gary
Thank you for spending the day with your boyfriend, ignoring my texts and refusing to come home to talk. This has made things really easy for me. The lock has been changed and your stuff is in the garage to collect at your leisure
My phone rang moments later.
‘Hi Gary.’
‘What the hell are you playing at?’ he shouted.
‘Gaining back control of my life.’
‘By kicking me out of my own home?’
‘What did you expect? That I’d continue living in limbo while you decide whether or not you’re in love with another man? That I’d cook and clean while you spend your weekends playing Frisbee on the beach with him? That I’d give you all time in the world to decide whether you want in or out of our marriage?’
He sighed. ‘I can come home and we can talk now.’
‘It’s too late for that. You’ve had your chance all week and you’ve had several chances today, but you’ve screwed up every time. Collect your stuff and find somewhere else to live.’
‘But—’
But I didn’t want to hear it anymore.
He appeared at about half nine. I watched through the bedroom blinds as he slammed the car door shut, stormed up the garden path and tried the door, probably hoping I’d been lying about changing the locks. He rang the bell several times, rang my mobile, rang the landline, rang the bell again, but I ignored him. Eventually, he gave up and lugged his stuff out of the garage and into the boot of the Lexus, got
into the car, and started the engine. I released a shaky breath as I watched his car disappear round the corner.
I’d just brushed my teeth and crawled under the duvet when the doorbell rang again. Gary? I limped to the window and cautiously parted the blinds. The Lexus was back on the drive.
‘I know you’re in there,’ Gary shouted through the letterbox. ‘We need to talk. I’m sorry I didn’t come home earlier. It was wrong of me. Please come down and let me in.’
I hovered near the top of the stairs.
‘I’m not leaving so you might as well let me in.’
‘How do I know it’s not a trick to get access to the house again?’ I shouted.
‘You’ll just have to trust me.’
‘Trust you? Really? Because it transpires that you’re such a trustworthy person, aren’t you?’
‘Please, Li. I’ll answer your questions.’
I hesitated before slowly limping down the stairs. If he was being honest and this wasn’t a trick, I did want answers, even if those answers were going to hurt. I was already assuming the worst – that he’d been gay when he married me – so what harm could it do having that affirmed?
‘You promise you’ll leave when you’ve said your piece?’ I said, opening the door on the chain.
‘I promise.’
‘Go through to the kitchen,’ I said, fully opening the door. This wasn’t a curl-up-on-the-sofa discussion. It was a hard-wooden-chairs-so-you-won’t-outstay-your-welcome discussion. I exhaled slowly and rubbed my tired eyes as I followed him down the hallway, pulling my dressing gown tightly round me.
‘So, how are you?’ he asked as he sat down in his usual dining chair.
I sat down too. ‘How do you think?’
He nodded. ‘Sorry. Stupid question. Is the ankle okay?’
‘It hasn’t fallen off.’
‘Good.’
I sighed. ‘You didn’t come here to check out my injury. You wanted to talk. So, talk.’
‘You asked me some questions this week and I realise my answers were very non-committal. Rob made me realise—’
I flinched. ‘You’ve been discussing me with Rob?’
‘Well, he just thought—’
‘I don’t give a shit what Rob thinks.’
‘Elise!’ Gary banged his fist down on the table. ‘I’m not here to have an argument. Rob told me I’d been unfair to you when I know the answers to the questions, so he insisted I come here and tell you the truth, which is why I came back.’
I stared at him for a moment. ‘Go on then. Let’s have the truth. Are you gay?’
‘Yes.’ It was barely a whisper.
‘Gay as opposed to bisexual?’
He nodded slowly.
Shit! Worst-case scenario. My heart thumping, I could scarcely form the next question. ‘How long?’
He tugged on his earlobe. ‘I suspected it when I was about fifteen.’
My empty stomach churned and my breathing came fast and hard. So did the tears. I quickly wiped them away, but it was too late.
‘I’m so sorry, Li.’ He reached across to wipe my tears, but I backed away. I didn’t want him touching me. It was too intimate. I swallowed hard a few times, those razor blades slicing in my throat. ‘So everything about us was just a lie. You never loved me…’
‘I did love you. I still do, but—’
‘You’re just not in love with me? That old chestnut.’
‘Li—’
‘It’s Elise! You’ve lost the right to shorten my name. If you knew you were gay, why the hell did you marry me?’
‘Because I loved you. You were my best friend. I thought that would be enough to make it work. And it did work for a long time. We had a great marriage. You know we did. But you were so desperate for a child and… I don’t know… it just felt wrong somehow to bring a child into the world. It felt like a lie.’
I scraped my chair back over the quarry tiles as I leapt up. ‘A lie? A baby would be a lie, but our marriage wasn’t? That’s absolute bullshit.’
Gary screwed up his face. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t explain that very well. Will you sit down?’
I slowly lowered myself on to the chair, but I didn’t pull it back under the table. I needed the distance. ‘Explain it then.’
‘It’s hard to. I suppose it was the thought that you didn’t just want one baby. You’d always wanted three or four. I’d been happy with just you, but the reality of playing happy families felt like a step too far.’
‘A step too far?’ I cried. ‘We talked about kids from day one. This isn’t something I suddenly sprung on you. I adore children. I’m a teacher, for goodness’ sake. Everything I’ve ever done has been about building up to my own family and I thought that’s what you wanted too.’
Gary stared at the table. ‘I thought I did too. Until…’
‘Until you met Rob,’ I suggested when he tailed off.
He nodded. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Is it love?’
He nodded again.
My stomach lurched. ‘Was he the first?’
‘Does it matter?’
‘Of course it does. I know we hardly ever had sex, but I think I have a right to know whether my husband was shagging another bloke at the same time he was hardly ever shagging me.’
Gary’s shoulders sagged and he looked at the table as he muttered, ‘There were two others before Rob.’
I put my hands to my face and shook my head, my stomach twisting and turning. ‘Gary! When?’
He looked up at me. ‘Last summer. It was nothing serious.’
‘Nothing serious? You were having sex with another man… with two other men… and you call that nothing serious?’
‘It wasn’t sex. It never went that far. It still hasn’t.’
I shook my head. ‘You can spare me the details.’
We sat in silence for a while as I tried to digest his revelations.
‘I’ve got one more question,’ I said, ‘because you haven’t given me a proper answer. If you knew you were gay, why did you marry me? Don’t give me that best friends bullshit again.’
‘I thought it was the right thing to do.’
‘For whom?’
Gary tugged on his left earlobe. ‘I can’t… It’s complicated. I’m sorry. It’s… I…’
I stood up. ‘I think you know, but seeing as you’re refusing to tell me now, it’s time for you to go.’
He lowered his eyes, nodded, then stood up. ‘Okay. Sorry.’
I headed down the hallway towards the door and waited for him to follow me.
‘If my mum calls, you won’t tell her about any of this, will you?’ he said.
It was on the tip of my tongue just to say ‘no’ when it struck me that I didn’t need to be diplomatic about his mother anymore. ‘The fewer words I have to utter to your mother, the better. You can have the pleasure of telling her. I don’t imagine she’ll be too devastated that I’m out of your life, and I certainly won’t shed a tear that I never have to cross paths with her again.’
‘Tell me how you really feel about her,’ he said, sounding surprised at my reaction.
I turned round to face him, hands on hips. ‘Oh Gary, you so don’t want to challenge me to do that. That little comment didn’t even represent a fraction of how I feel about your mother, which you’d have known if you’d ever listened to me instead of constantly jumping to her defence any time I opened my mouth.’
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t realise.’
I shook my head. ‘You did but you chose to do nothing about it and I, like always, didn’t push the issue. It’s how it’s always been with the two of us, isn’t it? I stay quiet and keep the peace and you ignore your mother’s appalling behaviour.’
He looked down at the floor, which showed me that he agreed.
‘I won’t say anything,’ I said again, ‘but I suggest you don’t leave it too late to tell your mother yourself. We live in a small town and word has a habit of getting round.’ I opened t
he front door.
He remained in the hall. ‘You think she’ll find out about Rob?’ he whispered, panic etched across his face.
‘Of course she’ll find out. The woman’s a walking gossip column.’ I closed the door again as realisation hit me. ‘That’s it, isn’t it? That’s really why you married me. So she didn’t disown you like Lloyd.’
Gary’s silence and downcast eyes said it all.
I opened the door again. ‘I’ll text you or email you next week about the practical stuff and I’ll text you if your mother rings, but don’t get in touch with me. You’ve got what you want, but I need some time to get my head round the huge lie that our life has been and decide what I want.’
‘But—’
I raised my hand in a stop gesture. ‘No! Listen to what I’m saying for once in your life. I mean it. Leave me alone and this can remain amicable. Keep pestering me and things will turn nasty. That’s not a threat, by the way, it’s a statement of fact. I need time and I need space. Goodbye.’
The moment I closed the door, my jelly legs gave way and I sank to the floor, sobbing. It was a lie from the start. Right from the very start. Exactly what I’d feared the most. He’d never loved me, except as a friend. He’d just used me. And I’d let him.
It was cold by the front door. Making my way upstairs, I curled up under the duvet, shivering. What a mess. And all because of what happened with his brother. Nine years Gary’s senior, Lloyd had moved to London with his job shortly after I started seeing Gary. I remembered his mum being overly dramatic about it and sounding off about big cities being smelly, unsafe and far too multicultural. Gary once told me that she was terrified Lloyd would meet someone who wasn’t a white, middle-class, Tory Christian. She was therefore thrilled when he announced a year later that he was bringing his girlfriend, Zoe – a practising Christian – home to meet the family. What he’d failed to mention was that Zoe hailed from Jamaica. I could vividly remember sitting in Gary’s parents’ lounge with Gary and his dad, Malcolm, while Cynthia fussed round us, straightening doilies and handing out hors d’oeuvres. She was at a critical point with cooking lunch when the taxi pulled up outside so she couldn’t go to the door. When she returned to the lounge, Lloyd and Zoe were taking off their coats. ‘Darling!’ she cried, holding her arms out towards Lloyd. Then she stopped, the smile slipping from her face as her hand clutched her throat. ‘Good Lord! She’s coloured.’ Half an hour later, Lloyd and Zoe were in a taxi heading back to the train station.
Finding Hope at Lighthouse Cove Page 7