‘I need to explain something. I know you know. And … And I should have told you. It should have come from me. I didn’t know we weren’t married. Not at first anyway. No one said we had to get the marriage certified.’
Rachel snorted into her glass.
‘I found out about ten years ago,’ David continued. ‘When I was organising the pension. Everything was in both our names – we’d never needed to prove we were legally man and wife until then. Your dad had just been rushed to hospital. When he died, I didn’t want to rock the boat.’
‘So why didn’t you tell me later?’
‘As time passed – what did it matter? We were happy. We already shared our lives. It’s just a piece of paper. I didn’t want anything to change.’
Rachel pulled her cardigan closer around her, shielding herself from the emotional ambush.
‘What should I have said? “Guess what? We’re not actually married.” Maybe you’d have seen it as a reprieve – you know, time served. End of a chapter, move on, get a new husband. A better one than me, that’s for sure. Maybe even one who knows your favourite colour.’
‘Who cares what my favourite colour is?’ Rachel asked.
‘If I was subjected to one of those immigration interviews, it’s safe to say it wouldn’t go well. I know nothing about you. I don’t know what colour your hairbrush is and I see it twice a day. I don’t know your favourite food or drink. I don’t know your favourite flower. I get to the florist and I ask the girl to recommend a bunch, or as a safe bet, buy lilies. Don’t you see? I still don’t know, after all these years. And yet you still love me and look after me. You make my favourite dinners. You buy my preferred beer and make sure it’s chilled in the fridge. You know everything about me.’
Rachel scoffed. ‘What you don’t seem to get – is that none of that mattered to me. I was happy. I thought we were happy.’
‘And I didn’t want you ever to question that because what if you didn’t want us anymore? I wouldn’t want anything without you. Take the money, take the house. But, please, take me with you. I love you, Rachel. I will always love you. I want what we had. I want it to be like before, but better. And I’ll make it better, I promise.’
David paused for a long time before he continued, ‘and the other thing, I’m really embarrassed that you know … that Jojo knows. That I’m a dickhead. I can’t even say the words aloud.’
‘You’re going to have to,’ Rachel replied quietly.
The drink loosened David’s tongue. ‘It wasn’t you – you’re beautiful, caring, everything. It was me and my stupid reaction to finding myself in my mid-forties. The overwhelming certainty of my own mortality scared me. It literally weighed me down.’
Rachel arched an eyebrow.
‘I’m ashamed but I want to try and explain.’ David closed his eyes. ‘Dad didn’t make it past forty-five. I felt fated, doomed. Then someone I went to school with died.’
‘You didn’t tell me.’
‘Simon. We played football together as teenagers, he joined the army and I did A-levels. Besides, what could I say? “This might be the year my number is called?” He had a stroke. Forty-four years old. On holiday with his wife and kids. Just like that. Gone.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘No, I’m sorry.’ David tried to look Rachel in the eye but she evaded his glance. ‘I’m sorry I hurt you.’
‘It’s okay,’ she whispered.
‘It’s not. Look at me …’
‘Look at our boring life?’
‘It was never boring.’
‘You said you felt like you were dying.’
‘But not because of you. We talked about kids. What if I wasn’t there to see them grow up?’ David continued.
‘I don’t make you feel alive? You can’t be alive with me?’
‘That’s not what I meant. It was madness, like I was a different person. And only now I’m the other side of it can I see it wasn’t me. It was a desperate attempt to … I dunno.
‘But … what if it happens again, with … someone else? I’m not dense, but I still don’t actually know what happened to us,’ Rachel said as apprehension tightened her throat.
‘Why didn’t you kick me out?’
‘Because I didn’t want it to be true.’ Rachel’s bottom lip quivered and tears began to stream down her face. David used his sleeve to mop them up. ‘What should I have said? “Hey, guess what? There’s a meal deal in Marks & Spencer – and by the way, are you fucking someone else?”’
50 points to Rachel.
David felt each of her words pierce him like a knife.
‘And what about your girlfriend?’ Rachel pulled up Amelia-Rose’s Facebook page on her phone.
‘It. Was. A. One. Off.’
‘When?’
‘The conference at Christmas.’
Rachel scoffed. ‘I’m not an idiot. I saw you snogging in the street on our fucking anniversary!’
50 points to Rachel.
‘What?’ David had been caught out. ‘But that was nothing, I promise.’
‘Like the sex was nothing?’
50 points to Rachel.
‘It was a one-night thing. I’m not proud of myself. It wasn’t good, it wasn’t a porno or anything. The opposite, in fact. This woman hit on me. Told me I was “vanilla”. And then fobbed me off.’
‘And if she hadn’t fobbed you off—’
‘I didn’t mean that! The moment I was in her room, I regretted it.’
‘But you fucked her anyway. How gallant of you.’
‘It wasn’t like that.’
‘So tell me, David. Why was shagging this girl worth ruining our marriage?’
Challenged like that, what could he say?
100 points to Rachel.
‘I am never going to be able to explain or defend those three hours—’
‘It lasted three hours? What a bonkathon! Was she better than me? I mean, if you had to score out of ten?’
150 points to Rachel. Rachel felt vindicated, even though she froze inside at the thought of David with Amelia-Rose.
‘No! Listen. From the time we left dinner and I called a taxi to take me home, it was three hours.’
‘Did you mention your wife to her at all? I guess we know now why you feel uncomfortable wearing a wedding ring. It must get in the way of all the extramarital fucking.’
200 points to Rachel.
‘That’s enough, Rachel. I’ve said I’m sorry. I have been trying to make it up to you every second of every hour of every day since it happened. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to hurt you and because it was my mess. I love you. I want you. If that’s not enough for you to give me a second chance … If it’s not enough to say fifteen years were more important than a regrettable evening with someone for whom I have no feelings whatsoever, then I don’t know how I can change your mind. But, Rachel, please don’t give up on us. Not now.’
David cupped her face in his hands. She wriggled free.
‘I need a minute.’
Rachel
40
David continued to talk as Rachel opened the patio doors. ‘I don’t have a crystal ball. I know I need to earn your trust again, I can only promise you with everything I have that I will never hurt you again. Sorry, I’m rambling. Please, if we just can stay together, and I can prove, something … I don’t know what to say to make it better, but I promise in time, you will see. Do you think you can find it in your heart to forgive me?’
‘You’re still rambling.’ Her head was reeling. It was a one-night stand? That changed everything, didn’t it?
She was transported back to the stuffy hospital room that smelled of disinfectant and out-of-date vanilla yoghurt. Rachel was still haunted by the memory of her dad jaundiced from chemotherapy. The crepey skin on his big hands and bony wrists. Saying goodbye to him was the hardest thing she had ever had to do. David was right. She wouldn’t have coped with the news that she was not married to her husband.
Is this what she wanted, a life with David?
Rachel couldn’t afford to drown once again in David’s deep blue eyes, however tempting it was. She tried to understand how he felt. She’d wanted the truth. Could she trust him with her heart again?
When she went back inside David was lying on the sofa, Rachel moved his legs to sit beside him. She smiled at the discarded birthday balloons. The number four bobbed up and down on the ceiling, and the six rested on the floor as if tired from all the excitement.
David held her long and hard. The type of hug that promoted a sense of security but also incited lust and desire deep within her. Rachel slowly undid the top button of his shirt and into the depths of his neck whispered, ‘I don’t know …’
David put his arms around her and squeezed hard, telling her he was never going to let her go.
‘What if it’s too late?’ she whispered. ‘What if the trust is gone?’
David took a deep breath. ‘I’m not the only guilty party here.’
Rachel removed herself from his embrace. ‘What on earth is that supposed to mean?’
‘I saw the text message – from the sexual health clinic. And what about the lingerie, the secret phone calls!’
50 points to David.
‘You’ve been going through my phone?’
‘It flashed up.’
‘And then you deleted it?! The STD test was because my husband was sleeping with someone else. The lingerie was for you, you idiot. I was trying to make our sex life exciting because you were off having interesting sex elsewhere.’ Rachel became more incensed. ‘The phone calls were to friends supporting me through the drama of NEVER BEING MARRIED, and … Wait, I don’t need to justify anything, it was YOU who had an affair! A fucking affair. And you shaved off your pubic hair.’
‘I did that for you!’
‘You had an affair for me? Thank you very much!’
‘No, the manscaping. Barry said it’s what women w—’
‘And look at Barry! He’s hardly—’
‘Can I finish?’ David relayed that Barry had told him things had changed since he was last single. He was David’s only conduit to the modern world of dating. He said that nowadays men trim it like Beckham! It was all about keeping a clear and tidy man-bush.
10 points to David.
‘And stop calling it an affair. It wasn’t an affair. It wasn’t love. It happened once and I regret it from the bottom of my heart. What about you and the vet? The self-righteous going-to-turn-vegan prick of a vet?’
50 points to David.
‘What about him? I didn’t have sex with him!’
‘He thought we were divorced. He assumed I was bloody Kevin!’
Rachel covered her mouth and let out a short laugh at the thought of what must have been an awkward encounter. David took the opportunity to kiss her. Rachel was instantly at home in his arms. His tongue tickled hers as he pushed open her mouth with his lips. Her mouth submitted and allowed his tongue access.
‘I thought we were going to start trying for a baby,’ David whispered.
15 points to David.
‘I thought we were already trying for a baby!’
100 points to Rachel.
‘I’m sorry. Rach, I’m so fucking sorry. For everything. This is all my fault.’ David stared at the ceiling and let out a huge sigh. ‘I miss us. I miss how we used to be.’
Rachel untangled herself from David. She was exhausted. She tried to think, but her head and her heart were competing for attention. ‘But I think … it’s too late,’ she whispered.
‘Please don’t say that.’
‘I don’t know! I don’t know what to think, or what to say. Everything between us feels poisoned. BECAUSE YOU HAD SEX WITH SOMEONE ELSE! You had your penis inside … I can’t even say it. You did that. And now I’m supposed to trust it will never happen again? What about all the secret phone calls?’
‘They were to Barry. He was helping me with something … Come with me, I’ve got something to show you.’
‘Where are we going? It’s the middle of the night.’ Rachel was confused.
David grabbed their coats in preparation for the cold night air. He held out his hand and after a moment’s hesitation Rachel accepted it. David rushed them down towards the river. She had to run to keep up with his long strides. When he stopped at the deserted moorings, it was like a ghost town. Rachel was chilled by the silence. Even the River Thames was sleeping.
She watched as David got down on one knee. She held up her hand as if to stop him from speaking. If a proposal was everything she wanted, why was her stomach tying itself in knots?
David clasped one of her hands in his and at the same time presented her with an envelope. ‘Rachel, please do me the honour of accompanying me to Paris. It’s all I want for my birthday.’
25 points to David.
‘Another one of Jojo’s ideas?’
50 points to Rachel.
‘No, this one is mine. All mine.’
100 points to David.
Rachel rubbed her hands together to keep warm. ‘What are we doing here?’
‘You’ll see,’ David said with a smile. He showed her to a boatshed and began struggling with two oversized pad-locks. Finally, he pulled open the door. Inside the shed was dark and dank and smelled of paint stripper. David fumbled for a light switch.
‘And as useless as Barry can be, he’s a dab hand with a toolbox.’
David stepped aside and let Rachel peer into the blackness where she saw the silhouette of a boat. There was a 24-foot Motor Cruiser supported on scaffolding and blocks, tall and proud. Rachel was speechless.
‘She’s a Walton! Do you want to know her name?’ David pointed to the starboard side where the freshly painted letters shone: RAQUEL. ‘I was going to call her Rachel, but her documentation said she was built in Spain, so … But she’s yours, she’s all yours. Whether we stay together or not. And give it a couple of weeks, she might even be sea-worthy!’
500 points to David.
‘But why?’
‘I thought your dream was to own a boat?’
‘It was. A gazillion years ago. But that was before we married and … What about your seasickness? ‘
‘Apparently there are pills you can take – who knew? Or I could adopt the Captain Jack Sparrow method with a bottle of rum for when we cruise up and down the Thames.’ David gave an awful impression of a pirate.
Rachel could feel her eyes well up.
‘How did you remember?’
‘Please don’t cry. Don’t you like her? I’m sure I can give her back. I’m sorry. I was trying to do something, anything … to … to show y—’
Rachel brought David close to her. She felt tears roll down her cheeks as she kissed him. For minutes their faces were pressed close together, separating only briefly to come up for air before they went back to the kiss. They sighed with delight and yearning. Their tongues met, each of them emitting a small moan when they found the other.
‘Is this some kind of bribe?’ Rachel pointed to Raquel. ‘You can’t buy me a boat every time you cheat on me.’
‘I couldn’t afford to!’
‘Ha!’
‘Seriously, Rach, I love you and I will never leave your side ever again. Not for a moment.’
‘That sounds annoying!’ she joked.
‘I know you don’t like surprises but … Paris? It’s all booked. The tickets are for tomorrow. Please say yes?’
‘Tomorrow?’ Rachel checked her watch. ‘Don’t you mean today?’
It was David’s turn to check the time. ‘We’d need to leave in six hours! Come on, let’s live spontaneously!’
‘What about work?’
‘I’ve cleared it with Eva and—’
‘You what?’
David explained he’d asked Eva to hold the fort and she gave her blessing – her exact words.
Rachel accepted the challenge though a dozen worries were already running through her mind. She’d
need to find passports and currency … They ran home to pack.
Rachel liked romantic breaks and she liked city breaks; but in her mind, they were two very different holidays. In Paris, Rachel and David could spend all day in bed, leaving the hotel only for sustenance and sometimes not even then thanks to the magic of room service. There they were free to make love all day and to eat and drink extravagantly. Of course, they could do that at home without having to tell tall tales to friends about the cultural activities they had indulged in on the continent. Having been to Paris more than a dozen times over the years, not once had they visited the Arc de Triomphe or the Louvre. They hadn’t managed a boat ride along the Seine, nor seen inside the Moulin Rouge.
They always stayed in the same boutique hotel: a small family-run place above a bakery. It was worth every cent for the balcony’s picturesque view of Paris. As the sun rose behind the Eiffel Tower, they’d devour warm croissants for breakfast before falling back into bed. It was bliss.
Paris was their city: ‘Rachel and David’s romantic hideaway’.
The Eurostar terminal was packed and the imminent journey conjured a mix of memories. Rachel found herself feeling jittery and out of sorts. It was Monday morning and they treated themselves to breakfast in the long Champagne bar as they waited for the 09:25 train. The clink of the toast followed by the first sip of bubbles eased Rachel’s anxiety. They watched commuters and passengers disembark from the trains and made up stories about their respective journeys. It was people watching at its purest.
David had splashed out and booked first-class tickets. The journey was fast and they looked like they could be loved-up honeymooners. Rachel relaxed, finally enjoying herself. This was what fun used to feel like.
They arrived in Paris in no time, joined the long queue for taxis outside the Gare du Nord terminus. The manager, Marie, welcomed them with open arms when they arrived. It was a home from home. Their room was perfect. Rose petals covered the four-poster bed.
Rachel felt nervous. In normal circumstances, Paris was the green light for debauchery. By now, they would have ripped each other’s clothes off. Rachel waited for David to initiate things, but the air felt stilted between them and she could sense he was holding back. He suggested a walk. Paris was picturesque as ever. They strolled along the tree-lined streets, kicking the fallen leaves. They picked a brasserie with an ambitious menu and sat outside. Rachel ordered two glasses of wine in her best French accent. The waiter was appreciative that she had attempted his native language. The carte du jour was a salad, served with different hams and cheeses, topped with fried potato and served with fresh baguette and lashings of creamy, salty butter. Who knew salad could be so delicious? It was divine. After eating they were serenaded by a street violist playing Tchaikovsky, as they were served small strong coffees.
How to Marry Your Husband Page 26