A Perfect Husband

by Hilary Boyd

  ‘We’ve both had too much to drink.’

  ‘Isn’t this what people do when they’re drunk?’

  He laughed softly. ‘I suppose, but I’m not going to take advantage of you.’

  She felt a shaft of disappointment and leaned against the wall, befuddled now, just wanting to sleep. Seth guided her into the bedroom.

  ‘Will you be all right?’ he asked as she stood swaying by the bed. But Lily was beyond speech. Waiting till Seth had closed the door, she ripped off her clothes and fell naked between the cool cotton sheets.

  Seth had seemed unfazed when she finally emerged, shamefaced, from the bedroom the morning after. She’d found him in the kitchen, making coffee. Taking one look at her, he’d handed her a cup without speaking.

  ‘God, I’m sorry,’ she’d babbled, plonking herself down on a stool by the work island – she was feeling queasy, her head thick. ‘I don’t know what came over me. I promise I don’t usually behave like that – it’s mortifying. Too much wine and . . .’ She’d waved her hand, dismissing her own blather.

  ‘Toast?’ he’d asked with a smile.

  So they had sat in his sunny kitchen, drinking coffee and eating toast with the honey he’d been given by his friend in Sussex, talking in their usual fashion about everything . . . except the kiss. It made her cringe all over again to relive the moment.

  Now she paused before crossing Banbury Road on her journey to the canal. She had the sudden impression that she was being watched, that there was someone behind her. She spun round. But the pavement was busy with people going about their business, the road full of Friday traffic, and she told herself she must be imagining it. Suppose Kit is following me? She shook herself, crossed the road, resolving to stop being so ridiculous. But she was relieved when she arrived at Seth’s boat: the feeling of someone behind her had not gone away.

  *

  Lily still felt a little self-conscious as she and the doctor went for their usual Friday afternoon lunch at the pub across the bridge – always his treat. Outside was crammed with people so they sat inside, which was cooler anyway. To dispel her nerves she searched for a topic of conversation and ended up telling him about the odd sensation that she was being watched.

  Seth frowned. ‘You don’t seem the paranoid type.’

  ‘So you think it’s my imagination?’

  ‘Hmm . . . not necessarily. Maybe someone is watching you.’

  ‘Thanks! Just what I needed to hear.’

  ‘But unless you’re a spy or a criminal of some sort . . .’ He grinned, pushed his glasses up his nose. ‘Is there something you’re not telling me, Lily? A shady past, perhaps?’

  Lily found herself blushing, remembering the fantastical threats of which Freddy had warned her: men pitching up at the flat, lying in wait to duff him up, breaking his – or, indeed, her – kneecaps. She was embarrassed to have believed him now.

  She saw Seth noting the blush, but he looked away, obviously not wanting to embarrass her further. ‘Those people my husband pissed off . . . He was convinced they were following him.’

  ‘Maybe they were.’

  He gazed at her with one of what Lily teased him were his ‘therapy stares’. They seemed to reach beyond her willingness to reveal things. ‘It must have been hard, being with someone so out of control.’

  Lily frowned. ‘He never seemed out of control though. Freddy always had a plan.’ She thought for a moment. ‘But yes, when it all started to fall apart he must have felt pretty unhinged.’ She glanced at Seth. ‘You don’t really see it clearly at the time. At least, I didn’t.’

  ‘Do you still love him, despite it all?’

  ‘I’m not even sure who I loved.’

  There was silence between them. Seth took another sip of his lager. A dusty shaft of sunlight coming through the window burned hot on Lily’s back. She felt peaceful in the doctor’s company, the problem with Freddy a lifetime away.

  *

  Lily did not see him until he was standing directly in front of her. Her mind had been elsewhere as she wandered along the canal in the opposite direction to home – she didn’t feel like going back to the house yet. It was late afternoon and she was hot and a bit wobbly from the two glasses of wine – one more than usual – she’d consumed, responding to the awkwardness she’d felt at seeing the doctor again.

  ‘Lily?’

  She jumped at the sound of her name, her heart almost stopping when she realized who it was. Holding her hand to her mouth she stared up, the sun behind him haloing his head in light. She wondered for a split second whether this was another of her flights of fancy, a mirage.

  He laughed. ‘You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.’

  ‘Freddy?’

  ‘As I live and breathe.’

  ‘What are you doing here?’ She could barely get the words out, her breath trapped in her throat so that she was having trouble swallowing.

  ‘Looking for you.’ She felt his hand on her bare arm. ‘There’s a bench over there. Shall we sit down?’

  He led her across a wooden walkway into the recreation ground beside the canal. Lily, still uncomprehending, kept staring at him. When they were seated, she turned to him. ‘Why didn’t you ring?’

  ‘I did, but you wouldn’t have recognized my number.’

  ‘A text then. Just to warn me.’

  ‘I . . . I didn’t know if you wanted to see me, Lily. I thought it would be easy to ignore a text or an email.’

  She didn’t reply. Did she want to see him? She knew she had wanted to, so much so that she’d thought there was nothing to live for if she didn’t. But now he was here . . . She could feel part of her resisting him, aware that he had already shattered her peace of mind. His presence put her on edge.

  ‘Do you want to see me?’ he was asking.

  The look on his face was desperate, his body, so close to hers, both familiar and very alien.

  ‘Were you following me?’

  He nodded sheepishly. ‘I thought Helen and David were home . . . the cars. I didn’t want another lecture. Prem and Julie have already bent my ear about what a bastard I am – all of which I know.’ He paused. ‘Told me I don’t deserve you. How I should never darken your door again.’

  Lily couldn’t help smiling, imagining Prem’s fierce loyalty, Julie’s northern bluntness rolled out in her defence. But Freddy’s face had fallen.

  ‘Prem said you’d moved on, Lily.’

  ‘Did she?’ she asked, knowing suddenly that Prem, for reasons she couldn’t actually know, was partly right. Her heart would not slow down. She was hot and thirsty from the wine, and the chips she’d eaten. She still couldn’t believe he was here beside her: the memories of him that had invaded large parts of her days for months seemed more real – and a lot less alarming – than he did. Go away, she thought.

  Freddy fell silent. Lily, knowing him so well, could hear him worrying. ‘Where have you been?’

  He sighed. ‘In Malta, in Nanna Pina’s flat. Hiding out, being pathetic. I got back a few weeks ago.’

  ‘And the bankruptcy stuff?’

  ‘All done. I’m now officially a bankrupt, persona non grata to the financial establishment. I will be for a year . . . longer in many people’s minds.’ There was a short pause. ‘But it feels okay. Better than the terrible worry that I might be about to become one.’

  ‘Are you safe from the heavies, then?’ She’d asked the question almost jokingly, Freddy’s life taking on a slightly unbelievable hue now she had been separated from it for a while.

  He nodded. ‘Max bailed me out, Lily. Not only that, he’s given me a job on one of his projects, and Julie’s let me have one of her flats while the building work next door goes on . . .’

  Freddy went on talking, but Lily wasn’t really taking in any of what he said. Feeling jumpy, waiting for him to put her on th
e spot and not ready to respond, she turned away, longing for a cool glass of water, the quiet safety of her sister’s kitchen.

  ‘That’s great . . . I’m pleased for you.’ She got up, and as she did Freddy leaped to his feet as well.

  ‘Lily.’

  She stared at him. ‘Listen, this has all been a bit of a shock.’

  ‘But . . . you’re pleased to see me, aren’t you?’

  Lily watched him brush his fingers through his dark hair in a gesture with which she was achingly familiar. ‘To be honest, I don’t know what I feel right now, Freddy.’

  Clearly crestfallen, Freddy reached out to take her hand, but she moved it to rest on the strap of her canvas shoulder bag.

  For a moment they stood, neither moving, staring at each other.

  ‘I know you’re angry with me, Lily. Why wouldn’t you be? But I said I’d be back when I’d sorted things out and here I am. If you’re not in love with me any more I’ll do as your friends ask and leave you alone.’

  When she didn’t answer, he persisted, ‘Do you still love me?’

  A walker went past in shorts and a floppy sun hat, a stick in his hand, a daypack on his shoulders.

  After a long silence during which the tension flowed from each of them like a live current, she said, ‘It’s not that simple, Freddy.’

  ‘Isn’t it? Why not?’ His voice exploded into the still of the afternoon. ‘Listen, I’ve got somewhere for us to live, a job, no debt – except to Max. I absolutely swear I’m not gambling, and I never will again. I’ve started going to GA. Please, Lily . . . Please give me another chance. I know I’ve let you down as badly as anyone could, but I love you so much.’

  Lily heard the words and knew she should be pleased. But she just felt a strong desire to get away from her husband and have some peace to think. ‘I can’t deal with this. ’

  Freddy, passionate as always, repeated his question. ‘But you do still love me, don’t you, Lily? Just tell me you love me and I’ll leave you alone.’

  ‘Of course I still love you. But that doesn’t mean anything else.’ She suddenly felt angry at his presumption, turning up, invading her space, thinking he had only to declare his undying love and things would go back to where they were before he had betrayed her.

  But Freddy’s face took on a look of utter relief. ‘You still love me,’ he said, almost to himself.

  ‘It doesn’t mean anything else,’ Lily repeated firmly, having the urge to put out her hand, to physically hold him off.

  ‘On the contrary, Lily. It means everything,’ he said, giving her a huge grin.

  *

  Freddy walked with her over the next bridge, back towards home. He said nothing, and neither did she, but she could feel his thoughts burning between them, heard through the silence his desperate desire to pin her down, to get from her some definite sign of commitment.

  When they came to Banbury Road, they stopped.

  ‘I’ll get the bus back to the station,’ he said.

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘Can I at least call you?’ he asked dully, the fight seemingly evaporated in the face of her silence.

  She nodded, couldn’t speak.

  After an awkward pause he leaned in to kiss her cheek. She felt his lips, soft on her skin, inhaled the familiar hint of cardamom from his shaving soap, and her heart lurched. ‘Bye, Freddy,’ she said, turning quickly away.

  As she walked down the side street she knew his eyes were following her, just as they had earlier in the day, and she felt a powerful and unwanted impulse to turn and retrace her steps back to Freddy’s side.

  Chapter 44

  Freddy sat in the packed and stuffy carriage back to Paddington in a fug of bewilderment. This hadn’t been what he’d had in mind when he’d set off for Oxford that morning. He was baffled by Lily’s response. If she’d been angry with him he’d have understood, but she didn’t seem angry, just sort of detached. Not like Lily. And while he was with her he’d felt as if he were somehow too much, too loud, excessive . . . She’d seemed to be fending him off. It had been horrible. And yet she’d claimed still to love him.

  That man she’d met up with, could he be the problem? Thinking back over her replies, Freddy realized she hadn’t actually answered his question about whether she’d moved on or not. A spear of jealousy twisted in his guts. He’d wanted so badly to ask her about the boat man, but he’d known it was the wrong thing to do. If Lily had thought him jealous . . .

  Fuck, fuck, fuck, he thought miserably. I made a complete bollocks of the whole thing.

  *

  Freddy waited till eight that night before phoning her. He literally couldn’t hold off a minute longer. On the way home from the station he’d had a burning need for the medicating sights and sounds of the casino, the click of the chips through his fingers, as if the roulette wheel were hooked through his inner core, reeling him in like a fish who’d lost the will to fight. It was so painful that he wanted to cry out right there, alone in the street. But the image of his wife’s face, those hazel eyes so full of doubt, the feeling of her cheek against his lips was enough – today at least – to drive him back to the Charlotte Street flat.

  Lily did not pick up for three or four rings and he’d begun to give up hope, when a suspicious voice said, ‘Hello?’

  ‘It’s me.’

  ‘Hi.’

  ‘Listen, earlier . . . I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have barged in on you like that, without any warning. It was so insensitive. You looked as if I’d alarmed you.’

  Silence.

  ‘It’s okay.’

  ‘Is it?’ He heard her give a small laugh and the sound released a long-held breath through his body. ‘Say what you’re thinking?’ he asked.

  Lily didn’t reply at once. Then she said, ‘I’m thinking I don’t want to be rushed, Freddy. You did alarm me. I didn’t feel you had any right to pounce on me like that, expect me to declare my love when you haven’t been in touch at all for more than three months.’

  ‘We did agree . . .’

  ‘There was no agreement, Freddy. I wanted us to get through it together.’

  ‘But I told you I needed to do it on my own.’

  ‘Yes, you told me. But I didn’t agree. You just made love to me, then walked out leaving a miserable note. There was no agreement.’

  ‘No, okay.’ His memory of the time was sketchy now, but he knew his emotions had been racketing about his body with a mix of anxiety, shame, paranoia and too much black coffee, too many gins in a bar on the way home. He had no idea what he’d actually said to Lily. ‘I was pretty crazy at the time.’

  She didn’t reply.

  ‘Do you think you can forgive me, Lily?’ he asked. ‘Move past all that crap? It’s a huge thing to ask, but we had such a great thing going between us. If I’m not gambling, then . . .’

  ‘What frightens me is that I didn’t even know. You say we had a good thing going, but surely if that were the case you wouldn’t have had a problem, or I would have known about it.’

  ‘I was too clever at hiding it.’

  ‘Even so.’

  ‘I’m not gambling now. I swear.’

  ‘You’d have said that before, though, wouldn’t you, if I’d challenged you?’

  ‘Yes, but . . .’ He didn’t know how to convince her. Everything she’d said was true.

  ‘The thing is, Freddy, I’ve had some first-hand experience with addiction in the shape of Kit this summer. He’s been round a couple of times when I’ve been alone here – much to Helen’s annoyance – and he’s manipulated me, told me all sorts of tales he probably believes while he’s saying them, about how he hates being an addict, how he’s going to give up drugs for ever. He’s really, really going to give them up this time . . . and I believed every word. Only to discover it’s the same old lies he peddles to everyone. So wh
en you say you’ve stopped gambling, forgive me for being a bit cynical.’

  ‘It’s hardly fair to compare me to Kit. He’s a bloody heroin addict.’

  Silence.

  ‘A roulette table or a syringe full of smack, it’s all the same. I understand that now,’ she said.

  Freddy felt indignant, but he held himself in check, knowing his relationship with his wife hung by a thread. ‘So, what can I do to convince you, Lily?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  Freddy thought she sounded sad. ‘Can I visit you in Oxford?’ he asked, keen to get off the subject. ‘Or you visit me here? Pop down on the train, see the flat. It’s small but it’s really nice, Lily.’ He nearly added that he knew they could be happy there together, but again he bit his tongue.

  ‘Okay, I might.’

  ‘Will you ring me, then? I don’t want you to think I’m hassling you. I did rush in today, I’ll admit it. And I understand what you’re saying. I mean, why should you suddenly trust me?’

  Silence.

  ‘Oh, Freddy,’ he heard her say, and then he realized she was crying.

  ‘Lily? God, I’m so sorry, Lily. I’m so, so sorry. I wish I could hug you.’

  ‘I wish you could, too,’ Lily said quietly, through her tears.

  *

  First thing on Monday morning Freddy went round to Max’s office in Goodge Street, two minutes’ walk from his flat. The offices, above a key-cutting shop, were small and poky. Max had been in the same premises for over twenty years now and apparently had no intention of upgrading to the sort of show-off space many would expect from someone with his level of success. He said he was superstitious. ‘I worry that if I leave my business will go tits up,’ he’d told Freddy in the past. ‘Sort of grounds me, this place, reminds me of where I came from.’

  Freddy had talked to Lily once more since Friday night. He had hovered about all day Saturday, praying she would call, wanting to keep to his promise not to hassle her. He found it agony, sitting on his hands, just waiting; it wasn’t in his nature to be patient. By nine o’clock he had virtually given up, and that was when Lily rang. She sounded a little drunk, and he imagined her sitting with a glass of red wine at Helen and David’s kitchen table, the door open to the garden and the summer night.