by Adale Geras
*
‘Just going to have a quick bath, Bob,’ Joss said. ‘I’ll be with you very soon.’
‘Righty-ho,’ Bob called. ‘I’m perfectly happy, darling, soaking up all this unaccustomed luxury. Exploring the mini bar, actually. Take your time.’
Joss sank into the scented water and leaned back with her eyes closed. She felt, still, as though she were being slowly torn in two. All day long, she’d both wanted the day never to end, and longed for it to be over. Winning the Madrigal … She’d been so worried about the dinner, seeing Gray, coming here with Bob and then going to Paris with him for two whole days, that the poetry prize and whether she might win it or not had receded to the back of her mind. When she won, a great wave of joy and elation took hold of her and she almost stopped fretting about what would happen when she was sitting with Gray in the restaurant.
The round table meant that they were all quite close to one another. She was actually opposite Gray and it took some effort not to catch his eye. Maureen was sitting on the other side of Adrian, but still, Joss heard ‘Graham and I and ‘my husband’ far too often for comfort. If someone burst into the bathroom now and asked her what she’d had to eat, she would have had to make an effort to remember. She’d spent most of the meal in a sort of daze. She’d drunk more and more wine, to give herself the courage simply to keep on sitting there. She made a point of watching Isis, to be sure that she was all right and enjoying the evening. Adrian was being charming to everyone, from what she could see. It was difficult not to like him, Joss reflected, and he was certainly handsome, but she didn’t feel she knew him very well yet. Zannah and he hadn’t visited Altrincham together. She must try to arrange something. From time to time, she lifted her eyes to see who Gray was talking to: Em, Zannah … that was all right.
Then she’d gone to the loo, and Zannah came with her. She’d guessed that something was up, of course, but Joss was reasonably certain that she’d reassured her. Then on the way back to the table, she’d caught Gray’s eye and seen … She’d seen everything in his gaze that she hadn’t even realized she’d been waiting for: love and admiration, passion and dismay. A tiny smile, a raised eyebrow: an acknowledgement that the feeling between them was there, like an invisible rope binding them together. She smiled back at him. She couldn’t help it. It had been such a relief to her that he knew. That he understood how she must be feeling. That he was experiencing, as she was, anguish and desire and a love he had no way of expressing.
There had been the usual press of people around the cloakroom, as everyone was handed coats and scarves and Adrian his briefcase. They had milled around the door of the restaurant and walked together to where their cars were parked. Joss frowned as she reconstructed the choreography of their farewells. The Ashtons were taking Charlotte home again. Adrian was giving Zannah, Emily and Isis a lift. Kisses were exchanged. Maureen kissed Zannah and Emily. Then she kissed Isis. Zannah, Emily and Isis got into the car. Maureen kissed Adrian. He got into the driver’s seat. Then Maureen kissed Joss and Bob and got into the passenger seat of Gray’s car. Then Charlotte kissed Joss, murmured ‘Bon voyage’ and got into the back seat of the Ashtons’ car. Then … Bob had shaken Gray’s hand and moved away. She and Gray were alone together on the passenger side of the Ashtons’ car. He leaned towards her, and kissed her cheek, politely, suitably, but his hand found hers and squeezed it so hard she almost cried out and she couldn’t stop herself: she brought his hand up a little and pulled it into her waist, as though she was reluctant to let him go. Their hands were still clasped together tight, so tight, and then he leaned forward suddenly and whispered in her ear. ‘Text me. Please …’
She’d nodded. She couldn’t speak. There wasn’t time and the words were on her lips and she moved them silently. I love you … Had he seen? Did he know she’d said it? She’d held on to his hand as long as she could, but the whole exchange couldn’t have taken longer than a few seconds. Adrian’s car was already moving as Gray was kissing her goodbye. No one in Gray’s car could see them, Joss was quite sure. They’d been shielded by the bulk of the taxi that Bob had ordered to take them back to their hotel. Bob himself was settling down in the back seat, waiting for her to get in. Both Maureen and Charlotte waved gaily out of the window as they drove off. Gray’s eyes had been fixed on the steering wheel. They were safe. No one knew what had passed between them.
She sighed and got out of the bath. I have to enjoy this, she told herself. I wish I was anywhere but here. I wish I was at home. I must put Gray entirely out of my mind for the next few days, or I shall go mad. Bob’s waiting. My husband. Father of my children. The man I’ve loved for more than thirty years. He loves me. He’s arranged this treat for me. She fastened the towelling robe provided by the hotel around her waist and tried to pull together all the love that was there, somewhere, she knew it. It was a love she’d relied on for years and years, a love that had nothing to do with Gray and what she felt for him. This was a different emotion altogether and Joss set herself to find it, to remember it and to show Bob that she was still a good wife. It must still be there, somewhere.
*
It was touch and go. Either Maureen was saving his life with her incessant chatter or she was slowly killing him. The irritation he felt every time he tuned into what she was saying was certainly raising his blood pressure, but the good thing about Maureen was that you didn’t have to listen to much. As long as you put in a non-committal remark from time to time, she was exactly like one of those toys that you wound up: she would buzz around in ever-decreasing circles and only come to a full stop at bedtime.
‘ … not a bad place, really. Lasagne maybe not quite up to scratch, but of course they haven’t got enormous amounts of money and it was rather a romantic gesture from Bob Gratrix, wasn’t it? To take his wife off to a hotel for the night and then to Paris. I wish you’d do something like that, Graham.’ She sighed theatrically. Gray was just about to say something that would, the way he was feeling, have come out sounding even crosser than he felt, but no, she was off again. About the clothes, this time. Here he really tuned out and almost immediately wished he hadn’t because what was in his head was such torture that he’d almost have preferred to listen to Maureen.
He could imagine everything. The room, the bed … Would they be in it already? Had he torn off her clothes the minute the door was closed? No, speaking to Bob, looking at him carefully, as he’d done tonight, the man didn’t strike him as the tearing-off-clothes type. For long minutes across the table, he’d watched him. He couldn’t see anything about Lydia’s husband that was in the least remarkable. He seemed pleasant enough, not good-looking, but okay. It was now, because he’d heard him speak, watched him chatting to his wife, very much easier to see the two of them as they must be at the moment, or very soon would be. Unthinkable that Bob wouldn’t want to make love to her on the night of such a triumph. Gray shivered. Stop thinking about it. He tried to turn his mind to other things which led him to Paris. He made a huge effort and tried instead to picture himself, there in Paris with her. A café on the Left Bank, holding hands across a marble-topped table. Walking along the streets together. His imagination wasn’t up to much except fantasies of the two of them making love then making love again. Waking up together. Sleeping together. Together. The thought of it made him grind his teeth in frustration and he concentrated on changing gear.
Maureen had moved on from discussion of this evening’s party to the wedding. She was talking about flowers. He glanced at her.
‘Mmm,’ he said, as a kind of encouragement. For a mad second, he thought of interrupting her. Maureen darling, I’m in love with someone else and I want a divorce. What a relief it would be, to have everything out in the open! He stopped himself. He’d promised Lydia that they’d wait till after the wedding. How would Maureen take the news? Would she cry? Hit him? Yell at him? And what would she feel, really feel? After she’d got over the pain that hearing such words would cause her, Gray comforted himself that s
he’d be okay in the end. She was a survivor. She always had an eye to the main chance. She was a good-looking woman still. It was hard to believe that she wouldn’t find someone else, if she wanted to. Gray indulged himself in a short fantasy of Maureen swanning off on a Caribbean cruise, surrounded by hordes of admiring suitors, beating off requests for a dance, a kiss, a marriage. Who was he trying to kid? He was using these daydreams to comfort himself. She’d be devastated, of course, but perhaps he would cushion the blow a little by leaving her the house, just moving out. He would also, as he had told Lydia, have to provide for her generously.
‘I’m going to make a cup of tea, darling,’ Maureen said, as they turned into their drive.
‘Right,’ said Gray. ‘I’ll put my stuff away in the study and I’ll be down in a moment.’ He raced upstairs and took out the phone he used only for his conversations with Lydia. There was a text message waiting for him.
I’m thinking only of you. Love you.
He sat down and punched in a reply:
Me too. Will wait for you.
He couldn’t say what he wanted to say, which was: I’m trying not to think about you because I can’t bear it. What are you doing now? Are you in his arms? Kissing him?
He walked downstairs to the kitchen, wishing it was tomorrow. As soon as he woke up, he’d be able to work all hours in the hospital and not think about a single thing to do with Lydia, but there was the rest of the night to get through first.
*
‘I’ve already told you what I saw,’ Emily said. ‘Ma kind of pulled his hand towards her and kept on holding it for longer than she needed to. I wouldn’t have thought twice about it, but after what you’ve just said …’
Zannah sighed. ‘I think she’s having an affair with Graham Ashton. It’s the only explanation. But how? And when? They hardly know one another …’
‘You’ve forgotten what happened at your engagement party. Remember how she rushed out like that and made Pa drive her home? That was a bit strange.’
‘But Em, they’d never met before then, had they? I don’t know what I think.’
‘We’ve gone over and over this. My head feels like scrambled eggs, Zannah. Can’t we leave it?’
‘But what if it’s true?’
‘I don’t see how it can be.’
‘But what if it is? Ma having an affair. What’d happen? What about Pa?’
Emily picked up a cushion and punched it. Then she put it behind her head and leaned back. ‘I reckon,’ she said, ‘that we should talk to her. Ask her straight out.’
‘And what if she says she is? What then?’
‘I don’t know. It’s late, eh? Let’s go to bed. We’ll talk about this later. Ma and Pa are in Paris now … They’ll be living it up. We’re stymied till they get back …’
‘So we might as well forget about it? Are you saying that?’
‘No, not at all,’ said Emily. ‘But we can’t do anything now.’
‘I know. I know. You’re right. And there’ll probably be a completely innocent explanation. Let’s go to bed.’
‘I’m off,’ said Emily. ‘Night, Zannah.’
Zannah stared after her sister, who, it seemed to her, was escaping with unseemly haste from a conversation she found uncomfortable. And I’m being a control freak as usual. What if Ma is having an affair? Is it anyone’s business but Ma and Pa’s? Yes, it is, she told herself. It’ll affect us all. Not just me and Em but Isis …
She stood up and turned out the light. Then she went upstairs to her bedroom and sat on the bed. Emily must be right. It was completely unlikely and all the evidence … Well, what evidence was there? A half-smile intercepted. But that look in his eyes … what about that? A raising of an eyebrow. An extra squeeze by her mother of Graham Ashton’s hand. Oh, and the way she had left the engagement party. They had to remember that as well, but they’d never met at that time so it couldn’t count. So it was nothing, really. They hardly knew one another, so it was impossible. They’d met once, so briefly that the meeting couldn’t be called a proper meeting at all. The whole thing was one great big zero. She undressed, washed, got into bed and stared at the ceiling. Then something she’d forgotten floated into her mind. Zannah sat up in bed, feeling faintly nauseous. She pulled back the covers, got out of bed and walked along the corridor to Emily’s room.
There was a line of light showing under the door. Zannah knocked and opened it at almost the same time. ‘You’re not asleep, are you?’
‘No, but …’
‘I know, I know, it’s late and we’ve got to get up for work, but I have to tell you this.’ As she spoke, Zannah flung back the bedclothes near Emily’s feet and settled herself at the bottom of the bed, facing her sister across an expanse of duvet. ‘We used to do this all the time, remember? When we were kids. I’m sorry, Em, but I’ve got to ask you what you think.’
Emily leaned back against her piled-up pillows. ‘This is about Ma again, right? Her so-called affair with Graham Ashton.’
‘Yes … But the thing is, when Adrian and I were staying at the Ashtons’, I went into Graham’s study and The Shipwreck Café was lying on the desk. I actually saw him stroking it.’
‘So?’ Emily sounded bored. ‘It’s on sale, isn’t it? And Graham writes poetry. You told me that. Or Ma did.’
‘The book on its own isn’t the point. Don’t you see? It’s the combination of all sorts of things.’ Zannah ticked them off on her fingers. ‘The love of poetry, the kind of poems they are. Have you forgotten, well, how sexy they are? Plus there’s the fact that he had Ma’s book on his desk, and this is the clincher. Where was Ma while Pa was in Egypt?’
‘Doing a poetry course at Fairford Hall.’
‘Exactly!’ Zannah sounded triumphant. ‘That was where they met. Properly, I mean. I’ve worked it out. It’s logical, isn’t it? He likes writing poetry, she’s teaching a course, she’s going to be related to him … What could be nicer than booking a place on her course? Opportunity, motive, method … everything.’
‘It’s not a murder, Zannah. You sound like a detective.’
‘Tomorrow, I’m going to find out. I’m going to phone Fairford and ask.’
They’ll never tell you who was on the course.’
‘I’ll pretend to be Maureen … make it something financial. Don’t worry … I’m good at stuff like that. I bet it was there that they got closer to one another. You know what Ma’s told us. They’re a hotbed of lust, those courses.’
‘You’ve not taken account of one thing, though.’
Zannah smiled. ‘Go on, then, clever-clogs. What’s that?’
‘Ma. Her character. She wouldn’t … well, you know. She wouldn’t be unfaithful to Pa. It’s just not like her. She hates rocking the boat. She’s quiet. She’s not … well, I don’t know … but would you honestly say she was tempestuous? Passionate? Impulsive? In spite of the evidence of the poems, which can’t be all that recent, so they sort of don’t fit in to your solution, do they? The Fairford course was only a couple of weeks ago.’
Zannah buried her face in the duvet and thought that she would never have chosen such a pattern. Very minimalist: white, with small black gatherings of squares dotted here and there. She said, ‘Well, you’re right in one way, of course. I wouldn’t have said Ma was passionate, really, but then I read the poems and they’re quite different. I mean, what I get when I read them is someone not a bit like Ma.’
Emily frowned. ‘Well, yes, but if she wrote them before she met Graham Ashton, which she must have done, then they’re just a kind of pretending, aren’t they?’
‘I thought so, till tonight. Anyway, we’ve got to ask her. In confidence. D’you think she’d stay over with us on their way home? They’re back on Thursday night and I know Pa has to be up north by Friday, but maybe Ma would stay and we could ask her …’ Zannah’s voice faded away.
‘I don’t fancy that much, do you? I mean, what are we going to say?’
‘We’ll just ask her
straight out. Are you having an affair with Graham Ashton?’
‘Brilliant! What if she doesn’t tell us?’ Emily said. ‘She could take offence and storm out.’
‘Ma’s not a stormer-out.’
‘You thought she was someone who’d never have an affair, too, and now you’re changing your mind about that.’
Zannah said, ‘What happens if she denies it? Will we believe her?’
‘We have to, don’t we? We can’t start assuming she’s a liar as well as an adulteress.’
‘Don’t call her that … it’s horrible.’
Emily leaned forward and took Zannah’s hand. ‘It’s not horrible, Zannah. People do it all the time. Lots of them. That doesn’t make them bad people. Look at Cal, for instance.’
Tears came to Zannah’s eyes. ‘It’s because of Cal that I’m so … well, so upset about this. I felt … well, you know how I felt when all that happened. I can still make myself miserable if I think about it too much, even now.’
‘And you’re worried that if Ma’s having an affair, it’ll hurt Pa?’
Zannah was silent for a long time. Of course it was mainly Pa she was concerned about, but she realized that her own security would be shaken if anything was wrong between her parents. She said, ‘I’ve never really thought about Ma and Pa’s relationship. I suppose it would be Pa who’d be most affected if they split up but there’s also us, and Isis and …’
‘God, Zannah, you’re letting your imagination run away with you! We don’t even know there’s anything going on yet. And as for Ma and Pa’s relationship, well, quite honestly, I never think about it. They’re just there, in Altrincham, leading their life like they’ve always lived it. That’s all.’