by Jane Fallon
‘Nearly,’ I say. ‘She’s home this week and I want her to be able to enjoy it. It’s probably the last summer ever when she won’t have any responsibilities. I don’t want her having to deal with this.’
‘I have no idea how you have so much self-restraint,’ Saskia says. I can’t tell her that I wouldn’t if I hadn’t already decided it was over with Robert. If I cared.
‘There’s no rush. It makes more sense for me to think before I act, anyway. What’s that saying? “Revenge is a dish best served cold.” ’
‘Just don’t let him get away with it. You deserve so much better.’
She wouldn’t think so if she knew what I’ve been doing. How I’ve been scheming. I bury the urge to confess.
‘Thank you. I really do appreciate your advice, by the way.’
Saskia takes a sip of her latte. ‘Do you remember how exciting everything was at Georgia’s age?’
‘Just about. I don’t think it was as stressful then as it is now, though. Can you imagine having all your mistakes up there on social media for the whole world to see?’
‘Haha! All your friends posting photos that would hang around forever. I mean, I had braces, glasses, acne, you name it. At least newspapers are tomorrow’s chip paper, I suppose. Do they still wrap chips in newspaper? It seems so unhygienic.’
I laugh fondly. Trust Saskia to bring it back to looks. She can’t help herself.
‘Newspapers are all online now, though, aren’t they?’ she says. ‘Those Sadskia pictures will be doing the rounds for the rest of my life.’
We sit there in contemplative silence for a moment. Then I can’t help myself.
‘What’s Samantha like?’ I know I shouldn’t care but the words are out before I have a chance to remind myself of that.
‘Don’t even waste your energy thinking about her.’
‘I mean, beautiful, obviously …’
Saskia huffs. ‘She has youth on her side, that’s all. She’ll look as rough as anything when she gets to our age, you’ll see.’
I suddenly remember Saskia’s Wikipedia page. I wonder if Josh has changed it back, if Saskia ever even saw it.
‘I doubt he’s thinking he’ll still be with her when she’s our age. Or if he is, he’ll be so old by then he’ll think forty is positively youthful. What’s she like as a person, though?’
It’s not that I’m planning on getting involved with Samantha – I’ve learned enough from my lesson with Saskia to keep my distance – but I have to poke the scab. And, anyway, any intel might be useful. Maybe Robert’s fallen for her because of her love of knitting and I can take a crash course.
Saskia ponders. I can tell there’s no love lost between them but it wouldn’t be like her to be out-and-out bitchy, although, to be fair, the line about Samantha’s looks not lasting the test of time was a bit near the mark.
‘She’s ambitious,’ she says. ‘And she has that thing where she thinks she’s invincible. We were all like it at that age, I suppose.’
‘I certainly was,’ I say.
I’m about to launch into a rant about the pressure on today’s young people to succeed when Monika, thankfully, saves me from myself to ask if we’ve decided what we want to eat.
‘Tuna Niçoise, dressing on the side,’ Saskia says, and I wonder if she’s forgotten she’s meant to be calorie-loading.
‘Aren’t you meant to have a side of fries with that?’ I say as soon as Monika leaves.
Saskia gives me one of her big smiles. ‘Josh says I can stop. He said they’re pulling back on the story a bit because they were worried Melody was going to get a bit dull if she just moped about the place. Now …’ She looks around to see if anyone is eavesdropping, as they so often are whenever I go anywhere with either her or Robert. ‘… Obviously, it’s top secret. Don’t even say anything to Robert, because I don’t know if they’ve told him yet.’
‘Of course not.’ I’m curious to hear what Josh has managed to pull off.
‘Well, Melody is still fed up because she can’t give Hargreaves the kids he so desperately wants blah blah, and everyone thinks the weight gain is because she’s depressed but …’ She takes a big, dramatic pause and I hear a drum roll in my head. ‘… then it turns out she’s pregnant. The doctors have got it all wrong. So I can just wear one of those prosthetic tummies. I don’t have to get any bigger!’
‘Wow. Didn’t they tell her categorically at the end of the last series that she didn’t have all the right equipment to conceive?’
Saskia flaps her hand dismissively. ‘Details.’
‘Well, I’m pleased for you. That’ll show the papers.’
‘Exactly.’ she laughs. ‘Haha! I know I’m shallow, but you try having your double chin up there on show for everyone to laugh at.’
‘Story of my life,’ I say, smiling.
‘Stop that. You’re looking amazing. You always did.’
‘Thank you. That’s a nice thing to say.’
She leans forward on her elbows. ‘So, tell me more about how you’re going to stick it to Robert.’
Saskia and Josh, it seems, have come out unscathed. I don’t know this for certain, obviously, but from what I can tell it looks this way. I’m glad. That’s an understatement. I’m delighted, relieved and a little bit sad at the same time. I find myself thinking about the moment Josh kissed me and, although my overwhelming feeling is of guilt, I still get a jolt of pleasure when I allow myself to indulge in the fantasy unchecked. And then a feeling of regret that it can never go any further. Not even that, but we can’t even be friends any more.
But Saskia, I tell myself, is what matters. I almost ruined her life. Deliberately. It doesn’t bear thinking about. Even though she has no idea, I need to do everything I can to make it up to her, to make sure she’s happy.
I need to be a good friend.
Part Two
* * *
19
Saskia
Strike a match. Light the touchpaper. Sit back.
Although, to be honest, I’m a bit disappointed she’s not going to storm in and confront him straightaway. That’s what I was expecting to happen. What I was hoping for. Who knew she would be so calculated? I didn’t think she had it in her.
That’s the thing about Paula. She has hidden depths. When I first met her I thought she was a bit passive, a bit wet. She struck me as the kind of woman who would doggedly wait it out while her husband screwed around and then be there like a doormat when he decided to come home again.
Except, of course, Robbie wasn’t meant to be going home again. He was meant to be moving in with me once the coast was clear. And by ‘coast’, I mean Georgia, and by ‘clear’, I mean she’d left home and gone off to college or wherever she’s going. You know what I mean. I never was any good at metaphors. Or is that a simile? Anyway, you get my drift. Once Georgia had safely left the nest, unscathed by parental drama, Robert was planning to leave Paula, I was planning to leave Josh and we were going to set up home together.
That was the plan anyway.
Until, that is, he told me it was over a couple of weeks ago. Just like that. Out of nowhere. It was just before their stupid ‘staycation’, as Paula insisted on calling it. The day before, in fact. We were at my house. Robbie always got a thrill out of being in Josh’s bed. He hates Josh. I, despite everything, do not. Joshie is a thoroughly decent man. He’s kind, he’s sweet, he loves me. He’s good-looking, there’s no doubt about that. He’s successful in his own way. He’s just not very … exciting. He’s safe. And, at one point in my life, I thought that safe was what I wanted. Now I know better.
Anyway, Robbie and I were lying in bed in the middle of the day. I’ll admit I was a bit unsettled. All that talk from Paula about how attentive Robbie was suddenly being. All the hints about how he couldn’t keep his hands off her. It made me feel sick to my stomach but I couldn’t stop pressing her for details. I had to know the worst.
That’s what led me to making friends with her in th
e first place, if truth be told. I really had no interest in meeting up with some strange woman who I’d only ever spoken to because she spilt her champagne down me, except that I realized as soon as she suggested it that it was a golden opportunity to get an insight into Robbie’s life. He’s always been very closed about revealing personal things.
Back to the point – we’re lying in bed. Post-coital, just so you can picture it. Notice he got one last hurrah in before dumping me by the way, haha! I was asking him about something, I can’t even remember exactly what. But I know it had to do with him and Paula – something stupid and humiliating that I should have kept to myself, like when did he last sleep with her and who initiated it – when he suddenly sat up. He looked straight at me and I knew something wasn’t right.
‘Sas, we can’t keep doing this.’
I genuinely didn’t know what he meant at first. Meeting at my house? Doggy-style? Eating Ferrero Rocher? (I forgot to mention we were eating Ferrero Rocher at the time. He was trying to help me with my weight gain, even though I knew he hated the whole idea of it.) I think I said something along the lines of ‘What do you mean?’
‘This. Us.’
It hit me then. You’d have to have the skin of a rhino to miss what he was trying to say. I felt a rush of adrenalin, but I knew I had to keep my cool. Robbie hates hysteria in any form.
‘What’s brought this on?’
‘I can’t deal with the fact you don’t trust me.’
I’ll come clean. Since Paula had told me about his newfound affection, I’d had a bit of a wobble. And even though I obviously couldn’t tell him what my suspicions were based on, I had started to badger him about his wife and why he hadn’t left her yet and, most of all, why he had agreed to spend time exclusively with her for two weeks at a point when we were both off work and could have seen each other every day. I’d even started to look at flats for us to rent together when the time came. Just until we could sort out our divorces and buy something.
‘It’s not that I don’t trust you. Of course it’s not. I just had a moment, that’s all.’ I couldn’t say what I wanted to, which was that I had it from the horse’s mouth that he and Paula were shagging each other senseless again.
The thing with seeing someone who has a wife – or a husband, I suppose – is that you have to accept that they’re having sex with their partner sometimes. That’s a given and anyone who tells you they’re not is lying. But there’s ‘I’m doing this because I have to’ sex and there’s ‘I’m doing this because I fancy the arse off them’ sex. And Robbie had always been very clear that what he was doing was the former.
Side note: Josh and I still make love in a very pleasant but utterly routine fashion about once a week. Probably not bad going when you’ve been married for eight years but I wouldn’t really miss it if it stopped tomorrow.
‘You’ve been going on and on about it. It’s as if, after all we’ve been through, you still think I’m choosing her over you.’
I couldn’t help myself. ‘Well, you are spending this ridiculous two weeks with her.’ I was dying to add, ‘She told me it was all your idea, she told me you were desperate for the two of you to spend some alone time together,’ but of course I couldn’t so I had to plump for looking like a paranoid bunny-boiler.
‘For fuck’s sake. This is what I mean. I’ve told you and told you there’s no way of getting out of it. It’s only two fucking weeks.’
‘It’s not just that,’ I said, but then I couldn’t elaborate on what else it was so I didn’t say any more.
‘What then? What are you accusing me of exactly?’
He was getting angry, I could tell. I could feel tears welling up and I tried to blink them away because I knew they weren’t going to help.
‘Nothing. I’m not accusing you of anything. Forget it.’
‘You can’t just keep making little comments and then saying, ‘Forget I said anything,’ he said, and I knew he had a point. I’ll be the first to admit I had been doing that a bit lately.
‘OK then,’ I said, trying to sound as rational as I could. ‘I’ve been worried you were going to choose her over me. I’m being stupid, I know. I won’t mention it again, I promise. Just give me another chance.’
Christ, no one likes a beggar.
‘I think we need a break,’ he said, getting out of bed and reaching for his clothes. ‘I’m not saying permanently, but let’s slow things down a bit.’
And then I don’t know what came over me. I saw red. I’ve always been a bit of a green-eyed monster. With blue eyes, haha. Before I could stop myself I said, ‘There’s someone else, isn’t there?’
He yanked his T-shirt over his head then, almost ripping the sleeve.
‘I’m not even going to dignify that with an answer. I’m leaving now, OK, let’s just take these next two weeks to think about things. Don’t call me, OK? Really, Sas, I mean it. Don’t call.’
A noisy sob escaped before I could stop it. Robbie and I almost never call each other anyway. It was a decision we made early on. No calling, no texting. We see each other almost every day at work so our rationale was that phoning must only be for emergencies. He was furious with me when I broke the rules by sending him a text that time after I answered his phone and it was Paula on the other end.
I panicked and wanted to stop it ringing in case one of the runners heard it, I thought they’d come in and grab it for him to be helpful. I was naked on his sofa at the time so it would have been a bit of a giveaway. He was in the shower. Stupidly risky, I know. We just got carried away. Usually, we’re much more discreet. We both learned a big lesson from that one, I can tell you.
I was lying when I told him I didn’t check who was calling, though. Of course I did. I knew exactly who was going to be on the other end when I said hello. I just wanted to hear what she sounded like, that’s all. There was no way in a million years I was going to give anything away, I’m far too good an actress for that.
When I sent the follow-up text I’d had a big glass of wine and I was filled with adrenalin thinking about what might have happened. I suppose I just wanted to relive the moment with him. A bit of excitement. I knew as soon as I pressed send that I shouldn’t have, and his curt reply confirmed that. So, no more texting. We got away with it that one time and we both agreed we shouldn’t do it again.
‘Promise me,’ he’s saying now. ‘I don’t want to have to spend the whole time guarding my phone in case you do something stupid.’
‘I won’t. Jesus Christ.’
‘We’ll talk in two weeks, OK? I’ll call you from the golf club when I know Josh will be at work.’
‘Please just say it’s not over,’ I said. I know, I know. Pitiful.
He leaned down and kissed me on the forehead. I angled my face up so our mouths met, and I knew from the way he allowed it to happen that there was still hope.
‘Two weeks. Then we’ll talk.’
20
Those two weeks were agony. Not only could I not talk to Robbie, I couldn’t even meet up with Paula to quiz her about what was going on. I did try texting her a couple of times. Generic things that wouldn’t make him suspect anything and go into a panic if he caught sight of them, even though he’d wonder why I was texting her at all – ‘Having a good time?’ and ‘How’s it going?’ She replied ‘Blissful’ to the first and ‘Wonderful’ to the second, which just fuelled my paranoia without actually telling me anything.
So I just had to wait it out. Hope that Robbie would miss me. So maybe him and Paula were getting on better, but it wasn’t enough. It couldn’t compare to what we had, he and I.
I’ll be honest, the weight gain I’d been prescribed wasn’t a stretch at this point. I can see why they call it comfort eating. Josh kept on telling me how well I was doing. I could see him being a feeder in another life. He seemed to really get a kick out of watching me stuff myself and, whenever I’d get on the scales and report back on another kilo gained, he would beam like a proud parent watchin
g their slightly stupid child get a certificate for ‘best attendance’ or ‘plays well with others’. I’m not going to deny he was getting on my nerves.
And I did try calling Robbie, even though he’d asked me not to – from my hairdresser’s mobile, from a pay phone (have you got any idea how hard it is to find a pay phone these days, especially one that’s still connected and not being used as a coffee shop or some kind of free community library?), even once from my gym, under the pretext that I’d lost my own phone and it was an emergency. He didn’t answer any of them. He must have decided not to pick up any unknown calls just in case they turned out to be me.
Anyway, to cut a long story short, I didn’t wait for him to call me once it was over, I phoned him the first day I could, when I knew Paula would be back at work. I managed to persuade him to meet me – he wouldn’t come to the house, so I knew then that the outcome wasn’t going to be good. We met in Richmond Park, in a part I’d come to think of as ours, where it’s always quiet and you can sit there for hours and barely see another living soul. It was drizzling so we had the place to ourselves. As soon as he arrived he told me that he’d been thinking about almost nothing else for the past two weeks and that he was sure what he was doing was for the best. We’d run our course. No building up to it. No hesitation.
I begged, pleaded, cried. It wasn’t pretty, I’ll tell you that much. And, like I said before, Robbie hates crying. So that didn’t help. He hates drama of any sort, which is ironic, if you think about it. I felt helpless, I didn’t know what to do. The only thing I could think was that he’d decided to try and make it work with Paula. Why, I have no idea. He’s barely had a good word to say about her since I met him.
Actually, that’s not fair. He doesn’t badmouth her. But he’s never exactly talked about her as if she’s the love of his life either, even before we got together. ‘Indifferent’ is the word I’d use.
Like me with Josh. It’s not as if you hate them. Or even dislike them. You just wish you weren’t married to them because there are other people you’d rather be with.