Getting over Gary (Whitsborough Bay Trilogy Book 2)

by Jessica Redland

  ‘Do you love me?’

  His eyes softened. ‘Of course I do.’

  ‘Then why?’

  ‘I don’t know. I honestly don’t know.’

  I took a deep breath, then rose from the stairs. ‘I’m going to bed. Do you want to sleep in our room or the spare room?’

  ‘Li…’

  ‘It’s not negotiable, Gary. I can’t lie beside you tonight after what I saw earlier. Surely you understand that?’

  ‘Of course. I’ll take the spare room. I’m really sorry, Li.’

  ‘So am I.’

  I couldn’t sleep that night. I felt absolutely drained, body, mind and soul yet I couldn’t seem to drift off. Every time I closed my eyes, I could hear the water cascading and see their bodies entwined. I’d stripped the bed — just in case the action had started there — but as I lay between the fresh sheets, I could still smell Gary. I threw Marmite, the teddy bear he’d bought me after our first year of dating, across the room. Within minutes, I clambered out of bed to retrieve him and place him on the dressing table instead. The smell was still there, though. At two thirty-eight, I got out of bed again, grabbed Gary’s pillows, hurled them into the en-suite and shut the door. The smell had finally gone, but the image hadn’t.

  My mind replayed over and over again the day Curtis identified Gary as being gay and every pivotal moment in our relationship from that point: engagement, wedding, honeymoon, holidays, anniversaries, birthdays, Christmases. They’d all been happy. Yes, we’d had the occasional argument, but didn’t everyone? They were always about banal things like him hating the lime green kettle I’d impulse purchased, or me being frustrated with him for being a creature of habit and always wanting to dine out in the same three restaurants in town including Sammy’s Steakhouse. Hello! Vegetarian here! They were never arguments about him lusting after other men.

  He couldn’t be gay. He couldn’t be. But could he be bisexual? Had he always been? What about Rob? What was going on there? He’d definitely moved back to Whitsborough Bay after splitting up with his long-term girlfriend. Mandy, was it? Sandy? Something like that. Did that mean he was bisexual too?

  My head ached from so many unanswered questions. I rose and swallowed another couple of paracetamol then opened one of the curtains and stared out into the dark, deserted street. Four seventeen in the morning. Good grief. I needed sleep. I needed relief from the confusion raging inside me.

  The sensation of someone sitting on the bed beside me awoke me with a jolt.

  ‘Gary!’ I squinted in the sunlight pouring through the curtain that I’d obviously forgotten to close again during the night. ‘What time is it?’

  ‘Eleven.’

  ‘Eleven?’ I sat upright. ‘I’m late for work.’

  ‘It’s Sunday.’

  I let out a sigh of relief. Phew. No work. But a gay husband. Perhaps.

  Gary pointed to a mug on my bedside cabinet. ‘I’ve made you some tea.’

  I didn’t feel he deserved a thank you. A cup of tea in bed was hardly recompense for what he’d done the day before.

  ‘We’ve got lunch at my mum’s,’ he said. ‘Do you want me to cancel?’

  I closed my eyes for a moment and shook my head. ‘I just want everything back to normal.’ Much as I couldn’t bear the woman, Sunday lunch with Cynthia twice a month was normality, and I absolutely needed that right now.

  Gary frowned. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘I’m sure. What time?’

  ‘We’d need to leave in forty minutes.’

  ‘Okay.’ I peeled back the duvet and smiled sweetly. ‘I’ll just take a shower, then don my perfect wife clothes. Yippee! Lunch with Cynthia. My favouritest thing ever.’

  Gary tugged on his left earlobe. ‘You’re acting strangely.’

  I stood up, stretched, and winced at the throbbing in my head. ‘Am I? I’m sorry, Gary. Is this not how a wife should act the day after finding her husband shagging another man in the shower?’

  ‘We weren’t shagging.’

  ‘Oh dear. Did I catch you during foreplay and ruin the main event?’

  ‘Elise! That’s not called for.’

  ‘Neither was your behaviour last night.’

  We stared at each other. My head thumped and I felt sick again.

  ‘I’ll go to my mum’s on my own,’ he muttered, turning to leave the room.

  ‘Oh no you won’t. I’m coming.’

  ‘I don’t think you should. Not while you’re like this.’

  ‘It’s your fault I’m… oh shit!’ I clapped my hand over my mouth and sprinted for the toilet.

  The rest of Sunday passed in a blur of sleep, interrupted by dashes to the toilet. Gary cancelled lunch with his mother to bring me water, hold my hair back while I vomited, and plump my pillows. He was so attentive and caring that I could almost forget that Saturday night had happened and things were back to how they’d been before the surgery expansion and the EGO Programme. Almost.

  Despite his protests, I insisted that Gary went to the surgery on Monday. After a phone call to Graham to say I wouldn’t be in, I drifted in and out of sleep that morning but, thankfully, had no more toilet dashes. By lunchtime, I felt a lot more human and managed to shower, dress, and tentatively nibble on a slice of dry toast. I didn’t want to go back to bed, but I had to accept that I had neither the energy nor the inclination to clean the house or mark any schoolwork. An afternoon of lying on the sofa watching films was definitely in order.

  I headed up to my office, taking care not to glance towards the scene of the crime at the end of the corridor. Sarah had loaned me a crate full of romcom DVDs, which I’d spotted when I’d helped her move into Nick’s the previous weekend. I flicked through the titles, some new, some old, some which I’d seen many times. I paused, lifted one out, and stared thoughtfully at the cover, my memory banks trying to retrieve the story. Was it too close to home? I chewed on my lip as I rummaged further. Oh my goodness. Another one. I pulled it out. Holding the two DVDs, one in each hand, I debated whether I was brave enough to watch them. Sod it. I could do this. Maybe they’d help.

  ‘Li! What’s wrong? Have you been sick again?’ Gary crouched by my side, his dark eyes full of concern as he placed his hand on my forehead.

  I wiped my eyes and dropped the soggy tissue to the floor where it lay with a pile of fifteen or so others. ‘Film,’ I whispered.

  Gary sat back on his heels and laughed. ‘You’re crying at a film? I thought something was really wrong.’

  ‘It is.’ I grabbed another tissue and blew my nose. ‘Us. We’re wrong. The films prove it.’

  ‘What the hell have you been watching?’ Gary reached for the DVD boxes. ‘The Object of My Affection. The Next Best Thing. Urgh. You’ve been watching a Madonna film? No wonder you’re crying.’

  ‘Read the blurb,’ I muttered, slowly twisting on the sofa into a seated position.

  Gary sighed and flipped both the films over. He read the blurbs out loud then turned to me and shrugged. ‘I’m not getting it. Is this about you wanting a baby?’

  I shook my head. ‘They’re gay. The male leads in both films are gay. They have a relationship with the female lead and it doesn’t work out.’ A fresh torrent of tears broke free as Gary slumped onto the sofa beside me and drew me into his embrace.

  ‘Oh, Li! What have I done to us?’

  When my sobbing subsided, I made no attempt to pull away from Gary. Lying against his chest as he stroked my hair felt so familiar. Comfortable. Normal. Yet nothing was ‘normal’ about our situation anymore, was it?

  ‘Are you going to leave me?’ I whispered.

  Gary didn’t say a word, but I felt his heartbeat quicken.

  ‘Are you going to leave me for Rob?’

  He kissed the top of my head. ‘Do you want me to go?’

  I sighed. ‘D
on’t put that on me, Gary. I asked you a reasonable question.’

  The silence was excruciating. Eventually he sighed and said, ‘I don’t know what I’m going to do right now.’

  ‘Do you still love me?’

  He tightened his embrace. ‘I’ll always love you, Li.’

  ‘Do you love Rob?’

  He stiffened. ‘I don’t know how to answer that.’

  ‘There’s only two answers: yes or no.’

  ‘It’s not that simple.’

  ‘No. Nothing ever is, is it?’ I untangled myself from his embrace, picked up the discarded tissues, deposited them in the bin, then trudged upstairs to the comfort of my duvet. He still loved me, or so he claimed, but the fact that he hadn’t said no when I’d asked him if he loved Rob gave me one very clear message: he loved Rob too, or thought he might. Did I have the strength to fight another man for my husband’s affections? And, even if I did, was my husband worth fighting for anymore? If he’d lied to me about his sexuality since school or college — which I strongly suspected he had — I wasn’t sure I had enough fight in me or that our marriage was a prize worth winning.

  Chapter 6

  * From Sarah

  How are you feeling? Did you go back to work today as you’d hoped? I’m guessing you’ll be too tired to come into town for our usual Wednesday meet-up. Happy to come to you instead after I close up, if you can cope with a visitor xx

  * To Sarah

  Yes, back to work today and feeling much better, but very tired. Would love to see you tonight. If you don’t mind salad, you’re welcome to join me for tea xx

  * From Sarah

  Salad sounds perfect. Got to diet for my wedding — Eek!!! See you at about 6pm. Got lots of wedding ideas I want to run by you xx

  ‘Thanks for coming round here instead.’ I led Sarah into the kitchen and flicked the kettle on. ‘I don’t think I’d have made it into town. I can’t believe how exhausted I feel.’

  ‘It’s a nasty virus,’ she said. ‘I’ve had several customers saying they’ve been struck down with it and some of them have been wiped out for weeks.’

  I lifted two mugs out of the cupboard. ‘Sounds like I got off lightly, then, with just a few days.’

  ‘I bet it’s great being married to a doctor when you’re ill. How is Gary? It’s a shame he couldn’t make it to the party.’

  I stiffened at the mention of his name and swallowed a few times while I busied myself with opening a new box of fruit teabags. Sarah had just given me the perfect opener to a conversation about Gary and Rob, but I wasn’t sure I could do it. I knew she’d be incredibly supportive, but she’d be shocked and she’d have questions. Questions to which I didn’t have answers. Plus, she understandably wanted to talk about her wedding. She’d longed for this day for years. It wasn’t fair of me to ruin her moment.

  ‘He’s fine,’ I said, tossing teabags into our mugs. ‘He’s at a staff meeting then they’re going to The Peking Duck to celebrate the surgery expansion being almost complete.’ I handed Sarah her mug and we sat at the kitchen table. ‘Enough about Gary, though. What about you and the wedding? Date? Venue? Dress ideas?’

  Sarah grinned. ‘The venue’s easy. I’ve got my heart set on Sherrington Hall and we’ve got an appointment on Sunday.’

  ‘I love Sherrington Hall. Good choice.’ Sherrington Hall was an ivy-covered Georgian Manor House perched on the cliff top about twelve miles south of Whitsborough Bay. I’d attended a colleague’s wedding there a few years before and would describe it as fairy-tale perfection. Surrounded by acres of landscaped grounds on three sides and the sea on the other, the happy couple were spoilt for choice for where to stage their photos. If the weather was bad, the inside didn’t disappoint with ornate stone fireplaces and luxurious furnishings. ‘I’d imagine it gets booked up well in advance, though.’

  ‘That’s the problem,’ Sarah said. ‘We don’t want to wait for years to get married. We were hoping for May next year, but I don’t think we stand much chance. Nick’s suggested we consider other venues, but the thought of holding our reception anywhere other than Sherrington Hall actually makes me feel queasy.’

  ‘I take it you’re still planning a church wedding?’

  She nodded. ‘Definitely…’

  Sarah chatted away about her initial plans. She hadn’t let the lack of venue or date hold her back from working on the details. She’d known for years what she wanted if the day ever came so it wasn’t like she was starting with a blank canvas. I nodded, smiled, and laughed in all the right places. I asked questions. I gushed. I drew on all my acting skills to play the role of excited bridesmaid, pushing aside the idea that I could well be attending Sarah’s wedding without my husband.

  ‘So, what do you think I should do?’ Sarah asked.

  I stared at her, cursing myself for tuning out at the moment she’d asked for my opinion on something. ‘Sorry, Sarah, I blanked then. Can you repeat that?’

  She smiled. ‘My fault. I’ve gone on a bit tonight. I’m just so excited. Have I exhausted you?’

  ‘I am a bit drained, but I promise I’m interested. What had you asked me?’

  ‘I was talking about the top table. Normally the chief bridesmaid would sit on the top table, but as all three of you are equal, I can’t do that. Should I have no bridesmaids on there or all three of you? And, if it’s all three, do I include partners? Would that make it too many people? Clare’s unlikely to have a guest, but you and Callie are both married so that’s five of you. Is that too much? I could put Gary and Rhys on a friends’ table, but I know that Gary isn’t very comfortable around strangers so…’

  ‘He probably won’t be there so I wouldn’t worry about it.’ The words tumbled out before I could stop them.

  Sarah frowned. ‘What do you mean? Why wouldn’t he be there?’

  I traced a scratch on the table with my forefinger, unable to bring myself to look her in the eyes.

  ‘Elise…?’

  ‘Gary might be gay,’ I muttered. ‘Our marriage might be over.’

  ‘What?’

  I looked up and tears filled my eyes as I repeated the words.

  ‘Gay? Gary? I don’t understand.’

  ‘That makes two of us. Actually, three of us because apparently Gary doesn’t understand either.’ A tear trickled down my cheek and splashed onto the table. ‘Sorry, Sarah, I wasn’t going to say anything, but it just came out. I don’t want to stifle your excitement.’

  Sarah reached across the table and took hold of my hand. ‘Sod the wedding, Elise. This is far more important. What’s happened?’

  She listened intently as I told her about my discovery on Saturday night, reminded her of the rumour from college, and outlined the brief conversations we’d had during the past few days which hadn’t moved anything forward.

  ‘Do you believe him when he says he doesn’t know how he feels about things?’

  I shrugged. ‘That’s the million dollar question, isn’t it? I want to believe him, but I can’t shake the feeling that he’s been lying to me all along. What if Curtis had been right at college? What if Gary was attracted to men back then? I’m the one who said, “I love you” first. I’m the one who pushed for sex. I’m the one who suggested we get engaged to save Gary from being centre of attention when that rumour started. If he was battling with his sexuality back then, I gave him the easy way out by constantly pushing our relationship to the next level. Except it probably wasn’t the easy way out for him because he might have been fighting who he really is for years. We’d be celebrating twelve years of marriage in August and sixteen years as a couple. Has he been lying to me — and to himself — for that long? How does someone find the strength to do that?’

  Sarah sighed. ‘I don’t know. Maybe he hasn’t been lying. The Curtis thing could have just been a coincidence. Maybe an attraction to men is a recent thi
ng that’s developed as Gary’s got older.’ I could tell by her glum expression that she didn’t believe her own words.

  ‘You develop a taste for olives, red wine, or Radio Four as you get older. You don’t suddenly develop a taste for same sex relationships. Curtis said a lot of research would indicate you’re born gay or straight — it’s not something you become — and I’m inclined to agree with him which means…’

  ‘Which means Gary has always been gay and fighting it,’ Sarah finished. ‘But how do you do that for nearly two decades? And why? It’s not the fifties. We were born into liberal times.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘So, what happens next?’

  ‘I need Gary to be honest with me. Perhaps for the first time in his life. I don’t think I’m going to like what he has to say, but we can’t continue like this, pretending nothing’s happened.’

  ‘What if he says Rob was a one-off, he loves you, and it will never happen again?’

  I traced the scratch with my fingertip again. ‘Then he and I should swap jobs because clearly he’s a better actor than me.’

  Chapter 7

  I didn’t get an opportunity to talk to Gary. After Sarah’s visit on the Wednesday night, I felt drained so I had crawled into bed shortly after nine and didn’t hear him arrive home. We’d always been like passing ships during the getting-ready-for-work routine and this was even more the case with him moving into the spare room. I had rehearsals for the school summer play on the Thursday night and, within minutes of me walking through the door, Gary went out for drinks to celebrate Dean’s birthday. I was going out for a colleague’s fortieth birthday on the Friday night and had hoped to speak to Gary before leaving the house, but he called to say that the builders had drilled into a water pipe and he was stuck at work waiting for an emergency plumber.

  I set my alarm early on Saturday morning in the hope of catching him before he went to the surgery, but I must have slept through it because I awoke shortly after nine to find he’d already left. Damn. I felt like my life was on hold. I needed answers before I could make any decisions. My thoughts on the future changed with each passing hour. One moment, I’d be convinced that it was a one-off mistake that we could get past because we were soul-mates. The next moment, I’d be convinced that he was gay, always had been, had never loved me, and that our sham of a marriage was over.