Stevie helped me over to the dining table and pulled another chair round so I could put my foot up on it. He returned a few moments later with tea, biscuits, and a towel.
‘So, tell me about Maddy,’ I said, helping myself to a dark chocolate digestive.
‘I was twenty. We’d only been together for six months when she discovered she was pregnant. I was smitten so I asked her to marry me and couldn’t believe it when she said yes. Bramble Cottage was up for sale and we’d often talked about how cute it was and how it would make a great family home. I’d inherited some money so I secretly bought the cottage, planning to tell Maddy on our wedding night. We lost the baby at five months, a few weeks before the wedding.’
My stomach sank. ‘Oh Stevie, I’m so sorry.’
‘It was a pretty tough time.’
‘I can imagine. What happened? Did you postpone the wedding?’
He dunked a custard cream in his tea and took a bite. ‘We should have. Deep down, I knew she didn’t want to go through with it, but I was too young and scared to have the conversation. I still loved her even though I suspected that she didn’t feel the same way about me. The wedding went ahead, but it felt more like a funeral than a wedding. As planned, I told her about the cottage, but she refused to move in. She said it was a family home and we didn’t have a family anymore. I tried to explore having another baby. Not immediately, of course. But she wouldn’t discuss it. She stayed with her parents and I moved in here.’
He dunked his biscuit again and took another bite while I waited for the happy ending that clearly wasn’t coming.
‘We had no marriage. We barely had a relationship. We made it to seven months before she told me what I’d known as soon as we lost the baby; that she’d never really wanted me, just a child. God knows why she chose me as the sperm donor or why she’d said yes to marriage. She filed for divorce and emigrated to Australia. I never heard from her again and her parents moved out of the village a year later.’
I shook my head. ‘That’s so awful, Stevie. Why do people hurt others like that?’
‘Selfishness? Fear? Who knows? It took me years before I felt ready to date anyone else and, ever since, I’ve been really cautious. As soon as I think it might get serious, I back off. I don’t want to get hurt and I don’t want to hurt them either. I’m not saying that’s how it will always be, but so far I’ve never met anyone for whom I’d be prepared to take that risk. It’s been short-term relationships ever since.’
I shifted the bag of peas off my numb foot and dried it with the towel. ‘Do you think you’d ever want to marry again? If you found that special person worth the risk, that is.’
Stevie shook his head. ‘I don’t know if I believe in marriage anymore after what happened with Maddy. If making promises in front of your friends and family and signing a legal document means so little to some people that they can walk away from it in less than a year, why go through it in the first place?’ He smiled. ‘I sound very cynical, don’t I?’
I grimaced as I reapplied the bag of peas. ‘No. You just sound like someone who’s been badly hurt and, after what’s just happened to me, I can completely relate to that. Right now, I’m not sure how I feel about marriage either.’
We moved away from the tricky subject of relationships and chatted more about Stevie’s plans for his garden, the bedroom he hadn’t yet tackled, Sarah’s wedding, and my school play. Another cup of tea later, Meg padded into the kitchen and put her head on Stevie’s lap.
‘I’m sorry, Elise, but I’m going to have to take her out for her walk. You can stay here if you want or…’
‘It’s fine. I’ve got to go home and face him at some point.’ I handed Stevie the bag of defrosted peas. ‘I hope you weren’t planning on having these for your tea. Unless you fancy mushy peas.’
Stevie laughed. ‘Tempting. But I think I’ll pass. Let me give Meg a quick walk round the block so she can do her business then I’ll drop you home and take her out for a proper walk.’
After less than ten minutes he returned. I stood up and put my arms out. ‘Thanks for this afternoon, Stevie. You’ve been amazing.’
He hugged me. ‘I don’t know about that, but you know where I am any time you want to talk.’
‘Thank you.’ I didn’t want to let go. Stevie was shorter than Gary, but he carried a bit of weight, making his hold more like a bear-hug. For the first time since shower-gate I felt safe and protected as I relaxed against him and tightened my arms around his waist. Stevie tightened his grip around me too. I could have stayed like that for hours, but I had to get home. Reluctantly, I released my hold. ‘You give amazing hugs too.’
He laughed. ‘In that case, you know where I am any time you want a hug too.’
‘Don’t say things like that. You’ll have me on your doorstep at three in the morning demanding a super-hug!’
Chapter 9
When Stevie pulled up outside 9 Fountains Close, relief flowed through me to see Bertie back on the drive, closely followed by anger that there was no sign of the Lexus. The calm I’d felt at Bramble Cottage gave way to rage. How dare he go out and avoid talking yet again? What the hell was wrong with him?
Stevie helped me hop to the door and offered to come in and wait with me, but I insisted he go home so he could take Meg out for a proper walk. After we’d said goodbye and I’d secured another super-hug, I closed the door and hobbled down to the kitchen to see if Gary had left me a note because, to be fair to him, he could have been waiting for me and given up; I’d been at Stevie’s for well over two hours. There was no note. I checked my Blackberry to see if I was doing him a disservice and he’d texted me to explain his whereabouts, but there was no message either.
* To Gary
I’m home. Where the hell are you?
I shuffled over to the dining table and sat for at least ten minutes, staring at my phone, waiting for a response. None came. I called him instead. It rang five times then disconnected without going to voicemail. So he was choosing not to take my call, was he? Right. That’s it. I stabbed at the keys on my Blackberry.
* To Gary
Have we really got to the point where you’re screening my calls? It’s 6.33pm now. I INSIST that you phone or text me by 6.45pm to let me know where you are and when you’ll be back to talk. Do NOT ignore this text. I mean it!
I hunched over the phone, watching each agonisingly slow minute pass by, challenging him to dare to ignore the text. He ignored it.
* To Gary
Time’s up. You asked for it…
I pushed myself up on the table, rage propelling me down the corridor and up the stairs, almost oblivious to the pain in my ankle thanks to the greater pain in my heart. I pulled a suitcase off the top of the wardrobe in the spare bedroom, marched into my room, unzipped it then threw it onto the bed. I grabbed a handful of Gary’s shirts from the walk-in wardrobe and shoved them in the suitcase, still on their hangers. ‘I should have done this last week,’ I muttered. ‘I stupidly wanted to give you a chance to explain. To give you a chance to save our marriage. Something you obviously don’t care about seeing as you’ve spent the afternoon with your boyfriend instead of with me.’ I stopped as I reached the wardrobe to grab my second load as a thought struck me. What if it hadn’t just been the afternoon he’d spent with Rob? What if it had really been the full day and he’d been lying about going to the surgery? What if he’d been with Rob when he’d replied to my text saying that he couldn’t get away early? What if every late night and weekend in the surgery had been time with Rob instead? Had the two of them being laughing at me for being so clueless? For being so naive? For being so unassertive?
Well, I’d show him how assertive I could be. I stormed into my office and rummaged in my sewing box for my dressmaking scissors. I returned to the bedroom and closed my eyes as I stood over his shirts and opened the scissors wide. What should I do? Cut off
all the cuffs? Cut them into shreds? Or something more discrete like lots of little puncture holes? I closed the scissors and sat down heavily on the bed, shaking my head. Tempting as it was, itching powder in his pants, cutting up his clothes, or running a key down his beloved Lexus wasn’t my style. Changing the locks was, though. I put the scissors away then searched on my Blackberry for an emergency locksmith and made the call.
Ninety minutes later, there was a new lock on the front door and I’d packed most of Gary’s clothes into two suitcases, a holdall and a suit-carrier. I’d also filled a crate with his favourite CDs and films along with his office in-tray and a couple of files. He kept most of his paperwork at the surgery so hopefully he wouldn’t need access to the house for anything else. The locksmith had taken pity on me struggling up and down the stairs with my poorly ankle and had kindly carried everything into the garage, no questions asked, although the sympathetic look in his eyes told me that he knew exactly what was going on. He probably encountered the same sorry tale on a regular basis.
* To Gary
Thank you for spending the day with your boyfriend, ignoring my texts, and refusing to come home to talk. This has made things really easy for me. The lock has been changed and your stuff is in the garage to collect at your leisure
My Blackberry rang moments later.
‘Hi Gary.’
‘What the hell are you playing at?’ he shouted.
‘Gaining back control of my life.’
‘By kicking me out of my own home?’
‘What did you expect? That I’d continue living in limbo whilst you decide whether or not you’re in love with another man? That I’d cook and clean while you spend your weekends playing Frisbee on the beach with him? That I’d give you all time in the world to decide whether you want in or out of our marriage?’
He sighed. ‘I can come home and we can talk now.’
‘It’s too late for that. You’ve had your chance all week and you’ve had several chances today, but you’ve screwed up every time. Collect your stuff and find somewhere else to live.’
‘But—’
But I didn’t want to hear it anymore.
He appeared at about half nine. I watched through the bedroom blinds as he slammed the car door shut, stormed up the garden path and tried the door, probably hoping I’d been lying about changing the locks. He rang the bell several times, rang my mobile, rang the landline, rang the bell again, but I ignored him. Eventually, he gave up and lugged his stuff out of the garage, into the boot of the Lexus, got into the car, and started the engine. I released a shaky breath as I watched his car disappear around the corner.
I’d just brushed my teeth and crawled under the duvet when the doorbell rang again. Gary? I limped to the window and cautiously parted the blinds. The Lexus was back on the drive. Shit!
‘I know you’re in there, Elise,’ Gary shouted through the letterbox. ‘We need to talk. I’m sorry I didn’t come home earlier. It was wrong of me. Please come down and let me in.’
I hovered near the top of the stairs.
‘I’m not leaving so you might as well let me in.’
‘How do I know it’s not a trick to get access to the house again?’ I shouted.
‘You’ll just have to trust me.’
‘Trust you? Really? Because it transpires that you’re such a trustworthy person aren’t you, Gary?’
‘Please, Li. You’ll want to hear this. I’ll answer the questions you asked me before.’
I hesitated before slowly limping down the stairs. If he was being honest and this wasn’t a trick, I did want answers, even if those answers were going to hurt. I was already assuming the worst — that he’d been gay when he married me — so what harm could it do having that affirmed?
‘You promise you’ll leave when you’ve said your piece?’ I said, opening the door on the chain.
‘I promise.’
I closed the door, released the chain, opened it again, and said, ‘Go through to the kitchen.’ This wasn’t a curl-up-on-the-sofa discussion. It was a hard-wooden-chairs-so-you-won’t-outstay-your-welcome discussion. I exhaled slowly and rubbed my tired eyes as I followed him down the hallway, pulling my dressing gown tightly around me.
‘So, how are you?’ he asked as he sat down in his usual dining chair.
I sat down too. ‘How do you think?’
He nodded. ‘Sorry. Stupid question. Is the ankle okay?’
‘It hasn’t fallen off.’
‘Good.’
I sighed. ‘You didn’t come here to check out my injury. You wanted to talk. So, talk.’
‘You asked me some questions this week and I realise my answers were very non-committal. Rob made me realise—’
I flinched. ‘You’ve been discussing me with Rob?’
‘Well, he just thought—’
‘I don’t give a shit what Rob thinks.’
‘Elise!’ Gary banged his fist down on the table. ‘I’m not here to have an argument. Rob told me I’d been unfair to you when I know the answers to the questions, so he insisted I come here and tell you the truth, which is why I came back.’
I stared at him for a moment. ‘Go on then. Let’s have the truth. Are you gay?’
‘Yes.’ It was barely a whisper.
‘Gay as opposed to bisexual?’
He nodded slowly.
Shit! Worst-case scenario. My heart thumping, I could scarcely form the next question. ‘How long?’
He tugged on his earlobe. ‘I suspected it when I was about fifteen.’
My empty stomach churned and my breathing came fast and hard. So did the tears. I quickly wiped them away, but it was too late.
‘I’m so sorry, Li.’ He reached across to wipe my tears, but I backed away. I didn’t want him touching me. It was too intimate. I swallowed hard a few times, those razor blades slicing in my throat. ‘So everything about us was just a lie. You never loved me…’
‘I did love you, Li. I still do, but…’
‘You’re just not in love with me? That old chestnut.’
‘Li…’
‘It’s Elise! You’ve lost the right to shorten my name. If you knew you were gay, why the hell did you marry me?’
‘Because I loved you. You were my best friend. I thought that would be enough to make it work. And it did work for a long time. We had a great marriage, Elise. You know we did. But you were so desperate for a child and… I don’t know… it just felt wrong somehow to bring a child into the world. It felt like a lie.’
I scraped my chair back over the quarry tiles as I leapt up. ‘A lie? A baby would be a lie, but our marriage wasn’t? That’s absolute bullshit.’
Gary screwed up his face. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t explain that very well. Will you sit down?’
I slowly lowered myself on to the chair, but I didn’t pull it back under the table. I needed the distance. ‘Explain it then.’
‘It’s hard to. I suppose it was the thought that you didn’t just want one baby. You’d always wanted three or four. I’d been happy with just you, but the reality of playing happy families felt like a step too far.’
‘A step too far? Gary, we talked about kids from day one. This isn’t something I suddenly sprung on you. I adore children. I’m a teacher for goodness sake. Everything I’ve ever done has been about building up to my own family and I thought that’s what you wanted too.’
Gary stared at the table. ‘I thought I did too. Until…’
‘Until you met Rob,’ I suggested when he tailed off.
He nodded. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Is it love?’
He nodded again.
My stomach lurched. ‘Was he the first?’
‘Does it matter?’
‘Of course it does. I know we hardly ever had sex, but I think I have a right to know whether
my husband was shagging another bloke at the same time he was hardly ever shagging me.’
Gary’s shoulders sagged and he looked at the table as he muttered, ‘There were two others before Rob.’
I put my hands to my face and shook my head, my stomach twisting and turning. ‘Gary! When?’
He looked up at me. ‘Last summer. It was nothing serious.’
‘Nothing serious? You were having sex with another man… with two other men… and you call that nothing serious?’
‘It wasn’t sex. It never went that far. It still hasn’t.’
I shook my head. ‘You can spare me the details. I’ve got one more question, though, because you haven’t given me a proper answer. If you knew you were gay, why did you marry me? Don’t give me that best friends bullshit again.’
‘I thought it was the right thing to do.’
‘For whom?’
Gary tugged on his left earlobe. ‘I can’t… It’s complicated. I’m sorry. It’s… I…’
I stood up. ‘I think you know, but seeing as you’re refusing to tell me now, it’s time for you to go.’
He lowered his eyes, nodded, then stood up. ‘Okay. Sorry.’
I headed down the hallway towards the door and waited for him to follow me.
‘If my mum calls, you won’t tell her about any of this, will you?’ he said.
It was on the tip of my tongue just to say ‘no’ when it struck me that I didn’t need to be diplomatic about his mother anymore. ‘Gary, the fewer words I have to utter to your mother, the better. You can have the pleasure of telling her. I don’t imagine she’ll be too devastated that I’m out of your life, and I certainly won’t shed a tear that I never have to cross paths with her again.’
‘Tell me how you really feel about her.’
I turned round to face him, hands on hips. ‘Oh Gary, you so don’t want to challenge me to do that. That little comment didn’t even represent a fraction of how I feel about your mother, which you’d have known about if you’d ever listened to me instead of constantly jumping to her defence any time I opened my mouth.’
Getting over Gary (Whitsborough Bay Trilogy Book 2) Page 7