Dancing Over the Hill

by Cathy Hopkins

  ‘Sorry, you were saying, Cait, you lived separate lives?’ said Gina.

  I nodded. ‘We had done for years. Polite but separate, and if we did spend time together, it was watching a new box set.’

  Gina smiled knowingly. ‘You and a million other couples, but go on.’

  ‘And now, Matt’s home but he never lets me in. I’ve no idea what’s going on in his head. He doesn’t tell me when he’s feeling down, but I know he is; like lately, I know he hasn’t found it easy not going out to work.’

  ‘Talk to Matt,’ said Gina.

  I turned to Matt. He looked uncomfortable. ‘I remember when we first met, we had so much to say to each other: plans, goals, shared aspirations. Our two boys came along and of course that was a shared responsibility, so much to plan for, schools, futures and so on, and you were a good father, still are. Those years were great, but since they’ve gone, it feels like we don’t share a goal any more. For years, you were in Bristol working, home at weekends, both of us busy-busy. It felt like we were sharing a house but not a life any more, and then it all changed, now you’re home all the time. I have no idea what your plans are but I can see you’re not happy. You don’t talk.’

  Matt looked thoughtful as he listened to me. ‘Cait, has it ever occurred to you that you don’t talk to me either? Gina’s right, you never really opened up to me about the death of your mum or Eve. You never want to spend time with me, and when we are together, I feel I’m in your way. You don’t talk to me, apart from to tell me what I should be doing or to criticize something I’m doing or wearing. The only feelings you communicate are those of disappointment or dissatisfaction.’

  What he’d said came as a shock. ‘I—’

  ‘And yes, I may have been uncommunicative of late, but I don’t talk to you about other stuff that’s going on because I don’t know what’s happening myself, still don’t. I don’t know what to say. It’s been a strange and uncertain time and I didn’t want to burden you with any of my concerns.’

  ‘Sticking your head in the sand didn’t help.’

  ‘Go back a minute, Cait,’ said Gina. ‘Have you really told Matt how it’s been for you since he retired? Or have you swept it all under the carpet too? Or, as you say, stuck your head in the sand?’

  ‘I think I’ve told him pretty clearly how I feel.’

  ‘Did you hear that Cait was so unhappy, Matt?’

  ‘Oh yes. I know she doesn’t like me being at home all day, in her space, and before that, I thought we were doing OK – muddling along, a phase. Marriage goes through many phases, that’s the contract – for better or worse, isn’t it? I guess we have different approaches. When I’m unhappy, I go quiet, but Cait says she wants to talk it out, presses me into doing the same but I don’t think she gives a lot away either; for example, what’s behind her dissatisfaction. But when I see she’s unhappy, I don’t press her. I think she’ll talk when she’s ready. Plus her way of dealing with a bad time, like after her mother died, was to fill it with things to do, to keep so busy that she didn’t have space to think about it – joining book clubs, the choir, a walking group, out with friends. I’ve tried to respect that. On the other hand, when I’m faced with a rough patch, like after losing my job, I wanted to retreat, to think things over. Recently, I became aware of how empty my life is outside of work, and that’s been confronting and something I need to look at but I didn’t want to rush into anything. I needed time to acclimatize. Still do.’

  I hadn’t heard Matt say so much for a long time, and it made sense. We had different ways of dealing with things. And he was right, I had kept him out. I thought about Tom, my attempts to write, the hole left by Mum and Eve’s death, sadness at seeing Dad age and concern for his happiness, fear about getting older, life being short and wasting it. I’d kept all of that to myself. I was as guilty of not communicating as he was.

  ‘Cait, have you tried to say how you really feel?’

  ‘I … I thought I had, but OK, maybe not, not until recent weeks. But when I have tried, I’ve met a brick wall. He’s refused to discuss anything.’

  ‘Because I feel like I’m continually under attack,’ said Matt. ‘All you ever say is that we don’t talk, that we need help, our marriage has gone stale. How am I supposed to react to that? You haven’t really let me into your head. You put up a wall, too, after your mum died. Your wall of being busy. You’re always hiding up in your study or off out somewhere.’

  ‘That’s not unusual,’ said Gina. ‘After the death of a loved one, people often try to lose themselves, distract themselves from the pain of grief by finding a different self or rediscovering an old one. Some try to numb themselves with alcohol or drugs, some have affairs; others fill their time with work or keeping busy – anything to avoid what’s happening inside.’

  What Gina said rang true and I hoped that I wasn’t blushing.

  ‘That makes sense,’ said Matt. ‘And you lost two people you loved, Cait.’

  ‘My attitude was to try and move on, live the life they would have wanted me to.’

  ‘But somehow shut me out,’ said Matt.

  ‘You had your own life, work, plus you were never at home.’

  ‘That was then. I am home now.’

  ‘And did Matt agree to come here, or did you pressurize him?’ asked Gina.

  ‘I agreed to come,’ said Matt. ‘Cait wanted to come so yes, that was partly it. I wanted to see if it would help, but listening to what she’s been saying and hearing it all again here, I’m beginning to wonder if she’s right and it is too late for us. We’ve been living separate lives for so long, maybe we would be happier apart; it sounds as if she certainly would be.’

  I was surprised by Matt’s outburst. I’d been pushing him to open up for so long and, now that he had, what he had to say was totally unexpected.

  ‘Do you want to say anything in response, Cait?’ Gina asked. ‘Do you want to break up or heal the rift? Get beyond the walls that both of you say the other has created?’

  I felt confused. I had always felt that I was the restless one who would choose to leave or not, and yet he’d just said that maybe we’d be better off apart. ‘I don’t know. We’ve been together a long time, I don’t want to throw that away, but I’m also aware I’m getting older, we both are, and I don’t want to drift into some boring existence.’

  ‘Me neither,’ said Matt. ‘I want to be appreciated, not always seen as lacking and letting Cait down. I think we all want to be wanted and loved, to get home and see our partner’s face light up. I can’t remember the last time I saw that; all I see is annoyance or exasperation and, to be honest, I’m not sure I deserve that.’

  ‘You say you’re both home every day,’ Gina said. ‘Do you ever go out together?’

  ‘Out? Er …’ I said.

  ‘When did you last go for a meal or walk with each other?’ She directed the question to Matt.

  ‘I can’t remember, can you, Cait? Ages ago. Never. As I said, Cait has a busy life; there’s not a lot of room for me in it, apart from to be a scapegoat for her dissatisfaction.’

  ‘You sound angry, Matt,’ said Gina.

  ‘I guess I am. I hadn’t realized before, but our house is my home too. It’s my space too, and I often feel unwelcome there.’

  ‘And what do you do when Cait’s out?’

  Matt laughed weakly. ‘I’ve been looking for work. As Cait said, I’ve recently lost my job and not sure where I’m going from here. I’m not quite retired but not employed either.’

  ‘How are you finding that, Matt?’

  ‘Not easy. It’s a young man’s game and there aren’t many opportunities for anyone my age. It’s been tough. I feel I’ve lost my purpose as well as my identity. I’m used to routine, knowing exactly what’s expected of me; now I feel I’ve been cut loose. I’m drifting, but unsure in which direction, and it isn’t helping that my wife doesn’t want me around.’

  ‘Where’s all this coming from, Matt?’ I asked.


  ‘I’m not sure. I didn’t even realize I was feeling this way myself until I said it, but maybe you’ve been right all along, Cait. Maybe it is over and you’ve seen what I hadn’t.’

  Gina made some notes. ‘It can’t be easy for either of you, and no need to decide anything major so soon. How about I have a think about how we can progress from here? It’s a big life-change when one or both of a couple stop working. You need to redefine the boundaries, your living contract, who does what and so on. I think we could have our next session on that – what’s expected in the home. Cait, when you were at home and Matt away, I’d imagine you took care of the running of the household?’

  I nodded.

  ‘It might be helpful to redraw the plan on that, then. Is that acceptable to you both?’

  ‘It is to me,’ said Matt. ‘We did make a start of sharing the chores, then I did my back in so I feel like a spare part. I’d like to help more but, so far, it’s felt as if I just get in the way or do it wrong. Cait has her way of doing things, but I live there too. I have my way of doing things as well, just not always her way.’

  ‘OK, we’ll look into that. Cait, maybe you could write a list of everything that needs doing – shopping, laundry, cleaning, etc., and we can divide it up next time you’re here.’

  I laughed. She made it sound so simple.

  ‘Then after that,’ Gina continued, ‘we’ll look into what your goals and aspirations are.’

  ‘OK,’ I said, and Matt nodded.

  ‘Had either of you made plans for retirement?’

  ‘No,’ we chorused.

  ‘Then I suggest a session on that too. Rather than just drifting towards it, have a think about what you’d like. How you see yourself in five years’ time, and what you’d like to be doing. That way, you direct the course rather than just letting it happen to you.’

  ‘Sounds good,’ said Matt.

  ‘May I ask how are your sexual relations?’ Gina asked.

  Neither of us answered.

  ‘Difficult question?’ asked Gina.

  We sat in an awkward silence with neither of us wanting to admit the truth.

  ‘Uncomfortable,’ I said finally; ‘an uncomfortable question because we don’t have sexual relations, haven’t had for months.’

  Matt looked as though he wanted the floor to open up and swallow him.

  ‘We can work on that,’ said Gina, ‘if you’re both willing.’

  Matt looked at me and made a helpless gesture with his hands.

  ‘OK with you, Matt?’ asked Gina.

  Matt nodded. He didn’t look happy.

  ‘I always suggest four to six sessions at least, if you’re willing to commit to those, then we can look again. It can take a while to make any lasting difference, so maybe we’ll leave the session on intimacy until towards the end so that we have time to get more comfortable with each other. In the meantime, I’d like you to do some homework. Don’t worry. Nothing too serious. I want you to spend more time with each other.’

  I laughed. ‘Not possible and now that my job has come to an end too, we’re together twenty-four hours a day.’

  ‘Possibly, but being in the same house doesn’t mean together. I want you to go on a date together. Go out, take a walk, have a meal, go to a concert, spend some quality time with each other, but first you’re going to spend a little time identifying what would be an enjoyable date. Do you think you could do that?’

  Matt and I looked at each other. ‘I guess so,’ I said.

  ‘Yes,’ said Matt. ‘Definitely.’

  Gina smiled. ‘Just because you’re partners and have lived together a long time, doesn’t mean you can read each other’s minds, so be specific. Make sure you let each other know what you’d like to do, so it really is a mutually agreed outing that you can both look forward to. Often one can plan the kind of time you would want for yourself, not your partner. So find out what you both want. Make it a pleasure, not a chore. Maybe make plans over a glass of wine; get the local magazines that tell you what’s on in town, then write down your idea of the perfect romantic day or evening. Keep plans in the realms of possibility. Put in lots of details. Make a list, because I hope it won’t be a single event. It’s important that couples keep dating and doing things together outside of the home.’

  Make a list. I was beginning to like Gina even more. She was talking my language.

  ‘When you’ve chosen what you’re going to do, get ready in the same way that you probably used to when you first met. Remember, the long soak in the bath, choosing the outfit—’

  ‘Making an effort,’ I said.

  ‘That’s it,’ said Gina. ‘Book a taxi so neither of you has to drive. And you could make the same kind of plan for a perfect weekend, perfect birthday and anniversary.’

  What Gina had suggested sounded positive and pleasurable and I could see that Matt had visibly relaxed since the beginning of the session.

  As we were leaving, Gina handed us a sheet of paper. ‘A little more homework. It’s a “let’s get to know each other” questionnaire. No need to look at it now, you can do that when you get home over the next week. It will only take ten minutes or so.’

  ‘Do you want us to bring it back?’ Matt asked.

  ‘No,’ replied Gina. ‘It’s for you. Have fun with it.’

  *

  ‘Wow. She was amazing. What did you think?’ Matt asked as we got into the car.

  ‘Confrontational. She comes on pretty strong and doesn’t miss a thing.’ I felt disturbed and anxious. Gina’s probing about Mum and Eve had stirred up some deeply buried part of me that I didn’t want unearthed.

  ‘I liked that. I liked her. Which part felt particularly confrontational?’

  ‘Oh … all of it I guess.’ I didn’t want to elaborate. I was also still in shock from hearing what Matt had said. He’d done a complete turnaround and I needed time to think about the fact he’d agreed it might be an idea if we went our separate ways.

  Matt seemed buoyed up. ‘It’s true, we haven’t had a night out, just us, in years. What would you like to do? A movie?’

  ‘But then we couldn’t talk. How about a meal out somewhere?’

  ‘Yes, but could be expensive. We need to watch our finances.’

  ‘Needn’t be. OK. A walk in the country.’

  ‘Then a pub lunch. How does that sound?’ said Matt.

  ‘OK but not very romantic.’

  ‘I think romance is a state of mind,’ said Matt. ‘It doesn’t have to be love hearts and candlelight. If you’re with the right person, anywhere is romantic. In our early days, just being with you was enough to make a place romantic. It never mattered where.’

  ‘That’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me in years, but in our early days?’ I sighed. ‘What changed?’

  ‘I guess we have. I’m sorry, Cait, I realized back there that I hadn’t been listening to you. No wonder you’ve been angry and frustrated. But in the session, I began to get what you’ve been saying recently. Things have changed. We’ve changed. We’re not the same people we were when we met. Thing is, do we have a future together? I always thought yes, never questioned it, but you’ve made me do that, and now that I feel I’ve finally heard how strongly you have been feeling, I will consider separating as an option if that’s what you want. You’re right. We are going into a new chapter. Who knows how long either of us has left. Ten years? Twenty? Muddling along, as I’ve always been OK with, probably isn’t enough. It would be a half-hearted way of living the rest of our lives. We have to make the right choices and make the most of the time we have left, and whether that’s together or apart, we must decide.’

  ‘You’ve changed your tune.’

  ‘Only through finally listening to you. I’m sorry I haven’t before.’

  Bluff called. Mine, I thought as we drove home.

  *

  There was a private message from Tom on Facebook when I got home.

  ‘In answer to your question about how I spend my d
ays. Every day is different. As you know, I am in between countries at the moment. This week, spent time with solicitors (boring). The sale of Mum’s property is almost through. Lot of paperwork. Final clearing of her house (sad). I spent too much time looking at old photos. Other days, I eat out with friends. I do some photography for relief from endless admin. Some days I go looking at exhibitions to see what’s new. I spend a lot of time having fantasies about what I’d like to do with you, to you, have you do to me (nice).’

  Hmm. What friends? I wondered.

  ‘Too general,’ I wrote back. ‘Who are the friends? What do they do?’ I restrained myself from asking, are these friends female? Even though I’d been out of the dating game for decades, I still knew not to be too inquisitive about other women.

  34

  Cait

  Matt woke me. He was up and dressed and had brought me a cup of tea. He had a sheet of paper in his hand. He went round to his side of the bed and sat down. ‘I thought we could do the questionnaire before I go,’ he said.

  ‘What, now?’ I asked. He’d made plans to meet up with a couple of old friends from his university days and was off hiking for the weekend in Cornwall.

  ‘Well, our next session is on Monday evening and I’m not sure what time I’ll get back.’

  ‘She’s a counsellor, not a headmistress. She’s not going to tell us off if we don’t do it.’

  Matt looked puzzled. ‘It was you who wanted to do this counselling, Cait, and now you’re resisting.’

  I sat up. ‘OK. Let’s have a look then.’ I took the paper and glanced down. ‘Favourite colour?’

  ‘Blue,’ said Matt. ‘You?’

  ‘Same. Favourite flower. Mine’s a rose.’

  ‘I like … oh god, I don’t know the names of flowers – those tall things your mother used to grow.’

  ‘Delphiniums. Favourite restaurant. Rustico. Yours?’

  ‘Same. OK. What annoys you about your partner?’

  ‘Nagging.’

  ‘I do not nag.’

  Matt laughed. ‘OK. What annoys you about me?’

  ‘When you wake me up with a questionnaire first thing in the morning.’ Matt laughed again. He was being very jolly. ‘People who are in a good mood before ten a.m.,’ I added.