The Art of Unpacking Your Life

by Shireen Jilla

  ‘I can imagine.’

  ‘Matt has been brilliant. There isn’t a man on earth who would be as supportive as he has been to me. I rely totally on him.’

  ‘He is wonderful, but you deserve each other.’

  She eyed him penetratingly. He felt uncomfortable and sat up, reaching for his white T-shirt.

  ‘Back to what’s on your mind. What’s going on with Alan?’

  He was nervous of Katherine’s directness, but he couldn’t help looking to see if Connie and Lizzie, who were sunbathing on the other side of the pool, had heard her.

  ‘Nothing,’ he said automatically. He didn’t want to confide in Katherine, much as he liked her. If he was going to share his thoughts with anyone, it would be Connie or Matt. ‘It’s all good.’

  ‘Good? You don’t look it,’ she stared at him.

  ‘Every relationship has its ups and downs.’ Does it? He wondered.

  ‘Have you talked about it?’

  He was silent.

  ‘You must express what you feel, Daniel. Open up.’

  He looked up at Katherine, hoping to evade her questions by being vague with his answers. ‘It’s an issue of moving forward.’

  To what? He wondered.

  ‘Don’t get me started on that, Daniel,’ she wagged an index finger vigorously. ‘It’s an issue for man or woman. Gay or straight. For me, it was about moving on to a family. It was non-negotiable. Matt totally got the deal. Hey, I was up front with him.’

  Dan had a disquieting sense that he didn’t know what he thought, unlike Katherine and indeed all the group.

  ‘You need to explore it. Life is not a dress rehearsal. Tell him he needs to grow up.’ Her pointed finger wagged at him. ‘Tell him what’s important to you.’

  What was important to him? Maybe that was the crux of the matter, but he wasn’t about to explore it with Katherine. He looked hopefully for a waitress. ‘I had a wonderful fresh lime juice and water. Would you like one?’

  Katherine was not in the mood to be diverted. She gripped his arm. Her hand was surprisingly cool, unaffected by the heat.

  ‘You know, Daniel,’ she held his gaze to make it clear this was a big deal. ‘There is nothing that I wouldn’t say to Matt, or Matt to me.’

  Alan returned with a white-towel tower as high as his forehead. Matt watched him gingerly feel for the decked step with the toe of his left flip-flop. He eased down the first step and then the second. Dan watched him distributing the towels to Lizzie, Connie and Sara on the other side of the pool with an elaborate explanation of why they were vital to protect them from burning. Dan smiled at his childish eagerness. Alan sat on Lizzie’s sun lounger for a while. Dan had noticed they were getting on well. He knew the rest of the group didn’t particularly like Alan, maybe that was the reason Dan was feeling uneasy with him.

  Alan started back in their direction. ‘Now’s your chance,’ Katherine hissed, swaying nonchalantly inside with a casual wave of her hand at Alan.

  ‘Is she all right?’ Alan asked, as he handed Dan two towels. Alan was such a kind man, such a good man. Surely that was a more important daily consideration than some vague long-term view of his life?

  ‘Yes. I think that she’s anxious about the baby.’ It probably did explain why Katherine was eager for him to confront Alan. She was passing her own anxiety on to someone else. ‘It makes you question your life, I suppose. Wonder what it’s all about.’

  Subtlety never worked with Alan. The group was different. They read into Dan’s silence, his pauses and his subtle asides. They understood him. After all this time, Alan should too, surely?

  Alan was bending over, rubbing more suncream around his knees. Dan watched the cream get trapped in the dense brown hairs on his lower thighs until it disappeared. Alan stood up. ‘Can you do my back?’

  Dan got up, took the tube and squeezed a dessertspoon on to his hand. He carefully spread it across Alan’s shoulders and upper back, before rubbing it meticulously in. The conversation they needed to have wasn’t one you could rush in between applications of suncream.

  Alan lay back down on his back. A blank canvas mirrored in his shades. After a second’s hesitation, Dan sat with his bottom wedged beside Alan’s elbow. It was easier to talk to Alan while his eyes were closed and behind sunglasses. Alan didn’t move.

  ‘Matt and Katherine, you know, their whole thing with this surrogate, Dawn.’

  Alan didn’t react. Dan was angry, he couldn’t pinpoint why – it was something to do with his general lack of responsiveness.

  ‘Alan, are you listening?’ He heard his own impatience and tried to breathe slowly in and out.

  ‘Yeah. Their surrogate, Dawn.’

  ‘Well, it makes you realise. We’re no longer young. We have to see the big picture of our lives. Do the things that are important to us.’ Dan wished he could properly articulate this feeling he had. He wasn’t on the right page of his life. He wanted something more grown up. What did that mean?

  Alan didn’t move. Dan wondered what Alan was thinking. Or whether he was thinking at all.

  ‘Are you wishing we were old?’ Alan finally said. ‘I mean, who the hell wants to be middle-aged? Peter Pan, that’s me.’

  Of course Alan would bounce back with something superficial. Perhaps it was a victory, of sorts. He had made Alan state his fear of growing up, which exactly mirrored Dan’s desire for it. He wanted the conservatism of middle age and his parents’ middle-aged contentment. He had been craving it since he came out.

  He didn’t say anything. What could he say? He couldn’t – wouldn’t – argue Alan out of his viewpoint. Alan was what he was. Dan didn’t feel disappointed, on the contrary, reassured.

  Conscious Katherine might return to haunt him, he decided to escape. He mumbled excuses: emails to do, the heat. Dan slipped his feet into his leather sandals and walked slowly back to their room. They had no wireless signal there. He carried his laptop back to the lodge where the WiFi was strongest. He retreated up the spiral stairs to the library and picked the soft beige leather sofa closest to a cabinet displaying warthog horns. He opened up his emails. There were four from Rebecca Finkelman. She would have some complaint and he couldn’t face it. He opened a note from their friends Marco and Pierre – a couple in fashion – who were suggesting a long weekend together in New York for Easter. The rest was a screenful of work emails. Was this his life? Then he spotted one from his old schoolfriend, Josephine, an artist who lived in a beamed attic in a tiny medieval hilltop town, fifteen minutes outside Florence. They had visited her once. They had slept on a futon in her art studio. Alan hated it. No beach, no luxury.

  Dan clicked on her email.

  Dearest Dan

  I spied this house for sale on my walk yesterday.

  You would appreciate the beauty of the setting. Olive groves encircle the house and lake, set in three acres right at the crown of a hill. The sunsets are spectacular.

  It is derelict, but it has its original floors and beams.

  Needs love, lashings of attention and taste. Which you have, of course.

  A gardener’s paradise for seven hundred thousand pounds!

  Hope Africa is amazing?

  Love, Jo xxx

  The sun shone visible rays over ancient, squat olive trees. They appeared darker under its glare. The photo was filled with trees. Far behind them, a towered Tuscan farmhouse stood dilapidated, worn and faded. A symbol of endurance.

  Dan brightened the laptop screen. He re-angled it until it was nearly vertical. Then he leaned forward and stared hard at the photo. He was searching for some missing detail. Something he couldn’t see, but he was sure it was there.

  Chapter 10

  Matt intended to race out in search of Katherine. He replaced the guest phone into its cream holder, heaved himself up from the low studded stool and strode across the library. His sense of foreboding was echoed by the sound of his feet heavy on the worn wooden floorboards. Before he reached the spiral staircase, there
was Dan uncharacteristically slouched on a low leather sofa. He was staring hypnotically at his laptop. His mood appeared to mirror Matt’s, and he hesitated. Dan looked up, definitely distracted. Matt realised too late that he had projected his emotions on to Dan. Projected his emotions. What was he thinking? Katherine was getting to him. He was resentful. Why did he have to be the one who took the call?

  Dan spoke, glancing up at him. ‘Mattie, you okay?’

  It was the same warm, generous tone he had used when Katherine had told the group about Dawn and their baby. The same warm, generous tone he always used. Matt was choked. What would he do without his friends? He knew what he ought to do – tell Katherine first. Perhaps if Dan hadn’t spoken, he might have moved on, straight down the stairs, his arms reaching out for Katherine. But it was Dan. And Dan’s kindness arrested him. He didn’t want to move past him to deal with Katherine. He hadn’t the strength. He bent down to sit beside his dear friend. Dan would be concerned, but loyal to Matt first and foremost. Perhaps it was the fundamental difference between friendship and marriage. The latter was a more complex cross-current of passions, needs and hopes that were beyond Matt.

  ‘Oh Christ, Dan, it’s over. I’m finished.’ Matt gave a start after the words left his mouth. He had meant to say, I’ve had some bad news. Already, he was fast-forwarding to the end as he believed Katherine would do.

  ‘Is it the baby?’ Dan immediately asked. The emotional shorthand he had with Dan, Connie and Luke was wonderful. Matt had really missed them.

  ‘Dawn’s got pre-eclampsia.’

  Dan’s lack of reaction reminded Matt of his own as the nurse had spoken. It had sounded serious, but it had meant nothing to him.

  ‘Which translated means Dawn’s got high blood pressure and high amounts of protein in her urine. I don’t know exactly what that means. The hospital says it’s serious for Dawn and the baby. They might have to induce her.’

  ‘Oh no,’ Dan reached easily for his shoulder. ‘Horrible. What an awful shock. You poor thing.’

  Matt slumped forward, his wide hands spread over his knees. He was sweating round the back of his hairline and down his neck. It was hot up here. He looked up at the thatched roof. From inside, you couldn’t see the damage the baboons inflicted from the outside. For a moment, he madly thought of escaping on to the roof. It made him think nostalgically of the roof terrace in Harley Place. If only life was that simple. He wanted to go back to their room, have a freezing shower, lie down and try and think straight. But he was bound to bump into Katherine.

  Dan continued brightly. ‘Listen, don’t worry, Mattie. You read about women giving birth eight weeks early all the time. The baby will go into special care for a while. It will be okay.’

  Matt didn’t know whether it would or wouldn’t be. He was logical enough to know that. He had a sickening yet certain knowledge that followed a third port. A hangover to end all hangovers would follow. He suddenly realised that he wasn’t even thinking about Dawn, this generous woman, who had put herself through this physical hell for them. He was more concerned about Katherine’s reaction to the news. And their future. And that revelation appalled him.

  ‘I need a drink,’ he moaned, resisting the intense urge to curl up in a tight ball on the sofa. He imagined Katherine’s displeasure. How can you consume alcohol at a time like this?

  Dan was up. ‘Red, white or rosé? It’s really hot up here. I advise white or rosé.’

  He smiled. Dan would never offer him anything stronger. ‘A pint of white please.’

  As he sat blankly looking at his clipped nails, he heard Katherine’s voice downstairs: sharp and refined as crystal. How could he tell her there was a problem? After she had spent months imagining issue after issue: worrying for Dawn, worrying for the baby, worrying for them.

  Dan nudged a glass into his hand.

  ‘Mattie, you should tell her.’ The way Dan suggested it was gentle. ‘She said to me that you can tell her anything and vice versa.’

  ‘I am her rock. I know that.’ He was upset by his voice, which melted away from him. ‘She tells me every emotion as she experiences it, but I couldn’t possibly do the same.’

  Katherine was a beautiful, intelligent, successful, sexy woman; he was an overweight, divorced solicitor, whose ex-wife ran off with a partner in his law firm. The power was obviously in her favour. She had married him, undoubtedly loved him, but she could easily change her mind, move on, go back to New York. In any negotiation, there was a price. No baby, no deal. He stood up, appalled by his self-reflection, when his own flesh and blood might be at risk.

  ‘What matters is the baby,’ he said with a certainty he didn’t feel. ‘It’s the baby that matters,’ he repeated, before adding rapidly, ‘And Dawn’s health, of course.’

  Dan nodded, before he said firmly, ‘Exactly, Mattie. Why don’t I google pre-eclampsia? It’s good to know exactly what we’re dealing with.’

  ‘No, no. Please don’t,’ said Matt hastily, shuddering. ‘I don’t want to know.’

  Dan nodded supportively.

  Matt drew strength from him. ‘This whole surrogacy issue is so complicated, Dan. It is counter-intuitive. To get a woman you don’t know to carry a child for your wife. To pay her, ultimately, to have a baby for you. To me, it’s modern life gone mad. I’m conservative, middle-aged and middle-brow. I read the Telegraph, for God’s sake. I grew up in Hampshire. How have I ended up in this place, Dan?’

  ‘Firstly, you want a baby and unfortunately you can’t have one in a more straightforward way.’ Dan always was able to put things into perspective. ‘Secondly, you are in love with Katherine and she desperately needs a baby.’

  Matt sighed. ‘Yes, she does and it is far worse for her. But our marriage is so new and tender. Can it survive this? I don’t know, Dan.’ He had a clear head that came to him uniquely from a drink. It gave him resolve. ‘I’m not going to tell Katherine about the pre-eclampsia issue. When the baby’s born, even if she is premature, Katherine will be happy. All Dawn probably needs is a few days’ bed rest. She’s in good hands.’

  Dan nodded. ‘Of course, she is.’

  ‘I’ll only worry Katherine to a near breakdown. She’ll insist on flying back, ruining the holiday for everyone. I can’t do that to Connie.’

  Matt was conscious that the whole conversation had been about him. Yet again. His marital problems. It happened easily with Dan because he was such a good listener. Matt was acutely aware of the imbalance. He corrected it now.

  ‘Dan, mate, my decision’s made. Now, I want to know how you are.’

  Dan eyed him cautiously. ‘I don’t know, Mattie. Compared with the situation you are in right now, or poor Luke, there is absolutely nothing wrong with my life.’

  ‘But…’ Matt shifted his weight towards Dan, causing the sofa to visibly sink.

  Dan sighed.

  ‘You’re not happy,’ Matt said helpfully.

  Dan relented, ‘I suppose I’m not. Though even saying that I feel grossly self-indulgent. What is wrong? Absolutely nothing: I love my work, I’m doing well, I have a lovely home and I’m healthy.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘I’m not happy with Alan.’ Dan blushed, as if what he said was a revelation. Dan had always been funny like that. Back at university, he believed that none of them realised he was gay. Now he thought his floundering relationship with Alan was equally invisible.

  ‘It’s a tiny thing that I cannot shake off,’ Dan hesitated. ‘I want to move forward, grow up somehow. I want the happy, conservative life my parents have got. Pretty difficult as a gay man living in London.’

  Matt smiled. ‘I never thought that I would be a divorcee living in a flat having a surrogate child. I thought I’d be living in Hampshire with three children and a nice homely wife.’

  ‘So, Mattie, what to do about it all?’

  ‘You need to get blindingly drunk and then spill the beans to that Ibizan beach bum of a boyfriend of yours.’

  Dan laughe
d. ‘Matthew, you are outrageous.’

  ‘Oh God, I wish.’

  Chapter 11

  Jules walked unannounced into the bedroom. He didn’t need to say anything. Not with her. He was an Alpha male. A man with broad shoulders and a broad mind. He was exactly her type. Fine hands. She fancied men with well-manicured nails. He closed the door behind him, locking it. His dark glint and charming smile was focused on her alone. She saw shyness, a slight sexual insecurity in it. She was the only one who did. She saw him when his guard was fully down. She smiled back. A come on with a certain sexy charm, but not too eager or brash. He had caught her standing there in her knickers about to have her siesta, tiny pink lace knickers that she had bought at La Senza. They were a little tight. But he would get more turned on getting them off her. He pushed her back towards the mosquito netting, firmly but gently. He parted it with one hand, moving her swiftly back on to the bed. ‘I want you, Lizzie.’ He was aggressive yet tender as he bit into her ear. His hands rubbed both her breasts. ‘God, they turn me on. You turn me on.’ One hand moved insistently down her stomach, which he caressed on the way down to the gap between her legs. She started to moan. ‘Jules, Jules.’ She was already wet. He climbed inside her. The force, the thrill. She was coming. She tried to stop it from happening. She wanted this fantasy to last. Jules. Her Jules. As he was meant to be. But he was so intensely in her recent memory that she came far too fast with an inward moan.

  Lizzie used her top sheet to wipe between her legs. She turned towards the wall and fell into an exhausted asleep. The heat rash, which had driven her out of the sun, was completely forgotten.

  Julian marched purposefully into their sitting room. ‘The ex-Head of the British Army, General Charles Green, is staying here.’

  Connie nodded and smiled, pointing to the phone, ‘Lou.’

  ‘That fantastic white-haired gentleman with a long lens camera that could belong to a wild-life photographer. He led our troops in Afghanistan,’ Julian continued.