The Other Woman's Shoes

by Adele Parks

  When Martha got off the train at Union Square, passed her token through the machine and pushed through the turnstile, she told herself that she didn’t have to go to the café where they’d spent a hilarious evening the other night, she could shop. She looked at her watch. It was four forty-five. He’d said that he’d be there from four and that he’d wait for her. He hadn’t said how long he’d wait, although the implication was that he’d wait for quite some time. She was curious to know if he’d wait for forty-five minutes. She doubted it. But it would be easy to check. She could just pop by the café and see if he was there, which was unlikely. Martha walked up to the door; she could see through the window. It wasn’t very busy, but she could not see Jack. The disappointment turned her knees to wet newspaper. She was too sad and shocked to cry. Although she was convinced there was nothing more to say (she, for one, had said more than enough) and although their relationship was inadequate and ill-defined, it had at times seemed heavenly. A tiny little bit of her thought he might have thought so too and therefore found something else to say.

  Martha needed a sweet, hot drink. She was shaking so much it looked as though she was breakdancing, and if she didn’t get off the street quickly someone would probably try to force a dollar on her.

  She pushed open the café door. No one turned and stared at her, which surprised Martha as she was sure that, besides her strange hue, there must be a huge comedy arrow above her head pointing at her and saying ‘disappointed, again!’ She went to the bar and ordered a caffè latte, full fat, four sugars.

  The waitress assumed that she’d just witnessed a horrific accident or had been a victim of a mugging at the very least, because Martha looked so traumatized. ‘Hey, Girlfriend, you OK?’

  Martha moved her head a fraction. It wasn’t clear if she was trying to nod or shake.

  ‘You look cold. Why don’t you go through to the back of the café? There’s a fire there and it’s real restful.’

  Martha followed the suggestion as though it were an order. She hadn’t known that there was another part to the café. The back room was empty, all but for two people. A woman, by the window, reading The New York Times.

  And Jack.

  Jack was sitting by the fire.

  ‘Martha, fantastic, you came. I wasn’t sure you would.’ He jumped to his feet. ‘Can I get you a drink? No, you’ve got one, err, me too.’ In fact there were three empty juice glasses on the table in front of Jack. Martha stared at them. ‘I got here early,’ he said, by way of explanation, ‘just in case.’

  He leant forward to kiss Martha but she ducked. She knew if he kissed her she’d be without resources. She’d cry out, ‘Forget all that stuff I said this morning. Forget the demand for exclusivity, and forget that I said I loved you. Let’s just go back to the way we were. Just be with me. Don’t leave me.’ Which wouldn’t be very dignified. She pressed her lips together in an effort to restrain herself from backtracking.

  He took hold of her hand and held it tightly for a moment. He tried to look into her eyes but she wouldn’t meet his. She stared at the floor miserably. He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. The kisses branded her, embossed his signature. She was sure she’d be ruined for life. No other man could possibly be this unique combination of sunshine and sexiness. She didn’t really believe in this one.

  Jack sat down and waited for Martha to sit opposite him. But she stayed resolutely on her feet. She didn’t feel comfortable, and she didn’t want him to feel comfortable either. A little bit of her wanted to punish him for not loving her, and whilst she realized that making him stretch to reach her hand wasn’t exactly the same as putting him on the rack in the Tower, it was all she had available to her at that exact moment.

  Jack waited a second, realized that Martha wasn’t going to sit down and then stood up again. He still held on to her hand. ‘God, I’ve had the most bizarre day,’ he said.

  Martha stared at him with disbelief. Was he taking the piss? Hers hadn’t been exactly run-of-the-mill, either. It wasn’t every day that you told someone you loved them and (this was possibly the most salient point) the person you’d said ‘I love you’ to ignored you.

  Jack beamed at Martha.

  Oh my God, he did love her, he was going to tell her now. Suddenly Martha could see such warmth and hope and excitement in his eyes. Why hadn’t she looked closer this morning? Then she would have seen it all, and saved herself this horrific day of worry. Martha allowed her body to relax as though it were sinking into a huge warm bath full of bubbles. She felt her dreams envelop her and then buoy her up. She waited for the words.

  ‘I’ve got a new job,’ said Jack.

  ‘What?’ demanded Martha. Had she misheard?

  ‘A job. That’s why I’m here – for a job interview – and today they told me I’ve got it.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Isn’t it fabulous, Martha?’ Why had he started calling her Martha? Where had ‘Little Miss E.’ gone? Was she to be buried with their history? ‘I’m going to be running the New York branch, I’m going to be MD, Martha.’

  ‘Congratulations. I’m very happy for you,’ said Martha as she collapsed into the nearest chair. She sat down before shock could slam her over. Jack took this as a good sign and sat down again too. And the odd thing was, a bit of Martha was actually happy for Jack. It sounded like a good position, and he was obviously thrilled; she loved him, she wanted him to be happy. That’s what a bit of her thought. The rest of her thought that he was the most obnoxious, cruel, tactless bastard to be so obviously delighted at the prospect of leaving her but, hey, as he’d said all along, he wasn’t in this game to find a girlfriend, he still had too much he wanted to do.

  ‘Well, I’d love to stay and chat over the details of your new contract, etc,’ said Martha, not doing such a brilliant job of hiding her pain, ‘but I have to get back to the hotel, I have a plane to catch.’

  ‘A plane? But why? Are the kids OK?’ asked Jack, suddenly anxious.

  ‘Yes, they’re fine. I just don’t want to be here with you any longer. I don’t see the point.’ Martha made to stand up. She wondered if her reserve would last at least until she got out of the café. Then she could sob or scream or do whatever struck her as most appropriate.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ said Jack. He did look genuinely bewildered. ‘You said you loved me.’

  Martha glared at Jack. How could he be so insensitive as to bring that up? He really had no idea. ‘I was drunk,’ she said.

  ‘You couldn’t have been drunk. It was in the morning.’

  Martha considered telling him she’d changed her mind. But what would the point be? She couldn’t salvage any self-respect by telling a lie. She considered demanding ‘Love me. Love me. I’m a good person, and a pretty person, and a funny person. I have so much love to give.’ But she feared it would fall on deaf ears.

  Again.

  So instead she said, ‘I do love you, Jack.’ Funnily enough, she didn’t feel the humiliation that was surely due when she said this. She supposed the difference was that this time she didn’t have any expectations at all. She was just stating a fact. ‘I hope you’re very happy in your new job. And country,’ she added significantly. ‘But I’ve never been a fan of long-distance relationships, and I make a lousy pen pal. I’m sure it won’t take you too long at all to surround yourself with a posse of new naked friends.’

  Jack looked sad, disappointed. What had he been expecting? That she’d keep her bed warm for him to pop back over the ocean now and again, to come back for a bit of London action between the sheets?

  ‘Martha, I know you’ve gone through quite a bit–’

  ‘Some would say that.’

  Jack chose to ignore her tone and pushed on, ‘And I know you’re hurting, but, well, maybe I could be there for you.’

  ‘I don’t suppose you’ll have time to stay friends, what with servicing all your new naked friends.’

  ‘Right,’ said Jack slowly. He dropped his head into
his hands and used the heels of his palms to rub his eyes. ‘There are no other naked friends.’

  ‘Well, you haven’t been in New York long,’ said Martha. ‘Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll–’ She stopped mid-sentence. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘There are no other naked friends. Here or at home.’

  ‘But…’ Martha left the word hanging in the air. Jack was gorgeous; she’d always been sure that he must be spending his every waking moment beating women off with a stick or, worse still, not beating them off. What was he saying?

  ‘There haven’t been any other naked friends since I met you. Since the Salsa club.’

  Martha didn’t want to make another mistake. ‘Why?’

  ‘Because there wasn’t any need. I didn’t want to be with any other woman.’

  Martha shook her head and gently and surreptitiously pinched the skin on her forearm; she wanted to check that she was awake. ‘So why did you let me think that there were other women?’ How could he have put her through such misery and uncertainty? Not that she had been all that miserable. Mostly she’d managed to blank out the possibility of other naked friends. But Eliza had been very uncertain and had done her level best to make Martha miserable.

  ‘I didn’t really think that you’d think there were others. Besides not wanting others, when would I have found the time, and where would I have found the energy, considering the amount of shagging we do?’

  Martha wished he’d stuck to his first answer; it was far more romantic.

  ‘Besides which, there were the children,’ continued Jack.

  ‘Well?’

  ‘And the marriage.’

  ‘But everyone has a history. You do.’

  ‘I was never sure which way it would resolve itself. You were barely out of a marriage. In fact, technically, you aren’t out of your marriage. I didn’t want to put pressure on you.’

  ‘I feel divorced. And soon I really will be. It feels true, and I don’t know if there is any other measure. It doesn’t feel as though Michael is mine any more or that I am his, despite the names on the mortgage deed and the pension policies. He’s gone. He’s vacated my home and my heart.’ Martha really hoped she didn’t sound as though she were begging.

  ‘And, in all honesty, I wasn’t sure if I could take it all on, if I was up to the job of being a… a… what’s the word?’

  ‘Boyfriend,’ suggested Martha.

  Jack glared. ‘A family man.’

  ‘Oh, I see, and now it’s OK to tell me that you don’t have any other naked friends because you’re leaving anyway, and that’s my consolation prize.’ Martha was almost proud of how indignant she sounded.

  ‘No, Martha, that’s not it. I love you. Martha, you are the most fabulous person I have ever known, I’ve told you that. I love you so much. I think I’ve loved you for a while, and I was just waiting for the right moment to tell you. Today I actually ached for you. Can you believe that?’ Jack was laughing. ‘Today I knew that the only thing that could make a perfect day even better was seeing you. I want you to come with me. This job is the job of a lifetime. I’ll be earning three times my current salary. I can give you and the kids a really great standard of living. It’s proved easier than I thought it would be, the unknown, being around children. They’re great. Noisy, smelly, but great. The company will pay for our home and the kids’ education; we can be a real family. A happy family. Me devoted to you, hanging on your every word.’ He was laughing and joking, but he meant it too. ‘I didn’t say anything to you this morning because I wanted to know exactly what I was offering you.’ Jack was smiling a wider smile than Martha had ever seen before. It shone through his eyes, his pores; even his hair seemed to glisten with happiness. He’d worked it all out. He had a solution. He was able to offer Martha the Happily-ever-after she wanted and she deserved. He’d never been happier.

  ‘I can’t live here, Jack.’

  ‘No, not straight away. You’ll have to pack up the house.’

  ‘Michael.’

  The word punched Jack. It knocked him to the ground more certainly than if Lennox Lewis had landed a blow.

  ‘He’d never agree to it. He’d have a court order slapped on me quicker than you could say “Green Card”.’

  ‘We’d fight it,’ said Jack. He stood up, panicked, and ran his fingers through his hair. Almost instantly he fell back into his chair again. ‘We’ll fight it.’ But Jack already knew that Martha would never be able to join him. His words drifted, without gravitas, like feathers in the air on a very windy day.

  ‘I can’t take his children away from him.’

  ‘They’re your children.’

  ‘And his.’

  The lovers sat in a silence that deafened them. Martha watched her sweet coffee go cold, and she wondered how brave she was expected to be. Surely the call for heroes and martyrs had long been extinct. Apparently not.

  ‘I don’t know what to do,’ sighed Jack. He looked at Martha with desperation and she knew what he wanted her to say.

  ‘Take the job, Jack.’ Martha was thinking, If you love something let it go, if it comes back it’s yours. If it doesn’t, it never was. And she hated the fact that the most important things in her life could always be distilled down to a message on a twee Hallmark card. ‘When do they want you to start?’

  ‘End of April.’

  ‘We should get a drink and celebrate. You can have orange juice but I need something a bit stronger.’

  ‘I signed the contract. I didn’t think.’ His tone was apologetic.

  Martha would have felt sorry for him, but she felt so sorry for herself that she didn’t have the capacity to feel pity for anyone else, not even Jack. ‘No.’ Of course not. Why should he? He wasn’t married to her; they weren’t his children.

  For the last three years, in every waking moment, Martha had thought about her children and what was best for them; she was used to it, it was automatic. Jack didn’t have the same responsibility, he wasn’t there. He could break the contract, there would be a get-out clause – they both knew that – but neither of them suggested that he do so.

  47

  The visit to the zoo was less of a success than Eliza had hoped. From the second Greg had offered to take them there she had indulged in visions. Visions, such as him pushing the double buggy (in a manly way), freeing her up to concentrate on humorous stories of how she’d filled the last few months. Of course, she also planned that these anecdotes would be tightly edited and generously embellished so as to paint her in as strong a light as possible. There would be no point in admitting that most of her dates had been mind-numbing, cheap or tedious – that would not cause her ex to sizzle with jealousy, and she wanted him to sizzle. Think bacon in a pan. She imagined that the children would suddenly transform from small demons to more celestial characters, so as to give the impression that she was in control after all. She hadn’t visited London Zoo, or indeed any zoo, since the age of eight. Her dim recollection was that the place was full of cute furry animals.

  Greg tried to push the buggy, but he wasn’t good at turning corners, got a bit frustrated, then heavy-handed, and bent one of the axles in temper. Eliza was so worried about what Martha would say when she saw her precious Maclaren buggy that she was rendered speechless for a good few minutes.

  When she finally did say something it was all very derogatory. ‘Bloody hell, Greg. How can you be so cack-handed? Or rather cack-footed. Martha’ll go mad, you total arse.’

  ‘Total arse,’ repeated Mathew as clear as a church bell, stopping Eliza from continuing her tirade.

  ‘Jesus, Eliza, it’s a pram, not a kidney machine, it doesn’t matter. I’ll bang that axle out with a hammer when I get home. Chill. Since when have you been so hyper?’ scowled Greg.

  Eliza doubted Greg’s ability to fix the buggy. He wasn’t particularly handy with a toolbox, but she decided to bite her tongue. Which meant it was impossible to entertain him with anecdotes of her disastrous dates. She did try, but the s
tories didn’t sound at all amusing – which shouldn’t have surprised her, as they hadn’t been funny to live through. The children felt far too comfortable with Greg to improve their behaviour one iota. They continued to be picky, sticky and tricky. The animals were not cute. They were sad and smelly.

  It was not a roaring success.

  Despite all this, Eliza felt happier than she’d felt in months. Even when it started to drizzle, she comforted herself with the fact that although she was in hell on earth, she was at least doing her time in damnation with Greg.

  Which made it acceptable. Despite the overwhelming smell of camel faeces clogging her nostrils.

  He didn’t have a pension policy. He didn’t have private health care or a monthly salary. He had no hope of ever struggling into the higher tax bracket, and yet he was everything she wanted. He always had been, even when she hadn’t known it.

  Eliza felt overwhelmed with remorse and regret. Greg might not have a fitted kitchen, or even a juicer, but these were surmountable problems. He did have a girlfriend, and this obstruction would be less easily overcome. The Bianchis had told her that he seemed very happy, that he was ‘always laughing’ with this new woman. And he was clearly into her in a big way, because why else would he have cleaned up his flat? Oh God, how could she have been so stupid and careless as to muddle it all up so completely?

  It was mortifying to admit, but she had left Greg on a whim. They’d had a dull couple of months, he hadn’t had any work, and was actually subsidizing his gigs with the money he earned from selling hats. It was ridiculous. And whilst Eliza loved her job, she didn’t earn a fortune, or at least not enough for two. Because money was tight they rarely went out or did anything. By contrast, all of their friends had suddenly started to grow up: everyone else seemed to be getting engaged or buying houses or getting promoted, and Greg didn’t show any inclination to do any of this. His idea of planning was to think about what he wanted for tea before 5 p.m. And for a while all of this had seemed to be insuperable.