by Shaw, O. C
I give in to him as ever, only insisting we can’t leave until after my shift at work, which makes him pout because it limits how far we can travel; but eventually he accepts, and we separate to get into our own cars. I haven’t even pulled out the parking space when my phone bleeps with a text. A quick look shows it to be from James. All it says is:
I can’t wait
I smile at his obvious excitement, but inside my head the ticking clock is getting louder all the time.
Chapter 29
I don’t see anything of Greg at all; he is like a man possessed with his painting now. In turn I am spending all my time writing whenever I am not at work or the gym. The book is nearly finished, which indicates just how many nights I have worked through in order to avoid sex with Greg. I know this burning the candle at both ends will lead to me crashing and burning soon, but I need to finish the book, and I want to do it before my world crashes down. It’s going to happen soon… I can feel it.
The only break in my writing is for a trip to the pub to meet Annie and Emma. They are both already there when I walk in, and as I make my way over to them I’m reminded of how I felt when I went to my first job interview, desperate for approval and acceptance. After the usual drink-collecting courtesies from the typically unhelpful Brian, I am finally at the table opposite the pair of them.
“So what’s happening with James, then, Lil?” Annie asks in her usual direct style.
“What makes you think anything is?” I ask, more because I’m intrigued to hear what they think they know than because I’m trying to be deliberately evasive.
“Lily, he practically grabbed Greg’s hand off you at the gallery the other night in between the pair of you eye-fucking each other the rest of the time. How long has it been going on? Since the Peaks?” I nod, and Emma gasps.
“What are you going to do?” she asks, wide-eyed. “Does Greg know?” I decide honesty is as ever the best policy, something I seem to have forgotten over recent months.
“What I am going to do is leave Greg,” I say with certainty.
Emma gasps again. “But you’ve hardly had a chance to get to know him! Are you sure he’s worth walking out of an eighteen-year relationship for?”
I have to say I’m surprised Emma is defending my marriage to Greg, considering how down on him she’s been over the years. Annie is just listening now and watching my face.
I sigh and lay my cards on the table. “I’m leaving Greg because my marriage to him is empty in every sense of the word. I have fulfilled my responsibilities as a parent, and now the kids are off, doing their own thing, I just want to have a chance to do my own thing too. I’m not planning to move in with James, although I do care about him, and I really want to see what happens with us. I’m going to find somewhere to rent and be on my own for a bit and just see what life brings.” Emma’s mouth is now fully open as I continue. “You may well think I’m mad, but I think madness would be living some sort of half-life until I die because I don’t have the courage to do something different. The only thing that has held me there for so long has been the fact Greg needed me to look after him, but you’ve changed that,” I say, looking at Annie.
“I’ve been waiting until I could leave knowing that he would be okay, and now he is – okay, I mean, better than okay. I’ve never seen him so happy. He may be upset about me for a while, but I know he will be alright in the longer term.” I pause, waiting for their judgement.
“I’m proud of you, honey,” Annie says, squeezing my arm. “I think you’re doing the right thing, and I’m here if you need me.” I lean over and hug her, my cheeks wet with tears.
Emma joins the hug, whispering: “I love you, Lil. I just want you to be happy.”
“Me too,” I say with a little sob, which just starts Emma off big time. “We need to stop this,” I eventually say, “Brian must definitely have a hard-on over there behind the bar, watching this girl-on-girl action.” I nod over to where he’s standing, not taking his eyes off us. That makes them both laugh, in between making fake retching sounds at the thought of Brian with an erection.
“So, when are you going to tell him?” Annie asks, the mood sobering again.
“I’m not sure. After Christmas sometime, I think, I need to find a room to rent. Money’s going to be tight for a bit because I’ll still need to help with the mortgage, but hopefully now Greg’s got some money coming in, things will be a bit easier.”
“You’re a good person, Lily,” Emma says. “He’s lucky to have had you.”
“Is he?” I wonder. “I cheated on him, Em, and I’m not proud of it. Whatever his faults, he didn’t deserve that. It’s bad karma.”
“So what about this James, then? What’s he like, apart from the obvious?”
“The obvious?” I ask.
“Drop-dead gorgeous, of course,” she laughs. I can’t deny he is.
“He’s wonderful,” I say simply. “He’s generous and kind and passionate, and he’s shown me a whole new side to the world that I didn’t believe existed. I still can’t believe he wants me too,” I whisper.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” they say in unison and laugh.
“Have you seen yourself recently? You’re stunning. At the gallery there wasn’t a man in the room that wasn’t looking at you, Lil,” Annie adds. “Greg didn’t like it, though. Don’t assume he’s going to take this breakup well, sweetie.” I know she’s right. “To be fair, Lily, you didn’t stand a chance with James. He wanted you bad, woman, all those panty-combusting looks he was giving you all the time. I did try to warn you.”
“You did,” I agree, “but I can’t regret it. I feel alive again.”
“But is he a good person?” Emma demands of Annie. “Is he good enough for Lil?”
I don’t think I could love my friend more if I tried. She always looks out for me, and I thank God every day she is my friend. Annie’s still thinking about the question, and I’m intrigued to hear what she has to say.
“I don’t know him well enough to judge, Em. What I’ve seen of him round Lily makes me think he genuinely cares about her, and judging by what Stuart tells me he’s picked her up off the gym floor enough times when she’s damaged herself to make you think he must be a good person, but I can’t say I really know him yet. I guess the jury’s still out.”
“I have a favour to ask,” I say to Emma, and she narrows her eyes at me, but I plough on. “He wants to take me away for the weekend while Greg is in Harrogate. Can I tell Ethan I’m coming to you in case the baby comes early while Phil is on his course?” I hate dragging her into my world of lies, and I can tell she doesn’t really want to do it, but she’s my friend to the end and of course agrees. I thank her and apologise again for involving her.
We definitely need a change of subject, so I announce I have practically finished my book and intend to get it sent off by the end of the week to various publishers. Emma squeals with excitement, which has Brian running over convinced she has gone into early labour. It takes a few minutes to reassure him that is not the case and that he should return to the bar, but eventually we achieve it by telling him Annie and Emma both need new drinks, which has him scurrying.
“You have to give me a synopsis of the story,” Emma declares, and I promise her that once I have sent it off she can have a copy to read and give me feedback on. I have low expectations, I assure her. She makes me promise to finish it by Friday and drop her a copy by for the weekend to read while Phil’s away, since I won’t be there and she’s got to tell lies for me. It seems fair enough. With that in mind I tell them I have some writing to get back to do, so I say my goodbyes and leave them in the pub to talk about me. I know they will – I would if one of them had announced what I had this evening. As I drive home I feel as if the pressure has released a little by telling them. It matters to me that my friends understand why I’ve made the decisions I have and can still love me. It gives me hope I’ll be okay if I can just get through the next few weeks.
Chapter 3
0
By Friday I am virtually dead on my feet, mostly because I have nearly killed myself to finish my book in order to fulfil my promise to Emma while still going to work and making sure Greg and Ethan are fed. But I’ve done it, and I’m thrilled. I’ve researched the publishers who might have any interest in my story and written the summary they request, but everything I read around the subject of getting published makes me feel it’s probably hopeless to believe my book will be picked up – I’m more likely to win the lottery, I suspect, and I don’t even buy a ticket. I have Emma’s copy all printed off, thanks to the printers at work, and I’m going to drop it in to her on my way to work after I post my chapters.
First, though, I help Greg get the hire van he’s got for the weekend loaded with all his stuff. He’s worked similar hours to me all week, but I think it’s paid off, and he seems pleased with his output. The canvasses I catch sight of when he’s packing them for the journey look stunning – it’s not only the stuff he’s producing at the moment; there’s some of his older stuff too that people now seem to be interested in.
The gallery event got a good write-up in both the local and national press, and Greg got the most mentions, all of it favourable, so it certainly seems like his time really is now. When the van is all packed, we stand and look at each other for a moment. It feels awkward, like there’s a distance now that he senses and is less willing to cross. We’ve barely seen each other with his painting and my writing, but I’m unwilling to broach the subject yet, and so it seems is he. He gives me a stiff hug and a peck on the lips before climbing in, seemingly keen to be away. I can understand it; it’s like we both need to move on from what we were stuck in during our life together.
With Greg gone, my chapters posted and my stuff packed for the weekend and in the boot of my car, it’s like all the energy has seeped out of my body. I’ve been running on adrenaline for so long now I think it’s all finally caught up with me. I sit at work in a daze, wondering how it is that my life could change so much in a few short months. I wonder briefly what would have happened if I had never joined the gym, never gone to the Peaks, never met James, what my life would be like now. Would Greg and I be happy now he is achieving success? But then I realise I would never have met Annie, she would never have asked to see his work, and Greg wouldn’t have achieved the recognition he now has; so we would have been stuck in the same unhappy rut I was so desperate to break out of in the first place. It’s a catch-22. James has texted me the address of the hotel we are staying at, the Buxted Park Hotel, about half an hour from Brighton. He’s excited and keeps sending me texts telling me how much he’s looking forward to seeing me. I’m excited too, but I can’t shake the little worm of anxiety that keeps gnawing away in my stomach. I guess it’s true the guilty never sleep; I remember reading something that said: “When you are guilty, it is not your sins you hate, but yourself.” I think there is some truth in that. At least it explains how I’m feeling at the moment.
The workday crawls to a close, and I have been as much use as a chocolate teapot all day. I make my way slowly to the car. I’m not hurrying like I normally do when I’m going to see James, and I don’t really know what the matter is. I think it’s because I’m getting an increasing sense that I need to finish things with Greg before I can truly move forward happily with James. I have made some progress with my plans and circled some potential bedsits to see on Monday, so now I’m determined that as soon as I have one, I will sit Greg down and tell him. I think I will wait until after Christmas now, though, as Adam is coming home, and I selfishly want a last chance for us all to be together. I know it’s not going to be easy to tell them, but it needs to be done.
I drive along the country roads, noticing the twinkling of Christmas lights in the houses I go past. I really haven’t given it a thought, and yet it’s only a couple of weeks away now. When I pull in to the hotel it’s delightful. Set within beautiful parkland it’s the quintessential British hotel, lit up with twinkling fairy lights. James is already waiting in the car park for me, talking on his phone. He looks stressed, but when he catches sight of me he smiles and all the stress vanishes. I like it I can do that for him. He ends his call and moves towards me, taking my bag from me with one hand and taking hold of my hand with his other before leaning in to brush my lips with his own. The hotel is just as lovely inside too, and not too ostentatious. I like that. Our room is not quite as immense as last time, but it is very comfortable. James pulls me into his arms and holds me there tightly for some time, and I relish the chance to just lean in against him and be held and comforted. When he finally pulls away he looks at me and frowns. “Lily, you look exhausted.”
“I am a bit,” I admit. He waits for me to explain. “I’ve been staying up late writing,” I say by way of explanation. “It’s finished,” I add with a smile.
“My God, Lily, that’s extraordinary, you’ve done it so fast.”
“It just sort of flowed out of me once I started,” I say, “and I didn’t really have much else to do with myself. I loved doing it, though, whatever the outcome,” I sigh.
“Well, that calls for some champagne,” he announces, moving to the phone and calling down to reception. “You need to run yourself a bath and relax,” he tells me. “I’ll bring you a glass in when it gets here.” So I do, and it’s bliss. As I lie there soaking, feeling some of the anxiety seep away, I hear the knock at the door as the champagne is delivered, and he comes in with two glasses in his hands. He hands me one and then clinks his own glass against it.
“To you, Lily, and your future.”
“My future,” I agree with a smile. He puts his own glass down, as I slide down the bath sipping my champagne, and takes hold of one of my legs. He picks up the soap and the flannel, and then begins to wash me from my toes all the way up to the apex of my thighs before he repeats the whole exercise on my other leg. When he has finished there he begins on my arms, carefully taking my now empty glass from me and placing it on the side. It is blissful and oddly touching to have him taking care of me like this. When he reaches my chest the mood changes and my breathing becomes faster. He dwells on each breast, running his fingers around and over the ample flesh before lowering his head to take my nipple in his mouth, teasing it with his tongue and teeth until I am moaning, before moving to the other breast. Finally his hand moves to my clitoris, and he brushes it lightly with his fingertips before pressing first one finger and then another up inside me. We stay there like that, with him teasing my body to the brink and then calming, before doing the same again until I don’t think I can cope with any more.
“Please, James,” I say. When I open my eyes and look at him, his eyes are heavy with desire.
“Come, Lily,” he says, holding out a hand for me and helping me to my feet. He wraps a large white bath towel around me and lifts me into his arms before carrying me through and placing me gently on the crisp white cotton sheets. His eyes never leave mine as he moves over me. I spread my legs wide for him, still damp from the bath, inviting him, needing him. I feel him at my entrance, and he presses into me so slowly, a centimetre at a time with his eyes still locked to my own. There is none of the lust-filled coupling of previous occasions. It’s intimate, loving and exquisitely sensual. A connection of both our minds and our bodies, and I can see the emotions blazing in his eyes as he reaches the deepest part of me. I feel stripped bare, emotionally and physically as I offer everything I am to him. We are making love, I realise, and it reminds me of our first time together. As we slowly begin to move it feels so beautiful and gentle. He kisses me, and even his kiss conveys feeling. We move together until we both finally cry out our climax within moments of each other, and afterwards in post-coital drowsiness he holds me close until I fall asleep with my head on his chest, the sound of his heartbeat lulling me into the most restful sleep I have had in months.
I wake early entangled in James, with his arm still wrapped tight around me, and for a few moments I just lie there enjoying the closenes
s. He looks so beautiful in his sleep. I feel much better, more rested and content. The anxiety that has resided within me for so long now has lessened slightly. One blue eye opens sleepily, followed by the other, and he blinks at me.
“Morning, beautiful,” he says with a smile. “Do you know how lucky I feel to get to wake up with you? How long I’ve wanted to do this?” He pulls me close to him.
“I wouldn’t come too close to my breath,” I warn him, “I don’t think I cleaned my teeth last night.” He smiles, rolling on top of me. “Even your breath can’t force me away,” he assures me, and then he shows me just what he means.
When we wake again for the second time, we order some breakfast to be sent up to the room and spend a happy hour feeding each other fresh fruit and croissants. It’s a heavenly start to the day. The morning is bright and the grounds inviting, so we wrap up warm, put on our walking boots and follow the directions the receptionist has given us through the grounds to a local pub, about six miles away, where we have a drink and a light lunch before making our way back to the hotel. It is so nice to do such normal activities for couples, and I realise how much difference it makes to be able to spend this sort of time with him. James and I talk so easily about anything and everything; it all feels so comfortable and natural for us to be together. Even when we are quiet it is the comfortable silence of two people content just to be in the other’s company. We get back to the hotel and order coffee in the lounge. There’s a wedding at the hotel, and we admire the happy couple through the windows as they pose for photos in the grounds while we sit by the fireplace sipping our coffee. They can’t take their hands off each other, and it’s sweet to watch. They look young and happy and in love. I feel old and jaded by comparison and tell James so.
“Rubbish, Lily,” he snorts. “You really don’t see yourself as other people do, do you?” he says, bemused. “Let me tell you what I see.” He begins, effectively silencing me with a finger over my lips when I start to protest. “I see a petite, perfectly proportioned woman who is in danger of losing her beautiful curves if she loses any more weight; with the most enticing big brown eyes that make me want to lose myself in their sweet depths when I look at them, and lips which are full and make me think of kissing all the time. When you walk into a room I see all the men check you out, but what’s amazing is you never even notice, and that just makes you even more attractive in my eyes. Add to that you’re intelligent, funny, insightful, caring and…”