by Minna Howard
‘I live next door. I was just trying to put a business plan to Sarah,’ he explained to Christian.
‘Now isn’t the time,’ Sarah said, resisting an urge to go out into the street and take hold of Christian and pull him in. She was not yet well known in the street, and some of the more imaginative neighbours might misinterpret her actions dragging a man into her house while in her dressing gown.
Christian said, ‘If you are too busy for dinner, Sarah…’
‘No, I am not.’ She had a sudden sense that his interest in her was waning and that he was hoping for a way out of his invitation. She turned to Robert. ‘As I’ve told you several times, I am not selling any part of my house or garden,’ she said. ‘Now I must get on.’ She turned and smiled at Christian, giving Robert his cue to leave.
‘Let’s talk another time,’ Robert nodded at both of them before going back into his own house. Christian hovered uncertainly on the pavement.
Sarah said, ‘I’m sorry, Christian. It’s a complicated story, but he wanted to buy this house, apparently he’d been promised it by the people who were selling only they didn’t tell him and I bought it. He’s being really persistent about it.’
‘Sounds intriguing,’ Christian said, in a voice that implied that it did not. He followed her inside and she put him in a chair with a drink before rushing upstairs to finish dressing.
She put on her safe middle-aged suit, for that is how she felt now. All sparkle and sexiness had evaporated in the air like a soap bubble. In those few moments on the doorstep she sensed that whatever romantic feelings Christian might have held for her had faded. She remembered that he, too, had suffered a severe emotional crisis, with the death of his wife – why should he add to it? The baggage she was surrounded by was too much for him to take on – perhaps for anyone to take on.
Twelve
Christian took Sarah to a dark, intimate restaurant. No huge glass windows inviting curious glances here. It was womblike, painted dark red. Had he chosen it so that any odd behaviour on her part would go unnoticed?
The conversation on the way to dinner had been polite chat: the weather, the traffic, the endless road works that snarled up the already too crowded roads. Back and forth the conversation went, as if they were passing relay batons to each other. There was not a spark of excitement between them.
Sarah was enveloped in a melancholy boredom. Had she imagined that Christian was attracted to her, when he’d asked her out earlier this evening? In her frantic desperation to be loved, had she mistaken friendliness for something more? If only Robert hadn’t barged in like that, pricked the balloon of their tentative happiness so clumsily and completely.
Her anger with Robert lurked in her face, round her eyes and mouth, and Christian obviously thought she was annoyed with him or was just a bad tempered person. As they sat opposite each other by the wall, slightly out of the body of the restaurant, she noticed a trapped look appear in his eyes, as if he wished he didn’t have to go through with this charade. She agreed with him. For a moment she was tempted to get up and say, ‘Thanks for asking me to have dinner with you, Christian, but it’s no good, is it? We’ve made a mistake. I’ll go home.’ But she was hungry, and bored of her own company, and she did not quite have the nerve to do it.
‘That man next door is a nuisance wanting to buy my house,’ she said instead. ‘He keeps trying to talk to me about it; he even seems to have my ex-husband on his side.’
‘He seems quite familiar with you,’ Christian said. ‘I suspect he wants to charm you into giving it up to him.’
‘You don’t really think that, do you?’ But what had it looked like to him – her in her dressing-gown on the doorstep with Robert halfway into her hall? She regarded Christian intently, the firm mouth, the honey-brown eyes that looked at her now as if she was merely a colleague, and a dull one at that. I could have loved him, she thought, then as quickly scolded herself. Lusted after him, not loved him, turned him into some fantasy.
She said firmly: ‘The house is mine. I’m pleased with myself for getting it on my own. I’ve done it up just as I want it and I certainly will not be giving it up to anyone, and I wish he’d accept it.’
A spark flared in Christian’s eyes and then died. ‘It must be difficult with him on your doorstep. Is he married, or does he have a girlfriend?’
‘I don’t know,’ she said. Then, thinking the subject only seemed to bring out the worst in her, and not wanting him to label her a boring whinger, she asked him about Australia.
From then on things went quite well between them. It was as if both of them had taken a silent pledge to do their best to get through the evening. The food and wine were good, the menu different enough to provide quite a deep discussion on various methods of cooking fish.
While they talked, Sarah was aware that other women kept throwing Christian admiring glances. He was an attractive man, with that well-kept, polished look that suggested an enjoyment of the good things of life. Why had the chemistry between them so quickly been extinguished? Or had it only been there because she so desperately wanted it to be?
Christian explained to her that the restaurant had a jazz band that started playing after dinner. People came in to listen, have a drink after dinner elsewhere, or the theatre. They had just finished their main course and she was idly looking round the room when, to her horror, she saw Dan come in with his mousy woman. He did not see her, giving her a few moments to compose herself and study him.
Her heart contracted as if it was shrivelling up in strong acid, but she could not tear her eyes away from him. He seemed to have developed a marked stoop, as if he was permanently going through low doorways. Perhaps they lived in a doll’s house, she thought hysterically, him and the mouse.
They were shown to a table in the corner. Dan said something to the mousy woman, then disappeared into the shadows while a waiter held a chair for her.
The mouse looked squatter now that her pregnancy was showing. Some women glow in pregnancy, their bodies oozing fertility and beauty, but this woman did not. Her hair was lank and flat on her head, her complexion dull. Perhaps they, too, had lost their chemistry. But the sight of her bulging stomach filled her with nausea. The birth looked imminent. Had their affair been going on for longer than she knew, or she just put on weight fast? Or was it someone else’s baby altogether, and Dan was the fool who had got caught?
She became aware that Christian was watching her intently. She blushed. Yet again she had become distracted by another man while she was with him – Robert this evening, and twice by Dan. No wonder Christian was no longer interested in her, if her attention was always being side-tracked by other men, namely her ex-husband. Though he wasn’t ex, was he, really? They were still married.
She said, ‘I’m really sorry to seem distracted, but my husband has just come in, with his new partner. He, or news of him, always seems to intrude when we go out.’ She laughed awkwardly. Somehow the fact that she did not have to impress him made her tell the truth.
‘But I thought you were divorced,’ he looked embarrassed.
‘Not divorced, but the marriage is finished. I’m sorry, Christian, I was really looking forward to this evening with you,’ she said in a rush, ‘but things – Robert, now Dan – seem to have spoilt it.’
‘Are you still in love with your husband?’ he asked.
‘I don’t want to be. I hate him for what he has done to me, to the family. All for a bit of sex on the side and a red sports car.’
‘Is that all it was?’ He watched her carefully.
She resented that look; those firm lips that seemed to utter those words with such conviction.
‘You mean it was all my fault?’ Her voice was harsh. Trust a man to blame someone else! That old cliché ‘my wife doesn’t understand me’ really means ‘she understands me too well, and I don’t like it’.
‘No, not your fault. Things change; people become irritated with each other, not because they are terrible people, but per
haps because they have become irritated with themselves and take it out on their other halves. They should change their own outlook on life, not their partner.’ He said quickly as if afraid she’d explode.
‘That may be true, but by the time people have admitted that, it is too late and there’s too much pain to go back.’
‘I think that happens a lot. We were going through a tricky time when Rachel was diagnosed with cancer. We became closer then, but it’s sad to think that it needed that.’ He trailed off. She saw the gleam of tears in his eyes. ‘I still miss her dreadfully; trivial little things that were as familiar to me as breathing.’
Now she understood, she reached out her hand and covered his. Was cancer easier to deal with than complete rejection from the person you thought loved you? The thought darted into her mind, making her feel instantly ashamed. People judged each other too much, searched for perfect relationships that didn’t exist while conveniently forgetting their own faults.
‘It’s all hell,’ she said. ‘We all demand too much from each other without just enjoying what is there all the time.’
He gave her a brave smile that made all her caring instincts surge up to comfort him, quite taking the place of the lack of chemistry between them.
‘Shall we go?’ he said, calling the waiter for the bill.
She remembered Dan. She would have to get up and walk out past their table. They would see her. But she was with a man, a very presentable man, and though there was nothing between them and she recognised now there never would be, it gave her a sense of satisfaction. She resolved just to walk past them and pretend she hadn’t seen them. Perhaps she would linger by the band for a moment, so that Dan, sitting in his shadowy corner, would see her. Perhaps – the thought was wild – he would be sorry for his actions, wish he were back with her, unencumbered by that lank-haired woman and a pregnancy. That was ridiculous; she didn’t want him back as he was, yet perversely she wanted him to want her, and to realise he had made a terrible mistake.
Christian paid the bill, then got up from the table. He cupped his hand round her elbow to steer her through the few people who were milling round, waiting for a free table or drinking at the bar. She leant back against him, saying how much she had enjoyed the dinner. They moved forward and she was against the mouse’s chair. She could have put out her hand and pulled that lank hair. In the dim light her eyes just caught Dan’s startled face. She guessed he was bracing himself for one of her onslaughts. She stopped, turned to the lead singer, a broad-shouldered girl who was taking a breather from belting out ‘Sweet Georgia Brown’. ‘You have a wonderful voice,’ she said with a smile. The girl flushed, looked pleased.
‘Thank you. I’m glad you enjoyed it.’
Feeling Dan watching her, Sarah spoke softly in Christian’s ear. Really, with the hubbub of chatter, she had no other choice if she wanted to say anything.
‘Wasn’t she good? I’m so glad you brought me here.’
‘She is,’ he agreed, and they went on out into the street. When they were outside, he said, ‘Where was your husband sitting?’
‘I don’t know,’ she lied, not wanting him to know she had acted out that little scene hoping to arouse Dan’s jealousy. ‘I just saw him for an instant and then he disappeared. He might not have stayed there at all.’ She was thankful for the darkness of the street to hide her lie.
They drove back to her house almost in silence. She wondered what would happen when they arrived. Would he feel obliged to make a polite remark about seeing her again sometime? Or would he make some excuse about having to go back to Australia? To make it easier for him, she asked him if he would have to go back there.
‘Not for a while. Someone was taken ill in the company and I had to go and hold the fort until another person could take over. Everything seems to be going swimmingly now.’
So, that was one excuse down, she thought, as they drove into her street. Through the chink in the curtains she saw the lights were still on in Robert’s house. Was he waiting for her to return so he could start harassing her again?
Awkwardness took over, cramping her stomach. Now what? Did she say goodnight and leave it at that? Ask Christian in for the coffee they didn’t have at the restaurant? Whatever was the first-date etiquette these days? Trying to hide her confusion, she fumbled for her key in her bag.
He parked the car and got out to open her door for her.
‘Thank you so much for such a good evening, Christian,’ she said, hoping she sounded sincere.
‘I’ll come in,’ he said, and took her key from her. Before she could protest, he walked smartly to her door and opened it. The ping of the alarm greeted them and she rushed in to turn it off. He followed her into the hall.
Her heart was fluttering as if it would take off and fly away. Was sex obligatory these days? She didn’t want it with anyone else; she wanted Dan, his warm familiar body that slotted into hers so companionably. But he was gone, gone with that wretched woman. All this raced through her mind as she went to the corner and punched in the numbers to turn off the alarm.
Christian shut the front door behind him. If only Polly were here to chaperone her. She remembered all the lectures she’d given her about sexual behaviour, and wished she could find some advice for herself. She was being stupid; of course she could deal with this. She’d offer him coffee, and that was all.
‘I’ll make us some coffee,’ she said briskly, feeling that she sounded like some hearty team-leader. She went into the kitchen, filled the kettle with water and snapped it on.
Christian followed her in. He put his arms round her and began gently kissing the back of her neck.
‘Oh,’ she said, ‘I…’ She half turned to tell him to stop it, but he turned her round and kissed her lips, holding her close to him. Her senses reeled; her mind did not want him, but her body was responding to his urgent caresses. She could not breathe with his mouth on hers, and she tried to struggle away, but it was hopeless as she was trapped against the worktop. It should not be like this, she wanted to say, might even have said it, but her body refused to listen to her mind, and then they were on the floor and making love and it was quickly over.
She felt foolish lying there half-dressed on the kitchen floor, and catching sight of his baleful expression she realised that he did, too. He kissed her hastily, as if he were thanking her for a favour, adding to her shame. She had not been raped. She could not pretend that her physical pleasure had not been as keen as his, but her mind had been absent. She felt as if she had gorged on chocolate or drunk too much from pure greed, for that was what it was. Two people lonely for love, having a quick fix to help them on their way.
‘Shall I stay?’ he said, putting down her clothes to cover her, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear, as if he was tidying away the evidence of their sudden passion.
‘No, you needn’t,’ she said, infinitely sad that neither could love the other.
She looked away from the relief in his eyes. He kissed her again. ‘I’ll ring you very soon, Sarah,’ he said, but she knew he did not mean it.
The swell of music, some symphony she could not place seeped through the adjoining wall. They exchanged glances. Too many people had dampened down the flame of love that might have flared between them. His dead wife, her errant husband and, worst of all, that tiresome man next door.
Thirteen
If only Celine were here, so that she could discuss that frantic sexual encounter she’d had with Christian. She did not want to talk about it with anyone else, to risk it being whispered about and having pitying or even disapproving glances thrown at her.
All those worries about never having sex again and showing the imperfections of her body to another man had been quite pointless – a waste of energy, as so many fears were. It had just happened, without giving her time even to pull in her stomach, let alone worry if he would think her bottom was too big. But the loneliness of sex without affection bit deeply into her. She had never had sex without love
– or at least affection – before, and she didn’t like it. No doubt she’d been spoilt over the loving years with Dan, but she found that – without the warm glow of commitment – the momentary physical pleasure soon faded, leaving her aching with melancholy.
Christian was lonely and lost without Rachel, and she was lonely and lost without Dan, but that did not translate into love, or even affection, between them. It would be so perfect if it did. He had said something about neither of them being able to connect with anyone else until they stopped searching for the person they really wanted, back as they used to be in their lives. He’d said goodbye awkwardly, quickly, as if he wanted to file away the incident so that it could be forgotten.
‘I’ll be in touch,’ he had said, his fingertips brushing her cheek as he’d turned to leave the house. She had thought she’d seen, or she hoped she’d seen, a touch of regret in his eyes.
‘I’ll look forward to it.’ She had played the game. Forcing herself to smile. Only when he had gone did she weep.
The next day, she reminded herself that she was going to enrol in the Egyptology class being held at the school not too far from the shop. The class started the following week, so she phoned the centre to be told she could enrol when she came for the first class.
That first evening she was almost late, having been held up in the shop by an awkward customer. She paid for the class in the crowded entrance hall of the school and, after asking directions, rushed up the gloomy, grey-tiled stairs to the classroom. She was prickling with agitation from the rush to get there in time, tortured with the old fear left over from her long past school days of being late for class. She half wondered if she would be put in detention.
Catching sight of herself in a glass door, she saw that her hair was flying everywhere, her face shiny, her coat open. In short, she looked a mess. Perhaps this whole idea of learning something new was going to be too stressful after all.