But I Said Forever

by Jennifer Gilby Roberts

  “That would be brilliant,” I say, rummaging in my bag for my phone. “Recommend away!”

  At the end of the session, I go home beaming. I think I might look online and see if I can buy myself some proper decorating tools. But first I’ll start up that Pinterest board.

  I succumb to the temptation to check my email first, and find one from Mel.

  Will and I thought we might come down and visit you for a weekend. Maybe the August bank holiday? What do you think?

  Will is Mel’s best-friend-turned-boyfriend. He and his older brother grew up next door to us, but it was only this spring that he and Mel finally got together.

  Unfortunately, I’ll be working. I’ve got a job in a bakery in town and it’s bound to be heaving. But I have Friday afternoon off, so if you come down in the morning we can get together then and you can see the sights over the weekend. Is that okay?

  It may be just as well. Three whole days together might be a little much. Our relationship has been... fraught, shall we say? But recently we’ve cleared the air and are trying to act like sisters.

  I start setting up my board on Pinterest. A short time later, I get an email back. Okay, then. Congratulations on the job! Will’s efforts on your CV obviously paid off.

  It probably wouldn’t be diplomatic to tell her that Kristine never saw it.

  Can’t wait to see you, I reply.

  Please let us get through the visit without messing things up again.

  Chapter 5

  Carly is clearing up after James’s dinner when I get home later in the week. “Sorry, lost track of time,” she says, wiping something orange off his face.

  “Monday blues?”

  “Sort of. I took James to visit Mum this afternoon.”

  I dump my bag and unbuckle James from his high chair, giving him a big kiss. “Is she okay?”

  “I don’t know.” Carly scrubs at the tray. “After she recovered from the chemo she perked up a lot, but now she seems… faded. Although it’s been quite hot this week, so maybe it’s just that.”

  “Maybe so. I was “glowing” for England on the bus home. Anyway, I’m back now, so you can go give her a call and see if she’s feeling better.”

  “I will.”

  “Anything to report?”

  “No. James and I played in the garden mostly. I got the paddling pool out and he liked that. He was less keen on keeping his sun hat on, so eventually I put sun cream on his head. Just as well he doesn’t have much hair yet.”

  “He doesn’t like hats,” I say, stupidly glad that I know something she doesn’t. “But you can make a good Mohawk with the suncream.”

  “That’s what I did.”

  “Photos?”

  “Of course. I uploaded them to the iPad.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Well, I’ll head off. Night, night, Jam Jam.” Carly takes him and nuzzles his tummy - making him squeal - then hands him back and heads to the door.

  I snuggle James. “How about a nice cool bath?”

  “Actually, Brittany, can I talk to you about something?”

  I look round. Carly is standing in the doorway, twisting her skater dress in her hands. I kiss James and put him back down on his play mat. He immediately rolls over and starts rocking back and forth on hands and knees as he tries to crawl.

  “Of course,” I say. “What’s on your mind?”

  She takes a step back into the room. “Look, before I say this I need to make it clear that I may be totally and completely wrong, so don’t do anything without checking, and please don’t be angry, because I hate saying this and I’m not trying to cause trouble or anything, I…”

  “Carly, just say whatever you want to say.”

  She takes a deep breath. “I think Phillip might be having an affair.”

  Oh.

  I should be shocked, or angry, or something - but I feel nothing. That’s not natural, is it?

  It’s because she’s wrong, I’m sure of it. It must be a misunderstanding.

  “Whatever makes you think that?” I ask, handing James his favourite squeaky toy.

  She drops her bag on the floor. “You know how sometimes he’s on nights, so he’s here during the day?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well… he doesn’t stay here once he wakes up. We always stay in, in case he wants to see James, but half the time he doesn’t even poke his head in. I thought he was going up to his office or into the den or something, but he’s definitely going out.”

  “He often plays golf when he’s off, to relax.” I look over at James, who’s given up on trying to crawl and is resting on his front. It probably hasn’t actually occurred to Phillip to spend quality time with his son, but I don’t know that I can expect Carly to understand that when I don’t myself.

  “Yes, but…” Carly fiddles with her earring. “… I mentioned it to him - I asked if there was a particular time this week that he wanted to see James. He didn’t react or anything, but he asked if I’d mentioned it to you, which seemed weird. When I said I hadn’t, he asked if I wouldn’t mind keeping it quiet. I must have looked surprised, because then he... well, he implied that you wouldn’t want to know. As if he was planning a surprise or something. And if he is, I’m really sorry. Is your birthday coming up, or your wedding anniversary?”

  That is a little odd.

  “Our anniversary was last week,” I say, “and my birthday is months off, but I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation.”

  Carly shifts from one foot to the other. “Well, the thing is… Look, it may be nothing, but right after he said that he asked about how my mother was doing. He’s never asked about her before in all the time I’ve been here, but he wanted to know how she was managing with being off work and whether we needed any financial assistance. I may have heard it all wrong, but... it felt like a bribe. Like he was offering me money to stay quiet.”

  I watch James banging his squeaky toy on the floor and giggling at the sound it makes. “I see.”

  She must have misinterpreted him, that’s all there is to it. She hasn’t known him long, after all, and he’s still a bit awkward around her. Perhaps the words came out wrong - it’s easily done.

  “Then, yesterday afternoon, I took James to that baby group north of town for a change and on the way back, I saw Phillip’s car parked on the street. You remember the posh road with the house that looks like a castle? I’m positive it was his because of the personalized number plate, and there’s nothing around there except houses, so he must have been visiting someone.” Carly starts twisting her dress again. “I know they’re all little things, but when you put them together I can’t help but think… Look, I felt I had to say something. I couldn’t bear it if I kept it to myself and it turned out I was right.”

  “Well, thank you for your concern,” I say, straightening up. “But I’m sure it’s nothing. I expect he’ll have been visiting a friend from the hospital. I’ll speak to him when he’s next off and clear up the confusion. In the meantime, I trust you won’t mention this to anyone else.”

  “Of course not.”

  She doesn’t look entirely reassured. Which is strange, since she doesn’t seem the type to get herself worked up over nothing.

  “Goodnight.”

  “Night. Night, night, Jam Jam.”

  She heads off. I take James upstairs for a bath and put him to bed, and then I go to bed myself - still feeling strangely blank inside.

  I’m sure he can’t be having an affair; he wouldn’t do such a thing. But I can’t deny that things between us aren’t what they were. Since James was born, he’s become more and more distant. I always thought a child was the strongest tie you could have to another person, but he’s acted more like a wedge. I can’t remember when we last spent time together as a couple. Partly due to lack of time and partly because I’ve spent most of the last six months feeling resentful or abandoned or both. Since we moved, he’s drawn even further away and I haven’t tried to pull him back lik
e I should have.

  I definitely need to speak to him. We need to reopen the lines of communication. I’ll mention this silly idea and we’ll laugh over it and hopefully that will start us back on the right track.

  When Phillip gets home, I give him a little time to settle while I put James to bed and then head up to his office with a cup of tea and some biscuits.

  The only time I have set foot in there was when we were viewing the house. It’s his room. Note that I do not have a similar one. Worse still, when I get to the door I knock and wait for permission to enter. I feel like I’m going to see the headmaster.

  “Phillip, I need to talk to you about something,” I say from the doorway, my positive feelings already draining out of me.

  He looks up from his computer. “I’m quite busy at the moment.”

  “It won’t take long - and James is asleep, so we can be alone.”

  “Where’s the nanny?”

  “She’s finished for the day.”

  “Oh, well.” He indicates the second chair next to his desk. “If you must.”

  I cross the room, set down the cup and saucer, and perch on the chair. It’s too high for me, so I can’t sit back in it and keep my feet on the floor. It’s times like this that I long to be taller; I’m the shortest in a family of four shrimps. Sitting like this, I feel like I just started school.

  A minute ticks by while I try to decide how to begin. Phillip starts drumming his fingers on the desk.

  “Are you having an affair?” I ask.

  Why did I ask that? That isn’t at all what I meant to say. It sounds like I actually believe it. Have I completely lost the ability to hold a meaningful conversation with my husband?

  He looks taken aback. “What makes you think that?”

  That isn’t quite the firm negative I was expecting.

  “One of my friends saw you going into a house with a woman and reported it to me,” I say, trying to lighten my tone. “I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation; I’d just like to know what it is.”

  He hesitates a fraction too long. “The fact is that I’ve been seeing another practitioner. An alternative therapist, if you will. Many of my colleagues don’t approve of them, so I’ve kept it quiet. I should have told you, but it slipped my mind. I apologize.”

  “That’s okay, but… you’re not ill, are you?”

  “No. It’s for the maintenance of general health rather than for the treatment of a specific condition. Nothing at all for you to worry about. Is that all?”

  It isn’t, but I’m not sure how to continue and he doesn’t seem inclined to talk. Maybe I should have left this until his days off rather than straight after work. “Yes, that’s fine.”

  He turns back to his computer. I slide off the chair and make my way towards the door.

  “By the way, Brittany, there’s a charity gala this Saturday that my father’s asked us to represent the family at. I expect you’ll want to visit the beauty parlour and so forth this week.”

  Phillip’s mother spent much of my engagement drumming it into me that grooming is vital at events like that and a crucial part of supporting him. I am overdue for a manicure and I’m sure my skin isn’t at its best - having a small child is certainly hard on the looks.

  “And why not treat yourself to a new dress? Truro has some nice shops and it’s not far.”

  Inwardly, I stiffen. This is what Carly was talking about: a buy-off phrased as a kindness. Does it just sound that way because of what she said?

  And how he thinks I have time to spend a whole day shopping is a mystery.

  “What a lovely idea,” I say, forcing myself to smile. “Sorry to disturb you.”

  “That’s quite all right.”

  I creep back across the landing and into James’s room, where I watch him sleep for a while, wishing there was room in his cot for me as well. I thought that speaking to Phillip would reassure me, but it’s actually had the opposite effect. I now have a nagging doubt in my head that Carly may actually have been right. Maybe he really is having an affair.

  What worries me most is that I don’t feel hurt by that. I’m shocked from a moral standpoint, but not a relationship one. My marriage - the foundation of my life - is clearly in far worse a state than I realized. It needs time and effort applied to it and my lack of inclination to provide that shocks me. But I have so many demands on my time and I feel so disconnected from my husband that maybe it’s not so surprising.

  I’ll have to make the time, somehow. If I can just get through my trial period at work and have the security of a permanent job, life is sure to get easier. Then I can turn my attention towards my marriage and things will improve.

  Won’t they?

  Chapter 6

  I spend my lunch breaks over the following week at the beauty salon or shopping for a suitable dress. When we were first married, I enjoyed this sort of thing immensely, revelling in being able to buy pretty much whatever I wanted. But, since James was born, retail therapy has lost its allure. There seems little point in expensive clothes when they’re instantly covered in pureed vegetables or partially-digested milk. The only suitable kind of outfit for a mother is wipe-clean. I did google them, but all the ones I found were clearly designed with a rather different purpose in mind.

  “So, what am I doing?” the hairdresser asks, as I settle into the chair.

  I look at myself in the mirror. “I’m thinking of going short,” I hear myself say.

  “How short are we talking?” She runs her fingers through my slightly bushy chest-length mane. “Shoulders? Chin?”

  I have no idea.

  “Well, the thing is that I have a little boy and a job,” my voice carries on, “so I don’t have a lot of time for styling, but I’d like something more interesting than a ponytail. Could you suggest a haircut that would suit me?”

  “Depends on how drastic you want to be. You’ve got a lovely heart-shaped face there, so you can pull off most styles.”

  “What would you do with it, if I gave you free reign?”

  “Oh, well,” she says, brightening. “If I were you I’d go all the way and get a pixie cut. You’ve got such pretty features and you’re so petite. Your hair is lovely, but it’s so long and thick I think it swamps you, you know? Get that out the way and you’ll stop traffic!”

  I stare at the hair that hasn’t been above my shoulders since I was five and find myself nodding. “Go for it,” I say. “I think it’s time for a change.”

  “That is fantastic,” Abby says, when I get back to work. “I love it. I’m so madly jealous. You look just like Emma Watson!”

  “I wish I had a magic wand,” I say, running my hand over my head for the tenth time since leaving the salon. “I think I’ve made a big mistake. You don’t think it makes me look boyish?”

  “Definitely not,” Abby says, shaking her head vigorously. “You look amazing. Did you turn heads on the way back here? I bet you did.”

  I was too busy peering anxiously at my reflection in shop windows to notice.

  “Lot of yakking going on,” Kristine says, swinging up with another tray of buns for the display. “Customers are waiting.”

  Abby turns back to serving and Kristine inspects my head. “Very nice,” she says. “You had far too much hair before.”

  This from a woman who’s got at least double her share. Mind you, unlike me she has the figure to balance it out.

  “Thanks.”

  “I trust it’s all been donated to charity.”

  “The hairdresser promised to sort it out.”

  A sick child (or several) will soon be walking around wearing my hair. It’s a strange thought.

  “Good. Now wash your hands and get back to work.”

  “Yes, boss,” I say, grinning to myself.

  The door chimes jingle and I look up to see Zack. He’s grinning all over his face, despite being here on his day off.

  “Ladies,” he says, producing a piece of paper with a flourish,“I am now of
ficially divorced.”

  “Yay!” Abby says, clapping. “Or… boo?”

  “Definitely yay,” Kristine says. “Congratulations, Zack.”

  “Yes, congratulations,” I murmur.

  Somehow, it doesn’t feel right to be saying that. In our family, the premature end of a marriage was always a sad and shocking event.

  “Best day off ever,” Zack says. “Had a lie in, a fry up, and then the postie turned up with this. Poor man was standing there waiting for a signature and got a kiss instead. Don’t think he’ll dare knock on my door again.”

  He slides the paper carefully back into a card-backed envelope. “Hey, Brittany, I thought I might make a celebration cake tomorrow. Care to decorate it for me? You can even come into the kitchen to do it.”

  Goodness, he really is pleased. I didn’t think anything less than a lobotomy would make him invite guests into his domain.

  “I’d love to,” I say, thrilled at the prospect of someone actually buying a cake I’ve decorated. “I’ll have a look on Pinterest tonight for ideas.”

  “Great. See you tomorrow, then. By the way, love the hair. Very sexy.”

  He strolls out again, leaving me blushing like a schoolgirl and ducking my head to hide it.

  “Well,” Kristine says after a few moments. “That’s certainly a first.”

  “He must really like you,” Abby says.

  I forcibly restrain myself from asking, “You think?”

  When I finally get into Zack’s kitchen the next morning, I’m almost disappointed to find it’s… well, a kitchen. Ceramic tiles and stainless steel - all well-organized and spotlessly clean. I was half-expecting it to be bigger on the inside.

  “Sorry, I don’t have any fancy equipment for you,” Zack says, bringing out a box. “I’ve only got a piping bag and various sprinkles.”