by Fallon, Jane
James, when he arrived at the house on Friday, looked like he had washed in the sink, which in fact he had, having moved to a cheaper room at the Chalk Farm Travel Motel — one that had the honour of sharing bathroom facilities with three other rooms on the same floor. The bathroom never seemed to be empty so James had been forced to use the tiny basin in the corner of his bedroom to clean both himself and his clothes. He had been torn between wanting to make a good impression on his wife and wanting her to feel sorry for him. In the end, circumstances had dictated that he couldn't have made a good impression if his life had depended on it so he went for the sympathy vote. It would be the first time he and Stephanie had been face to face since she'd thrown him out. She would, he knew, be looking good for whatever assignation she had lined up. He knew he had no right to be jealous. That if she had met someone already, unlikely as that seemed, he would have to accept it and try to move on. But he just wanted there to be a level playing-field — a chance that he could win his wife back without having to worry that it was too late already because she had lost her heart to someone else. He tried to work out who it might be. It had to be someone she knew already. Someone she had had waiting in the wings. Oh, God, what if it was a friend of his? Someone who had been at the party, even. James felt sick just thinking about it.
Finn opened the door when he got there and James could have sworn that his son's expression changed from one of excitement to something like fear when he registered the Grizzly Adams lookalike standing on the doorstep. James wished he had shaved, although who would have known he could grow such a fine beard in just a week? Once Finn realized that it was, indeed, his father, he allowed himself to be hugged, pulling back after a moment to say, ‘You smell funny.’
‘So do you,’ James replied, and Finn laughed.
James looked around for Stephanie as Finn led him through to the kitchen but there was no sign of her. He had been hoping that maybe they could have a heart-to-heart before she left. He listened as Finn told him the details of his week (‘Sebastian was sick on the carpet and it was all brown with a big lump in the middle like a dead mouse’), keepinganear open for her footstepsonthe stairs. As the minutes ticked on he realized she was avoiding having to spend any more time with him than she had to.
‘Where's Mum?’ he said to Finn, when there was a break in his stories.
‘Upstairs,’ Finn said. ‘She's going out.’
‘Oh,’ James said, trying to sound casual, knowing that this was textbook bad-fathering to involve his son in his and Stephanie's personal dramas. ‘Who's she going out with?’
Luckily Finn didn't seem to understand he was being used and simply shrugged and said, ‘Dunno.’
At about a quarter past six he heard her coming down from upstairs and braced himself. She was in and out before he could take her in, telling him that she would ask the taxi driver who brought her home to drop him back at the Travel Motel, thus ensuring that there was no question of them having a cosy chat later on. She had done a slight double-take when she had first seen him, but she hadn't commented on his dishevelled appearance. She kissed Finn goodbye in a blur and was out of the house in a moment. She had been looking particularly good, he had noticed. Jeans and high heels, always one of his favourite combinations, with a fitted pale blue top. He sat back as he heard the front door close behind her, deflated.
Some six hours later, having allowed Finn to stay up way beyond his eight-thirty bedtime because he wanted the company, James was dozing on the couch when he heard the front door open and shut. He sat up, bleary-eyed.
‘The taxi's waiting outside,’ Stephanie said, as she came into the room.
James rubbed his eyes. ‘Did you have a good time?’
‘Yes, thank you.’
There didn't seem to be an open door for conversation, so he just said, ‘Right, well, I guess I'd better get going then,’ and stood up. Stephanie was looking a little unsteady on her feet, as if she'd had one glass of wine too many.
‘Any time you'd like me to do this again just let me know,’ he said. ‘I want to spend as much time with Finn as I can.’
‘If you could smarten yourself up a bit before the next time,’ Stephanie said. ‘I don't think it's good for him to see you in such a mess.’
So much for sympathy, James thought, as he left.
40
In Lower Shippingham Katie was still feeling like a minor celebrity. In a village any news was a headline, and a story like this could keep the gossip machine running for weeks. Almost everyone had a connection with James, even if it was just that their neighbour had once called him out to see to their sick hamster. The general consensus now seemed to be that ‘He was always a bit strange’ despite the fact that if you'd asked these same people their opinion a couple of weeks ago they'd have said he was charming, helpful and reliable. Katie was relishing her status as the wronged woman (‘How could he do that to her of all people? She's so sweet, so vulnerable’): old ladies came up to her in the village shop to tell her she was better off without him and that somewhere out there was a man who would treat her like a princess, as she deserved.
Her business was still thriving, both because people were booking her to help her out (‘She needs to keep busy, poor thing’) and because they were keen to hear her side of the story (‘Did you know he tried to seduce Simone Knightly? As if two women weren't enough!’). Simone, by the way, had relished telling Katie a heavily rewritten version of the night she had thrown herself drunkenly at James, which made her look like the victim and James the predator. Richard, she told Katie, was furious, threatening to flatten James if he dared to show his face in Lower Shippingham ever again.
Sam McNeil had told Katie that the council had, indeed, decided to insist that James tear down the extension to the surgery, but that as they didn't have a forwarding address for him there was a chance he wouldn't get this news until the deadline had passed, in which case he would incur a fine as well. ‘How irresponsible,’ she said, ‘to go off and not let anyone know where he was going to be.’
Katie had been trying to resist being taken under Sam's wing but Sam, it seemed, was determined to mother her and kept insisting that Katie stop round for a drink or dinner. While she had been wanting to fuel the fire about the extension Katie had gone along with it, but she was hoping that she could now withdraw from the suffocating blanket that was Sam's friendship. It was time for her to have some fun, to make new friends and live a little.
She had never really got to know Sally O'Connell, James's receptionist, but she had decided that now was the time to put that right. Sally had been badly treated by James too, they had something in common now and, besides, she might be a useful weapon. So, one morning, armed with a bag of home-baked biscuits, and with her biggest, most friendly smile at the ready, she knocked at the door of Sally's house and reintroduced herself. ‘So, I think you really shouldn't let him get away with it,’ she said, once she had a cup of tea to go with the biscuits and they were sitting at the table in Sally's parents’ kitchen. ‘There are laws about that kind of thing. You can't just go around sacking people on the spot, whatever you think they've done.’
‘I didn't do anything wrong,’ Sally said defensively.
Katie, of course, knew this but couldn't admit that she did. ‘Even if you did…’
‘I didn't,’ Sally said again, and Katie thought she was going to cry.
She tried a different tack. ‘I know that. I just mean that even if James has decided to blame you for everything it was still wrong of him to just get rid of you. There are procedures.’ She had no idea what those procedures actually were, but she was pretty sure that James would get into some kind of trouble if Sally made enough fuss. ‘Official warnings and stuff like that. You should go and talk to Citizens’ Advice.’
Sally took a sip of her tea. ‘I don't know,’ she said. ‘I start work for Simon and Malcolm next week. It doesn't seem worth it.’
Katie had read that apathy was rife among the younger ge
neration these days and that they were motivated by very little except the desire to sit on their sofas and play video games all day. Looking round Sally's family's kitchen it didn't look as if they could afford many video games, let alone anything to play them on. ‘You could be owed money,’ she said. ‘I bet they'd make him pay some kind of compensation.’ She could have sworn that Sally perked up.
‘So, what exactly would I have to do?’ Sally asked, pouring more tea.
The only cloud on Katie's horizon was Owen. She had managed to avoid him since the night of the party — or, rather, the morning after the night of the party — but she was still smarting from the idea that he might have taken advantage of her in her vulnerable state. From now on she was intending to be completely in charge in her relationships with men. No more sitting at home waiting for them to call or spending hours making shepherd's pie just the way they liked it. Next time she went out with someone it would be on her terms, they would have to fit their lives around her.
Lower Shippingham was a small place, though, and avoiding bumping into someone for long wasn't a realistic prospect. It was inevitable, then, that a couple of weeks after the party she should spot Owen coming out of the organic farm shop as she was about to go in. He smiled when he saw her. Katie thought about blanking him, but that seemed a little extreme when he was standing right in front of her so she said hello in as flat a way as she could muster.
‘How are you?’ Owen said warmly.
‘Fine.’ Katie moved as if to pass him and go into the shop. Owen, who was now looking a little confused, she thought, didn't step out of the way as she had expected him to. ‘Excuse me,’ she said.
‘Are you OK?’ Owen asked. ‘Have I done something to upset you?’
Katie snorted. ‘What do you think?’
‘To be honest, Katie, I have no idea, but you're definitely giving a good impression of someone who's pissed off.’
Katie was aware that the two customers already in the shop were watching them, sensing a drama. She took Owen's arm and led him outside on to the road. ‘Well, since you ask, no, I am not OK, and yes, you have done something to upset me. Don't tell me you can't imagine what that could be.’
‘I can't, actually. But I'm sure you're about to tell me,’ Owen said, sounding irritated.
‘So you don't remember getting me into bed on the night of James's party?’
‘I remember putting you to bed, if that's what you mean.’
‘And you getting in with me.’
‘I had nowhere else to sleep. What is your problem?’
Katie faltered. This didn't seem as straightforward as she had imagined. ‘And you just thought you'd take all my clothes off first?’
Owen looked round as if he was checking that no one was listening in. When he spoke again it was in an angry whisper: ‘No, you took all your clothes off. Well, not all — I managed to stop you before you took off your underwear as well. What's up, Katie? Are you embarrassed that you tried to sleep with me, is that it? Because all I thought I was doing was helping you out. Giving you somewhere to stay, rather than letting you wander off in the state you were in.’
Katie was taken aback. She had propositioned him? Oh, God, this was so humiliating. Still, she had to find out exactly what had gone on between them. ‘So… you didn't… we didn't… ?’
‘Of course we didn't. You were blind drunk. God, you really have got a low opinion of me.’
‘Oh, shit, Owen. I'm really sorry. I just assumed…’ She tailed off, not knowing quite what to say.
‘What? You just assumed I must be so desperate that I'd have sex with you when you were practically comatose. Thanks a lot.’
‘I just couldn't remember, that's all. When I woke up and you were there, well…’
‘Forget it,’ he said, starting to walk away. ‘Of course I must have taken advantage of you because I'm such a loser.’
‘God, I really am sorry,’ she called after him, and then she noticed Sam McNeil standing in the doorway of the shop, watching the whole drama unfold.
‘Can I help you?’ Katie said aggressively, and Sam tried to pretend she had been examining the baby plum tomatoes all along.
Katie turned on her heel and walked off, blushing furiously. How was she supposed to have known that Owen was the one man in a million that would have behaved impeccably?
41
James had given up looking for a flat. Everything was too expensive, too far away or just too depressing. Besides, the Travel Motel was happy to continue accepting payment by credit card, which meant he could keep his head well buried in the sand as far as his financial situation was concerned. Harry had agreed that he could do one extra day a week in the surgery and he still had some savings, which would hopefully help to keep him afloat for a while. He didn't like to think for how long. He had sold his car for a ridiculously low price, because it had already been broken into twice, sitting in the street outside his and Stephanie's house, and now he was on the phone, trying to explain to an estate agent in Lincoln exactly why it was a good idea to sell a building with a large extension attached that needed to be pulled down.
‘It's hardly worth my while,’ the man was saying. ‘I mean, I suppose I could market it as a renovation project but then you're looking at, what?, asking about fifty per cent of its true value.’
James thought about his beautifully appointed surgery, which had only been redecorated four months ago and wanted to weep. ‘And what's the alternative?’ he asked, feeling angry with the estate agent for, he didn't know quite what. It wasn't his fault, after all.
‘Well, you pull the extension down, make good and then we put it on the market. It'll fetch a much better price.’
‘Fine,’ James said, not feeling fine at all. ‘I'll get back to you.’
The one thing he knew was that he couldn't go up to Lower Shippingham himself to sort this mess out. He had no doubt he was a pariah in the village by now and he was far too much of a coward to ever want to risk bumping into Katie. Or Sally or Simone or pretty much anyone, really. He tried to think if there was anyone up there he trusted to do the work without supervision, but the only builder he had any kind of relationship with — the one who had built the extension in the first place — was Sally O'Connell's boyfriend Johnny, and he somehow didn't feel like calling him would be the best idea he'd ever had. He would have to take a chance and call one of the big firms in Lincoln and get them to do it, although God knows how much that was going to cost him.
He knew that the time had come for him to sit down and have a proper adult conversation with Stephanie about what should happen next, but he was too afraid that she was going to start talking about divorce to initiate the conversation and, besides, she seemed to be avoiding being left alone with him. Whenever he went to pick up Finn or to spend the evening with him at the house, Cassie always seemed to be there too, right up until the moment Stephanie left. And then, when Stephanie came home, she still always kept the taxi outside, engine running, to take him back to the Travel Motel. He knew she was seeing somebody. It was obvious. And he suspected that there were other nights, when either Natasha or Cassie babysat, when she didn't come home at all. After her comment that first evening he had made a real effort to smarten himself up but he wasn't sure she'd even noticed.
He wanted to do the right thing by her. Of course he wasn't planning to try to persuade her that they should sell the family home so they could both buy somewhere smaller. He was the guilty party so he was the one who should have to make sacrifices and, besides, he wanted Finn to be able to be as settled as possible. But he was terrified that he was going to be left with nothing. That by the time he had sold the surgery for whatever fraction of its worth, he would have credit-card bills so huge that the money would simply be swallowed up and he would be left with nowhere to live and no savings left to bail himself out.
He was a vet, for God's sake, and he had trained for years so that not only could he spend his days doing something he loved but he co
uld also earn big money. Long term, he thought, he could set up on his own down here, although for that he would need capital to fund the start-up costs. He had made half-hearted enquiries at several other practices to see if he could pick up the odd day here and there, but no one seemed interested.
He could get work a couple of days a week doing something else entirely, but what? He had no other skills. And, besides, he needed his days off so that he could keep tabs on Steph. He had taken to hanging around furtively outside the house sometimes — luckily, this being London, his old neighbours didn't bat an eyelid — and had watched her coming and going, trying to work out who it was that she was seeing, if indeed there was anyone. In the past three weeks — apart from the four evenings he had looked after Finn — she had been out at least another three times. Luckily there was a small green space almost opposite the house where he could sit with his sandwiches and his bottle of water and wait for her to return. He hadn't seen any sign of a man with her, which gave him hope. Realistically he knew there was someone, but until he saw the evidence he could convince himself that she was just out having a few drinks with the girls. He had thought about following her on her nights out — hailing a taxi and offering up the classic follow-that-cab line from the movies — but he knew that, sad as he had become, even he wasn't that sad. If she had met someone she liked, she would bring him home eventually. Meanwhile he needed to try and get her to see what she was losing. (And what was that? he thought. A sad unshaven man who lived in a Travel Motel and ate baked beans out of the tin in the evenings because he had nowhere to cook and no money to buy a takeaway. Worse, a man who had proved himself to be untrustworthy and not worth investing in emotionally.)
He decided to go for a walk. The four walls of his room at the Travel Motel were suffocating him and there was only so much daytime TV he could watch. He called Stephanie and left a message that he was going to pick Finn up from school. He had no idea whether or not she was working at the moment, although she always seemed to be busy when he spoke to her but, of course, that might just be an excuse to get off the phone. Then he rang Cassie, who answered, and he told her the same. She sounded delighted to have the afternoon off, as he had known she would be.