by Isabel Wolff
‘I’d rather wait, Tom. I’m sure it won’t be that long.’
‘I’d better save my lighter. There’s not much left.’ He took his thumb off the catch and we were enveloped in inky blackness again.
‘Are you okay?’ he asked. I heard the leather creak as he settled himself more comfortably on the sofa.
I pulled my legs up under me. ‘I’m okay.’
‘At least, being a Sunday night, it’ll affect far fewer people than if it had happened on a week day,’ we heard the radio presenter say. ‘Like that power cut in August 2003, remember?’ There was then an animated conversation about that. Then a woman guest pointed out that many people were away, as it was Bank Holiday so that was a good thing too. I thought, dismally, of Luke. Then there was a discussion about the massive North American power outage in 2003 when fifty-five million people were plunged into darkness when twenty-one power stations failed. Then we heard further updates as to what was happening in London as the radio reporters began to file.
‘-Hundreds trapped on tube trains…’
‘-Hospitals have back-up generators, of course…’
‘-People pouring out of cinemas…’
‘-Strange atmosphere…so quiet…’
‘-Traffic gridlocked…’
There was speculation as to whether the disruption might be due to a solar flare—but an astronomer phoned in to scotch this idea. They then discussed whether it could be an act of industrial sabotage by anti-capitalists, as a curtain-raiser to the May Day demonstrations the following day.
‘I don’t believe that for a minute,’ I heard Tom say. ‘It’s just a cock-up.’
From outside we could hear people talking, and even laughing. Someone was playing the guitar. As the programme addressed other matters, Tom turned the radio down. ‘It’s ten fifteen,’ he said. ‘The lights will be back on by half past, probably sooner.’
Twenty minutes later the power still hadn’t been restored, so, unable to do anything else, we just sat there, side by side, in the velvety black, talking, or rather, whispering, as though the darkness had sapped our confidence. We could hear each other breathe.
‘It’s like being at the movies, without a movie,’ said Tom. ‘I know…’ I heard his hand scrape into his pocket then he turned on his lighter again. ‘Hold it for me will you? Right…up a bit…like that…’ He sat forward, then placed his hands together, then held them up to the wall in front of us, his fingers pointing downwards, his thumbs upraised. The hand shadow blurred, and then sharpened. ‘What’s that then?’ he said.
I peered at it. ‘Well…it looks like…a dog.’
‘It’s not a dog. Here’s a clue…’ It began to ‘hop’ across the wall.
‘Is it a rabbit?’
‘No. Rabbits don’t have such upright ears.’
‘Is it a horse then? A horse—jumping over something.’
‘No.’
‘A llama?’ I said, desperately.
‘Llamas don’t jump.’
‘But they do have very upright ears.’ Jump…‘A kangaroo! It’s a kangaroo isn’t it?’
‘No. But close—it’s a wallaby.’
‘Oh.’
‘You can tell from the shape of the nose. Wallabies have shorter snouts than kangaroos.’
‘Right…’
‘But of course it’s a bit hard to see because the flame flickers a bit—you really need a torch. Plus I’m out of practice. We used to do this when we went to our cabin at Lake Memphremagog when we were kids.’
‘Where’s that?’
‘In South East Quebec, not far from Montreal. It’s beautiful. We used to canoe and fish…and make hand shadows.’
‘You obviously took that very seriously.’
‘There wasn’t much else to do in the evenings. My mom could do a very creditable elephant.’
‘African or Indian?’
‘Hey, the lighter’s really low now—I’d better save it. Brace yourself.’ The flame vanished and everything became as black as anthracite again.
I shuddered, audibly.
‘You do hate the dark, don’t you?’ I heard Tom say.
‘Yes. I’m not too bad if someone else is there—but I can’t cope with it if I’m on my own. Don’t laugh…but I still sleep with a little night light on.’
‘Really? And your teddy bear?’
‘No. I gave him to Luke years ago—and he’s still got him. But I won’t be seeking custody,’ I added. ‘Or even contact visits come to that.’
I was aware of Tom shifting slightly next to me. ‘That doesn’t sound very good.’
‘It isn’t. It’s rather bad actually.’
‘So where is he now?’
‘In Venice.’
‘Uh huh.’
‘With Magda.’
‘Oh…’ I told him what had happened.
‘Jesus…’ he breathed. ‘What a mistake. So…is that it then?’
I heaved a sigh. ‘Yes. I think it is…Not because he took her there—and not even because he’s bent like a sapling to all her demands, however unreasonable—but because he’s been untruthful.’
‘He lied to you?’
‘Oh no. Luke never lies. He just leaves things out. Important things. Like the fact that he was taking his ex to Venice. He must have known for a week beforehand, but he left it out of our conversations, to protect himself.’
‘He’s been leaving you out too,’ Tom said.
‘Yes, he has.’
‘I’m sorry. I could see you were upset when you arrived.’
‘Well…I feel better now. Not least because today I realized—with Nerys’s help actually—’ I felt another spasm of guilt—‘that I’ve been with Luke for the wrong reason.’
‘Which was what? Trying to finish unfinished business?’
‘No. It was simple fear. Fear of the unknown. Fear of a new start. And I think that’s why he was with me. Because he’d had a lot of emotional pain, and I reminded him of a happy time in his life.’ Luke had been trying to seize yesterday too.
‘But today, Nerys made me ask myself that question—why are you with him—and I realized that was the answer. And it’s not a good enough reason to be with someone.’
‘Better to end it then,’ I heard Tom say. I could hear his gentle, regulated breathing, and could just make out his profile in the gloom. ‘And I’ve told Gina that it’s not going to work out.’
So Nerys was right then—again.
‘I saw her yesterday and asked her if we could just be…friends. I’d still like to see them, and play with Sam, but I don’t want a big emotional thing with her because…’
‘Because it was just too messy, with the husband?’
‘No. It was actually much simpler than that. It was because when I was away, I realized that it wasn’t Gina I was missing. It was Sam. I didn’t really think about her, but I thought about him. I imagined him playing on the swings, or riding his trike, or sitting in his little armchair, watching CBeebies.’
‘You’re very fond of him.’
‘Yes…’ His voice caught. ‘I am.’ I saw the illuminated watch dial rise up to where his face was, then fall again. ‘But I knew I wasn’t in love with her. If it hadn’t been for her giving me her card that day, nothing would have happened. She promoted the relationship. She also promoted my relationship with Sam.’ I thought of the Valentine card he’d ’sent’. It was sweet, but it was also manipulative. ‘She was looking for someone to fill the Daddy Gap.’
‘But weren’t you tempted?’
I heard him sigh. ‘At one level I was. If I’d had stronger feelings for her, then I would have loved to play that role in Sam’s life—I could even have coped with her oaf of an ex. But I wasn’t in love with her—and I don’t think she was in love with me. We were both in it for the wrong reasons. She was looking for a replacement dad while I was…’
Looking for a replacement child…
‘What were you looking for, Tom?’ I could just make out the sh
een of his eyes as he turned his head towards me, then looked away again.
There was silence.
‘I guess…I was looking…for my son.’ From somewhere we heard a church clock strike the hour. ‘I miss him,’ Tom murmured.
‘I thought so. But as you’ve never talked about it, I’ve never mentioned it. But I knew how painful it must be.’
I heard a tiny exhalation. ‘It’s been like a hole in the heart. When he was taken away from me I thought I’d die.’
‘So…don’t you ever see him?’
‘No. But I’m always looking for him. I see little boys his age, and my heart stops.’
‘You have no contact with him?’
‘No.’
‘Even though you were married to Amy? That’s tough. But then it must have been very tough for her too.’
‘That’s what she said. That it was breaking her heart.’
‘So I suppose she just can’t face seeing you—is that it?’
‘Yes. She said she couldn’t bear even to look at me…knowing…’ I heard him swallow.
‘That you’d just…left her? That you’d walked away?’ I realized that I was probing, but I couldn’t help it. I wanted him to talk to me about it, so I’d understand.
‘I did walk away,’ he said miserably. ‘It’s true. But she made me…suffer, Laura.’
‘But can you honestly blame her, Tom? I mean, please don’t mind me saying this, but what you did—I’ve never been able to comprehend it. I mean…sorry—I don’t mean to sermonize and I know there’s often this big gap between one part of a person’s life and another—but you see I like you so much and I’ve always respected you a lot—and I just…can’t…’
‘Laura—what are you trying to say?’
‘I’m trying to say…Okay—I’m trying to say that I could simply never understand how you could do that. How you could leave Amy—let alone at such a time.’
‘Because I had to,’ he said flatly.
‘But you didn’t have to—I’m sorry, Tom, I know it’s not my business, but I just don’t get it, because you’re such a wonderful person and you see I want to understand…’ My throat ached with a suppressed sob. ‘I want to understand how someone I like and admire so much could just leave his wife a month after she’s given birth, and…go off with another woman.’
There was a stunned silence. I’d really offended him. I should have kept quiet.
‘But…I didn’t do that,’ I heard him whisper.
‘What?’
‘I didn’t go off with another woman.’
‘But you did. You fell in love with Tara and you left Amy, even though she’d had the baby only a few weeks before. Why are you denying it?’
‘Why am I denying it?’ he repeated. I could just make out the glimmer of his eyes, staring at me in the dark. ‘I’m denying it because it isn’t true. Where the hell did you get that cracked idea from?’
‘Well…’ I could feel myself blinking in non-comprehension. ‘From what I understood at the time and…and from your own sister actually.’
‘Christina? How?’
‘When we had lunch. Don’t you remember? You got up to take a call and while you were away from the table she explained what had happened—she suddenly started talking to me about it—she seemed to want to unburden her feelings about it.’
‘But she wouldn’t have told you that.’
‘But she did, Tom. Why else would I be saying it?’
I heard the sofa creak as he sat up. ‘Tell me what she said.’
I cast my mind back. ‘She referred to your leaving Amy and she said that…it was a “coup de foudre”—that’s what she actually said—I’ve a very good memory, remember. And she obviously meant that you’d fallen catastrophically in love with Tara and just couldn’t…help yourself.’ I could feel the intensity of Tom’s gaze as we stared sightlessly at each other.
‘Laura, that’s not what she meant, and it’s not what she would have said. Because it wasn’t true.’
‘No?’
‘No. For the simple reason that the “coup de foudre” wasn’t mine.’
‘What?’
‘It was Amy’s.’ There was silence. ‘I think that’s what Christina was trying to say.’
‘Amy’s?’
‘She had the “coup de foudre”. She had the affair. She “went off”—I thought you knew that, Laura.’
‘No,’ I said faintly. ‘I didn’t.’
‘I assumed you all knew. When it happened, I assumed you must have talked about it—I wouldn’t have blamed you if you had.’
‘No. No-one ever discusses you in that way, Tom, so I have no idea what the others thought, but I thought…’
‘What? That I’d walked out on Amy, when she’d just had the baby, because I’d fallen in love with Tara McLeod? Is that what you thought?’
‘Yes,’ I croaked. ‘It is. That’s exactly what I thought.’
‘Do you seriously think I would behave like that? Walk out on my wife when she’s just given birth? Let alone abandon my child?’
‘Well, no…’ my voice caught. ‘I don’t think that—which is why I couldn’t understand. I was just amazed by it at the time, because I remember how happy you were when Amy was pregnant, and how much you were looking forward to being a father, and how thrilled you were when Gabriel was born. And we all cracked open the champagne with you and we tied blue balloons to your chair. I’ll never forget how happy you were.’
‘I was happy.’ I heard his voice catch. ‘The day Gabriel was born was the happiest day of my life. “Nothing will ever better this,” I told myself.’
‘I’m really sorry, Tom,’ I said. I felt my eyes fill. ‘I misunderstood. I’ve misunderstood all this time, but you see, I thought
- but I was wrong—so it was…Amy.’ It was a coup de
foudre. ‘Christina was talking about Amy. But…then…’
‘You obviously don’t know, Laura—do you?’
‘Know what?’ And then I realized.
‘Gabriel wasn’t my baby.’
‘Not…’ My chest had tightened.
‘Not my baby,’ he croaked.
‘Oh,’ I said quietly. Oh…
‘It’s four years now, so I can talk about it. And maybe the only reason I am talking about it is because it’s pitch black, and I can’t see your face, or your reactions, so this makes me feel more bold and reckless than normal, and at the same time, strangely, more safe. And also because I don’t mind you knowing, Laura—as I say, I thought you did. But Amy was seeing someone else. I had no idea…’
‘So…how did you find out?’
‘Well…she was acting in a strange way after the birth. She bonded well with Gabriel, but she cried a lot of the time, and if I cuddled him, she’d get upset. I thought it must be the baby blues—plus he’d been severely jaundiced, so she was anxious. So I was just extra nice to her, but that only seemed to make her worse. And then…when Gabriel was almost three weeks old, his jaundice got worse, and he was admitted to St. Mary’s.’
‘Yes, I remember that…’
‘They advised a transfusion, called an exchange transfusion, where they basically replace all the blood. But they said that the donated blood would have to come from the Rare Blood Bank, because Gabriel’s type was very unusual—AB Positive with RzRz antigens. And I said that this was impossible, because my blood group is the most common type—O Positive—and Amy’s was A Negative, and it wasn’t possible that Gabriel could have this rare blood type so they must have made a mistake. I added that I knew a bit about it because a good friend of mine from Canada had this RzRz thing, and he’d inherited it from his great grandfather who was Native American. But the doctor insisted that there was no mistake, and all the time Amy was becoming very agitated, but I thought that was just because Gabriel was so unwell. I still didn’t understand.
‘Then the doctor left the room—I didn’t know why she’d done that, though I realized afterwards—and Amy broke down and
cried, and she kept saying that she was sorry, over and over, how sorry she was, and that she hadn’t meant to do this to me. And I said, “Do what to me? What is it you’ve done to me?” I thought it was something to do with Gabriel being ill. That she felt it was her fault in some way…’ He paused. ‘And then she told me. She told me that Gabriel wasn’t mine.
‘I felt as though I’d fallen into a crevasse…So I said, “What do you mean Gabriel’s not mine? Of course he is—how could he not be?” My brain was simply refusing to process what she was saying. But then, I finally understood. And then of course, she didn’t even have to say his name. I just got this terrible sensation. Here.’ I heard him bang his chest with a dull thud. ‘As though everything had collapsed inside.’
‘Was he a close friend?’
‘Yes. We’d been at McGill together. He was working for CBC and he’d been posted to London. He’d never actually met Amy —he hadn’t made it to our wedding. So I invited him round not long after he got to London, and we all had dinner, and they just…fell in love. She told me afterwards that it had been a ‘coup de foudre‘—that’s how she tried to explain it to me, and to herself. Their affair went on for most of that time. And I remember being surprised that she didn’t seem happier when she got pregnant. But she was secretly in the most terrible state.’ I thought of that photo of us all at the Baftas. And now I understood the real reason for the tension in Amy’s face.
‘What did you do when you found out?’
‘I didn’t know what to do. Whether even to pick Gabriel up. I longed to, but at the same time I felt I shouldn’t—that I’d lost the right. And Amy told me that she loved me, but that she wanted to be with Andy, so it became obvious what I had to do. But even now, four years on, I still think of Gabriel as “my” baby. My little baby boy. But he wasn’t. Anyway, that’s what happened,’ I heard Tom say. He clapped his hands together with mock joviality and a tiny echo bounced off the walls. ‘We’ve all got our sad stories, haven’t we—and that’s mine.’
‘It is sad.’ At a stroke, he’d lost his wife and his baby—and his entire sense of himself as a father, and a family man. All the things that Luke had talked about, but infinitely worse. The Harpies had swooped down and snatched up his feast.