The Anniversary

by Hilary Boyd

  ‘OK, I’ll admit it. I’m finding it hard being around you, Stella,’ he said softly. ‘It seems so easy when we’re together now, as if the years when we argued never existed.’

  Stella gave a small laugh. ‘We always argued, Jack, even before Jonny died. It wasn’t as perfect as you’re remembering.’ Although it was a good marriage, she had to admit.

  ‘That was normal banter, though. We both enjoyed it. There was nothing bitter about our disagreements, not till after,’ he said.

  For a moment, Stella silently recalled the endless dreary rows that had preceded the end of their marriage. They were about nothing important, just increasingly spiteful domestic spats. But she knew they’d been merely a smoke screen for all that was wrong, all that was unspoken between them.

  ‘Did you blame me?’ she asked.

  He hesitated, then nodded. ‘I blamed everybody. Including you. Including the Morrisons; Kent; that arse I was talking to when Jonny disappeared; the summer; the neighbours for having that lethal pool; the hedge; the pool cover … But mostly I blamed myself.’

  ‘I blamed you too.’ She fell silent. They had never said these things before. Back then it had been impossible. Even now, it felt dangerous to Stella, and she found herself trembling. ‘I think I almost hated you in those months after he died.’

  She saw Jack blink. ‘I felt it.’

  ‘I’m sorry. It was unfair. But I literally didn’t know what to do with my anger. It was as if I had this out-of-control monster rampaging around my body. I just couldn’t believe I’d allowed that to happen to Jonny. So it was easier to blame you. And every time you came near me, tried to love me, I just wanted to kill you. I’m so sorry.’

  ‘Don’t …’ He reached over and took her hand. ‘I’m glad we can talk about it, though.’ He smiled. ‘Even if it’s taken nearly three decades.’

  Jack let go of her and began picking at the edge of the candle, rubbing the soft wax between his fingers. There was another long pause. She was aware of the night, the cool air, the soft soughing of the wind in the trees.

  ‘Eric’s back tomorrow,’ Stella spoke abruptly as real life suddenly impinged. She pushed the candle out of Jack’s reach as she might with Arthur. ‘I’ll go home on Monday. Things will get back to normal.’ But she no longer knew what the word meant in the context of her life.

  ‘ “Normal”?’ Jack echoed her thoughts.

  He got to his feet again and stretched in the darkness. ‘Maybe I should go back to the cottage tonight, Stella. You can always ring me if there’s a problem.’

  But Stella didn’t want him to leave. The prospect of being alone felt incredibly bleak. She rose from the chair. ‘Please stay, Jack. It’s just for one more night.’

  Jack pulled her towards him, his arms tightening around her. He dropped a kiss on her head. Stella didn’t move for fear he would let her go. His body felt warm and solid, but she shivered nonetheless.

  ‘I think we both know it’s too late for all this,’ she said into his chest, and the thought made her want to cry out at the unfairness, at all the wasted years they had let go.

  40

  Winter 1992

  It was Stella who had finally called a halt to their marriage, but Jack, she insisted, who had pushed her into doing so. It wasn’t really his fault, though. Stella had fabricated a reason – the beautiful, dark-haired Irish journalist, Mairead Gilroy – as to why they had to part. At the time, she’d convinced herself she was right, but she knew in her heart of hearts that her husband was innocent of any crime – except the one she couldn’t forgive: that of wanting her to be happy.

  Stella had spotted Mairead with Jack at a Labour politician’s birthday party at his flat in Pimlico, overlooking the river. She felt instantly jealous of the ease with which they were interacting, chatting, laughing. It seemed so long since she and Jack had been that comfortable together. So for the rest of the evening, she’d wound herself up into a frenzy of jealous hurt.

  Jack, for his part, had no idea what was going on. He innocently introduced his wife to the Irish journalist and they shook hands. Stella smiled and said she’d heard so much about Mairead; Mairead graciously returned the compliment.

  The accusations Stella hurled at her husband later, however, were crazy and hysterical, but by then she’d convinced herself of a torrid affair. And the more Jack steadfastly denied there was anything whatsoever going on between him and Mairead, the more infuriated Stella became.

  ‘I don’t fucking believe you,’ she’d screamed as they stood, both rigid with indignation, in the kitchen, the taxi paid off and dismissed. ‘I saw the way you looked at her.’

  Jack seemed completely bewildered. He tried to take her in his arms, but she batted him off. ‘For Christ’s sake, Stella. Where the hell is this coming from? You’re being ridiculous.’ He paused. ‘Look at me,’ he said, meeting her angry gaze full on. ‘Look at me, please. I swear on Eve’s life …’

  ‘Don’t you dare jeopardize our daughter’s life with your lies,’ she interrupted, her voice cold with anger.

  Jack looked desperate. ‘Stop it, Stella. Please. Read my lips: I am not, nor have I ever even considered, having an affair with Mairead Gilroy.’ He enunciated every word as if she were deaf or stupid, and she could see the truth in his eyes. But it made no difference. This had nothing to do with the Irish girl.

  Silence.

  ‘I don’t love you any more,’ she said quietly as her heart pounded a different story.

  Jack’s face went very still. ‘I don’t believe you.’

  Her eyes filled with tears. ‘Believe what you like,’ she told him, adding in a whisper, ‘My heart is broken.’

  He took her in his arms then and gently kissed her tear-stained face. But it made no difference.

  ‘Don’t say that,’ he said. ‘Please … This isn’t about us, you know it isn’t. And my heart is broken too. But what good will it do to split up? We’ve got Evie to think about now. We’re still a family.’

  But his pleas fell on deaf ears. ‘I think we’ll be happier apart,’ she said, believing, as she said it, that it might be true. At least he won’t be there to remind me, she thought, ignoring the punch of fear that rose through her guts as she realized what she’d done.

  Jack, as exhausted as she, did not put up a fight. From that night on, neither discussed the decision. Stella retreated into the more familiar sadness that still haunted her, while Jack left her alone and got on with the practical details of their separation.

  The relief Stella felt as she walked down the steps of their Stoke Newington house, away from her home and her marriage – relief that the hassle was over, that Jack would no longer be around to remind her or pester her to be happy, to love him, to live – was cold comfort indeed as she began her lonely existence as a single mother in the damp Hammersmith basement.

  41

  Jack and Lisa were sitting at a table in the local gastro-pub on Sunday night. She’d got home from Yorkshire in the early afternoon, the shoot finishing so late on Saturday that the crew had been forced to stay an extra night.

  Jack could tell she was tired and out of sorts. They hadn’t seen each other all week, because he’d been in Kent while she was in the north. But there was no joyful reunion. She seemed irritated with him from the off, shrugging out of his welcoming embrace before he’d barely kissed her, then rejecting his offer of a cup of chamomile tea, retreating to the bedroom, from which she had not emerged for a couple of hours.

  Guilt driving him, he’d gone to see if she was all right. But she was curled up on the bed, her back to him, fully clothed, hands clamped between her knees. She didn’t move when he opened the door, but he could tell she wasn’t asleep. He had left her to it.

  Now they sat in silence, both nursing a Bloody Mary: tall glass, ice, straw, celery stick, lemon slice. Jack wasn’t particularly keen on the cocktail – all that tomato juice felt like too much of a meal – but tonight he was hoping to keep in sync with his wife.
/>   ‘So how did it go?’ Lisa asked.

  ‘OK. It’s exhausting looking after Arthur, but we coped.’ He laughed, but she did not respond. ‘Eric’s arriving tonight and they say Eve can come home on Monday, as long as she rests.’

  Lisa nodded, but seemed completely uninterested in what he was saying.

  ‘How was Yorkshire?’

  Lisa raised her immaculately shaped eyebrows. ‘You know, tiring.’ She paused to suck more of her drink. ‘But yeah, it went well, I think.’

  After a moment’s awkward silence, Jack said, ‘Are you annoyed with me? You’ve been funny all day.’

  Her blue eyes flashed up at his question, and he could see her anger. But she said smoothly, ‘No. Why would I be?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Although he did, it wasn’t rocket science.

  She looked down and didn’t respond for a long time. When she did, her tone was peeved.

  ‘How do you think most women would feel if their husband moved in and got all cosy with his ex-wife?’

  ‘ “Moved in”?’ Jack exclaimed. ‘Are you kidding?’

  Lisa stared at him, glossy lips mashing angrily together as she played with her straw. ‘You did, Jack. You spent the last three days in the same house, alone, with Stella.’

  He groaned. ‘Arthur was there. But, technically, yes. What else could I do? We didn’t know what was happening with Eve and Stella didn’t want to drag poor Arthur out in the middle of the night if there was an emergency.’

  ‘I’m sure she didn’t,’ Lisa replied, her voice loaded with sarcasm. ‘But then you’ve got a snug little cottage round the corner. She could’ve given you a call and you’d have been over in a flash to look after your precious grandson.’

  Jack gave a frustrated sigh. ‘Don’t be like this, Lisi. Please. We were both worried and we did what we thought was right, OK?’ The shame at his false assurance stabbed at his gut.

  He and Stella had said goodbye early on Sunday morning – Jack wanting to be back in Queen’s Park before Lisa.

  ‘I probably won’t see you for a while,’ Stella had said, fiercely twisting a tea towel back and forth in her hands when he came downstairs with his bag.

  ‘Right.’ He couldn’t think of a thing to say. He’d taken it for granted, over the past weeks, that she was always nearby when he came down to Kent.

  ‘It’s been an eventful summer,’ he said. ‘I’m … I’m so happy we were able to …’ he hesitated. ‘I’m so grateful to you for doing the thing with Jonny. It was huge for me, Stella. Really changed things …’

  She nodded. ‘For me too,’ she said quietly as she turned away. ‘Arthur, Grandad’s got to go home. Come and say goodbye.’

  He hugged his grandson so tight the child squirmed to be free, but he and Stella merely waved across the kitchen table. Their summer was over.

  So he told himself he was right to reassure his wife that there was nothing between him and Stella. It was, as she had said on Saturday night, ‘too late’. He told himself that even if Lisa and Iain were not around, he would be foolish to think of any sort of reunion with Stella. He had lost confidence in his ability to sustain a relationship with anyone, any more. Do I even have it in me to try? he wondered. He wouldn’t want to hurt Stella again, or risk going back to those days when they had ground each other down so badly. The good times are long in the past, he thought. I should leave them there. So he must concentrate on the life he had. Which was Lisa.

  But she was still upset.

  ‘It’s not just Stella,’ she said. ‘It’s your whole family. You always put them first. You didn’t even tell me you were staying at Eve’s till the following morning. What am I supposed to think?’

  ‘I don’t know. What did you think?’

  She must have sensed he was being disingenuous, because she tutted angrily and turned away to wave at the waiter. The food was taking forever – not that he had an appetite. When she turned back, having established their order was ‘on its way’, she said, ‘What, exactly, do you need me for, Jack? Your family gives you everything you require at your age … except sex, I suppose …’ She gave him a meaningful glare.

  Jack frowned. The age jibe was hurtful and unnecessary.

  ‘Lisa, look. I know this summer’s been tricky for us. But it’s virtually over now. Stella won’t be around much, except for the birth. Then things will go back to normal.’ He remembered Stella using the same phrase the previous evening and how he had mocked her.

  ‘So you’re saying you still love me, then?’ Her tone was sarky, although the heat had gone out of her anger.

  He hesitated a moment, ‘Of course I love you, Lisi. You know I do.’

  And she seemed to believe him. Her eyes were shining with unshed tears as she reached across and took his hand. ‘I love you too, Jack. I know I’m a pain when I’m jealous, but I only get like that when I think I’m going to lose you. It tears me apart, imagining you and Stella together. You’ve got so much history … Eve, Arthur, your son. I’ll never be able to compete.’

  ‘It’s not about what happened in the past, Lisa. And it’s certainly not a competition.’ He spoke the words of reassurance, but he knew that what he had with Stella was very much about the past, the unresolved past. Maybe, he thought, as he watched his wife across the table, it was now, finally, resolved. ‘Stella and I haven’t been married for twenty-five years,’ he added, knowing this actually meant nothing, but feeling that it should.

  Lisa seemed to be considering this. ‘I was only eighteen when you split up,’ she mused, as a smile broke over her face. ‘That really is a long time ago when you think about it.’

  Problem averted, he thought. But he knew the problem – his problem – was in no way solved.

  42

  Stella had dozed off on the sofa, waiting for Eric. Eve had been in better spirits earlier, at the prospect of seeing Eric again and coming home. But Stella had had to deal with a very temperamental grandson. She found she was hanging on by her fingertips.

  Since Jack left that morning, she’d felt a sort of dreary calm. Never someone to want what she couldn’t have – she despised whiners – she just needed to get home, reconnect with Iain, maybe find some script work to occupy her mind.

  It was gone midnight when her eye caught the beam of the taxi’s headlights raking across the window as the car pulled into the drive. She heaved herself upright and went to welcome her son-in-law home.

  Eric, with a heavy beard he didn’t have last time she saw him, looked thinner than ever and alarmingly pale as he stood in the hall in his navy fleece, jeans and walking boots.

  Stella went in for a hug, always forgetting that her son-in-law wasn’t really comfortable with displays of affection. She ended up pulling back at the last minute and settling for a brief, awkward peck on both cheeks.

  ‘Wow,’ he said, propping his ski-bag against the wall by the front door, next to his daypack and wheelie case – not much, Stella thought, for five months away. ‘I can’t believe I’m actually here.’

  She smiled, the two of them feeling almost like strangers as they moved through to the kitchen. ‘You must be exhausted,’ she said.

  ‘I wanted to see Eve tonight,’ Eric said. ‘But we spoke and agreed it’s very late. I’ll go in first thing.’

  ‘Are you hungry?’ Stella asked. ‘Shall I do you some toast or something?’

  He was looking around the kitchen as if he’d never seen it before, and Stella remembered that they had only been in the house a few months before he left for Antarctica.

  Eric shook his head. ‘Thanks, but I’m not sure my body knows what time it is. Wouldn’t mind a cup of tea, though.’

  He glanced towards the door. ‘Arthur OK?’

  ‘Mostly he’s been fine, although he was very niggly today. He knows something’s up, of course.’

  Eric rubbed his chin. ‘I’d better get rid of this before he sees me. It’ll frighten the life out of him.’

  Stella didn’t say anything, but
she agreed. He did look a bit scary with his almost cadaverous frame, pale skin and the mass of dark hair covering his face.

  ‘Didn’t they feed you in Antarctica?’ she asked.

  He laughed. ‘The food was surprisingly good – I ate better than I’ve ever eaten before, in fact. But the cold uses up every single calorie. It’s hard to eat enough.’

  There was another silence as Stella made tea and handed him the mug. He looked dazed as he took it from her and sat down.

  ‘It’ll be strange being back,’ she said, for something to say.

  ‘Yeah … So how’s Eve been?’ he asked. Stella thought his question sounded guarded.

  ‘OK, pretty much … until Friday. She was very frightened. Missed you terribly.’

  Stella hadn’t meant this as an accusation, she just wanted to reassure him, to let him know how much he was needed and loved. Her son-in-law could be so diffident that she wondered, sometimes, if he really understood Eve’s intense love for him. But Eric must have thought she was getting at him, because he looked at her sharply with his bottomless dark eyes before replying, ‘I should have been here, Stella. I know I’ve messed up.’

  She didn’t answer, because yes, he should have been here. And it’s easy to say you’re sorry after the event. But it wasn’t her business. And despite her previous rant with Jack about Eric’s selfishness, she knew that a better word to describe her son-in-law would be ‘single-minded’ or ‘obsessive’.

  ‘If I’d known about the placenta praevia …’ he was saying. But he didn’t finish, and she wasn’t sure it would have made any difference. Eve would no doubt have insisted he didn’t come back, and Eric would probably have agreed. ‘Six and half a dozen,’ as her mother always insisted.

  ‘You’re home now,’ she said, giving him a kind smile.

  Eric nodded. ‘You’ve been amazing, by the way, Stella. I don’t know how to thank you. And Jack too.’ He gave her a winning grin. ‘Really, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your help.’