by Emma Davies
He pauses before answering, dropping his words into the room, each one a ticking grenade. ‘No, I cared too much.’
I stare at him, a maddening anger rising within me. ‘What the hell is that supposed to mean? If you cared, you had a very funny way of showing it. Do you know how much I would have given to see you, to speak to you? How much I told myself that all I had to do was wait and one day you would come back to me. If you truly cared, you would have done, not stayed away.’
‘I have my reasons,’ he says, bitterly.
‘Well, they must have been good ones, for you to have been gone all this time.’
‘They were… At the time, they were.’ His jaw clenches and unclenches, eyelids flickering as he struggles for what to say. His eyes rove the room, resting for a moment on a book that’s sitting on the coffee table, before moving to the mantelpiece.
‘So you and Hugh married,’ he says. ‘How long is it now? Twenty-odd years?’
I pause. ‘Twenty-three.’ His eyes narrow and I hold his look. Don’t you dare tell me it was so soon after us. I know it was.
‘And Esme? Yes, you have a beautiful daughter too, talented as well. A beautiful home. A life.’
‘For God’s sake, Tom, why are we even talking about any of this? My marriage, Esme… What’s the point?’
Tom shakes his head sadly. ‘No, you see, that is very much the point, Alys. That’s how we got to be here; because life does go on. Your life went on. And so did mine. Despite those times when things happen that we swear we will never forget, that we will never be able to move on from, that feeling lessens. We pick up our feet and we take a step forward. And after a while more time passes and the past becomes something we leave behind. Even you, Alys. Despite what you’ve just said, you have a life now.’
‘I would have had a life with you.’
Tom shakes his head. ‘Perhaps. But it would have been a very different life from the one I wanted for you. And if you’re honest with yourself, not the one you wanted either.’
‘But you had no right, Tom, that was never your decision to make…’
‘Do you know why I married Nancy?’ he asks suddenly.
I raise my eyebrows. ‘I would imagine because you loved her.’
‘Yes, because I loved her. But also because she wasn’t you. And that made it so much easier. So, if you want to know why I sent you away, that’s why. Because Nancy never knew the old me, she never knew Tom, and so I never had to wonder what she was really thinking. And although I knew it hurt her to see me in pain, to watch me struggle, I never had to worry about what she really thought of me – whether she secretly longed for her old husband back – whether she stayed out of pity, or because she just didn’t have the courage to leave.’ He shrugs. ‘And yet, in the end, she left me anyway.’
‘She still loves you,’ I say.
He smiles. ‘I know. We probably get on better now than we’ve ever done, simply because we’re two separate people. She can be her and I can be me, and there’s space between us to breathe. But our marriage… became damaged. And in the end there was too much to repair.’
I nod, sadly. ‘I guess I can understand that. Despite our best intentions, things don’t always work out the way we want them to. But I like Nancy. We’ve got quite friendly over the last week or so and I can imagine that she’s been good for you.’
‘She doesn’t let me get away with much, that’s true. Or pull any punches. Nancy can be one of the kindest, most generous people I know, but she also has no qualms about letting you know if she considers your behaviour to be out of line. And in my case, she takes the greatest delight in doing so. I think it’s become a point of pride.’ A slight trace of a smile lifts the corners of his mouth. ‘I can’t tell you how funny I thought it when she told me what Hugh had said about me.’
‘He said it about the owner of The Green Room, Tom. It wasn’t personal.’
‘It wouldn’t have mattered if it was. Nancy warned me not to rock the boat and to stay out of his way. She doesn’t want there to be any unpleasantness. But neither do I, so don’t worry, I’ll take the greatest care to stay out of his way.’
‘But there’s no need, really, I—’
‘There’s every need, Alys. There are some things from my past life I’ve no wish to revisit, and my friendship with Hugh is one of them.’
‘I see,’ I say steadily. ‘So why are you here, Tom? If it’s not to rekindle your friendship with Hugh? I’m not deluded enough to think that you’ve suddenly decided to beg my forgiveness after all these years.’
He’s studying me quite intently. ‘How have you been?’ he asks, instead of answering my question. It throws me for a minute. I wasn’t expecting it and I have no idea how to answer.
‘You must be incredibly proud of Esme,’ he adds. ‘She’s beautiful, intelligent and it’s not hard to see where she gets her creative spirit from. What are you doing now? Did you get to be the conservationist you always dreamed of?’
‘Tom, what are you doing? Why are we even talking about this? Will it help assuage your guilt knowing that my life turned out exactly the way I wanted it to? Or do you think it will make me feel better? Confirmation that I’ve achieved all these things without you, after all.’
He looks as if I’ve just slapped him. ‘You’re angry, still. I get that… And yes, maybe guilt is one of the reasons why I’m here. But I couldn’t have us meet the way we did the other day and not come and speak to you. That would have been inexcusable.’ He runs a hand across his chin. ‘And if it’s any consolation, Alys, it’s taken me three bloody days to get here. I had no idea what I was going to say to you… In fact, I wasn’t sure if you would even let me in. I’m also very well aware that the way I treated you was appalling and, even if I had good reason, it isn’t that I haven’t thought about it through the years, of course I have.’
‘Then I’ll repeat the question… Why are you here, Tom? What on earth do you think it’s going to achieve?’
He leans forward in his chair, hand scrabbling for his stick. ‘I don’t know, okay? I guess I just thought I owed you some sort of an explanation.’
‘Which you’ve provided.’
He glares at me. ‘Alys, I’m trying to do the right thing here and you’re determined not to let me, aren’t you?’
‘What did you expect, Tom? That we’d just pick up where we left off all those years ago?’
‘No, I didn’t expect that, of course not. But I did think we might be able to come together as rational adults and discuss it. I don’t know, find some closure from it even.’
I shudder. I hate that word, closure. Like that’s the end of it. And everything is fine now. How can it be fine when I don’t want to forget you? I never have.
I get to my feet. ‘I think you’d better go now,’ I say.
His eyes bore into mine until I can bear it no longer and I look away as he struggles to stand. I remember the look in his eyes when he told me our marriage was over, and it’s not much different now.
He limps after me to the door where we stand in the hallway, a lifetime of hurt and pain forming a chasm between us.
‘You’ve straightened your hair,’ he says more gently. And I really wish he hadn’t.
‘I’ve been straightening it for years, Tom. I’m not a curly-haired sort of girl any more.’
The look on his face is hard to define as his jaw tightens.
‘Then you need to call me Sam,’ he replies. ‘I’m not Tom any more. I haven’t been for a very long time.’
8
I stalk back into the kitchen, heart pounding, cheeks flushed. If I had something in my hand, I would hurl it somewhere, watch it smash into smithereens, the broken pieces of my hurt littering the floor where I might crush them underfoot till no trace remained.
How dare Sam ask me about my life now? As if he has any right to know. His name jars in my head, alien and strange. I don’t know anyone called Sam and yet Tom is as familiar to me as breathing. Or at least he
once was. But even as I try to push aside this new name from my head, I realise that I can’t because the Tom I knew doesn’t exist any more.
My anger is fading fast and I pick up the can of oven cleaner, shaking it ferociously, trying to stave off the inevitable. I’m going to have the cleanest oven on the bloody planet if it kills me. Except that no amount of activity is going to stop the wall of emotion that’s building, and within seconds I’ve sunk into one of the chairs at the table, letting it break and tears stream down my face.
Well done, Alys. I hope you’re proud of yourself. You couldn’t have made that any worse if you’d tried. Yes, you had questions and things you needed to say. Things that were long overdue, even things that you have been bottling up for years. But the very last thing you should have done was said them today, bundled them all up in a tight, hard little ball, and thrown it at Sam with all the force you could muster. So whatever you get now, you well and truly deserve it.
I’m not sure how long I sit there, shouting at the little voice in my head to shut up, to stop telling me things I already know which are only making me feel worse. I know I’ve behaved badly, I don’t need reminding that I have pretty much ensured that I won’t ever see Sam again. My irritation is rising once more. I shouldn’t want to, for goodness’ sake. I have a husband, a daughter, a… I gaze around my bright, sunlit kitchen… a lovely home… a life. And I’ve had a perfectly good one without Sam for the last twenty-odd years. I’m about to berate myself some more when my mobile phone lights up with a message.
Are you busy today? Only if you’re at a loose end, I have a proposition for you. Feel free to come over anytime. The usual cake and coffee applies. Nancy x
It’s not until I’m halfway to The Green Room that I realise seeing Nancy might not be such a good idea. I haven’t seen her since the party and, although in some respects I would love to be able to speak to her, what would I say? I’m sorry if I’m not my usual self, only I’ve discovered that your ex-husband is also mine. But I’ve already told her to expect me and, besides, I’m nothing if not intrigued by her suggestion of a proposition.
I pull up in the car park and sit for a minute to gather my thoughts before checking my face in the mirror. My hasty attempts to repair the damage that a bout of ugly crying has reaped would appear to be holding up. Even if I do look a little pale, I doubt that Nancy will be able to tell the difference.
The kitchen is full of the most amazing smell as I enter, tentatively pushing open the door despite already having been told to just walk right in. Nancy jumps up as soon as she sees me, leaving Theo and Esme sitting at the table. They’re poring over pages and pages of what look like handwritten notes, as well as photographs, Theo in charge of a large notebook in front of him.
‘Come in, come in,’ says Nancy, beckoning me forward. ‘You’ve come at just the right time.’
‘Have I?’
Esme looks up, smiling. Whether she knew in advance that Nancy had asked me over, I have no idea, but I’m pleased to see she doesn’t look too put out by my presence.
‘Hi, Mum. We’re going through Nancy’s enormous stash of recipes, trying to decide on a shortlist, but it’s driving us mad.’
‘So, I’m going to retire from the process and leave these two to see what they come up with,’ says Nancy. ‘Having three people all voicing their opinions really isn’t getting us anywhere.’ She looks over to the cooker. ‘Now, there’s some soup on the go if you’d like some, or I can find a slab of beetroot and chocolate cake. It sounds revolting but is anything but, I promise.’
‘Could I have the soup if it’s not too much trouble?’ The thought of a warming bowlful of savoury loveliness is hugely comforting. ‘I probably ought to at least try to stop eating cake.’
‘Why?’ asks Nancy, genuinely interested.
How do I explain that, at the moment, once I start on the sugary stuff, I probably won’t stop.
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake,’ says Esme, rolling her eyes. ‘She’s just doing that mum thing. You know… Oh, I couldn’t possibly have anything nice… Mum, life’s too short, eat the cake.’
‘Easy for you to say,’ I reply. ‘When you have a gorgeous figure.’ I stick out my tongue at her. ‘And for your information, I just fancy the soup, that’s all.’
Theo laughs. ‘Esme’s just jealous because she made the cake and I made the soup,’ he says, elbowing her gently. ‘And I can see where Esme gets her figure from,’ he adds chivalrously. ‘But one bowl of soup coming up. Would you like a chunk of granary bread to go with it?’
‘Yes, please.’
Theo smiles at his mum. ‘You go, I’ll bring them through,’ he says.
I follow Nancy down into the main restaurant. ‘You have him well trained,’ I comment.
Nancy smiles as she turns to speak. ‘He didn’t need much training actually. I’m incredibly lucky.’ She lowers her voice. ‘Don’t tell him I said this, but Theo is such a sweetie. Fortunately, he’s picked up on some of his father’s more endearing qualities while leaving the others behind.’
The mention of Sam sends a pulse of electricity rippling through me and I’m suddenly very conscious of where I’m standing. Coming here was such a bad idea, but I can hardly excuse myself now. Nancy is still leading the way, pausing by the table we usually sit at but instead walking on past.
‘Let’s sit a bit further down today,’ she says. ‘The outlook here is so much nicer, plus the light is a little better.’ She smiles mysteriously. ‘I want to show you something,’ she adds.
Intrigued, I follow her, taking a seat while she doubles back to collect something. It’s a plain buff-coloured folder which she lays on the table. She taps the top of it lightly as she sits down.
‘Now, before I show you this, I want to ask you a question,’ she says, a mischievous look on her face. ‘And don’t look so worried.’
I am worried. I haven’t a clue what she’s going to say.
‘When we were at Scarlett’s party the other day, I commented on your other sister-in-law’s dress as I was leaving. She is quite beautiful, but it was the dress that caught my attention. You know the one – pale silk with big roses all over it.’
Unease begins to unfurl itself within me. I nod cautiously.
‘But when I mentioned it, giving you the perfect opportunity to say that you had made it, you didn’t. You just agreed that you liked it.’ She cocks her head to one side. ‘I’m just wondering why that was.’
I stare at her. ‘Did you know I had made it when you commented?’
‘No, of course not, Esme told me afterwards, but that’s beside the point. I would have commented whether I knew or not. The dress was stunning.’
‘Yes, well my sister-in-law would look gorgeous wearing a bin bag. Fortunately, I love her to bits, otherwise I think I’d hate her with a passion.’
Nancy smiles. ‘You have a very photogenic family,’ she says. ‘But you still haven’t answered my question.’
‘No, because I don’t know how to answer it,’ I reply, truthfully. ‘It wasn’t a deliberate omission on my part, more that it didn’t occur to me to say anything.’
Nancy is studying me quite intently. ‘Hmm… I thought that might be the case.’ She pauses as Theo approaches carrying a tray and waits while he puts it down. ‘Thanks, love. Now you two come up with some blistering menus, I’m counting on you.’
Theo grins at me with an amused expression on his face that clearly says, see what I have to put up with?
‘You’re just like a lot of women our age, hiding their light under a bushel…’ She laughs. ‘I can see you’re wondering what I’m talking about because I’m not like that at all. And you’re right, I’m not, but I was once. So, if I were to ask you again why you didn’t say anything, what would you say now? Have a think, and I’m not being critical, I’m just interested. You’ll understand why in a minute.’ She unloads the bowls of soup from the tray and slides one towards me, together with a spoon. A plate of bread soon follows
which she places between us.
‘Okay…’ I say slowly. ‘I guess I just don’t feel comfortable bragging about the things I’ve done. That’s the first thing. The second is that yes, whilst I’m capable of making a dress, so are a lot of other people. I don’t consider what I did to be especially remarkable.’
Nancy leans forward. ‘Lots of people run restaurants, Alys, and yet I’m convinced that ours is special. In fact, I go out of my way to tell everyone it is.’
‘Well then, I don’t know why I find it so hard. Perhaps we’re just different.’
‘Perhaps… But I should probably explain why I asked you all that,’ she says. ‘It’s something I’ve been musing over, that and other things… You see, I’ve been asked to speak at a conference for women in business, and I would normally turn that sort of thing down. But then I thought, actually I do have something to say, and if there are people willing to listen, maybe I should say those things, after all. So I’ve been trying to pull together some ideas for what to speak about. And when you dismissed your glowing talent the other day, I was interested to know why.’
I make a face. ‘Yes, I’m not really an empowered sort of person, I’ve always shied away from that sort of thing. I find it a little… overwhelming sometimes.’
‘Or perhaps it’s that the people who advocate it are overwhelming?’
I grin. ‘Something like that. Support is great, but evangelism isn’t really my cup of tea. Not everyone wants to be changed. And there’s nothing wrong with that either.’
‘That’s a very good point,’ says Nancy. ‘I shall bear that in mind…’ She takes another mouthful of soup. ‘Is that the way I come across?’