by Matt Dunn
“It’s only temporary. And I think my mum likes the company, given how she’s on her own.”
“I meant that you’re a Chelsea fan!”
“Ha!” says Tom, which is an improvement over the groans that Julie’s dad’s attempts at humor usually provoke. “Though it is depressing. I haven’t slept in a single bed since I don’t know how long.”
“Single, you say?”
Julie’s dad raises both eyebrows and side-eyes his daughter, but if Julie has noticed his less-than-subtle gesture, she doesn’t show it.
“That’s right. Most parents turn their kids’ rooms into something else the minute they move out. Not mine. It’s almost as if she knew I’d be coming home.” He shakes his head. “Back living with my mum in my thirties. If you look closely, you can probably make out the L for Loser on my forehead.”
Julie’s dad peers closely at Tom’s forehead before realizing the statement’s allegorical, and Tom grins, then he suddenly looks appalled.
“Oh. God. Sorry. Didn’t mean to offend. You don’t...?” He’s addressed this question to Julie and accompanied it with an exaggerated flick of his eyes toward her dad, and Julie lets out an embarrassed laugh.
“What? Me? Live with my dad? No way. Like you said...” She actually makes the L sign with her forefinger and thumb and puts it up to her forehead, before perhaps realizing that might appear a little rude. “Though I’m sure you’ve got a good excuse.”
“Right,” says Tom.
“So, do you?” Julie smiles encouragingly at him. “Have a good excuse?”
I angle my head up at him, fearing the success of the evening hinges on his answer. Since she first saw Tom, it’s almost as if Julie’s forgotten that Luke even exists—and while I’m no expert, her body language is almost the complete opposite to her encounter with Arthur in the park earlier. Which can only be a good thing.
“Well...” Tom swallows hard. “The D word, I’m afraid.”
I prick both ears up. I can think of lots of words beginning with D that might be appropriate here.
Both Julie and her dad, though, evidently jump to the same conclusion as each other, because they make sympathetic noises.
“What happened?” asks Julie’s dad, prompting an embarrassed “Dad!” from Julie.
Tom sighs. “No, that’s fine. My, um, wife... Well, she...” He picks the barbecue fork up again, prods viciously at what smells like beef, then forces a smile. “Actually, I’d rather not get into it, if you don’t mind? I don’t want to depress you.”
“Of course,” says Julie, giving his arm a supportive rub, then an appreciative squeeze, as if evaluating the physique of a racehorse she’s considering betting on.
“Even more than your ‘Chelsea’ admission has, at least,” Julie’s dad says, as he puts a hand on Tom’s shoulder. “I lost my wife a few years back. So I know what you’re going through.”
“Right.” Tom looks a little awkward, though that could just be down to the physical attention he’s getting. “Anyway,” he says, as Dot emerges from the house carrying a bowl of something leafy and unappetizing-looking.
“Who fancies a piece of steak?” she says, handing everyone except me a plate.
Tom spears a blackened piece of something from the barbecue and holds it out proudly, as if he’s just hunted it down and caught it, then narrows his eyes and gives it the once-over, as if he’s trying to work out whether it is, in fact, steak.
When I manage to reluctantly tear my eyes away from it and glance up at Julie, she seems to be peering at Tom in almost the same way.
And I can’t help thinking that’s a good thing.
* * *
Julie and Tom are getting on like a house on fire, a metaphor almost replicated in real life when a stray spark from the barbecue lands on Dot’s lawn, causing Tom to leap up athletically and reach for the garden hose as if trying to save the deciding penalty in a World Cup final. There’s only been the one slightly awkward moment, when Tom topped Julie’s glass up for the umpteenth time, then helped himself to yet another beer, excusing himself by saying he doesn’t have to drive home seeing as he lives here. A somewhat tipsy Julie giggled and blurted out, “Yeah, with your mum!”
But given how, when she’d made the L sign on her own forehead—much to Tom’s surprise—then acted as if it were the funniest observation in the world, and he’d joined in, Dot’s plan seems to be working.
Tom talks about being a V-E-T, lowering his voice and spelling the word out to her each time—which shows a consideration on his part not to upset me, and though it’s a bit insulting to assume I can’t spell, both Julie and I appreciate the gesture. We’ve even had an impromptu game of fetch, courtesy of an old, moldy tennis ball I unearthed behind Dot’s shed, which Julie doesn’t want to pick up, but Tom has no problems handling. And unlike Luke, when Tom throws my ball, he actually throws it rather than just pretending to, while making a face at me as if I’m the stupid one. And Julie’s noticing.
Then, just as I think things couldn’t be going much better, Tom takes a deep breath, checks that Julie’s dad and Dot are out of earshot, and leans across and whispers, “So, is this some kind of setup?”
“Dot told you?” Julie says.
“No, but she told me there’d be loads of other people here this afternoon, hence all this food. And apart from my mum and your dad, there’s just the two of us. No offense, Doug,” he says, passing me a bit of sausage that I’ve been eyeing on his plate for the last ten minutes.
“Well, you’re right. And from what I can tell, it seems to be going pret-ty well,” says Julie.
She’s emphasized the two syllables of pretty for good measure, and Tom does a double take. “Okay,” he says, followed by a nervous “So...” but before he can add anything further, Julie grins, and nods in Dot’s direction, where Dot’s doing the same, absentminded “touching her hair” thing that Julie does whenever she sees Luke.
“Little bit weird, though, don’t you think?”
Tom feeds me another piece of sausage. “What is?”
“Seeing my dad and your mum...” Julie does a sideways nod toward them. “Flirting.”
“What?” Tom’s eyes follow the direction of her nod, then he does a sort of slow-motion nod of his own. “Right. Aha. Of course.”
“Hang on,” says Julie, her eyes narrowing, then she shakes her head as if to clear it. “You thought? I mean, this was for...?” She points at Tom’s chest, then back toward hers, then back at Tom’s.
“No! Well, yes, but...” He suddenly seems as interested in the contents of his plate as I’ve been for most of the afternoon. “Isn’t it?”
Julie glares across the garden at her dad, who suddenly seems fascinated by one of Dot’s pot plants. “Tom, I’m flattered, and I’m sorry if I’ve given you the wrong impression, and you seem very nice and everything.” She rests a hand on his arm, letting it linger there for a moment before reluctantly removing it. “Very nice, in fact, and perhaps under different circumstances...” Julie hesitates, and I allow myself the briefest hope that she’ll realize that circumstances should be different, that she has the power to change those circumstances, but it quickly becomes evident that she’s not there yet. “But just so we’re clear, I’m kind of seeing someone. So...”
“Hey.” Tom makes like someone’s just pointed a gun at him. “I wasn’t... I was just making...” He halts, midsentence, and narrows his eyes. “What do you mean, kind of?”
“Huh?”
“You said you were kind of seeing someone. Which is either an attempt to let me down gently, or...”
“What? Oh. No. I am. It’s just complicated.”
Julie’s said it in a “leave it alone” kind of way, but Tom looks like he won’t be put off.
“How so?”
“How so what?”
Tom hands me another bit of saus
age. “How is it complicated?”
Julie’s eyes flick away from Tom’s, and focus on something on the ground instead. “He’s married,” she says, and all of a sudden, if you’ll permit me to carry on my “house on fire” metaphor from earlier, it’s as if the fire brigade’s just arrived and directed the world’s largest hose at the flames.
“Married,” says Tom, flatly.
Julie nods, her face a mixture of guilt and disappointment.
“Ah,” says Tom. “But separated, right?”
“Nearly.”
For a moment, Tom looks at her, his mouth flapping open, then he says, “I’m sorry?”
“Me too,” says Julie. “It’s only a matter of time, though.”
Tom holds a hand up. “No, that wasn’t an apology,” he says. “Don’t tell me—his wife doesn’t understand him?”
Julie’s eyes widen. “Exactly.”
“And they haven’t slept together for ages? In fact, they’re living like strangers under the same roof?”
“Wow. It’s amazing to meet someone who understands...”
“Understands.”
“Yes.” Julie reaches across and squeezes Tom’s hand. “People can be quite judgmental when they hear you’re seeing a married man. But with me and Luke...”
“Luke, you say?”
“Yeah. He’s my boss, and... What?”
Julie stops talking. Tom’s expression has been gradually morphing into something, and she’s suddenly realized what it is: Disgust.
“You’re having an affair with your boss?”
Julie gives a nervous laugh. “Not really. We’re more...” She wrinkles her nose as she tries to think of the right word—an expression a lot of people might think was cute. But Tom looks appalled, and as if he’s already thought of a word that’s appropriate. And one that isn’t very nice.
“He’s married. He’s your boss. You’re seeing him. It’s an affair. It takes two to have one, therefore you are too. At least, I think that’s close to the dictionary definition.”
“Hey, I’m not proud of it, but I’m actually the innocent party here.”
“Really.”
“Yes, really.”
Tom sighs, puts his drink down, and folds his arms. “Well, I disagree.”
“What? Why?”
“People wouldn’t have affairs if there weren’t the kind of people around that they could have affairs with.”
“The kind of people?”
“Here’s a thought. Someone who’s married to someone else should perhaps be off-limits, at least until they’re not married anymore.”
“Yes, well, it’s not always as simple as that.”
“Yes, well, perhaps it should be.”
Tom’s looking quite angry now, and I worry my supply of sausage is about to be cut off abruptly. “Did you ever think about her?”
“Who?” says Julie, though I suspect she knows exactly who Tom is referring to.
“The actual innocent party. Your fancy man’s wife.”
Julie bristles a bit at the term fancy man, though at the same time, she possibly realizes she doesn’t have a leg to stand on. “Of course! But Luke and I, we’re right for each other, and he and his wife...aren’t. And I know it’s not ideal, and that some people might disapprove, but...” She stops talking at Tom’s rapidly-raised eyebrows. “Besides, it’s not like she’s a friend of mine or anything. In fact, I’ve never actually met her.”
Tom looks like he wants to say something, then he appears to change his mind. “Well, that makes it alright, then,” he says, with more than a hint of sarcasm.
“That’s not what I meant!”
“Right,” says Tom. “But you’re sure she exists?”
“Of course she exists!” Julie sighs exasperatedly. “I’m sorry. Is there a point to this...lecture?”
“Just that he might have made her up. To avoid having to commit to you. And if he hasn’t... All the lies he’s been telling you? He’s probably lying in exactly the same way to her.”
“Rubbish.”
“How else does he get away with it?”
“They live separate lives.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really!”
“Completely separate?”
“Well, not completely... It’s complicated!” says Julie, again, as if repeating the phrase again might make Tom finally understand.
“So where is he now?”
“Now now?”
“Yeah. Why isn’t he here, with you, at this barbecue? If they live separate lives, then why is he spending the weekend with her?”
“He... Isn’t!”
“No?”
“Well, yes, but only because...”
“Exactly!”
Julie harrumphs, and Tom should be gloating, but he looks like gloating’s the last thing he wants to do.
“And how long have you two been ‘together’?” Tom’s done the bunny ears thing around that last word, which evidently makes Julie cross, because her expression darkens.
“None of your business!”
“I’m just trying to establish why he hasn’t left her for you.” He pauses, like a comedian waiting to deliver the punch line to a joke. “Yet.”
“Yes, well, he can’t leave her yet, because...” Julie stops talking abruptly. I’m not sure even she knows the answer to that.
“Don’t tell me. For the sake of the children.”
Tom’s given a sarcastic wobble of the head during those last six words, but Julie doesn’t notice. Mainly because she’s busy staring awkwardly at her feet.
“They, um, don’t have any.”
“Right,” says Tom, in a drawn-out way. “So the actual reason he can’t leave her is...?”
Julie doesn’t say anything.
“Or is it won’t leave her?”
Julie folds her arms defiantly, and Tom mirrors her, and you don’t have to be an expert in body language to understand this isn’t a good thing.
“What’s it to you, anyway?”
Tom looks at her incredulously. “It’s...” He stares at her for a moment, then all the fight seems to go out of him, so instead, he picks up his beer bottle and takes a swig, then realizes it’s empty, much to his disappointment. “That thing I said earlier,” he says, quietly. “About my wife. And the D word. I meant D for divorce.”
“She’s not dead?”
“Why ever would you think that?”
“Well, because dead begins with...”
“Well, she isn’t. Though she is to me.”
“I don’t under...”
“She had an affair, alright?” says Tom, though it’s more of a shout, and Dot and Julie’s dad look up from their cozy little tête-à-tête on the other side of the garden.
“Cheated on me with a friend of mine. And I couldn’t forgive her, even though she begged me to. My pride just...” Tom stares off into the distance. “So we got divorced. And she was the love of my life. So it broke my heart.”
Tom glares at Julie, then he glances down at me, and despite me leaping to my feet and giving him the full, usually irresistibly cute, pug eye treatment, he doesn’t calm down. Instead, he hauls himself to his feet, and stalks off to retrieve another beer from the paddling pool.
“Tom!” Julie jumps up too and hurries after him, but he doesn’t turn around. “I’m sorry. I had no idea. But Luke and I...”
“Please don’t try to justify what you’re doing. Because you really can’t. Not to me, anyway. And I’m sorry, and I know you probably don’t want to hear this, but all this stuff he’s telling you...”
“You don’t know him,” says Julie, quietly.
“And nor do you. Not really.” Tom hunts around for a bottle opener, before realizing his beer’s one of those screw-top ones. �
�You’re best out of that situation, if you ask me.”
“Well, I didn’t!”
“Do you really think he’s going to break up his marriage for...”
“Your wife did!”
Julie immediately goes pale, as if she knows she’s majorly overstepped the mark, and Tom stares at her, openmouthed, for a moment or two.
“Right,” he says, as Julie stares at her feet again, perhaps hoping the ground will open up and swallow her.
To his credit, Tom just forces a smile. Then he peers round the garden before rolling his eyes and tutting loudly, like someone looking for his jacket then remembering he didn’t bring one. “That’s my cue to leave, but I live here, so...”
Julie stares at him for a moment, and I’m hoping she’s about to apologize or say something to lighten the mood, but she just purses her lips defiantly.
“Well, Tom, I’d like to say it was nice meeting you...”
I sit between them, waiting for Julie to do exactly that, but instead, she glances over to where her dad and Dot are doing a bad job of not listening in, and without a word to anyone, she scoops me up, carries me back through the house and out the door, then strides home so quickly that I can hardly keep up.
Maybe Tom’s words have hit home. Perhaps Julie’s in a rush so she can get back to our house, call Luke up, end things, and embark on a whole new relationship with someone who’s, well, not Luke. Though it’s only after she’s raced into the house, slammed the front door behind us, collapsed face-first onto the sofa, and burst into tears, that I realize it’s possibly not as straightforward as that.
It’s apparent from both the introduction I arranged for her in the park and from what she just told Tom that—despite Priya’s suggestion—Julie’s actually not looking to meet someone else. Plus Tom is obviously bitter about what his ex-wife did to him, and it sounds like he’s not sure he’ll ever trust a woman again. So perhaps right now—especially while Luke and Julie are still together—isn’t the best time for Tom and Julie to gel.
Trouble is, Julie’s (admittedly rather cruel) comment might be something she’s holding onto like a life vest, in that if Tom’s wife left someone as patently nice as him, then there’s a definite chance Luke will leave his wife for her. Which would be a shame, though, because at the back of my mind, I can’t help thinking that Tom gets a great big tick for the following reasons: