by Jane Green
24
Wow!” Lisa’s eyes widen as I walk over to where she’s sitting in the corner of the Queens. “Can this be the Ellie we know and love?”
“You like?” I do a mock twirl, and show off the new cardigan, flicking my hair and pouting as I do so.
“You look great.” She nods approvingly. “Who’d have thought you’d scrub up so well?”
“Oh, thanks.” I grimace. “With friends like you—”
“Sit down,” she says, gesturing to the empty chair opposite her. “Let me get you a drink.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll get them. Vodka and cranberry?” I point to her bright red drink.
“Vodka, tonic, and cranberry. Thanks.” She smiles as I turn and make my way over to the bar.
It feels so odd to be in a pub on a Saturday night. I haven’t done anything like this for months, haven’t had the energy to do anything on a Saturday night other than have a hot bath and go to bed. But I can no longer afford the luxury of doing that, now that I’m no longer living with my husband, now that my marriage may very well be over.
I may not want to meet anyone, not yet, but I know already that I have to make more of an effort, have to put myself out there, have to pretend to want more of a life than I already have.
Most of the time I can’t believe I’m single. I can’t believe that at some point I’ll have to go through the dating process again, with somebody other than Dan.
I never enjoyed it, never found it exhilarating in the way that my girlfriends seemed to, still seem to, if you ask Lisa. Lisa adores nothing more than the excitement of meeting someone new, of waiting to see when he phones (it’s never a whether with Lisa, always a when), of planning her outfit for a first date.
She loves setting aside the afternoon to get ready, booking a babysitter for Amy, booking the hairdresser for herself, laying out her clothes, soaking in a bath, and spending hours making herself look beautiful.
She loves discovering who someone is, the thrill of the flirtation, the discovery of whether there is chemistry, whether this is something they may want to take further.
Lisa claims not to be a one-night-stand sort of girl, not since having Amy, but she also says there’s nothing quite like a strong chemistry ending with a fumble on the sofa, or a passionate kiss on the doorstep at the end of the night.
I’ve never understood that, was so grateful when I met Dan that there wasn’t any of that awkwardness, that he felt like my best friend from the very start, that I’d never felt so comfortable, so myself, with anyone. I can’t bear the thought that I have to find someone new, that there’s a very strong possibility no one will ever make me feel quite so comfortable again.
I am so not ready for this, yet at the same time I can’t shut myself away in a closet, waiting for a life to come and find me. I’m not looking for a man, but I do have to start looking for a life, a life outside of Tom, outside of discussions about playgroups, and nursery schools, and nannies.
So here I am, placing a vodka, tonic, and cranberry on the table in front of Lisa, trying to look as if I wouldn’t rather be watching a bloody good video.
“I see you’re still wearing it, then,” Lisa says.
“What?”
“Your wedding band.”
We both look down at my ring finger, at the plain gold band that once felt so alien and now feels like a part of me.
“I’m still married,” I say softly, feeling the band with my thumb, feeling how familiar it is, knowing I’m nowhere near ready to take it off.
“Separated,” Lisa reminds me.
“I know. But not divorced.”
“Have you talked about anything yet? Are you going to resolve anything?” she says.
“It’s only been eight weeks, but we don’t seem to talk about anything other than Tom. It’s just…” I sigh. “It’s so weird between us. I know how unhappy I was, how much I hated Dan, and for so long, but now I can’t believe how quickly and easily it seems to be over. There still seems to be unspoken stuff, but neither of us is able to start, to find the right words.”
There’s a silence, a pause. “Do you want to get back together again?”
And another pause.
“I don’t know. I just know that we seemed to be making each other so unhappy, and I thought I’d made this terrible mistake.”
“And now? Do you still think that?”
“I think I do. But then there are times when I remember all that was good about our marriage, and why we got married, and I can’t believe it’s over.”
“Do you not think you and Dan really ought to sit down and talk?”
“I’ve tried—we can’t. Maybe we’ll be able to in time, but right now we can’t.”
“It seems so sad that you’re both letting pride get in the way of perhaps getting back together.”
“It’s not pride. It’s…I don’t know. Anyway, let’s not talk about it; I thought you wanted to cheer me up, not send me into a depression. What about you, what’s going on in your life? How come we’ve hardly seen you?”
“Oh nothing much,” Lisa says. And blushes.
“You’re blushing!” I’m shocked. “Oh, my God. You’ve met someone haven’t you, you’ve met a guy!”
“No, no, I haven’t,” she says, as her cheeks turn redder and redder, giving the game away.
“I do not believe you!” I sit back in my chair and cross my arms, watching her discomfort with a grin on my face. “I can’t believe you’ve met someone and you haven’t given us all the gory details. No wonder you haven’t let Trish and me come over to your house! Oh, God, I can’t believe how stupid we’ve been! Trish even said she was convinced you were seeing someone, and I told her she was being ridiculous, and you’d definitely tell us if you were, and you are and you haven’t bloody said anything.”
“Oh, God,” Lisa groans as the flush starts to fade. “It’s meant to be a secret. I can’t believe I’ve given the game away.”
“Why so secret?” I’m immediately intrigued and lean forward across the table in a conspiratorial manner. “Go on, you can tell me. Is he famous? He’s famous, isn’t he! That’s why you’re so secretive.” Without giving Lisa a chance to speak, I start to think of local celebrities she might be seeing. “Is it Jude Law? I bet it’s Jude Law! God, he’s gorgeous, I’d be deeply jealous if it was Jude Law, but I thought he was seeing that girl—”
“No.” Lisa shakes her head, looking uncomfortable. “It’s not Jude Law.”
“No? What about Les Dennis? Oh, God, tell me it’s not Les Dennis—”
Lisa starts to laugh. “No, it’s no one famous.”
“So go on, tell me, then, who is it?”
“You don’t know him,” she says eventually. Awkwardly. “And it’s not serious anyway. I mean, he’s really nice, but I think it’s just a casual thing.”
“So you’re blushing like your face is on fire, and it’s just a casual thing? You’re full of bollocks. Oh, come on Lisa, tell me more, give me something, anything, just a little detail.”
“Okay, okay, but please don’t say anything to Trish.”
“Why?” I take a sharp breath. “Does she know him?”
“No, no. I just didn’t want anyone to know. To be honest it’s incredibly early days, and it’s complicated.”
“Complicated.” I look at her and she looks away. “You mean he’s married, don’t you?”
Lisa shrugs. She still can’t look me in the eye. She knows only too well what I think of that. “He’s sort of married,” she says. Reluctantly.
“Oh, Christ, Lisa. Surely you know better than that.”
And this time she does look me in the eye. “He’s waiting for a divorce,” she says firmly. “He’s just waiting for the right time, but his marriage is over, and I swear, I believe him.”
My blood runs cold. My heart starts pounding and I think I’m going to be sick.
My voice comes out in a whisper. “It’s Dan,” I say, almost choking on the words. “T
hat’s why you didn’t want anyone to know. It’s Dan, isn’t it?” and I don’t know whether to scream, walk out, or slap her round the face extremely hard.
But I do still think I’m going to be sick.
Lisa’s eyes widen. “Oh, my God!” she says. “No! No! God, no! I can’t believe you’d think I’d do that to you.” And my heart starts to beat normally again. She’s not lying. Nobody could lie this well. Not even about something like this.
“Oh, Ellie.” She starts to laugh. “I can’t believe you thought I’d be having an affair with Dan! Oh, darling! Oh, Ellie!”
“Oh, God.” I sit back in my chair, placing my hand upon my pounding chest. “I thought I was going to be sick.”
“I thought you were about to slap me,” Lisa says.
“I was thinking about it.” I look up at her, my face serious once more. “I do believe you, but do you swear, upon your life, that you’re not having an affair with Dan?”
“I do,” she nods. “I swear, upon my life, that I’m not having an affair with him.”
“Okay,” I laugh, relief flooding through me.
“Okay,” she says, laughing too. “How about another drink? Looks like we both need it.”
An hour later, during which time I’ve managed to put all those fears aside, Lisa leans over the table and whispers, “There’s a man sitting in the other corner who keeps staring at you.”
“Yeah, right,” I laugh, three vodka tonics and cranberries having almost got the better of me. “If he’s staring at anyone, he’ll be staring at you.”
“No, really he’s not,” Lisa says. “Trust me; I’m the expert at these things. He’s staring at you.”
“Is he handsome?” I laugh, not really caring.
“As it happens, he is rather cute,” she says. “And he looks slightly familiar. I wonder if I know him. But he’s definitely staring at you.”
“Lisa,” I say, raising an eyebrow, “why would he be looking at me when (a) you are far more gorgeous and everyone stares at you, and (b) all he can see of me is my back?”
“I just say it as I see it.” Lisa sits back in her chair. “Why don’t you turn round and look at him, give him a proper eyeful?”
“Okay.” I turn round and try to see whom she’s looking at. And I see him. Staring at me. Very obviously.
I turn quickly back to Lisa. “I know him.”
“You do? Oh.” She’s disappointed.
“And you know him too.”
“I do? Who is he, then?”
“Charlie Dutton.”
“Charlie Dutton! The producer! Oh, no wonder he looked slightly familiar. Hang on, wasn’t he in the south of France the night that—”
“Yes,” I say, cutting her off. I can still hardly bear to think about that night, let alone talk about it.
“Well, he obviously recognizes you. Aren’t you going to say hello?”
“I don’t really know him. I met him once at my friend Fran’s and he briefly dated another friend of mine, and then that night in France. I’ll say hi on our way out if he’s still there.”
“Or sooner,” she whispers, leaning forward. “He’s coming over.”
“Ellie?” I hear a male voice behind me.
I turn, affecting a look of surprise. “Charlie?”
“How are you? I couldn’t figure out if it was you or not.”
“Difficult to tell from behind, I imagine.”
“But I was right,” he says, smiling. “So how are you?”
“Fine. Thanks. You remember my friend Lisa.”
“Hi, Lisa, nice to see you.” He greets her perfunctorily, then turns back to me.
“I heard your son is fine. I can’t tell you how worried we all were that night, how much I felt for you.”
“Thank you,” I say. “That’s very kind. And he’s fine now, which is all that matters.”
“May I join you?” Charlie says, pulling up a chair before either of us can say no. Lisa just sits back and grins as I awkwardly move over to make room for him.
“What about your friends?”
“They’re leaving in a minute,” he says. “Off to a party, which I’m not in the mood for. I need an early night.”
And as we sit there, the three of us, I wonder why he’s come over.
I seem to have forgotten the art of making small talk. I was having such a nice time with Lisa, and I slightly resent his joining us, having to make an effort, having to think of something to say.
“So how’s your husband?” Charlie says, taking a long sip of beer and putting it down on the table, then looking directly at me in a way that instantaneously tells me two things. Number one, that he knows. Of course he knows. If he’s heard that Tom is fine, he will surely also have heard that Dan and I are not.
And number two, that he remembers something that up until tonight, up until this very moment, I had not. That we were flirting that night. That there was a chemistry between us that I had completely forgotten about, had dismissed or ignored, given all that happened subsequently.
With a jolt, I realize the chemistry is still there. Oh, shit. This I hadn’t expected.
“I’m really sorry.” I turn to see Lisa standing next to the table, coat in her hand. “I hate to have to do this to you both, but I really need an early night. I’ll talk to you in the morning, okay?” She leans down, gives me a kiss, trying—and failing—to hide a grin, and says good-bye to Charlie.
You should leave, a voice in my head keeps saying. Stand up now, put on your coat, and walk out with her. Leave. Go on. Stand up and leave. But I can’t. I turn back to Charlie, and I swear it is like watching a scene from The Matrix in which time has stood still and the only two people in the room, the only two people who are moving, are Charlie and me. Me and Charlie.
Oh, God. I’m really not ready for this.
“Dan, isn’t it?”
And now it’s my turn to blush. “Um, he’s fine,” I say. “I think he’s fine.”
“You think?”
I look up at Charlie. “You must have heard. We separated.”
Thank God he has the good grace to look embarrassed, and he nods. “Yes, I had heard, but you know how rumors can spread, and I never believe anything unless I hear it from the horse’s mouth.”
“Well, this one’s true.” I shrug, taking a long sip of my drink for want of something better to do with my hands, all at once self-conscious in a way I don’t remember being for years.
I feel like a teenager suddenly. All fingers and thumbs. Acutely aware of everything I say, everything I do, and, despite my three drinks, I am all at once desperate for more.
As if reading my mind, Charlie looks at my empty glass. “Can I get you another?”
I could still go, I think. I could shake my head and smile and say, no, I have to get home, babysitter and all that, but how lovely to see you, what a coincidence, I’m sure I’ll run into you again, take care. Bye.
I could still do all of that, I think, those words could come out so easily, but instead I nod. “Another drink would be lovely,” I say.
Charlie asks me lots of questions. He asks me all about Tom. He wants to know what he’s doing now, how I’m coping, what are the hard parts and what are the easy.
He tells me about Finn. About coping as a single father. He tells me that since his film won two Golden Globes he seems to have become quite the catch among the single mothers at Finn’s school, and he makes me laugh when he describes the daily drop-off as being rather like an obstacle course in which he has to try to avoid the clutches of socially ambitious single mothers.
And Charlie asks me about me. He asks about my life, about what I do, whether I get lonely, whether I know what is going to happen.
I surprise myself in that I talk to Charlie. I didn’t realize he’d be this easy to talk to, but then I suppose it’s flattering, someone wanting to know so much about you, particularly when that someone is so, well, yummy.
Because he really is quite yummy. I look at his arm
s, remember how tanned they were in the summer, and I look back up at his face to see him watching me, and he smiles and I blush.
Oh, God. I’m really not ready for this.
And while Charlie is talking about his divorce, about how he adjusted, what it was like for him, I find my mind wandering off, find myself thinking about whether I am really ready, thinking about the reality of kissing someone else, sleeping with someone else.
I imagine Charlie’s face moving toward mine, his eyes closing, our mouths meeting. I see him, almost feel him licking my neck, can almost feel his shoulder blades under my hands, and I shudder.
Oh, God. Am I really ready for this?
“Are you okay?”
“What?” I come back to reality with a jolt, the buttons of my shirt having been almost entirely unbuttoned in my fantasy.
“You seem to have gone off somewhere.”
“Sorry.” Damn. Why am I blushing again? “Just thinking that I probably ought to be getting home soon. Babysitter.” The guilt makes my words come out in a rush.
“Do you live around here?”
I nod and tell him.
“I’m in Gloucester Avenue,” he says. “Just around the corner. Can I walk you home?”
I nod. What else can I do?”
As we turn into my road, the conversation ceases. I think about Lisa and her tales of passionate kisses on doorsteps. I think about fumblings on sofas. And I think about Dan.
I really am not ready for this.
I turn to Charlie as I put my key in the lock, ready to say something polite and dismissive, knowing that I can’t do this, that a fantasy is one thing, but that the reality of kissing another man is something else entirely, and not something I am anywhere near ready to deal with.
“It was lovely to see you,” Charlie says, shaking my hand. “Really. I often thought about you after that night, and obviously about Tom. I was so relieved to hear he was okay. I was going to write to you, and I’m sorry that I didn’t.”
“Oh, that’s okay.”