Fourplay

by Jane Moore

  “God, I completely forgot to tell you in all the trauma of the past few days, they’ve split up. She dumped him for being too old.” Jo giggled nervously as she said the last bit, but there was a palpable pause on the other end of the line.

  “So what happens now?” said Conor in a measured tone.

  “Not much,” she hedged. “He says he wants us to get back together, but I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.”

  Conor cleared his throat. “Well, never say never. Maybe you can give it some serious thought when you’re back home. Thomas and Sophie would love it, so I suppose that’s a major consideration.”

  Jo found herself feeling curiously disappointed that he was being so objective about her situation. It wasn’t that she expected him to profess undying love for her, but she had rather thought he might express a trace of agitation over her news about Jeff.

  “You may be right,” she sighed. “Either way, there’s no rush. It won’t hurt to let him stew for a while.”

  As Jo sat in silence remembering their conversation, her mother’s voice broke into her thoughts.

  “Well, love,” she sighed. “All I can say is you’re going to have to be a teensy weensy bit selfish on this one and choose for yourself. Otherwise you might end up like me, sharing your later years with a man you no longer have anything in common with.”

  Jo smiled, a broad, warm grin. “Thanks Mum. You have absolutely no idea how much this little chat has helped me.”

  Her mother smiled back, tears in her eyes. “I’m just so sorry it has taken me this long to be a proper mum to you.”

  “Bollocks.” Jo winced for fear of a ticking off, but none was forthcoming. “I hadn’t told you any of this before, so you couldn’t have advised me, could you?”

  “Yes, but why hadn’t you told me?” said Pam. Then, not waiting for an answer, “Because you felt you couldn’t, that’s why. You felt I might not be on your side, and it’s unforgivable that you were probably right. I was in denial about everything, including your unhappiness.”

  Jo tutted her disapproving rejection of this remark and shook her head. “That’s not true. I was in denial myself for a while, but oddly Dad’s death has made things a lot clearer for me. Corny I know, but it’s taught me to seize the day, as they say. You never know when it might be too late.”

  “Precisely!” said her mother triumphantly. “I’m the classic example of that, but it’s not too late for you.”

  They chinked their tea mugs together in a toast to Jo’s bright new future, whatever it might be.

  36

  when she arrived, a half-empty bottle of wine on the table.

  “Hi, sorry I’m late. Surprise, surprise, Tim was late getting to the house, so I had to hang around.”

  “That’s alright. Drink?” He looked nervous.

  “Thanks.” She watched as he poured her a glass of Pinot Grigio. “So how was your day?”

  “How was my day?” He looked amused. “How very formal. It was fine, thanks. Much like any other day in fact.”

  There was an awkwardness between them, something Jo put down to what they both knew was coming, rather than a genuine inability to converse any more.

  When she had called to say she was returning home from her mother’s, Jeff had suggested this dinner for two nights later. “We need to talk,” he’d said.

  Jo knew he wanted to continue the conversation they’d started on the Common, the night she learned of her father’s death. She also knew he wanted an answer.

  “So.” He poured himself more wine. Obviously, he had one thing on his mind. Jo’s glass was untouched.

  So. Such a small word, but on this occasion so loaded with meaning, she thought. She straightened her back in anticipation.

  “So have you thought any more about what I said on New Year’s Day?” he asked, looking directly at her.

  “Of course I have,” said Jo carefully. “In between fretting about Dad, of course. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about all sorts of things actually.”

  “And?”

  “And what?”

  He gave an exasperated sigh. “I can see you’re going to make this difficult. Still, can’t say I blame you. And what . . . did you decide about us?”

  Jo stayed quiet for a moment, inwardly weary at the thought of the conversation about to follow. “I decided it won’t work between us.” She took a small sip of wine. “Sorry, but that’s how I feel.”

  “I see.” A small muscle was twitching in the side of his cheek and he started to blink rapidly. “And why’s that?”

  She’d rehearsed the answer to this over and over in her head, but now she was sitting opposite him, her mind went blank.

  “I don’t know.”

  “I don’t know,” he parroted. “And that’s a good basis on which to end this marriage, is it?”

  “This marriage ended when we got our divorce papers, Jeff. And it ended because you went off with someone else. What we’re here to discuss is whether I can forgive you enough for us to start all over again.”

  “And from what you’ve said, you clearly can’t.” His eyes were dull.

  “No, actually I can forgive you. In fact, I did a long time ago. But I don’t feel I can trust you, and that’s my problem with getting back together.”

  They fell into silence for a few moments. Jeff stared at her through narrowed eyes. “Couldn’t I earn your trust back?” he said eventually.

  “Maybe, maybe not. I’m not prepared to take that risk. The children seem to have got used to us being apart now. I couldn’t bear for them to go through it all a second time, so I’d rather keep things as they are.” She started to eat her usual spaghetti Bolognese, desperate for the meal to be over now she’d had her say. But Jeff clearly wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

  “Jo, I promise you I won’t be unfaithful.”

  “Didn’t you pledge that during our wedding vows as well?” She knew it was a cheap shot, but she was determined not to be talked out of her decision.

  He raised his eyebrows. “Yes, one-nil to you, I did. But I was younger then. Now I know what pain and disruption infidelity can cause, and for what? I’m on my own, away from my kids, and away from you. It’s unbearable.” His eyes started to well with tears.

  “I know it’s unbearable Jeff. I’ve been through it myself, remember? But I feel stronger now and I also like myself a lot more. I couldn’t go back to how we were.”

  “We don’t have to.” He sat up straight, looking excited at the thought. “We could start from scratch and lay out new ground rules. We could get a nanny, and you could work full-time if you like.”

  “Whoopee. Thanks,” she said flatly.

  “We could do whatever you want. You at least owe it to the children to give it some consideration.” He stood up. “I need the loo.”

  So there it was. Jo’s carte blanche to write her own marital guidelines, to finally call the shots with the errant husband who had caused her so much suffering. He wanted to pick up the pieces of the marriage he’d smashed and start all over again, playing happy families. It was neat and tidy, that’s for sure. The children would love it, and they wouldn’t suffer the stigma of coming from a “broken home,” if there was such a stigma these days. But could she ever get over the reality that it was Jeff who had broken it in the first place? Would every argument or rough patch they ever had make her think he could walk out of the door again at any moment? She had already given a lot of thought to whether she could overcome that fear.

  Jeff arrived back at the table.

  “It wouldn’t work,” she said.

  “Why? Why wouldn’t it work?”

  Jo took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Because whenever you said you were going to be late home from work, I’d think you were seeing someone else. Because every time we made love, I’d think about all the times you did it with her. Because every time we had an argument about the slightest thing, I’d throw the Candy business back in your face, time a
nd time and time again, and I’d hate myself for it.” She paused and looked at Jeff who was staring at the tablecloth. “No relationship could survive all that.”

  Pushing his untouched plate of food to one side, Jeff looked up. “Some people get over it.”

  “I know they do. But I’m not capable of being one of them. I need to trust someone one hundred percent to have a relationship with them.”

  “Like you trusted Sean?” His tone was sarcastic.

  “I trusted him because I had no reason not to. Just like I trusted you enough to get married and have two children. But starting a relationship with someone you know has already abused your trust, is not something I can do.”

  Jeff brushed away a tear with the back of his hand. His expression hardened. “So that’s it then, is it? The kids will spend the rest of their lives in a separate home to their father.”

  “Don’t throw that one at me Jeff. You walked out, not me. If you hadn’t, we’d still be married.”

  “But instead you want to die a lonely old woman, do you? Just like your mother.”

  “Leave my mother out of this.” She could see the conversation was taking a nasty turn. “Let’s get the bill.”

  They sat in sullen silence while Jo silently willed the waiter to hurry up. Now Jeff had finally got the message, she couldn’t wait to leave.

  After a few moments, he started to rummage in his pocket. “I’ll get this. You go home. I can see you’re dying to.” His tone was icy, but Jo almost preferred it that way. It made it easier for her. She stood up and pulled her coat from the back of the chair.

  “Thanks.” She leaned down and gave him a peck on the cheek. “And I’m really sorry, I just can’t do it.”

  Jeff didn’t answer, he just continued staring at his wine glass.

  “I’ll see you in the morning then. The kids are looking forward to seeing you.”

  Still no answer. She managed to reach the pavement outside before the tears flowed. Fumbling for her car keys, she hastily started the engine and drove off before Jeff followed. If he followed.

  A few streets away, she pulled over again and leaned back against the headrest. They weren’t the racking sobs of the early days of the break-up, just tears of sadness for a lost marriage that had once been so rewarding.

  “Wotcha.” Tim peered at her as she walked in the living room door. “Oh dear, you look a bit raw around the eyeballs.”

  “I am, but I’m OK.” She walked out and headed for the kitchen. Tim followed.

  “So how’d it go?” he said, filling the kettle.

  “It was awful.” She started to cry again.

  “It can’t have been worse than when he left you.” He rubbed her arm and pulled out a chair for her.

  “Oh, it’s not about him and me anymore. It’s more that he’s the father of my children and they’d be ecstatic if we got back together. Their faces kept popping into my head as I was telling him we have no future together.”

  Tim sat down at the table. “Ah, that answers my next question. So you’ve definitely decided there’s no going back?”

  “Definitely. Believe me, I’ve changed my mind a million times over the past couple of days, weighing up every option and getting sentimental about the good times. But as soon as I saw him tonight in the restaurant, I knew it was over. I’d never trust him again.”

  “People can get over those things,” said Tim quietly.

  “Maybe. But I can’t. Mum and Dad didn’t either.” She had told Tim about their father’s affair as soon as she returned from Pam’s. He had seemed unsurprised and said it explained a lot.

  “True, but they were a different generation. We’re supposed to be all modern and liberated.” He gave her a small smile.

  “Sorry, but when it comes to infidelity I’m very old-fashioned.” Jo took a sip of her tea and eased herself out of her jacket. “Anyway, love rekindled, like a cigar relit, is never the same, they say. So it’s the single life for me for a while.”

  “Well, at least that’s your choice. Some of us don’t bloody have one. Singledom chooses us,” said Tim, pulling a gloomy face. “Pardon the expression, but you’ve got men coming out of your ears.”

  “Not quite. But anyway, none of them are right for me.”

  “I still can’t believe you didn’t even give it a go with that Martin bloke. All that money . . .” Tim winced in mock pain.

  Jo smiled. “You’re as bad as Rosie, trying to sell me off to the highest bidder. You know what they say, marrying for money is the hardest way to get it.”

  “But I thought you said he was really nice.”

  “He was. He still is. But ‘really nice’ isn’t enough for me to give it a go. There has to be more than that. Anyway, he was . . . er . . . really nice about it when I told him.”

  “Poor bloke. He waited in the wings all that time, only to have you say it wasn’t going to happen.”

  “I know, I did feel awful about that. But I felt I owed it to him to give his suggestion some proper thought. Because I didn’t know he was interested in me in that way, I’d never mulled it over.”

  Tim looked thoughtful. “Do you think you’ll stay friends?”

  “Oh, yes. In fact, when I went round there and told him the other night, he was a complete gentleman about it and said he hoped I would still carry on doing his French home and that, sometimes, we could still go out for dinner as friends. He’s a man in a million.”

  “Not to mention a man with a million, and more besides.” Tim stood up and placed their empty cups in the sink. “Right, I’m off. What are you up to tomorrow?”

  Jo sighed. “Laughing boy is coming round in the morning to take the kids out, so no doubt that will be a frosty start to the day. Apart from that, nothing. Just sitting around here being morose, I suspect.”

  “Sounds unmissable!” Tim gave her a peck on the cheek and started to walk toward the door. “I’ll give you a call and see how you are. Ciao.”

  After he’d gone, Jo sat in the kitchen for a few more minutes, relishing the silence and mulling over their conversation. She did indeed want someone kind and trustworthy like Martin. He’d been such a pillar of practical strength to her recently, and she also knew that if she chose him she would be made for life. Not just financially, but for emotional security as well. Martin was the kind of man who made decisions in life and stuck to them. He would never walk out on his wife and two children. It was a tempting package, she thought, but there also had to be that vital spark that everyone always talks about but so rarely finds.

  Suddenly, while staring at the oven, a flashback popped into her mind and a realization smacked her straight in the face.

  37

  each of the children on their cold, pink cheeks.

  “Bye you two. Be good.”

  Jeff stood on the pavement looking sullen, having refused her offer to step inside the house.

  “No thanks. We’d better get off. I’ve got a busy day planned for them.” His voice had been cold.

  Closing the door, Jo leaned her back against it for a moment. The thought occurred to her that she should grab her coat, run outside, and suggest a nice, family day out. But she dismissed it as quickly as it had arrived. It wasn’t a precedent she wanted to set now she’d made her point about the future.

  It was 10 A.M., and she decided to run herself a long bath, then worry about what to do with the rest of the day after that. As she was pouring in a generous measure of her “special occasions” Jo Malone lime and mandarin bath oil, she heard the faint sound of the doorbell downstairs.

  “God, what now!” she muttered aloud. “You can’t even have the kids for five minutes without forgetting something.”

  She opened the door and felt her heart leap violently. It was Conor.

  “Hi. A little bird told me you’d be sitting at home feeling sorry for yourself, so I thought I’d come and cheer you up.” He held up an overflowing Marks & Spencer carrier bag. “I’m going to cook you lunch . . . or rather, I�
�m going to heat you up some lunch.”

  Jo was so pleased to see him, it almost hurt. There is a God, she thought.

  “I was going to have a bath, but how could a girl refuse such a kind offer?” she smiled, stepping to one side to let him past. She followed him into the kitchen, her insides churning with nerves.

  “Put this in the fridge for later.” He handed her a bottle of champagne.

  Jo did as he asked, but felt like she was on automatic pilot, going through mundane motions when all she wanted to do was blurt out what had been playing through her mind constantly since Tim had left the previous night. Jo was a big believer in fate, and she felt it had delivered Conor to her doorstep this morning for a reason.

  He started to unpack the carrier bag, placing items in the fridge while chatting away about how they might venture out after lunch if the weather stayed nice.

  “Conor. I want to talk to you.”

  Despite the whole day stretching ahead of them, Jo wanted to tell Conor right now. It had been there, staring her in the face the entire time, and she’d been too damn stupid to see it. Too side-tracked by the reptilian Sean to realize that everything she wanted in a man was here in Conor Davies, mate of her brother and now close friend of hers too.

  She knew it was a risk to broach the subject, because since his initial suggestion they try dating, he’d shown no further interest. And of course, there was still Emma to consider. But it was a gamble Jo wanted to take . . . had to take for her own peace of mind.

  Nervously, she gestured to one of the rattan chairs. “Sit down.”

  “Sounds like bad news.”

  “No, it isn’t. Although, it could be for me.”

  “Okay, now you really have lost me.”

  She got the strange feeling he was slightly relishing her discomfort. “Right . . . well . . . um . . . let’s see,” she blathered.

  “Would you like to phone a friend?” he smiled.

  “That’s just it Conor. You’re my friend, but you’re also much more than that. You’ve been such a support to me over Dad’s death and everything and I . . .” The words stuck in her throat.