Revenge of the Middle-Aged Woman

Chapter Twenty-five

Lakey Street had been valued, and I received a letter from the solicitor outlining the divorce details. ‘Mr Lloyd,’ the letter finished, ‘would like you to know that he has done the best for you that he possibly can.’

I studied those wretched details. It was true: Nathan had been more than generous. ‘Guilt,’ said Vee, ‘and value added’, but I could not bring myself to see it like that. I preferred to think that, contained in those careful provisions, was proof that a marriage had once thrived.

Yet again, Sam hightailed up to London and we tramped through the flat in Clapham for a second time. He urged me to put in an offer. ‘It’s got a garden,’ he said, as the clincher. ‘You can’t live without one.’

I put in an offer, which was accepted.

It was Sam who also pointed out that Easter was coming and, given that our family was not entirely shot to bits, should we have a gathering at Lakey Street?

‘That’s a tough call.’ I did not like the idea. ‘You realize what you’re asking?’

Sam was strangely insistent. He placed his hands on my shoulders and said, in his gentle, serious way, ‘A guaranteed place in heaven, Mum. No questions asked and no previous taken into account. You’ll go through without touching the sides.’

‘You’re in the wrong profession.’ I touched his cheek. ‘You should have been a diplomat cobbling together continents. If you think this is a good idea, OK, but the condition is, no Minty.’

Sam-the-diplomat set about the negotiations and it was settled that we would gather at Lakey Street for dinner on Maundy Thursday. He even arranged to collect Ianthe before whisking off on an errand that he would not specify. ‘I’ll explain later,’ he promised.

Ianthe had been in two minds as to whether to be present. ‘I find it hard to talk to Nathan,’ she confessed, grief etched on her face. I hated seeing it, and Nathan would have too.

Having been persuaded, and the spring weather being sharp and cold, she arrived in her tweed coat, smelling of mothballs, and bearing industrial quantities of chocolate and nuts.

I hung up the coat in the spare bedroom and unzipped her case. Ianthe sat down at the dressing-table. The pistachio-green frock had come out for the occasion and she had cast a bright blue and yellow scarf over her shoulders. The effect was of a crazed but delightful humming-bird. Busy with the unpacking, it was a minute or two before I registered that she had assumed her waiting pose. Instantly I was suspicious. ‘Is everything all right, Mum?’

She looked down at her folded hands. ‘I’ve been meaning to have a word.’

I extracted her sponge-bag from the suitcase. ‘Go on.’

‘The doctors are very good,’ she said, and raised her eyes, ‘and I have every faith. But I’m old, Rose. You know that.’ She picked up her hairbrush and swiped impatiently at an escapee wisp then reapplied the pink-orange lipstick – of which I had never imagined I would grow so fond. ‘I’m only telling you, Rose, because I’m going back into hospital for an operation. They did some follow-up tests. But don’t tell the others.’

I sank down on the bed. ‘Oh, Mum.’

‘It’s all been arranged. The doctor has pushed it through. There’s no need to bother Nathan again. I wouldn’t like that.’

‘No.’

She gave herself a little shake. ‘How nice to celebrate Easter.’ Our eyes met in the mirror. ‘Coming and going,’ she said simply. ‘That’s life.’

I was back in Medlars Cottage, watching my father tamping his pipe on the stove. Ianthe moved across the room bearing buttered scones on a blue and white plate, her apron tied in a bow at the back. Little sausage curls bounced on her forehead, which was flushed from the heat of baking. In the background, a radio played dance music.

Ianthe might have had reservations about seeing Nathan, but she greeted him politely enough and kissed Poppy and Richard. I had filled the room with flowers and lit a fire, and the room was warm, fragrant and – I considered – beautiful. The atmosphere was not easy, but it was not ominous either. Given that the family had been shaken hard and unexpectedly into a new shape, it was the best we could do.

Nathan occupied himself with the drinks. Richard, it transpired, was well trained in handling elderly ladies and he chatted away to Ianthe. Nathan edged over to me. ‘I meant to tell you last time I saw you, Rose, that I like the hair. You’re thinner too.’

‘Thank you. You’re looking… fine.’

He grimaced. ‘You mean older and tired.’ I made no comment. Nathan held out his hand, on which bloomed a patch of eczema. I knew it well. Do something Rose. Can’t let this spread. And I would pat on the cream that I kept specially. You must relax.

‘There’s a tube still in the medicine cabinet if you want to take it,’ I said, and I knew that Minty must have made a scene about him coming.

He shoved his hand into his pocket. ‘Thanks.’

It unsettled me to be so near to Nathan and I snatched up a dish of nuts, thrust them at Ianthe and hightailed into the kitchen. There were sounds signifying that Sam and – I presumed – Alice had arrived and I went into the little-used terracotta-painted dining room to put the finishing touches to the table, which I had laid with translucent white candles, shimmery ribbon, plates of raisins and pink and white sugared almonds, white lilies and white linen.

It was all rather sentimental, and crying into the wind. But I had wanted to put down a marker, a declaration of faith that we would survive, a message, stubborn and optimistic, that we had not been beaten. Anyway, the table looked lovely.

‘Mum.’ A flushed, exciting-looking Sam appeared. ‘I have something to tell you.’ I swung round, thinking, He is going to marry Alice. But behind Sam lurked a figure in a short red skirt and jacket and it was not Alice. It was Jilly.

‘Jilly,’ shrieked Poppy in the background, ‘what are you doing here?’

‘Mum…’ Sam took Jilly’s hand and pulled her forward. From being quite pale, Jilly turned pink.

I pulled myself together and kissed her. ‘How lovely’

Poppy kidnapped Jilly. ‘What is this? I didn’t know you’d be here.’

‘No, you wouldn’t know, because I didn’t tell you.’

Ianthe shook out her best clichés, which she kept for eventualities such as this, where no one had any idea of what exactly was going on. ‘The more the merrier. Jilly, come and sit next to me.’

Rather obviously avoiding Poppy’s eye, Jilly took her seat – or, rather, Alice’s. Sam unfolded his napkin and cleared his throat. ‘Happy Easter, everyone.’

With a lightening of my heart, I knew that something had happened to Sam, which would be for the better.

Jilly asked for water and took a sip. ‘You will be wondering…’

‘Yes, you will.’ Sam placed a hand on Jilly’s arm. Poppy rubbed an eye, which made it water. ‘You’ll be wondering why Alice isn’t here.’

‘Don’t mind us,’ said his sister. ‘Take all night, please.’

Sam looked at Jilly, and Jilly looked right back at Sam, a tender and excited look. Sam cleared his throat. ‘Jilly and I are going to get married.’

‘Good God.’ Nathan put down his glass.

‘How lovely,’ Ianthe echoed.

‘Jilly and I have been seeing each other since the party. It sort of progressed from there.’

A no-doubt foolish but happy smile seeped across my face. I could not help it. Not so Poppy, who was incensed. ‘I thought we shared everything, Jilly. You never said a word.’

‘I couldn’t. It was… private.’ A shade that might possibly have been guilt crossed Jilly’s radiant face, but only a shade. She helped herself to smoked salmon. ‘I didn’t know what was going to happen, and when…’

It was Richard, scenting the coup de grâce, who leant forward and urged softly, And when?’

‘… we discovered,’ Jilly cut a huge piece of salmon and speared it on her fork, ‘I was pregnant.’

Sam looked ridiculously complacent and Poppy gasped.

A candle guttered in its confection of ribbon. Cool and collected, Richard nipped the wick between his finger and thumb. ‘Well done, Jilly. Smart work.’

Nathan shot to his feet. ‘Excuse me,’ he said, and left the room.

The napkin bunched on my knee. What would happen to the beautiful, implacable, terrible Alice talking away into her mobile phone?

‘There’s a thing,’ said Ianthe, with a little smile. She caught my eye. Coming and going

Nathan reappeared and sat down quietly in his chair. ‘Sorry,’ he said, avoiding anyone’s eye. For a second or two, movement and sound were suspended around my gaudy table. Then it exploded into life. The words ‘wedding’, ‘baby’, ‘dates’ clicked to and fro across the decorations and the wineglasses glittered as we drank to the future.

We ate, we talked, we planned. We conjured up new illusions to take the place of the old ones, which, I realized with a sense of huge gratitude, would do us very well.

I collared Sam in the kitchen over the coffee tray. ‘What about Alice?’

The wooden look that I had grown to dread snapped back into place. ‘I wanted to talk to you, Mum. She’s taken it badly, and I don’t understand. I thought the whole point was that Alice didn’t want me. So I found Jilly. Now Alice says she’ll marry me, so I had to tell her about the baby’

Having assumed that two and two would add up to four, and Alice would dematerialize like a conscience when its owner receives something they really want, my innocent son was troubled.

‘Oh, Sam…’

Poppy had also collared Jilly. ‘I’ll phone you first thing in the morning.’

‘I might be being sick,’ said Jilly happily, and slipped her arm through Sam’s, ‘but have a go.’

When everyone had gone, I moved through the house, tidying and straightening out the mess. Ianthe was upstairs in bed, and I arranged the remains of the supper on a plate to take to Mr Sears the next morning.

There was a tap on the kitchen door. I opened it. ‘Can I come in? I waited in the car until the coast was clear.’ Nathan was hunched inside his coat and looked exhausted.

‘It’s very late.’

‘I thought you might say that. At least give me five minutes to discuss our son.’

I stood aside and Nathan entered the kitchen with the polite step of a stranger.

He looked round. A couple of rubbish bags were propped against the sink and he picked up one in either hand. ‘Where do these go?’

‘You know’

He hefted them out to the dustbins, came back, shut the door and leant against it. ‘How’s Ianthe?’

I turned away to stack plates in the cupboard. ‘I can’t talk about Ianthe.’

‘I see.’ He digested the implications. ‘I’m sorry I haven’t been any help.’

‘I don’t expect you to be.’

‘Rose, look at me.’ Unwillingly I straightened up and turned round. ‘Could I have a drink? And then I’ll go away.’

‘I’ think the wine’s finished.’

‘There was a bottle of whisky in my study.’

‘I drank that long ago.’

He moved quickly and, before I knew it, I was pinioned against the table. It is so true how smells – in this case, Nathan’s aftershave – trigger memory and stir the senses. His eyes were hot and despairing as he said, ‘Whatever I did, Rosie… Rose, it was not against you.’

‘Nathan, I wish you hadn’t come. It was a happy evening…’ I began to feel dizzy with nerves and fatigue. I pushed him away. ‘This is not the moment. There’s no point either. What’s done is done.’

He sat down with a thump in a chair. ‘I blame myself. I feel angry with myself… for springing everything on the family, for not knowing enough about my children any more…’

I filled the kettle and switched it on. ‘There’s no point in either of us blaming anyone. Don’t you see? We were both at fault. It wasn’t just you. I should have seen that something was wrong and tried to put it right. You shouldn’t have been tempted by Minty but you probably wouldn’t have been if I’d been quicker to understand that you were restless.’ He sighed, a despairing sound.

‘Why don’t we talk about Sam? I’m so pleased for him. Are you? Jilly will suit him, and bring him out of himself

‘I suppose so.’

I reached for the teabags. ‘You don’t sound thrilled.’

‘It came out of the blue.’

‘No one knew. It wasn’t because you were being left out. I certainly didn’t spot what was happening. Detective of the Year.’ I sent him a wintry smile. ‘Not.’ I dunked the teabags in the hot water and watched the stain fan through it. ‘Will you tell Minty about the baby?’

‘Not yet. I haven’t the energy. It’s difficult…’ He looked up. ‘It’s a bit tricky…’

I think he was wanting me to ask questions but I was not going to oblige. The subject was too painful. Whatever he and Minty were planning was for the new Nathan of whom I knew nothing. The bargains and habits of our marriage no longer applied. I placed the tea in front of Nathan who muttered a thank-you and reached for the sugar. His hand was poised with the filled spoon over the cup when, with a sad, unpleasant shock, I realized I did not view him as my husband any more.

In a gesture that sent tea flying over the table, he pushed away the cup. ‘I don’t know why mind and body play such tricks but they do. When I left you, I didn’t want you very much. Now I think about you all the time.’

The tea pooled on the polished walnut. I sat quite still. A pulse beat at the junction of Nathan’s neck and shirt collar, and the feather of grey hair above his ears had grown larger and more noticeable. Only six months ago I would have given a year of life to hear Nathan say that. I would have listened humbly and with immense gratitude. But now the words fell on an inner ear that had been deafened by events. There is only so much discordance to which anyone can listen before the notes become unbearable and they tune out. It is, I suppose, a basic survival technique.

‘Go on,’ he urged, and grabbed my hands. ‘Tell me I’m a fool.’

‘Let go, please. Either we talk about the children or you go, Nathan.’

He released me instantly. ‘Sorry… shaming. Stupid.’ He picked up the cup, set it down. ‘Forget it. I’m not thinking straight.’

‘You almost make me feel sorry for Minty,’ I whispered. I got up to fetch the cloth and wiped up the spilt tea.

Nathan observed the patch on his hand, which was dark red. ‘Things are tricky at work and I can’t talk to Minty. She sees things from a different point of view. I can only say this to you, Rose, but it’s… difficult to be eyed up by younger men who can’t wait to get their hands on your job. They don’t even bother to be civil to your face. God knows what they say behind your back.’

I sat down opposite him. ‘You were just the same – remember?’

‘True. But at least I was polite to Rupert while I waited for him to drop off the perch.’ The familiar strong-man smile flashed briefly. ‘It’s different, as you well know, being at the other end of the process.’

‘Of course. But you have experience, and you’re wily’

‘But it doesn’t make it easier.’ Nathan searched in the cupboard where we kept the drinks and pulled out a half-full bottle of red wine. He reached for a glass. ‘There’s this consultant. First-class degrees from Oxford and business school sticking out of his ears and he’s been released into the organization like a ferret.’

‘Don’t be so jumpy. You’re more than capable of outflanking him.’

‘Do you think so?’ he asked. ‘Really?’

‘Yes.’ It was easy to say.

Nathan stood behind my chair. ‘I wonder…’ His hand briefly stroked my hair and came to rest on my shoulder. ‘I wonder how long it will be before the axe falls.’

This was not the Nathan I knew. I covered his hand with mine. ‘Listen to me. You’re not to give in.’ I removed my hand. ‘What does Minty say?’

‘I don’t know, Rose. I just don’t know.’

My chair scraped along the floor as I stumbled to my feet, ‘Oh, Nathan, after all this, you aren’t happy’

He leant back against the sink and cradled the wineglass. ‘I want to say that I’m out of my place, out of my depth, but I can’t. I can’t order time to reverse. I can’t say that I want some peace and breathing space, when I chose to pursue precisely the opposite. I can’t say to Minty that she shouldn’t have a baby because I should be concentrating on grandchildren. I can’t turn to you, Rose, and ask, “What do I do?” I can’t ask to come back.’

No, it was not possible. Try as I might, I could not slot everything back into place. Leaving a marriage was not as simple as walking out of the door. It destroyed something so deep, so built into the blood and bone: the love that comes after bruising desire has faded, trust, familiarity, the pleasure from commitment, and it could not be rebuilt.

But something might be salvaged… with luck. With generosity and pity too, which both of us must find.

I put my hand over his mouth. ‘Don’t.’ His lips moved under my fingers. ‘Listen to me, Nathan. We’re already getting used to not being with each other. It will become easier. Anyway, we won’t lose each other entirely. How can we?’ I slipped my arms around him and held him, as I might have held Sam. ‘You hurt me so much that I thought I was going to die, but that’s over. I’ve come to see that love flows and adjusts into different shapes at different times. Meeting Hal the other day,’ Nathan squeezed his eyes shut, ‘also made me see that the people who matter never leave you.’ I shook him gently. ‘Nathan, look at me. Open your eyes. You were right in that respect. They are there.’

Nathan whispered, ‘I made the mistake of thinking sex was something it wasn’t.’ He looked up at me, tired and baffled. ‘Or perhaps I’ll never know why I did what I did.’

Perhaps neither of us would ever know. And that was life.

I made the joke – much as the little mermaid, who made her way with bleeding feet towards the man who did not want her, might have made it. ‘At least you had a good time making the mistake.’

‘Shut up, Rosie.’ Nathan held me as if he would never let go, and muttered into my shoulder, ‘Minty’s frightened of living here.’

For a second or two, I held the familiar body that was no longer familiar. Then I released him. ‘Tough.’

He dug his hands into his pockets. ‘And what about you? What have I done to you?’

It was a moment before I managed a reply. ‘And what did I do to you, Nathan? I thought I had you precisely right and I fitted myself around that strong notion sitting in my head. But I must have missed something, the bit of you that also longed for the green grass on the other side of the fence. To travel, to do something different. I did at twenty, so why not you at fifty? But I had grown used to you being predictable, and why should you have been?’ I looked down at my hands, resolving that I must not make this gesture a habit. ‘Perhaps that’s the real trouble with marriage. The groove becomes so worn and so smooth that you forget to think about it. Properly. Painfully. Until it’s too late. But you mustn’t worry. I’ll be all right. So will you.’

‘Clocks don’t turn back?’

I shook my head. ‘You have Minty to think of.’

‘So I do.’ Nathan picked up the wineglass, thought better of it, placed it carefully on the sideboard and began to weep. They were very final tears.

An hour later, Nathan left Lakey Street. By then he was dry-eyed and pale. He kissed me briefly and said, ‘We’ll keep in touch, whatever happens.’

‘Of course,’ and I added, ‘You can move in here as soon I’ve got the flat sorted out.’

Anything holding you up? Can I help?’

‘Only the details.’

The front door closed behind him and I was left in the quiet, shadowed, changing house.