Page 27 of Insomnia

“Oh, it’s nothing. It’s just—it’s been a weird day where you’re concerned. I’ve not only seenyou,but I thought I saw your husband too. There’s an empty bar on Albion Street. I saw him come out of it earlier when I was on the way to the paint shop. I couldn’t figure out why his face was familiar; then I saw his car and remembered him.”

Why would Robert be looking at an empty bar?

“Maybe it wasn’t him, though. I only saw him for a couple seconds outside your house.” I can see her questioning herself just as I’m mentally questioning him. It’s too much of a coincidence, surely? Robert’s been talking about going back to work, wanting something of his own, and then Caroline spots him outside a vacant business premises?

“Oh, it could have been him.” I keep my tone light. “He gets pipe dreams and does stuff like that. Sometimes he’s just being nosy and wants to see inside. He must have driven past at some point and the whim to know more gripped him.”

“How nice to have pipe dreams,” she says softly, and then we both let quiet settle as we eat. I’m already having an argument withRobert in my head. I should probably say nothing. Hedoeshave pipe dream moments, he always has, and this could all come to naught. But how the hell would he even start thinking about running a bar? That’s a 24/7 commitment.

Unless he’s thinking about divorce.The voice is quiet in the back of my head. Then he’d have the free time. I dismiss that quickly. First, we may have the odd problem but we’re nowhere near in divorce territory, and second, and more practically, without me paying all the bills he wouldn’t be able to take a financial risk like that.

After we’ve finished, our conversation more about our own work than anything else, I carry the paint to the car and then drive her home, which thankfully isn’t too far away. Buckley will be wondering where I’ve got to, and, after telling Alison off about her billable hours, I’d better not let my own slip.

The house is a small Victorian terrace, like so many others in the city, and although there are a couple of pretty hanging baskets, the paint on the windowsills is chipped. It might be well-loved, but Caroline’s right, it does need some work.

“Good luck,” I say as she gets out, taking her paint from the back seat. “Sorry if that was a bit odd. I just—I don’t know, I guess I just didn’t want to have lunch on my own.”

“I get it, Emma.” She looks back at me from the pavement. “Sometimes life is hard, isn’t it?”

I nod and almost feel like crying suddenly, so I do my best to smile it away. She starts walking up the tiny path to the front door and I call her back.

“We should swap numbers,” I say. “Maybe I could come over when you’re finished,” she says. “For a wine or a takeaway or something.” I grab my phone from the well. “What’s your number? I’ll text you mine.”

She gives me the digits and I send her a message. I feel betterfor it. I’ve been calmer in the past hour or so than I have since all the shit with my sleep started. There’s something gentle about her, I think. Not harsh like Michelle or cold like Phoebe, or so busy with their own lives like all the other women I know. Like me. Maybe I can be the friendsheneeds?

24.

I’d had music on driving home—Radio 6 for a change—and I’d hummed along to something folk-rocky that I hadn’t heard before and probably never would on my normal Radio 2. With the windows open to let in the summer evening breeze, I’d realized I was in a good mood for the first time in ages.

Now I’m back to earth with a thump. I’d decided to come straight out and ask Robert what he was doing looking around a bar. I’d tried not to make it confrontational, more just curious, but now he’s acting as if I’ve caught him in an affair.

“Are you spying on me?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” I try to laugh. “I bumped into that woman who brought my wallet back and we got talking. She’d seen you and she mentioned it. Nothing sinister.”

“I told Alan I’d go with him, that’s all it was. He’s looking for some new investments. He knows I’m looking to do something more with my future. I’ve had five years of being a stay-at-home dad for the second time and I’m done with it.”

“It was the deal we made,” I say.

“Yes, nearly twenty years ago! I want more than this. I’m tired of being emasculated by you.”

“What is this, the 1980s?”

“It’s not a joke.”

“I can see that.” I take a deep breath. This is getting us nowhere and I may hate the idea of our status quo changing, but it’s clearly more than a passing fad for Robert. And maybe it won’t be so disruptive, especially if it makes him happier. And I do want him to be happy. I wantusto be happy. “So, what is it exactly Alan wants you to do? Design the marketing?”

“No, not quite.”

“What then?”

“He wants me to be a partner. It’ll be our bar. Not just his.” He looks at me defiantly. “Julian, him, and me. My share is fifteen grand and I would put in more of the hours to make up the difference.”

“Fifteen thousand pounds? We don’t have—”

“Yes, we do. We have savings. And Chloe keeps saying she doesn’t want to go to uni for at least a year. So we can take the money out of that pot. If she goes, she can get loans and we can sort them later.”

I can’t believe what I’m hearing. “A bar? I know you’re due a mid-life crisis around now but this is ridiculous. And you’ll put in more of the hours? Does that mean you’ll be out every evening?”

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