Page 53 of A Midlife Marriage

He did mean Alex. As she turned back to face him, she pressed her lips together. There was no point in denying what he had said, no point in offering words of comfort or mitigation. He had failed.

Neither of them spoke. She watched as the men by the window stood, scooping phones and keys, downing pints. Faces easy with laughter, all of them with full heads of hair.

‘You made it,’ Martin said.

‘Made what?’ She turned.

‘The bus.’ He smiled. ‘You got up in time. You always did.’

Kay shrugged. ‘Well as you said, it was cold ––’

‘No.’ He shook his head, his voice low. ‘Don’t make excuses for me, Kay. I don’t do it for myself. Not anymore. That’s why I stick to this.’ And he picked up his Coke.

Kay didn’t speak. The years following her divorce had been a quagmire of hurt and disappointment, and at times she had honestly believed she would never feel happy again. But she had. Oh, so slowly, she had begun to find herself on stable ground, woken up, gone about her day and, looking at the clock, realised that she hadn’t thought about him once. It was a lonely and inhospitable place, the place she had dragged herself out of, and she had no desire to go back. What was there to discover anyway? That the man that she had loved had proved to be a disappointment? He was right. She shouldn’t make excuses.

Holding her glass at her lips, she stared across the room. Was that really the whole truth? Or was it just the assessment she had made at the time, and nurtured ever since: a stand formed from the front-row seat of a marriage in crisis? Sixteen years furtheraway and no matter how she tried to focus in, her perspective had changed, and the view of the stage on which they had moved around each other was different. Alex, she could see so clearly now, had filled her up. From the moment of his birth, he had filled her every sense. There hadn’t been room for a husband. She hadn’t – and this was something she’d had a long time to think about – always wanted one. ‘Why did you match with me,’ she said as she put her glass down. ‘Why are you here, Martin?’

For a long moment he looked at her. ‘I wanted to talk to you again,’ he said quietly. ‘It was always so easy.’

Her eyes filled with tears. ‘You could have picked up the phone.’

‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘We both know I couldn’t have done that.’

Kay nodded. The extent of their communication for many years had been nothing more than an occasional text, and odd as it was this was probably the only way. How sad then. How sad in this lonely world, that two people who had once been so easy in each other’s company, should become so estranged. ‘Are you hungry?’ It was a question that surprised her, as much as it obviously did him.

‘I could eat,’ he said slowly. ‘There’s a nice ––’

‘How about my place?’

He blinked. ‘Your place?’

Kay shrugged. ‘Alex is out. He’s always out these days. And I have a fridge full of home-made macaroni cheese. Why not?’

37

Alone now, Helen checked her phoneagain. No new messages. She put it down and picked up her drink. Caro had left. She’d wanted to get back, call Tomasz, and get some sleep, something Helen suspected she hadn’t had much of lately. So here she was, an hour later, agitated, bored and, as she was driving, sober. She’d sipped her way through another Diet Coke, tried reading another chapter of her book, (hopeless without her reading glasses), and scrolled aimlessly through every social media account she had. She was filled to the gills with artificial sweetener and increasingly sad. The young people around her made her feel nostalgic, the look on Caro’s face earlier, left her worried and, now that she was on her own, the awful image of Libby dropping her head on the table and begging her not to go was more vivid, more real than the day it had happened. She was all out of options, unable to distract herself from a memory, she didn’t want to remember. Not so much because she had been the cause of her daughter’s tears, but because of the way in which she had stopped them.

‘I won’t go,’ she’d said. ‘I won’t take the job.’

So easy to say to Libby, so impossible to repeat to anyone else, let alone Fiona Chambers, to whom she had written a long, overly apologetic and repetitive email.

Can I just ask for some time to think about this? she’d said in seven different ways.There are a few things I’d like to discuss with my family.

To which Fiona had – generously – responded:Of course. Take some time, Helen. Christian and I totally understand. It’s a big decision.

She stretched her arms out, linking her fingers together as she flexed her wrists. Now that she had had that time, she was still no nearer to being able to send any kind of follow-up email. EitherI would love to accept/ I’m so excited …OrI’m so sorry but/ Under the current circumstances I feel unable …

Current circumstances. Her smile was rueful. How long would they last, these circumstances that were not circumstances at all, but were responsibilities? The rest of her natural life? She would have liked to have talked to Caro, had been planning to talk to Caro, but Caro’s news had been a torpedo, blowing every other topic of conversation out of the water, and thinking this Helen looked up and across the square. There was no doubt in her mind that in urging Caro to say nothing she had done the right thing. Her own adultery, the brief holiday fling she had had in Cyprus, had been the symptom of a marriage in terminal decline. It was something she hadn’t felt guilty about at the time and didn’t now. What had happened to Caro was … Frowning, Helen picked up her straw and stirred the inch of Diet Coke left. Whathadhappened to Caro? She had become accustomed to the air of confidence and authority in her friend, the polish and smoothness of a high-maintenance routine. But what she had never seen, and Kay had said as much, was the glow Caro had acquired since meeting Tomasz. Caro had become a woman who, because she was desired, was desirable.That’s what had happened to her. And a desirable woman, Helen thought as she finished her drink, is a powerful woman. And newly acquired power is always hard to control. On the table her phone buzzed.

Hi. Goose is going to drive me home.

NO!

Helen banged out the text.

You really don’t need to worry. It turns out we know each other.

Well enough for him to drive you home? Are you sure?

---