Page 26 of The Affair
‘Christ, Connie. That’s awful.’
Connie knew what she’d done was awful, but Jared didn’t seem to fit into real life. He was there, then he wasn’t. The badness was a step removed from tangible guilt. Part of her almost expected her sister to sympathize, after witnessing Devan’s drunken, aggressive behaviour. ‘I know,’ she said. ‘It won’t happen again. I won’t see him again,ever.’ She wouldn’t, she was certain of that.
Lynne was still frowning. ‘What possessed you?’
Connie couldn’t answer. She didn’t know. But ‘possessed’ she had been. ‘Devan doesn’t know, obviously.’
‘Really? I’d never have guessed.’ Lynne grinned mischievously: the first proper smile Connie had seen from her sister all evening.
Connie smiled back. ‘Thanks for rescuing me,’ she said, and this time Lynne gave herself up to Connie’s grateful hug.
10
‘She’s so uptight, your sister.’
Lynne had left early, refusing breakfast, just filling her Thermos-mug with hot black coffee for the journey to Southampton. Connie was sad to see her go. There had been a bond between them this time that had not been apparent in a while. She’d sat with a cup of coffee in the morning sunshine after waving Lynne off, but found she was nagged by tormenting thoughts of Jared in the wake of her confession to her sister. She needed action and quickly drained her cup. Opening the creaking door of the potting shed, breathing in the warm, dusty, earth smell she loved, she’d pulled on her gardening gloves and grabbed her secateurs.
It was nearly eleven when Devan wandered out onto the terrace, clutching a mug of tea, hair dishevelled, still in his pyjama bottoms and a tatty grey T-shirt. He’d clearly just climbed out of bed.
‘Because she noticed you were legless?’ Connie didn’t turn, just kept snipping at the bamboo stalks that had made a run for it from the clump at the bottom of the garden, popping up in the back of the rose bed.
‘I wasn’t “legless”. If I had a bit too much it was because Lynne was there, disapproving of me every time I breathed.’
Connie straightened up, bamboo fronds clutched in one hand, brushing her hair out of her eyes with the back of her gardening glove. It was hot and she was sweating from her exertions. She hadn’t slept well and felt nervy and out of control, worried that somehow things had escalated with Jared at the arrival of the book … and her sister knowing.
Although, she kept telling herself, Jared belonged to Italy, and she wasn’t due for another Italian tour this year. He was hardly going to pitch up in Warsaw.It was just a mad moment.Connie knew she should feel relieved by this certainty, but somehow she did not. ‘Let’s not argue, Devan,’ she said quietly.
Her husband was staring off down the garden. When his gaze returned to her, she saw a softening in his face that matched her own. He gave her a tired smile. ‘Sorry about last night,’ he said.
Later that morning, Connie and Devan drove over to Wells to potter round the outdoor market. The stalls were set up in the square outside the Bishop’s Palace, with all manner of goods, from cheese and home-made pies to silver bracelets and wooden ducks. Connie felt awkward with her husband. It seemed such a long time since they had done that sort of thing together, and she wanted it to be fun, for them to find some common ground again. He hadn’t seemed particularly enthusiastic when she’d suggested a day out so she felt the pressure was on her to make it work.
‘Lunch?’ she asked brightly, when they’d exhaustedthe stalls, buying local goat’s cheese, some spicy sausages and a cotton sweater with a train on it for Bash. ‘I need a sit-down.’
Devan grinned and nodded. ‘The Close?’ It was their favourite restaurant, although they hadn’t been there for over a year now.
When they arrived the place was empty, a sticker on the streaked plate glass of the window saying it had closed down sometime in April.
‘No!’ Connie felt unreasonably disappointed. They stood staring through at the interior, remembering the many lovely meals they had enjoyed there. It had been a romantic spot for them in the past, one they’d chosen for birthdays and anniversaries, the food not fancy, mostly steaks and grilled fish, but beautifully cooked. In her overwrought state it felt like a portent.
‘We could get a hog-roast bun from that stall and sit on a bench?’ Devan suggested half-heartedly. ‘Or find a pub …’
But the joy seemed to have left them. They were two people going through the motions, when really they would have liked just to go home and get on with things separately, reduce the need to avoid topics of conversation that were contentious – Italy, tours, travel of any sort, retirement, her sister, Bill, alcohol consumption. The list was getting ever longer.
‘Maybe get a bun, then,’ Connie agreed, and they trailed wearily back to the market. She had wanted to sit opposite Devan in a quiet place, with a good meal and a glass of wine, so she could talk things throughwith him. But as she walked along the crowded streets, she realized nothing would be solved between them until either she agreed to retire or Devan found something to do that he enjoyed and stopped nagging her about it. And since both scenarios seemed highly unlikely at the moment, there was little point in opening up hostilities again. The best she could hope for was détente. Maybe now Devan was getting out more, his obsession would fade. He might even start investigating the options he’d mentioned, like sailing and the Open University. She could only hope.
Kraków took Connie’s breath away. And temporarily set her free from both Jared and Devan. It was a busy thirteen-day tour, stopping at Berlin, Kraków, Auschwitz and Warsaw, places she’d never seen before.
‘Will you look at that?’ Audrey Mason, from Wisconsin, gasped as the group arrived in the Rynek, Kraków’s huge expanse of market square, clutching Connie’s arm and staring all around in wonder. It was an extraordinary sight, with its elegant medieval townhouses, St Mary’s Basilica to the east, the famous fourteenth-century Cloth Hall.
Their guide today was Mirek, a tall Pole with a blond crew-cut and light blue eyes. Connie was going on all of the tours. Not only was she longing to explore this amazing city, but she also didn’t want time alone. Thinking only made her anxieties screech round her brain, like cars on a racetrack.
By evening, the Rynek looked magical, lit up andglowing, café tables dotting the square, humming with people chatting and strolling in the warm June evening. Tim and Julian, retired teachers from Norwich, both tall and rangy, tanned from regular rambling weekends, asked her to join them for supper. They’d found an outdoor table in a little café tucked into the corner of the square.
‘Na zdrowie!’ Julian raised his shot glass of vodka late in the evening. ‘Here’s to an inspiring tour.’
Tim and Connie followed suit, although Connie had dispensed with the vodka long ago in favour of white wine. But the delicious potato pancakes, the meatypierogiand the vanilla cheesecake – all in portions that would have fed the three of them for a week – were fighting with the alcohol in her stomach and making her feel a bit queasy. She wanted to lie flat on her bed and undo her black jeans, but she couldn’t be rude: they were both so charming.
‘Are you coming tomorrow?’ Tim asked, suddenly sober. He was the quieter of the pair, Julian the talker.
