An Autumn Affair (8 page)

With shaking legs, Julia chose the table furthest away from the parking area. Max slid into the seat opposite.

‘I can only stay half an hour,’ she said, suddenly feeling incredibly awkward.

‘That’s okay,’ he said, his soothing tone and the way he regarded her so intently causing Julia’s toes to curl. ‘I’m grateful you’ve come at all.’ Diverting his gaze to the sugar bowl on the table, he added, ‘I’ve thought about you a lot over the last few weeks.’

A sweep of euphoria washed over Julia, which she desperately tried to quell. ‘Have you?’ she asked, silently kicking herself for how lame that sounded.

‘I even dug out some old photos,’ he admitted, his gaze meeting hers again. ‘We had some good times together, didn’t we?’

Julia gulped, her eyes locked on his. ‘Great times.’

For a few moments neither of them said anything as they continued to stare at one another. The moment was broken by the waitress coming to take their order.

‘Anyway,’ said Max, in a much lighter tone as the girl scuttled off. ‘That’s all in the past now. And I don’t suppose you would change a thing. You’ve got your husband and your lovely family.’

‘I have,’ said Julia. She opened her mouth to tell him it was all far from lovely, but promptly shut it again. Whingeing about her boring domestic situation would only make her sound pathetic. And why would Max be remotely interested in any of it?
She
wasn’t even interested in it. Probably because it wasn’t the least bit interesting. She’d much rather ask him questions about his past. ‘So what about you?’ she ventured. ‘Is there anyone special in your life?’

At that moment, the waitress returned with their coffees and Julia held her breath, desperate to know the answer, yet dreading it at the same time.

Max picked up his cup and raised it to his lips before replying. ‘There was someone. Ellie. An American fund manager. Very successful. Very beautiful. Very …’ He broke off. ‘We were together for four years but it didn’t work out.’

‘That’s a shame,’ muttered Julia, thinking it really wasn’t a shame at all. The woman sounded far too … very everything Julia wasn’t.

Max shrugged. ‘Just one of those things, I guess. Nobody’s fault. We just kind of … drifted apart. Work and stuff. You know how it is …’

Julia nodded understandingly, despite the fact she had no idea how it was. The nearest she’d come to being a career girl was delivering newspapers when she was fourteen. ‘Sounds like you’ve had a successful career,’ she said.

Max wrinkled his nose. ‘If you measure success in monetary terms, then yes, I suppose I have. But I can’t honestly say I’ve ever enjoyed my work. You know what I really wanted to be … a history teacher.’ He blurted it out – at exactly the same time as Julia.

They laughed. Their gaze fused and something warm and velvety melted in the pit of Julia’s stomach.

‘You remembered,’ he said, beaming at her. ‘And what about your career ambitions? Did you become an interpreter for the United Nations?’

Julia leaned back in her chair, suddenly feeling at ease. Two decades might have passed since they’d seen each other but this was still the same old Max. The Max she had loved to distraction. ‘I wish,’ she confessed. ‘My career didn’t even get off the starting block.’

Max raised a curious eyebrow.

‘Marriage. The twins. I started going out with Paul in my final year. Fell pregnant just after graduation. Not planned, I hasten to add.’

At Max’s sympathetic expression, words began tumbling from Julia’s mouth. Words, she realised, she’d never vocalised before.

‘I don’t know what happened really. As pathetic as that sounds, I was just so shell-shocked having these two tiny beings relying on me for survival 24/7 that I couldn’t think about anything else. My head was full of semolina until they were about eight. In the meantime, Paul’s career took off and mine fell at the first hurdle.’

‘It’s not too late,’ said Max. ‘You’re still young. You could pick it up again, couldn’t you?’

Julia shook her head. ‘I wouldn’t know where to start. I’ve tried to keep my hand in. Reading Spanish books, listening to Spanish radio via the internet when no one’s around. That kind of stuff. But where to begin turning that into a career, I wouldn’t have a clue.’

‘Yes, you would,’ countered Max. ‘The Julia I knew could have done anything she wanted.’

Julia heaved a heavy sigh. ‘That girl’s long gone, I’m afraid,’

‘Not from where I’m sitting.’

The sincerity of his tone, and the tender way he was looking at her, caused a strange tightening sensation in Julia’s chest. Her breath grew shallow. She glanced unseeing at her watch. ‘I’ve really got to go,’ she said, thrusting herself to her feet.

Max nodded understandingly. He stood up and pulled out a business card from his back pocket. ‘It’s been good to talk.’ He pressed the card into her hand. ‘Give me a call if you’d like to do it again. Or we could go out for dinner.’

Convinced her legs were about to cave beneath her – either that or she was about to have a coronary – Julia took the card and, with shaking hands, shoved it into her handbag. ‘I don’t think so. But thanks,’ she managed to croak.

Julia drove back to Primrose Cottage on automatic pilot, diligently stopping at red lights, allowing a lorry to pull out in front of her, and swerving to avoid a roving pheasant. But she was aware of none of it, her head abuzz, yet again, with thoughts of Max. It really was incredible how, after all this time, he still made her feel so at ease. So special. But, on second thoughts, maybe it wasn’t so incredible after all. Their young, uncomplicated love had been so unique, so precious. And Julia had thrown it all away, based on nothing more than her own insecurities …

‘Do you really think you and Max will still be together when you finish uni?’ her friend Marie asked when the two of them were out shopping just weeks before the start of the university term.

‘Of course,’ replied Julia. ‘Why wouldn’t we be?’

Marie shrugged. ‘Loads of reasons. New people, new interests, that kind of stuff. My cousin, Tracey, had been going out with this guy from being fourteen and they split up after just one term apart.’

At the partaking of this unwanted snippet of information, Julia had the sensation of someone throwing a bucket of ice-cold water all over her. ‘Oh, look at these trousers,’ she exclaimed, desperate to change the subject. ‘I think I’ll try them on.’

Thankfully, the diversion worked and they didn’t return to the matter of Marie’s cousin. Because, as much as Julia attempted to convince herself that she and Max were different – the bond between them earthquake-proof – a small part of her still had doubts.

‘Just because other people split up, doesn’t mean we will,’ Max assured her later that evening, when they were sitting in her back garden. ‘We have something very special.’

‘I know,’ agreed Julia. ‘But you might meet someone better than me. Someone prettier. And certainly cleverer.’

‘In my eyes nobody is prettier or cleverer than you,’ countered Max. ‘So please shut up and pass me those crisps.’

Julia soon settled into life in York. She loved her course and made an effort to join in some of the social activities. But Max was never far from her mind and, without him there, she never felt whole. They saw one another once a fortnight, each taking turns to visit the other, with Julia crossing off the days in-between. She loved it when Max came to York; loved snuggling up in her room, watching TV, content just to be with him.

Cambridge though, was a different matter altogether. Max seemed desperate for her to fit in with his crowd of new friends, but Julia couldn’t shake the feeling they looked down their noses at her.

‘They’re a bit snobby here, aren’t they?’ she remarked to Max the first time she visited.

‘They’re not that bad,’ he batted back. ‘They’re actually all right once you get to know them.’

But Julia didn’t want to get to know them. And they made it perfectly clear they didn’t want to get to know her.

Then, twice in the Easter term, when Max was supposed to visit her in York, he called off.

‘Snowed under with work, Ju. You don’t mind, do you?’

‘Of course not,’ she replied.

But Julia did mind. Very much. The rot, she convinced herself, had set in.

She made herself ill stewing on it. Couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, lost all interest in her course, and couldn’t be bothered socialising.

‘Are you okay?’ Max asked concernedly when they spoke on the phone.

‘Fine. Honestly,’ she lied. Because she didn’t want to have the conversation on the phone. She wanted – and needed – to speak to him face-to-face.

So, when she could stand it no longer, on a weekend when they’d no plans to see each other, she impulsively jumped on a train to Cambridge. She knew Max had a rugby match that weekend, so she headed straight for the pub where the players usually ended up after a game. And there he was. A long streak of mud on his left cheek, his hair sticking up all over the place, looking completely adorable. Surrounded by his team-mates, the group interspersed with several coltish blonde girls, Julia observed them for a while as they laughed and joked and handed round drinks. Max looked so happy. So content. So completely at ease. This was where he belonged. With all these beautiful, clever people in Cambridge. Not cooped up watching TV with her. She’d bet he couldn’t wait to get back down here after a weekend in York. No wonder he’d cried off the last couple of times. She’d never felt good enough for him. Never quite believed, even after all this time, that she’d been the one he really wanted. Now, though, not only did she feel completely out of his league, but also that their relationship must be stifling him, holding him back.

Julia slipped out of the pub unseen, and sought out a relatively quiet café. Cradling a cup of coffee, she sat in the corner deliberating over what to do. If this was the beginning of the end of their relationship, then she’d rather make a clean break of it. Get it over with in one fell swoop rather than dragging it out, wondering each time Max was due to visit if he would cry off again. Wondering if, all the time he was with her, he was wishing he was back in Cambridge. She sucked in a deep breath and leaned back in her chair, her gaze landing on a middle-aged, grey-haired couple at the other side of the room. They both had a pot of tea and a scone in front of them, and in-between drinking and nibbling, neither of them said a word. A depressing thought hit Julia with all the force of an atomic bomb. Would that be her and Max in a few years’ time? Or were they already like that – an old married couple well before their time? After all, in sixth form they’d pretty much always been on their own. Were they missing out on their youth? Would they look back in years to come and regret not making more of what should have been the best years of their lives? Had Max already realised that, which was why he didn’t want to come to York any more?

Panic coursing through her veins, Julia slammed a handful of change down on the table and stumbled out of the café, her heart racing, her mind made up. She had to finish it with Max. For both their sakes. And she had to be firm. She knew Max too well. He wouldn’t want to hurt her. He’d insist everything was fine; that she was talking rubbish; making mountains out of molehills; looking for problems where there weren’t any. While deep down, she had no doubt he’d be breathing a huge sigh of relief.

Taking a few minutes to compose herself, she headed once again to the pub. And this time directly over to him.

‘Ju!’ he exclaimed on seeing her. ‘What are you doing here? What a lovely surprise.’

The expression on the face of the flaxen-haired beauty next to him told Julia she thought otherwise.

Max, though, didn’t seem at all fazed. ‘I hope you’re staying over tonight. There’s a huge party at one of the houses down the road later.’ He reached out an arm and pulled her to him. ‘It’s great to see you,’ he gushed, planting a kiss on the top of her head.

Despite all the bustle around them, and the icy glare of the flaxen maiden, Julia thought she might burst into tears.

‘Can we, um, go somewhere and talk,’ she stammered.

A wave of concern washed over Max’s mud-streaked, handsome face. ‘Of course. Is everything all right?’

Julia couldn’t reply.

They weaved their way out of the crowded pub and found an empty bench around the corner.

‘You’ve got me worried now,’ said Max, taking hold of her hand the moment they sat down. ‘Something’s wrong isn’t it? You’re not ill, are you?’

Julia shook her head as tears began streaming down her cheeks. ‘No. I’m not ill. It’s nothing like that.’

‘Then what is it?’ he pressed, reaching across and brushing the tears from her face. ‘Is it me? Have I upset you in some way?’

‘I think we should break up,’ she blurted out.

The expression on Max’s face was one of utter dismay. ‘Break up? B … but why? Have you met someone else?’

‘Of course not,’ she snapped, amazed that he could even think such a thing. ‘I just feel that we’re too young to be in such a serious relationship.’

Max gawped at her for what seemed like an eternity before saying, ‘But I thought we were happy together. I thought we had something really special.’

‘We do … we did. But we shouldn’t be talking about marriage and stuff at our age. We should be enjoying ourselves.’

‘We do enjoy ourselves. I love being with you.’

‘What? In my room? Watching telly?’

‘Yes. I love being in your room watching telly.’

Julia shook her head. ‘No, you don’t. You’d much rather be with your mates down here. Playing rugby and going to the pub. And so you should. That’s normal. Us acting like an old married couple isn’t.’

Max sucked in a deep breath and reached for her hand again. ‘What’s brought all this on, Ju?’

Julia shrugged as she fumbled around in her bag, eventually producing a tissue. ‘I don’t want to discuss it, Max. I know you’ll try and talk me out of it, but deep down you know it’s the best thing for both of us.’

*****

‘Mum, I know it’s short notice and everything, but would you mind if I had a party for my eighteenth?’

Wandering into the kitchen, Miranda came to an abrupt standstill. She gawped at her daughter sitting at the central island; her beautiful daughter on the verge of a landmark birthday. A birthday Miranda had completely forgotten about. A sharp jab of self-hatred landed in the centre of her chest, almost causing her to topple off her heels. Of all the self-absorbed, self-centred, narcissistic … She could go on but what, frankly, was the point? In depressing summary, she was a terrible mother and a selfish cow. She looked at Josie, who gazed back at her so expectantly, that tears began burning the back of Miranda’s eyes. She might have morphed into the worst mother in the world, but Josie was still the most brilliant daughter. Clever, hard-working, independent, caring, and not the least bit demanding. In fact, with the exception of this perfectly reasonable request for a birthday party, Miranda would have been hard-pushed to recall the last time Josie had asked for anything. The girl seemed perfectly content with her life; secure in herself; happy with who she was. States with which, Miranda suddenly realised, she’d never been acquainted. And, having spent almost a quarter of a century unsure of her place in the world, states she envied. Adding to the cocktail of emotions already surging through her veins, a sudden tsunami of weariness crashed over her, causing her legs to weaken. Making a clumsy bolt for the island, she sank down on one of the stools opposite her daughter.