A Spring Affair (30 page)

Phil did something he rarely did that Sunday morning, namely check the messages on the home answering machine. It seemed it was the only way to find out what his so-called wife was up to these days. He stared in abject disbelief at the phone as a shaky old voice said, ‘
Hello, this is Mrs Alice Wilkinson. Would you please give me a ring back on this number as I am interested in a consultation?’

What the hell else was Lou doing now? Plastic pissing surgery? Not only had he to make his own Sunday breakfast but the papers hadn’t arrived either. Lazy swine of a paper boy. And there wasn’t anything resembling a joint or a fowl in the fridge. Where had Lou said she was going? ‘Out’ was all she said on her way–
out!
Then again, she was probably annoyed that he was getting in later and later at night and sleeping in the spare room, but it hadn’t had the effect on her that he had hoped for. She should have been wringing her hands with worry, falling over herself to seduce his attentions back to her, but–bold as brass–she appeared to be playing him at his own game. There wasn’t even any evidence that she’d made him a meal last night to come in to. There were no
pans on the hob, nothing in the microwave, the oven was cold and the bin was empty.

He didn’t want to sleep with Sue Shoesmith, but it was looking like he might have to go that far to prove his point. And Lou would have only herself to blame if he did.

Lou savoured the last of her buttery toast.

‘Your bakery makes some cracking bread, Gladys,’ she said.

‘Thank you,’ beamed Gladys. ‘We haven’t gone down the cheap route but we survive very well. Not everyone thinks of price before quality, thank goodness.’

‘And long may those people reign,’ smiled Lou. ‘So, are you ready for the next round of clutter-clearing?’

‘As I’ll ever be!’

‘Come on then, flower.’

They went upstairs into Gladys’s dressing room–the penultimate step before the big one. Even at her age, Gladys had clothes hanging there she would never fit into again. The dress she wore to her Ruby Wedding celebration that she hadn’t put on since and the gown she wore as a bridesmaid for her best friend’s wedding over fifty years ago were the first to go on the charity shop pile and were quickly joined by more outdated separates and a Norma Desmond turban. Gladys started to panic.

‘But look how much more room there is in your wardrobe now,’ said Lou, accentuating the positive. ‘Every single item in here now is something you use.’ And Gladys had to concede that she was right.

Gladys had two drawers full of loose photographs that
she had been meaning to put in an album for years, but never had.

‘I think I can get rid of a lot of these,’ she said. She lifted one up and beamed at it. ‘Not this one though. Look, this is my Bernie. Wasn’t he lovely?’

Bernie was tall and straight with a big nose and a big smile. He wasn’t classically handsome but the appeal was obvious in his cheery face.

‘This is him and me at Blackpool, on our honeymoon. We had barely two pennies to rub together then.’ She handed it over to give Lou a closer look. Bernie had his arm circled around a young, rounded, big-busted Gladys and they were both grinning blissfully at the camera. Gladys lifted another.

‘And this is him and me just before our Golden Wedding on a cruise. That’s the Rock of Gibraltar behind us.’ The couple in the photo were standing just as closely together as on the previous picture, his arm was still circling her much-enlarged waist, and they were wearing those same smiles.

‘You look happy,’ said Lou quietly.

‘Happy doesn’t even touch it, sweetheart,’ said Gladys. ‘I loved him from the first moment I saw him, you know. Even though these scientists say that’s not possible, let me tell you it is! We had such fun. We were always laughing together. Of course, like any married couple, we had our moments. But the making up was always very nice.’

She slid back into a particular memory that gave her joy, but it was a private moment and, from the look on her face, probably a saucy one too.

‘He called me Parrot,’ she confided with a chortle.
‘On our first date I wore a hat with feathers on and the name just stuck.’

‘Did you have a name for him?’ asked Lou with a smile.

‘Well I did, but I couldn’t possibly tell you without you thinking I was a mucky old lady.’

Lou threw back her head and laughed.

‘Look at him there,’ said Gladys, handing Lou a picture of a much thinner and older man, drawn and pale in a dark blue suit. ‘That was at our son’s wedding–the last do he went to. Do you know, he made my heart beat just as fast on that day as it did when we were first courting. Oh, he did look good in a suit, even when the illness took hold and he got that thin. As we were posing for that picture he said to me, “Gladys, my love, I’ve never met a woman that was as bonny as you in my whole life”. He said that to me, looking like this! He was such a gentleman; never treated me like anything less than a queen,’ and she laughed and swept her hands over her large frame. A big wet tear landed on the photo, but it didn’t come from Gladys’s eye.

‘Sorry,’ mumbled Lou.

‘Whatever’s the matter, love?’ said Gladys, coming to put her arm around the younger woman.

‘Nothing,’ swallowed Lou, quickly recovering. ‘Come on, let’s crack on with this room and finish it before I go.’

Sometimes other people’s rubbish held more answers for you than your own, thought Lou.

Phil had bravely made himself a cheese sandwich and was eating it in the lounge. He was pleased to see that Lou was very quiet when she came in. Obviously she wasn’t
as unaffected by his antics as she pretended to be then. Good–his cold-shoulder treatment was working. He might not have to sleep with Sue Shoesmith, after all. He still didn’t really want to. He just wanted to herd things back into line again, but it was taking a lot longer to do that this time.

‘I’ll make some pasta,’ said Lou, going straight into the kitchen after she had taken off her jacket.

‘That would be lovely, Lou,’ he said, warmly delivering the words, just to add a bit of variety to the mix.

He had staged his phone quite specifically on the worktop after erasing all of Sue’s saucy messages, but left a couple of tame ones there to set Lou thinking–if, as he imagined, he had driven her to take a sneaky peek at his in-box.

Just as she was supposed to, Lou spotted the phone immediately. She checked Phil’s position and, assured he was settled in his armchair, reached for it. Then again, she knew he had left it there deliberately so there could only be something there that was meant to hurt her–some stupid faked message to make her believe there was another woman sniffing around him. So she put it back again. She poured some pasta in a pan and chopped vegetables for the sauce, her eyes drawn to that phone, however much she tried to resist its lure.
What if he hadn’t left his phone there deliberately?
she started to think.
What if it was just a happy accident? Maybe this was a golden opportunity to stop the annoying questions in her head. Just one quick peek
…
go on! Find out once and for all if there really was another woman on the scene.
Her hand reached tentatively out.

With a heartbeat pounding in her head, Lou picked
up his phone and pressed the message in-box button. There were four messages from Sue BRGE.
A pet name. Another Sue.
She knew instinctively it must be the woman who came into the showroom looking like a younger Lou with her green eyes. Is that what the last two letters stood for–
Green Eyes
? Lou felt her stomach muscles clench as the smoke of her imagination started to solidify into fact. She checked behind her again; Phil was still reading the paper. Actually he wasn’t, he was just holding it up in front of his face, shaking it periodically to make ‘don’t mind me, I’m still sitting here reading the newspaper’ noises, his ear picking out the pronounced silence in the kitchen as a clear indication that Lou was looking at his messages.

HELLO THERE YOU
said the first message.

THX
4
EVERYTHING
said the second.

HAVE A G
8
DAY
said the third.

SENDING YOU A SMILE X
said the fourth.

But Phil had not considered that Sue might send him a new message. The phone rumbled in Lou’s hand, causing her almost to drop it in shock. She opened the new mail quickly before the tinkly alert went off and when she read it, it told her everything she needed to know.

Lou waited for the anaesthetic of shock to clear and then for her to be plunged into that dark hellish place. She waited for her hand to come to her mouth to stifle cries of panic, she waited for her eyes to be flooded with a damburst of tears, she waited for her legs to carry her at a pace into the lounge, she waited for her voice to demand answers as to why some woman was writing porn to her husband. But surprisingly, none of those things happened.

As she read the text, she realized her head had just caught up with a fact that her heart had apparently known for some time now: her marriage was dead. Yes, it had survived the affair with Susan Peach, but it had been mortally wounded in the battle and somewhere along the line, though she couldn’t quite pinpoint the moment, it had taken its last breath. And still she had clung faithfully, devotedly, hopefully onto it, as she had clung onto so much dead but familiar rubbish.

Lou deleted the message, put the phone down exactly in the place she had found it and picked up a wooden spoon. She was strangely calm as she stirred up the smoked salmon, dill, avocado and cream and tossed it in with the cooked penne, the garlic, onions, green peppers, ground cracked black pepper and herb salt. Phil abandoned his half-eaten cheese sandwich for it and, though he didn’t comment on how delicious it was, he feasted on second helpings. The glazed look on his wife’s face had given him a healthy appetite. There was no pudding, but he was quite full anyway and in the mood for Stilton, port and a big fat celebratory cigar.

Lou was at the sink when he came in for a refill of port. She saw him in the reflection of the window. He was looking out into the garden, the cigar clenched in his teeth.

‘I think I might get some koi carp for the pond,’ he said, and Lou immediately knew when the crippled heart of her marriage had stopped beating. The little, fatal thought that had lain dormant since the night of her birthday, fluffed up its wings and flew slowly across the front of her mind, and she knew that the death certificate
of their relationship would bear that date. She had seen it then, but not recognized it. She and Phil were Fat Jack and Maureen waiting to happen. Host and parasite. Two strangers.

There were no tears as Lou lay alone in bed that night. Maybe her mind was in shock. Maybe she had cried so much in advance of this moment throughout the past three years that she did not need the comfort of fresh tears now. She slept soundly and dreamlessly, peacefully even.

The next morning, she was aware of Phil’s cheerful getting ready for work routine as if she was watching and hearing everything through cottonwool. She even answered his cheery, ‘Bye!’ with an equally cheery one of her own. She set off for Gladys Serafinska’s quite calmly and was totally in control as they shared tea and thickly buttered toast. Then they finally went up into Bernie’s dressing room.

There were quite a few tears in store that day for Gladys, but none for Lou, who felt as if her emotions had gone into hibernation, until the climate was right for them to emerge again. Emotions had no place in what Lou had to do now–she needed her head for that, not her heart. The two women bagged up Bernie’s beautiful suits ready to be taken to the charity shop. One of the bakery lads carried the heavy stuff downstairs, loaded it
into his van and took it away to the Cancer Research shop. When it was all done and the empty space had been washed down and Gladys Serafinska had cried her last, she hugged Lou and pressed a thick wad of banknotes into her hand. Lou felt guilty taking it and her expression obviously reflected this.

‘You’ve earned every penny of this, lass,’ said Gladys. ‘I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t gone through these last few days myself. It’s been an experience and a half for me, a fantastic cleansing experience. I thought it would totally weaken me, but the opposite has happened. Do you know, I feel stronger than I have done for a long time. And I don’t feel any further away from Bernie just for letting his things go, like I thought I would. I don’t know why I didn’t let them go before. He was the sort of man who would want someone to benefit from what he’d left; he wouldn’t have wanted me to make a shrine for him. I feel so
light
. Me, light–imagine!’ Her chins wobbled as she laughed. ‘Thank you, Lou,’ and she kissed her sweetly on the cheek.

‘You really have been giving out my name,’ said Lou, with a feeling akin to pride. ‘I’ve had phone calls.’

‘I hope you don’t mind,’ said Gladys. ‘I think you’re wonderful. Please contact Alice in particular; she could really do with your help.’

‘I will, I promise,’ said Lou, ‘but first I need to do some more clearing out for myself.’

She knocked on the bakery door and Deb waved her over, holding up five fingers, then disappeared to get her bag and coat. Within five minutes, she had set the alarm and locked the door behind her.

‘Hiya,’ she said. ‘Have you finished sorting out our Glad then?’

‘I have,’ said Lou. ‘Got time for a quick drink?’

‘Thought you’d never ask. Come on.’

They went across the road to the
Bonny Bunch of Bluebells
. It was a clean, if battered-looking place, with just a handful of after-work drinkers enjoying a slow pint.

‘I’ll get these,’ said Lou, turning to the barman. ‘A brandy, no ice thanks, and a—’

‘Diet Coke,’ said Deb, looking wide-eyed at Lou. ‘Brandy? At this time?’

‘Yes, I need one,’ said Lou.

‘I didn’t know you drank brandy.’

‘I don’t.’

Deb noticed Lou’s hand was shaking as she carried the brandy balloon to a darkened booth in the corner.

‘Lou, what’s up?’

‘Phil’s having an affair,’ Lou said without emotion.

Deb sucked in her breath. In part she felt relief that the grubby little secret was out before she could be linked to it in any way this time. ‘How do you know?’ she asked softly.

‘I’ve had my suspicions for a while, but yesterday Phil left his mobile out–deliberately, of course. There was nothing on it, just a few tame messages from some woman called Sue. But another message came up whilst I was holding it. I don’t think he’d allowed for that to happen.’

‘What did it say?’ asked Deb tentatively.

Lou told her.

‘The bastard!’ was Deb’s only comment. The message
had left no room for misinterpretation; there was nothing that could be rationalized away. Her instinct was to hug Lou, but her friend looked so stiff–brittle, even–as if she would shatter into a million pieces if Deb so much as touched her.

‘What…what are you going to do?’

Lou took a swig of the brandy and her face squeezed up in disgust. Deb poured some of her Coke over it.

‘That’ll taste better, if you must drink it. Try that.’

Lou drank some; it was better, still not good though, but she needed that warm hit of alcohol because inside she felt frozen solid.

‘You will come and stay with me for a bit,’ said Deb.

‘You’ve got one bedroom, Deb, and I think you did your fair share of babysitting last time.’

‘I’m your friend,’ said Deb gently, reaching out for Lou’s hand. Lou gripped it tight but she showed no signs of being anything but in control.

‘Yes, and you are the best friend I could possibly ever have, but…’ She looked at Deb’s kind, worried face and knew immediately what she was thinking. ‘Don’t worry, Deb, this time it’s different. I know our marriage is over. There are things I need to do and I need to do them alone. It’s the only way I’ll get through this.’

‘OK,’ said Deb, touching Lou’s cheek with soft fingers, like a mother preparing to let a child stand on its own two feet but still on full alert to catch it if it fell. ‘I’m here if you want me.’

‘I know. And I have our lovely café to look forward to. Last time I ran away from it instead of running towards it. I won’t make that mistake again.’

Sue Shoesmith was crying.

‘Phil, please don’t finish this. I think I love you.’

Oh fuck, that’s all I need, thought Phil. He gripped her hand even though his instinct was to make his excuses and leave. He supposed he owed her an extra five minutes. After all, she had been instrumental in the saving of his marriage.

‘Sue,’ he said tenderly. ‘I can’t do this any more. I am still a married man and it just doesn’t feel right.’

‘But you don’t love her and you’re going to get a divorce after Christmas.’

In your dreams, sister. This time next week I’ll be stuffed full of lamb and loving
. ‘I’m not sure I can give you my best, and you deserve the best, darling.’

‘I don’t care.’

Oh God
! It was like trying to pull your welly–or rather ‘willy’ in this case–out of a lake full of treacle and Superglue.

‘I’m confused and I don’t want to hurt you.’

‘I’ll wait.’

For fuck’s sake! She was Limpet Woman. Her nails were digging into his skin. They’d actually left moon-marks! She was going to draw blood in a minute. When was his last tetanus shot?

‘I’m sorry, Sue. You will thank me for this one day. I’m doing this for you more than me.’

He stood to go but she held on firm. He kissed her on the top of her head.

‘Please don’t cry, love. Don’t throw your self-respect away on me or anyone, do you hear? You are worth so much more. Goodbye, and thank you for bringing some sweetness and light into my life. I’ll miss you more than you will ever know.’

He extricated himself with a sharp tug and she collapsed onto the pub-table like a puppet with its strings severed. Phil made a hasty exit whilst her head was in her hands. The blast of cold Monday-night air as he opened the door hit him like a fresh morning shower. He was free.

Lou looked around her house and made a mental list. Clothes, make-up, treasure box, shoes, handbags, laptop, the recipe books, umbrella, radio alarm, couple of toilet rolls, some blankets. She streamlined it to basic essentials and the barest of emotional possessions. She wouldn’t die if she didn’t take her lovely dining-room curtains–they were just ‘things’ and she could buy more ‘things’. She couldn’t buy back what it would cost her to stay.

She made Phil venison for tea. Beautiful dark red slices with herby shallots and sweet potatoes and green beans sautéed with walnuts. It was even better than her lamb. She made chocolate and hazelnut sponge pudding with Chantilly cream which dribbled down Phil’s chin as he devoured it with the greed of an all-conquering hero celebrating his final victory. She served him brandy and coffee and then, while she was clearing up, he went to sleep in the spare room for the very last time.

Tomorrow, Phil thought happily, he would smile at her and open his arms and she would run into them and everything would be back to wonderful normality with no more of this silly nonsense. The war was over–and he had won. Now he had all the spoils to look forward to.

Lou clicked the dial on the dishwasher for the last time.
Then, taking a coffee into the study, she logged onto the computer.
Your home is a mirror that reflects what is going on in your life
, reminded the words she had put on her screensaver. Well, once upon a time her home was cluttered and confused, but now it was clear and organized. Lou did what she had to do. It was two o’clock in the morning when she logged off and went up to bed.