Getting Even (31 page)

“What do you mean?” She had a creeping suspicion she knew where this was headed.

“I thought you wanted to have a bath.”

“I do.”

“Well, this might take a bit longer than the time it takes to run the water.”

“Oh.”

“D'you want to turn it off? Or talk after?”

“I'll turn it off,” she yielded, and went and did so.

She took a seat on one of the arms of the sofa. Not so near to him as to be overtly intimate; nor so far as to preclude reaching out to him if it might help sway things her way.

“I want a divorce,” he said, without a word of warning.

It was all Ivy could do to remain seated. He'd intimated he wasn't happy before, but never this. Eventually, she stuttered, “Why?”

“
Why?
” He hooted. “Because I live at one end of the country and you at another, we don't see each other for weeks on end and when we do we don't have sex because you never want to. Plus it seems you're happy not to speak to me from one month to the next.”

For once Ivy felt herself flush. “I guess I have been a bit remiss,” she admitted. Russell's words still rang in her ears. I'm about to lose my bonus, my account card, and from now on I'll be on a regular salary … She panicked. What a dreadful time to split with Ed. I must be able to get him to rethink matters. “I'm sure we don't need to do anything quite so rash…”

“I'd hardly call it rash,” Ed corrected. “This has been going on for months, years. It's not the first time I've tried to talk to you about it.”

Better try harder, thought Ivy. She reached out a bare foot and gently began stroking her husband's thigh. “I can make it up to you, I promise.”

To her surprise, he took hold of her foot and stopped her. “That's just it, Ivy. You don't get it, do you?”

Her lips pursed. This was proving tougher than she thought. “Get what?”

“I don't
want
you to make it up to me.”

“Why not?”

He sighed. “Do me a favor. Let's stop pretending. You don't love me anymore, do you? You haven't loved me for years.” He took a sip of whisky. “Sometimes I'm not sure you ever did.”

Ivy recoiled. There was truth in his words, but she couldn't bring herself to acknowledge it. Much as she appreciated the validity of his remarks, she was more appreciative of what her marriage provided in terms of domestic security. Ed had bought the apartment several years back, and she doubted very much he'd let her keep it should they decide to separate. Although Ivy would be entitled to some of the capital if they sold it, between them it was the only major collateral they had.

Eventually he prompted: “Say something.”

“I don't know what to say.”

I should tell him I love him, she thought, it would help. But I don't love him, and I can't bring myself to. There's something about that beard … It's so repulsive, I can't feign interest. The idea of sleeping with him is nauseating.

“Well, if you won't, I will,” Ed continued. “Are you having an affair, Ivy?”

She was flabbergasted, but instinctively rushed to defend herself. “What on earth makes you think that?”

“Because I know you, Ivy, although you might not reckon I do. However much of a cold fish you sometimes seem, I know you can't last long without sex; so if we're not doing it, you must be getting laid somewhere else.” He looked at her; she sensed he was searching for an indication of her feelings.

She turned her head away. She could see steam billowing in the bathroom—the air would soon chill the water if she didn't get a move on. How she yearned to run in, bolt the door, and shut out Ed and his accusations!

“On second thoughts,” he reconsidered, “I'm sure you wouldn't tell me, even if you were. It's not escaped my notice that you can be the most terrific prevaricator when it suits you, so there's not much point in asking. Perhaps it doesn't really matter.”

“
Doesn't matter?!
” Ivy couldn't keep the indignation out of her voice. How could it not matter that I'm sleeping with someone else? What on earth has got into him that he can be so cool and uncaring?

“No. Not really.”

“Why not?”

“Because whether you're having an affair or not, I'm not prepared to be your meal ticket any longer.”

“Huh?”

“Oh, come on, Ivy. We both appreciate that's pretty much all I am to you these days.” For the second time that day, Ivy's mouth opened and shut like a goldfish. “And whether you're having an affair or not, it's irrelevant to me. Because I am.” Her jaw dropped wider still, and stayed wide. “I've started seeing someone else. It's only been a couple of months or so—since I was last here. I attempted to talk to you then—I even tried you at the office as you ignored my other calls, but you promised to call me back later and didn't and I suppose”—he rubbed his beard as he contemplated, ugh—“that's when I gave up on you and me once and for all. It wasn't long after that that things took off between the two of us, though I've known Mary a while…”

Ivy had no wish to hear all this, but she was too astounded to stop him.

Ed continued, almost as if he was enjoying being cruel, “Anyway, she's called Mary, as I say; she lives in Aberdeen. You may as well know the truth. We seem to have fallen for each other. I think I might love her, and I believe she feels the same.”

Again all Ivy could say was, “Oh.”

It's one thing for me not to love him, she thought. It's quite another for him not to love me.

She was hurt, insulted. Ivy was so used to being adored by Ed, albeit from afar, and supported by him, having him do exactly what she wanted, buy her whatever she desired whenever she asked, that jealousy seared through her: she hated Mary at once, purely on principle. And as Ed sat there looking at her, unwavering, Ivy was forced to stretch her powers of analysis to the hilt.

He tried to talk to me that night I rushed off to Orianna's too, she remembered. Is this why he's not called me lately? The reason he's grown a beard? Because he knew I'd hate it? I should have read the signs—what a fool I've been!

Ivy could have kicked herself, yet Ed hadn't finished. “Frankly, if I'm going to be anyone's meal ticket, I want to be Mary's. Though funnily enough, I'm not sure she's that interested in my money.”

“I wouldn't bet on it,” snapped Ivy.

“Not all women are like you.” Ivy could have sworn she heard Ed mutter “Thank God” under his breath. “She's not the materialistic type, and anyway, she's a head teacher—she's got a fairly reasonable income of her own.”

“Can't be much if she's only a teacher.”

“Whatever. There's not much point in arguing. In short, I want a divorce, Ivy. I want a divorce as soon as possible because Mary and I plan on moving in together.”

“But you've only just met—surely you barely know her!”

“No, Ivy. If there's anyone I barely know, it's you.”

Ivy shuddered. There it went: her domestic security, crumbling again, just as it had nearly three decades ago.

 

37. Keep our counsel

As luck would have it, Orianna was sitting a few places from Ursula at the Kettner's office party on January 3. The room was lit by candles, the air thick with chatter—it was the perfect opportunity. Once they'd finished eating she picked up her wineglass and headed over.

“Swap with me, Leon?” she said. “I want to hear all about Australia.” Leon did as he was bid and she lowered herself into his vacant seat. “So how was your trip?”

“Great!” enthused Ursula. “It's a fantastic place. I loved Sydney—and my sister's having an absolute ball. She's not working that hard, I must say, but not everyone's a workaholic like me. You can have such a wonderful standard of living. Personally,” she lowered her voice and leaned near, “I can't understand why anyone would want to leave the place.” She jerked her head in Cassie's direction. “Can you?”

Orianna winced. Contemplating Cassie was hardly where she wished to take the conversation. “I wouldn't know.”

“So what d'ya reckon about…?” Again a flick of eyes toward Cassie. “
Her.
”

“What about her?”

“Being knocked up.”

Orianna started. This was the first time anyone other than Ivy and Cassie had openly spoken of the pregnancy.

“She must be … six, seven months now?”

“Mm.” Caught short, Orianna admitted, “Cassie and I have discussed it, obviously, because her maternity leave will affect the department. The baby's due at the beginning of April.”

“Ahem. Ladies?” It was Gavin, a bottle of red in one hand, white in the other.

Orianna covered the top of her glass. “I won't, thank you.” She wanted to remain sober—she'd been waiting weeks for this.

“Very noble.” Ursula held out her own for a refill. Once Gavin had moved away, she pulled her chair up to Orianna's so the legs were touching. “Though what
really
interests me”—she leaned close; Orianna could feel her breath on her cheek—“is who the father might be.”

Well I never, thought Orianna. Does Ursula truly not know? Ivy's done a great job of keeping it all hush-hush. Bless her.

“Cassie won't say,” lied Orianna. She was too proud to let on she knew herself.

“No, I appreciate
that
. She's being
ever
so secretive about it.”

That's because of me, thought Orianna, but simply said, “I gathered.”

“You must have some idea,” coaxed Ursula.

Orianna felt the sharp dart of pain she suffered every time she thought of Dan. “No, not really…”

“Well,
I
have.”

“What do you mean?”

“I've a
suspicion
,” continued Ursula, her tone betraying shameless delight in discussing someone else's business, “that it could be Leon.”

“LEON?” Such was Orianna's shock like a jack-in-the-box out it popped. Her voice was way too loud.

“Shh.” Ursula put her finger to her lips. “Don't tell the whole agency.”

“Gosh.” Orianna sat back, winded.

“I might be wrong,” acknowledged Ursula, but with the assurance of one who believed she wasn't.

“Gosh,” Orianna repeated. She reached over to the table and poured herself a mineral water to buy a moment to think. She said bluntly, wanting clarification, “She was shagging him, then?”

“Darling Orianna.” Ursula patted her knee. “I know you can be a little naïve, but didn't your mother tell you that's how conception usually occurs?”

Orianna ignored the dig, digesting Ursula's hypothesis. For a brief moment she believed the baby might not be Dan's after all. Indeed, it
would
explain why Cassie had been so reticent to divulge who the father was. “I didn't even know they were seeing each other.”

“I don't know for
definite,
” confessed Ursula, and Orianna's heart sank. It was just hearsay, then. Ursula continued, “It's only that once, when I was in the agency late working downstairs, I went up to the studio to amend some artwork. And I saw them together—I guess they thought they were on their own. Put it this way, it didn't seem very
platonic
to me.”

Orianna had a sudden vision of them caught in flagrante on Leon's desk. “What were they doing?”

Ursula read her mind. “Nothing
that
extreme, and I couldn't be sure, because they were hidden from the doorway by his Mac. As I came into the room they sprang apart, and she pretended to be looking at his screen, but they appeared
ever
so embarrassed. And you know I wouldn't say this if I wasn't positive—it did seem that they'd been snogging.”

“No!”

“And you know what made me doubly certain?” She nudged Orianna conspiratorially. “What
really
gave it away?”

“What?”

“He had lipstick all around his mouth!” she exclaimed in as loud a whisper as she could get away with. “I mean
lipstick
—how tacky is that!”

“Very,” Orianna agreed, thinking: Cassie, a surfeit of makeup, how true to form.

“Though one thing I don't get”—Ursula furrowed her brow—“is why she should be so secretive. If they're going out, what's the big deal?”

“Maybe she doesn't want everyone to know he's the father,” said Orianna.

“Could be.” Ursula nodded. “I wonder why not?” Then she answered her own question. “Maybe when she said she was pregnant, he didn't want to know.”

Yet instinct told Orianna Leon was the honorable type. “Doesn't sound like Leon to me.”

“No, nor me.”

“Mm.” They looked at each other, both frowning now.

After a while … “I've got it!” Ursula clapped her hands.

“What?”

“Maybe…” She took a sip of her wine, taking pleasure in prolonging the expectation. “She doesn't know
who
the father is.”

How
awful,
thought Orianna, struck by misery again. To think that Dan dumped me for this mess. Ugh. She shivered.

“After all, she puts it about a bit.” Unaware of Orianna's distress, Ursula laughed once more. “Still, when it's born we'll know soon enough!”

“Know what?” Both women jumped apart simultaneously as Russell came up behind them and forced his face between theirs. “What are you two chin-wagging about so intensely?”

“Nothing.” Orianna blushed.

“None of your business,” said Ursula curtly.

“You seem thick as thieves.”

“Well, we're not.” Ursula smiled, sarcasm barely veiled. “It's only girls' talk.”