Love Is a State of Mind: Nobody's Life is Perfect (13 page)

Hi Jane,

Sorry I haven’t been in touch for ages.  How are you two?  I saw some pics on Facebook the other day and you both look well, as always!  Have you decided to sell your house?  I know you were thinking of it?

The reason I haven’t been in touch is because I’ve had a horrible few weeks.  David’s left me and set up home with a fellow teacher and her daughter.  I know … it’s a shock.  David seems like the last person to do something like that.  Anyway, it’s happened and I’ve had a lot to deal with.  Adam and Holly are upset, as you can imagine – Adam’s now left for his gap year and is in Sydney!  I didn’t tell you before now as he and his friend Jake were very vague about their arrangements.  Not sure if he plans to come your way – I’ll warn you if he is!  Holly’s been brilliant, so supportive..

You can imagine how it is, working in the same school as them – I’ve decided I’ve got to leave.   Holly and I have come up with a plan.  I’m going to retire – I know you never thought much of my choice of career and to be honest, neither have I!  I’ve never felt comfortable teaching; it’s just a shame it’s taken something like this to make me face reality.  The one good thing is I’ve got a pension, which I can take early and I’m going to give in my letter at the beginning of term and leave at Christmas.

Ever since you went to Oz, I’ve dreamt of coming out and visiting you.  What I would love to do, is come out after Christmas, maybe March time, when I’ve had a chance to sort my life out.  David wants to sell the house, so he can get a bigger place (they live in a tiny flat at the moment - my heart bleeds!) and if I’m honest, I know we’ll have to sell eventually to sort out the finances.  I’m thinking of going to live in Bath – what do you think?

Anyway, if that would be possible, I’d love to come out for a few weeks.  Have a think.  I know you both work – you could just ignore me and I’ll have a meal ready for you, in the evening?!

Let me know your thoughts.  What’s the weather like in Adelaide in March?  It would be so lovely to have the sun, the beach and a change of scene to look forward to.

Love, Anna xx

I press send, before I can question myself.  If I did, I’d agonise over every aspect of my plan and I don't want to.  I email Laura and ask if I can come and stay for a few days down in Cornwall – I feel like I’m inflicting my single self on people, but the thought of hanging out at home until term starts, is rather horrifying.  Laura suggested it at the airport, so I don’t feel too guilty.  It’s only when you’re on your own that you realise that unless you organise things you could spend days, weeks even, without really seeing anyone.  As a couple, you’re in a little bubble of companionship and if you don’t see other people it doesn’t matter; you have each other.

I slam the laptop closed and click the off button on the remote.  The silence envelops me; it’s as if the house itself has developed a dislike of the lifeless atmosphere within it.  All the fun, all the laughter has drained away, leaving me with the buzzing of nothingness in my ears.  Gaz has still got his back resolutely towards me; I call his name and my voice echoes round the room.  He can’t resist – he lifts his head and gently wags his tail.  “Come on, old boy.  I always said you couldn’t …  but would you like to sleep upstairs tonight?”

He gets up and follows me around as I check everything – I think how David used to laugh at me for what he calls
shaking the electricity cables to make sure they’re completely off
.  Ha ha, David, you were always such a wag.

This part of being alone I hate – the TV is now a blank screen and is no longer companionably cheery; I check the doors are locked, wriggling the handles to double check.  I turn off the downstairs lights and make my way up the dimly lit stairs, to the ever present silence that awaits me at the top.  I’m grateful to Gaz as he pads up the stairs behind – he takes a running leap onto the bed and lies as still as possible, hoping I won’t notice him.  “Don’t worry, you can stay,” I say to him, as I go through my routine of cleansing and teeth brushing.

I love you, even if nobody else does,
he says to me, pandering to my feelings of utter loneliness.  It seems worse, being here alone, having been in London with Holly.  I can’t rely on her to provide me with entertainment – I’ve got to start enjoying my own company and making a life for myself.

I get into bed and put my feet under Gaz’ big warm body; he starts licking his paws and I ask him politely to stop.  “Could you do your ablutions somewhere else?” I say and he gives me a filthy look as if to say,
Did I complain when you were flossing?

I check Facebook on my phone.  Nothing more from Adam.  I imagine him floating helplessly on a surf board, far out to sea, with just marauding sharks for company.

No email replies.  I text Holly: 
Thank you for a fantastic weekend.  Loved it.  Gaz sends his love (he’s on my bed – both of us very happy with the situation!)  Speak soon, Mum x

I turn off my light and wait for sleep to come, feeling comforted by Gaz’ rhythmical breathing.  My phone beeps and I reach for it in the dark.  Holly. 

Loved the weekend too.  Give Gaz a big kiss from me.  Dogs are such good company – I wish he was on my bed!  Sleep well,  Love you.  Holly xx

I close the phone, the darkness is even blacker than before.  A distant car roars down the road; I imagine teenagers driving too fast, as the engine noise fades into the distance.  Then silence … except that Gaz is now snoring. 

Chapter Twelve

The summer holidays plod on – how come six weeks feels like an eternity?  There’s only a certain amount of housework you can do; never one for doing much anyway, I realise that the house stays miraculously tidy when there’s only you to mess it up.  Gaz is a pretty tidy chap, apart from his black hairs that accumulate under chairs.  So, having hoovered and dusted, there’s no more to do; no more clutter that Adam’s left lying around, no more stuff that David’s just dumped on the kitchen table.  I used to complain about their ability to make a room look as if someone had held a car boot sale in it – now I wish I had something to complain about.

Laura emailed back the next day and I’ve arranged to go there next week.  One of the cottages is free and although they don't usually allow dogs, she says I can bring Gaz.  I was rather hoping I could stay in their house, but as she didn’t suggest it, I’ve got to be grateful.  The thought of being in a holiday place on my own at night though, is daunting.

Jane’s email also came the next day.  This is what she said:

Hi there,

God, what a bastard!  I can’t believe it, neither can Marcus.  You two always seemed so happy together. 
(We were, that’s the whole point!) 
All I can say is it must be a mid-life crisis or something – although it’s a bit late for that, isn’t it?
(Thanks for reminding me how old we are.)
 

You must feel lost after so many years with him.  And the kids gone too.  Don’t rush into anything but yes, I think retiring is a great idea.  You’ve got years of life ahead of you to do something else, if you want.  And sell the house when you’re ready, not when he wants you to.  Bath is a fantastic city – maybe a new start would be good?

We’d love to see you out here and March would be okay.  The weather would be good for you, not too hot but mostly sunny – often around 24 degrees.  That’s cold for us, it’s coming into autumn.  We’ll obviously be working, but we’re so near the beach, you’ll be able to loll around or catch a train to the city.  When I know your dates, I’ll arrange some holiday, so we can spend time together.

No, we haven’t sold the house.  We wondered why we wanted to, in the end; it’s got everything we want and it’s so much hassle to move, so we’re staying put.  Marcus is under a lot of stress at work and I didn’t want to add to it.

I can’t believe Adam is off on his gap year; I feel as if he’s still a little boy.  It must be awful letting them go.

Lots of love to you.  Jane x

I read the email through several times, looking for clues – does she really not mind me coming or is she being polite?  She said March was ‘okay’ – not exactly enthusiastic, was she?  She’s never even suggested before that Marcus is at all stressed – why did she mention it?  But then she said she’d take time off; maybe I’m reading too much into it.  I realise she doesn’t know Adam and Holly at all – she’s seen pictures and videos, but she’s missed most of their lives.  Maybe I should persuade Adam to go and visit, as he’s now on the same continent?

Her email leaves me feeling unsure, although it was written in good heart.  Are my plans crazy?  Why do I think going to Australia will be the answer to anything?  To visit a sister I’ve more or less lost touch with, that I have nothing in common with and who, in the past, used to make me feel inadequate.

I tell myself that it’s at least a
plan
, we all need plans and hopes – and it’s the only one I’ve got at the moment, so I may as well stick with it.

*

Cornwall turns out to be the tonic I’ve been lacking during the holidays.  The boys get their results while I’m there – they’ve both done surprisingly well and Laura, John and I have a toast to celebrate.  Adam lets me know on Facebook –
B, C, C – WOO-HOO!
is all his message says and Jake writes equally succinctly to Laura on email.

The few days I’ve chosen to be here are hot – there’s high pressure sitting over the top of the UK, making it seem like the Mediterranean.  Laura and I go for long coastal walks and as my eyes stretch to the horizon, the aquamarine shimmer of the sea lightens my heart.  The sea is as calm as I’ve ever seen it – hardly a ripple – and much to John’s disgust, even the normal surfing beaches like Watergate and Fistral are wave-free.  To someone like him, days like this are wasted days.  His school holidays are for spending every hour possible chasing the illusory golden waves and now, he is forced into inactivity; you can almost feel his disappointment oozing from his pores.  For me, however, the weather provides me with a glimpse of what Australia might be like and makes me more determined to pursue my idea.

Being here with them, without David, though, is perhaps the strangest experience I’ve had so far, since he left.  His presence hangs over the beaches, and walks with us on cliff tops.  None of us mention his name, although he is constantly on our minds and his name lingers on our tongues.  I know Laura and John have talked before I came and decided not to mention him, unless I bring him up and as I refuse to, he is not mentioned, talked about, analysed or cried over.  He is a non-person.

For them it must be odd; for me, it’s good.  I want to be here and enjoy the present day, not remember past holidays and mourn their loss.  At one point, Laura says quietly to me, “If you ever want to talk … you know I’ll listen.”  But I just smile at her and say, “I’m fine … honestly,” and that’s all that’s said. 

I
am
fine, I tell myself.

Gaz enjoys hanging out with Sally, their Springer, and Jody, the terrier.  They form a little gang and terrorise the postman and passing tourists as they rush outside the gate, barking hysterically, for no very good reason.  Gaz is the oldest of the three dogs and even though he is only a visitor, he takes on the role of leader of the pack, for a few days.  I realise his life at home must be incredibly dull for him, the highlight being a walk to the rec.  Here, he’s free to wander across fields, chasing unseen rabbits; he comes with us on our rambling walks and takes frequent dips in rock pools.  He eats all sorts of unsavoury bits of old crab and rotting fish carcasses, rolls in smelly seaweed and drinks sea water.  He throws up frequently, fortunately never in the house, and has a look of beatific happiness on his face.  I honestly think if I left him here, he wouldn’t give me a backward glance.  He reminds me of Adam when he talked about Jake’s relatives –
Why can’t we live in a place like this?  The rec just doesn’t compare
.

One day, we’re sitting outside in the courtyard having coffee when Laura says, “Have you felt this?”  She’s running her hand along Gaz’ back at the time.  “Here, feel this.”

I put my hand where she’s indicating and feel a small lump.  I let my fingers stay there.  “No, I haven’t felt that before.  What do you think it is?”

“Not sure, but perhaps you should have it checked out when you get home.  It’s only small, but any lumps are suspicious.  Sally had one last year – it was benign, thank God.  When was he last checked over?”

“Not for ages.  He’s due his jabs soon – I’ll have him looked at then.”

I put my hand over the lump again; it feels small and I try to reassure myself that it’s probably nothing.  Dogs get lumps and bumps all the time, don’t they? 

*

Laura and I spend a couple of afternoons at her gallery.  She has a young girl who sits there part-time, but Laura has to be there the rest of the time.  I find it a peaceful place to be and I sit and stare at the paintings, finding solace in their vibrancy.  Some are watercolours, some are oils … I decide I like the ones with loads of colour and which are impressionistic.  A lot of them are seascapes – there’s one particular artist I love – his paintings are full of movement and light and you get the feeling that he lives and breathes the sea, through his paintbrush.  I’ve never bought a painting in my life, but have a tremendous desire to have one of his.