Love Me Or Leave Me (19 page)

Bloody hell, she thought. And I thought Dave and I were a mismatch.

‘Very nice to meet you,’ Jo nodded curtly back at the Glamazon. ‘But if you’ll excuse us, Dave and I really have to get going –’

‘Now whaddya want to go divorcing a complete sweetie like this for?’ Lucy grinned, perching an impossibly tight little arse on the barstool beside Dave and, to Jo’s annoyance, draping a possessive arm round his shoulder.

‘He’s just so adorable! Hey, Tommy?’ she broke off, banging on the counter and calling over the barman. ‘Another pint for my lovely friend Dave here and keep the champagne flowing … look!’ she added, waving an empty glass over to him. ‘We need refills! Urgently!’

Give me strength, Jo thought furiously. This one is fluthered off her head too. Not that it was any of her concern. Did she care what Lucy Belter, or whatever it was the papers called her, got up to? Party Central, Jo remembered was her nickname and doubtless, she’d end up leading conga lines of separated couples out through Fitzwilliam Square before the night was over. But frankly, let her; that was entirely her own concern.

‘Dave, please,’ Jo said as threateningly as she could, but all Dave could do was grin sardonically right into her face.

‘And so the drama unfolds. You see Lucy? You beginning to get a glimmer what I’ve had to endure all this time? You have perhaps picked up on the bossy air of absolute authoritarianism about my beloved other half? That single- mindedness is what’s propelled us here in the first place! I mean, a shagging divorce hotel, did you ever? A hotel where no one in their sane mind even wants to be in the first place.’

‘Now you just listen to me, Dave,’ Jo pleaded with him. ‘I’m giving you exactly two seconds to peel your arse off that barstool and get into this meeting. Can you at least do that much for me? May I remind you that you promised!’

‘Tommy!’ Lucy interrupted her, banging loudly on the bar. ‘Over here! Look, we need more drinkies!’

‘Chill out and have a bevvie with us,’ Dave grinned, patting Jo on the shoulder, like she was his best mate Bash, or one of his blokey pals. ‘Might loosen you up a bit. For God’s sake, look at yourself, you’re about as tightly wound as a guitar string. It’s Friday night, have a drink with us. Do you good, love.’

‘Another drink!’ Lucy chirruped beside him. ‘Now that is a faaaaabulous idea! Join us Jo, come on, we’re having a laugh! What can I get you? Glass of champoo maybe?’

‘No thank you.’

‘Suit yourself,’ Lucy shrugged. ‘But you know, it’s gonna be a long, tough weekend, so the least we can all do is try to anaesthetize the pain. I know I certainly could do with a few more before I’ve to face into scary meetings with my ex!’

She and Dave burst into fits of drunk, stupid giggles at that, till Jo honestly didn’t think she could take much more.

‘Excuse me, do you mind staying out of this?’ she all but barked at Lucy, glaring thunderously up at her.

‘O-kay,’ Lucy shrugged, before stage whispering at Dave, ‘Maybe now I’m starting to see what you were talking about.’

‘Oh, I could tell you stories,’ Dave said dryly, ‘that would make your hair stand up at the back of your neck.’

‘Please!’ Jo insisted, unable to take much more. ‘This is your last chance, Dave –’

‘Oh come on now, just one little drinkie,’ Lucy insisted, pulling at Jo’s jacket sleeve. ‘Trust me, you’ll feel faaaabulous! Dave here has been telling me so much about you, that I really feel like I know you already.’

‘That I doubt very much,’ Jo said irritably. ‘Now would you kindly mind staying out of this?’

‘That’s a good man, you just keep ’em coming, Tommy boy,’ Lucy said stoutly, patting the barman’s hand as he topped up her champagne glass. And of course, no sooner was it served than half her drink was gone in just a few gulps.

‘Dave. Move it. Now. This is your final warning,’ said Jo, fully prepared to turn on her heel.

And yet still Lucy wouldn’t butt out and mind her own business.

‘You know something?’ she said, head starting to loll slightly to one side. ‘I think you’re one veeeeery lucky lady, Jo.’

‘Please, can you just stay out of this! You haven’t the first iota what’s going on here.’

‘Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong! Jo, you have to listen to me. Because Dave here – my new best friend Dave –’

‘New best friends! Well, I’ll certainly drink to that!’ Dave beamed, clinking glasses with her as Jo just stood there, seemingly powerless to break up this cosy boozing session.

‘… Anyway if you ask me, I think our Dave here,’ Lucy slurred, ‘still loves you! Very much, too. Don’t you, Davey-wavey! He no more wants to be in a place like this than I do!’ Then dropping her voice down to an exaggerated stage whisper, she grabbed Jo’s arm and added conspiratorially, ‘And just between you and me, Jo? My sister-in-law went through the exact same thing as you, you know …’

‘Dave,’ Jo interrupted, beyond caring if she was being rude, ‘don’t make me go and get a manager to drag you out of here. Because if I have to, I will.’

‘… The whole IVF thing, I mean,’ Lucy stage-whispered kindly. ‘And it messed her round no end too. Totally changed her entire personality! Just like you! I was just telling Davey here that she went from being this lovely, kind-hearted person to this unrecognizable BITCH in the space of just a few short months … you’ve never seen a transformation like it … And you can be sure that’s all that’s wrong with you too!’

A white-hot silence now as her words just hung in the ether.

Afterwards, Jo remembered thinking it had felt a bit like being slapped. The exact same sensation of shock mixed with swift, sharp pain.

Had she been hearing things? Could Dave really have done that to her? After everything that had passed between them, had he really just betrayed her to some total stranger, in public?

Jo had said nothing though, couldn’t if she tried. Instead she just stood rooted to the spot, looking from Lucy to Dave and back again, jaw dangling somewhere round her collarbone.

‘Perhaps it would be timely to change the subject?’ Dave had said to Lucy, at least having the good grace to redden and look mortified at this.

‘No, no, hear me out!’ Lucy insisted, totally unaware of the full import of her words. ‘Jo, you gotta hear this! Anyway, after two bloody years of all these fertility drugs and clinics and treatments and sis-in-law biting the face off anything that moved, well … my poor brother was about to pack his bags and get the feck out of the line of fire. But then, on their very last round of it, whaddya know? Lo and behold, it worked! Sister-in-law was suddenly up the duff and nine months later, my gorgeous little nephew came along.’

There was a pulsing silence while Jo fought hard to stay calm. But try as she might she couldn’t do it. A moment later, she and Dave locked eyes with each other as inconvenient tears, the kind she never allowed herself, started to well at the corners of her eyes. Next thing Dave drunkenly tried to haul himself onto his feet.

‘Jo …’ he said, sounding instantly sobered when he clocked exactly how upset she was, but it was too late.

Shaking, barely in control, Jo had turned on her heel and head held high, walked out of the bar so fast, she was almost a blur.

‘Oh, shit,’ she could hear Lucy saying, clamping her hand over her mouth and looking apologetically over at Dave. ‘Did I land you in trouble just now?’

‘Well, what do you think?’ said Dave, staring after his wife.

‘I’m so sorry! I meant it to be a hopeful story!’

*

Jo could hear footsteps behind her as she raced for the lift and urgently pressed the call button. It arrived just in time for her to see Dave standing uselessly behind her.

‘Jo please, I’m so sorry. She didn’t mean a thing, it was just a stupid, throwaway comment, that’s all …’

Thankfully though, the lift door slid over, so Jo didn’t have to listen to another word. She even managed to make it all the way back to the privacy of her room, before collapsing behind the door, into a fit of hysterical sobs.

Chapter Fourteen

Dawn.

7 p.m. on the dot. Time for their initial, private conflict resolution with Ms Kate Stephens, as their schedule had so clearly spelt out.

Dawn was perched quietly on a sofa in the Lavender Room downstairs, about as far away as she could possibly sit from Kirk, who as ever, just sat cross-legged on the floor, eyes closed, like he was meditating and completely miles away.

Jeez, how could he do that, she thought, fresh anger suddenly flooding through her. Just tune out of the whole situation? A situation, she reminded herself, that they were only in because of him in the first place?

Kate Stephens, expert in mediation services, turned out to be absolutely lovely and so easy to talk to, just like everyone else round here. Late forties, Dawn guessed, small, blonde, red-faced, round and so welcoming, you almost felt like she’d start passing round mugs of tea and clotted cream scones next.

Or else telling fortunes, she just had that kind of aura.

‘So Kirk and Dawn,’ Kate smiled warmly at them both. ‘The reason I’m here is to help resolve any outstanding areas of conflict and to identify any possibly contentious issues. This is just so when you both meet with our legal team to discuss division of assets which I understand is happening … emm …’ she broke off to briefly refer down to her notes. ‘Yes, you’re both booked in for that tomorrow morning and again in the afternoon. So, this is just to help us iron out any possible areas of potential difficulty before we take you through to that stage.’

Well, that all sounds okay, Dawn thought. Nothing too scary. So far.

‘In fact the way I like to describe my job,’ Kate adds serenely, ‘is as a sort of mirror to reflect the relationship’s difficulties. Then together I can help you make all the vital decisions that you need to, so you can both freely move forward.’

Must look hysterical on passport application forms, Dawn thought. Occupation: ‘A mirror to reflect divorcing couples’ relationship difficulties.’

‘Right then,’ Kate said, sounding a bit like a kindly primary schoolteacher now. ‘So who’d like to go first? Who’s going to be brave and kick things off for us?’

Having avoided all eye contact since they set foot in here, Dawn now chanced a lightning quick glance over at Kirk, but still absolutely nothing doing from him. Instead, he was just focused dead ahead, still in a calm little chilled-out bubble of Zen.

Right, she thought. If he won’t step up to the plate, then fine, I may as well get it over with. And he can bloody well sit there and listen. And just let him try to charm his way out of what I’ve got to say. Him with all his shite-talk about being an overflowing vessel of love and how it wasn’t his fault if he was put on earth to spread the love in every direction he could.

If he even could.

‘Okay, I guess I’ll go first,’ she heard her own voice saying, as she focused on Kate and only Kate. Easier that way.

‘Excellent,’ said Kate, all smiles. ‘Whenever you’re ready, then.’

‘Well, you see … Kirk and I have been married for nearly three years now,’ she began, a bit shakily. ‘And for most of that time, everything was fine. In fact, more than fine, it was wonderful, we were happy. At least I stupidly thought so, until just a few months ago. When …’

Come on Dawn,
she prompted herself
. You’ve got a captive audience here. Let him just sit there and hear it said out loud. Let’s hear him try to defend the indefensible.

Let’s just see him try.

‘Yes?’ Kate prompted.

‘Well, when I first discovered Kirk was being unfaithful to me.’

She let the sentence hang in the air for a minute. And oh God, but it felt good. Just saying it out loud to an impartial observer, while Kirk himself had no choice but to sit there and take it on the chin. She almost enjoyed it. In fact, she could almost get used to this.

Kate nodded, but crucially avoided saying all the things Dawn so desperately had hoped to hear from a detached stranger. Like, ‘You poor girl. And Kirk, you utter arsehole! No wonder you’re getting divorced, Dawn love, and as for you Kirk, I only hope you go on to have a miserable life with your new fancy woman, whoever she is. And may you have an even worse break-up than this one and may you subsequently go on to be utterly miserable and end up broke and alone, living in sheltered housing and worrying about all your alimony payments.’

‘Tell me more, Dawn,’ was all Kate did actually say to her, sounding annoyingly impartial though and not taking sides.

‘You see … I guessed something was up,’ Dawn told her evenly. ‘I’d sensed it for a while. For a long time, in fact.’

At that, she chanced a quick, surreptitious glance down to where Kirk was sitting on the floor, but still he was giving absolutely nothing away. Just staring out the window as late evening sunlight streamed in, utterly focused on a sycamore tree outside.

‘And is there anything you’d like to say at this point, Kirk?’ Kate asked.

Yeah. Because I’m all ears,
Dawn thought coldly.

‘Just let her speak, let her finish, she deserves to have her say,’ was all Kirk said though, softly and barely audibly, almost under his breath.

‘Please go on then, Dawn.’

‘Well, I felt … that is I
knew
something wasn’t right and it had been worrying me sick. I’d done everything I could to try and get us back on track again because … well …’

And here it came, the icky part. The bit Dawn had bloody dreaded, where you had to tell a total stranger that your husband who once couldn’t keep his hands off you, had over time started to make you feel like you’d about as much sex appeal as a potted geranium.

‘Keep going. You’re doing really well.’

‘Well … we’d been living under the same roof more like brother and sister really, than anything else. For months on end. It was starting to drive me mental.’

Again no reaction from Kirk. No attempt to deny it. Not even the merest eyelid flicker, nothing.

‘And how did this make you feel?’

How do you bloody well think? How would you feel? Like a sack of potatoes prancing round him in highly uncomfortable dental floss knickers and see-through bras, that’s how. When I might as well have gone round our flat with a t-shirt on that said, ‘Unsexiest woman in the world.’