Seeing Other People (25 page)

It was a mean and bitter thing to say which given that I was brimming over with both emotions was exactly why I’d said it. And as much as I meant every word, I regretted them too. Penny was a beautiful, wonderful woman and any guy would be lucky to have her and while there was a case to be made that she should be careful – I know, ironic, me warning her about what men are really like – this wasn’t the time or the place. And as far as egos went, hers didn’t need cushioning, it was fine as it was. It was mine that had been crushed and was in need of some padding. This right here was the beginning of the end, I could feel it in my very core, and I just wasn’t ready for it. Still, an apology was in order.

‘I’m sorry, Penny, that was completely—’

‘Get out.’ Her voice was sharp and yet controlled like she was a headmistress and I her pupil. ‘Get out of this house before I say something we’ll both regret. Stay out of my life, Joe, stay away from me!’

Back at home all I could do was torture myself thinking about how Penny and her ex got back together and the role I had played in helping it happen. Sitting on my sofa staring at the hideous brick fire surround I imagined the initial tentative exchanges on the internet, followed by long late-night outpourings of emotion where she’d fill in the gory details of her failed marriage only to have Scott do the same in return. Gradually they’d open up to each other further, overwhelming each other with honesty, and then of course there would be the suggestion that they meet up for the day, no pressure, maybe a trip into the centre of London on a Sunday afternoon. Perhaps they would take in an exhibition or two and then naturally lunch somewhere nice, after which he’d walk her to the tube where there would be an extended goodbye and then that first kiss, which would lead to a second and third after which it would be all about the planning of weekends away and . . . thankfully a buzz from my phone derailed that particularly devastating train of thought. It was a text from Paul asking if I fancied a drink.

I checked my internal diary. Between half-eight and midnight I’d planned to torment myself by imagining Penny and her new lover in bed together but with a bit of juggling I was sure I could shift it to later in the evening given the fact that I couldn’t imagine ever sleeping again.

‘What’s up?’ I asked as we sat staring at our pints.

‘I could ask you the same question,’ replied Paul. ‘You’ve barely said a word. Everything OK?’

‘It’s Penny,’ I explained. ‘Apparently she’s started seeing someone. And you know what the real killer is? The thing that’s so galling that even thinking about it gets my blood boiling? It’s the fact that my whole world is coming down around my ears because of some stupid social networking site!’

‘It’s the way things go these days,’ said Paul. ‘It’s just easier isn’t it? Have a few beers one night, jab the name of some girl you used to know into the internet and wait to see what it spits out. It’s not a nice way to lose someone but then again what is?’

I nodded. Paul was right, what did it matter that Penny had reconnected with her ex this way? It wasn’t as if I would have been any happier if she’d got together with someone from work.

‘You’re right, the how is the least interesting part,’ I replied. ‘I suppose the point I was focusing on was how easy it’s been for this guy to come back into her life. Even after a twenty-year break it’s a whole different thing dating someone you used to go out with compared to a total stranger. At least with a stranger if things started going too fast you’d put the brakes on . . .’

‘Whereas with someone from the past if things speed up they’re just making up for lost time.’

‘Exactly. So what do I do?’

Paul shrugged.

‘There’s nothing you can do. I learned that the hard way with Lisa. She’s going to do what she’s going to do whether I like it or not.’

‘Is that why you texted? I know from what the other guys have said you’re pretty cut up about her engagement.’

‘I wish it was just that,’ replied Paul. ‘As of yesterday she’s talking about wanting custody of the kids again.’

‘But I thought she worked full time?’

‘She told me that her career has put paid to one relationship and she’s not about to let it happen a second time so she’s selling the business and wants the kids to go and live with her. I told her I needed time to think about it but I know she’s not going to let it go. I don’t know what to say.’

‘But the kids don’t have to go?’

Paul shrugged. ‘But what if they want to?’

‘They won’t. They love living with you, don’t they?’

‘They’re so moody it’s impossible to tell.’

‘But yours is the only home they’ve ever really known. Surely that will go in your favour if it goes to court?’

‘She’s their mum, she’s giving up a successful career to be with them and when she wants to she can be very persuasive indeed. What family court judge wouldn’t find that appealing?’

Paul and I talked through the problem for over an hour without coming to any conclusions. I was of the opinion that he should get a solicitor involved straight away but Paul was afraid that any talk of legal experts would result in an escalation of hostilities from which neither of them would walk away unscathed. ‘It’s hard,’ said Paul, as we parted company, ‘it really is because she keeps saying to me: you’ve had your turn why can’t I have mine? And when she puts it like that I can’t help thinking that maybe she’s got a point.’

It was late when I reached home with a head full of thoughts about Paul’s situation illustrating as it did that there was no such thing as a civil divorce. Divorce by its very nature was a bloody, uncivil process that brought out the worst in people and now that hostilities had escalated between Penny and me it would only be a matter of time before we would start tearing into each other too, unless I could find some way to temper the hurt that I felt knowing that she had started afresh with someone from her past. I needed to move on quickly if I was ever going to be in with a hope of breaking out of the cycle in which I found myself.

In an effort to get outside my head for a while I poured a drink and collected together the weekend papers I’d bought that morning but had yet to open. Picking up the first from the top of the pile I began flicking through one of the sections and stopped suddenly when an article caught my eye. It was a feature about a new movement in low budget films by up-and-coming young US directors unwilling to wait for Hollywood to come knocking on their door before committing their art to celluloid. As well as containing interviews with all of the main players there were quotes from a number of well-known industry names. It was an interesting, well-rounded piece but the most interesting thing about it was its author: Bella. I could barely tear my eyes away from her byline photo. She was even more beautiful than I remembered and seeing her face again after all this time made me wonder if perhaps everything wasn’t falling into place. OK, so I couldn’t actually remember our night together but there had been a connection between us, hadn’t there? And even though I couldn’t remember that night no one could doubt that I’d paid a high price for it – too high a price by far – but if we got together, if we managed to forge something good out of something so bad then maybe everything I’d endured would not have been in vain.

She was the answer, she had to be, and so the following evening I did the only thing I could do under the circumstances: I left work early, made my way to the offices of the
Review
and after an hour waiting in the rain wondering if she was even still at work I engineered what was perhaps the least convincing ‘accidental’ meeting in the long and illustrious history of ‘accidental’ meetings.

‘Joe,’ she said, moving the yellow umbrella in her hands forward to protect me from the rain, ‘what are you doing here?’

It was a good question given that I was soaking wet and hadn’t so much bumped into her as called out her name. But the longer I looked at her the more I realised how wrong this was. Not just because we weren’t suited – in the harsh light of day that seemed patently obvious – but rather because I knew in my heart I didn’t want anyone but Penny.

Bella stood staring expectantly waiting for me to speak.

‘I’ve come to see you,’ I said, more than a little shocked by the words coming out of my mouth. This wasn’t quite the slick performance I’d rehearsed in my head. ‘I’ve come to apologise.’

‘You don’t have to do this. It’s water under the bridge. I’ve moved on.’

There was no inflection in her voice but I couldn’t help imagine the only thing meant by this was that she had long since found herself another lover.

‘That makes perfect sense,’ I replied, reasoning that it had been wildly optimistic to have even thought otherwise. Bella was quite stunning and so the idea of her being single seemed like an affront to nature. ‘Still, if you’re not in a rush I’d really like the opportunity to explain my behaviour if I can. I’m not saying that it’ll undo what I put you through or anything but if it could make you hate me just a few degrees less I’d consider it an hour of my life in the rain well spent.’

Bella smiled in spite of herself. ‘You can have half an hour but that’s all. I’m meeting friends soon and I don’t want to be late.’

26

‘How’s work?’ asked Bella as we sat down at a table in a busy pub that was so generic it could have been anywhere in the world. ‘I saw your Jonah Lloyd-Hughes piece a while back. You must have been over the moon to have landed that.’

‘It was definitely what you’d call one of my better days,’ I replied, glad she’d at least had some awareness of me since we’d parted. ‘Sadly it pretty much came down to luck rather than journalistic skill. And anyway if we’re passing out the compliments, how about you? Every time I pick up the
Review
your face seems to pop out at me.’

‘I’ve been more than a bit lucky too. They’ve been very supportive. I never imagined getting quite so far so quickly. Nearly everyone I know from my course is still looking for work.’

I looked at her across the table, barely able to believe that we’d once been together. She really did look incredible. She picked up her drink, a Coke, ordered I suspected to indicate the strictly functional nature of our meeting.

‘So what’s this all about, Joe?’

‘It’s exactly as I said. I want to apologise. The way I acted after we . . . well you know . . . was despicable. I was in a pretty weird place in my life at the time and while that doesn’t excuse how I acted I hope it goes some way to explaining why I behaved the way I did.’

‘You were a pig,’ said Bella.

‘I was,’ I replied. ‘And like I said there is no excuse.’

‘Why the sudden need to apologise?’

‘Because my wife is divorcing me.’

Bella looked horrified. ‘Not because of what happened between us?’

‘No,’ I said quickly. She didn’t deserve to shoulder any of the blame for how I’d screwed things up with Penny. ‘She’s divorcing me because at the end of the day I’m an idiot.’

‘I don’t know what to say,’ said Bella.

‘I doubt there is much to say really,’ I agreed.

‘And there’s no chance you’ll get back together?’

An image of Penny together with Scott flashed up in my head. ‘It’s looking increasingly like we’re past that point. I’ve got a place ten minutes away from the house so I can be there for the kids. It’s not ideal but it beats not seeing them at all.’

‘You have kids?’ She didn’t know. I knew I hadn’t mentioned them when we had coffee that day but it was news to me that I hadn’t mentioned them at all on the night I’d met her in Soho. ‘I have two, Rosie and Jack. Rosie’s ten and Jack’s seven.’

‘And how have they reacted to the split?’

‘Not well at all. Jack seems to have taken it the hardest, mainly because I don’t think he fully understands what’s going on. As far as he’s concerned all that happened was one day I was living with them and the next I was gone and now he can’t always see me when he wants to.’

‘And your daughter?’

‘She’s growing up and has changed so much over the past few months it’s hard to tell exactly what’s going on with her.’

‘I was the same at her age,’ said Bella. ‘I shared everything going on in my life with my friends because I felt like they really wanted to know me and it was almost as if the more I gave to them the less I had to give to anyone else.’ She touched my arm, albeit briefly, and the lightning bolt that shot through me took me back immediately to that day in the café. ‘I was nine when my parents spilt up. It’s a tough time for everyone involved and obviously no matter what I say you’ll be worried about them but they’ll be OK.’

Her parents’ divorce. She had told me all about it when I’d taken her for coffee. One day after school her mum had explained to Bella and her sister over steaming hot platefuls of spaghetti Bolognese that her dad was going to be living somewhere else. Neither of the girls would believe her until they went to his study and saw that all their father’s books had gone along with the bookcases that had held them. ‘He couldn’t have made it any plainer just how little we meant to him,’ concluded Bella. ‘He took his books because he couldn’t live without them but my sister and me – his own flesh and blood – he could take or leave. We didn’t see or hear from him again for a year and a half.’