The Art of Unpacking Your Life (13 page)

Connie knew that Julian would call her the next day. She hovered around Harley Place, uncertain whether to go out and avoid him or face the inevitable call. Lizzie also hung around. She watched Connie warily as they made lunch together in kitchen. Neither of them wanted to face what was going to happen. Connie didn't ask about Lizzie's date – an obvious omission. Back then, Lizzie didn't miss those kinds of signs. Luke was off playing rugby for the Wills Hall team. Connie was relieved. She felt she had already crossed a line.

Julian rang in the middle of the afternoon, by which time Connie was relaxed and had gone back to their room. Lizzie answered the phone. Connie remembered seeing her standing in their open doorway. She didn't say anything. She stared at her. Connie blushed furiously.

‘Unbelievable. Why would you do this to me? To Luke?' Lizzie turned abruptly away.

Connie was too nervous to go take the call. She grabbed her jacket and cycled furiously to watch the rugby match.

As Luke spotted her, he radiated that golden smile and gave her his signature half-hand wave. She wanted to run on the pitch and hold on to him. When he came off at the end of the match, she kissed him passionately. He kissed her back, but as he pulled away, he noticed her expression and frowned.

They had stayed in the pub until late. By the time they got back to Harley Place, Julian had rung countless times. The group was stationed in the sitting room. They stared at Connie. She wanted to scream ‘I haven't done anything'. Only she knew it wasn't true. She knew she was about to walk away from Luke and her life as part of the group. She was about to move on. Luke looked at the others and then back at Connie. There was nowhere to hide. They knew each other inside out.

The phone rang into the silence. No one moved.

Lizzie said, ‘Connie, are you going to get it?' It hadn't been a question.

Connie looked at Luke, begging him with her eyes not to let her go this easily. If he grabbed and held her, if he declared his love for her, if he insisted he was never, ever going to let her go, she wouldn't have taken the call. He didn't. She could see he had already withdrawn from her. He had let her go.

‘Hello, Constance?' Julian was enthusiastic.

‘Yes.' Connie was numb, yet certain.

‘It's Julian Emmerson. We met last night.'

‘I know,' she replied.

He coughed slightly. ‘I really would love to take you out for dinner, if I may?'

Connie breathed in with a new nervous energy that had always been alien to her. She was certain her life was about to change forever. ‘Yes. Yes please.'

Julian waved the phone. ‘Darling, are you okay?' He looked concerned.

Connie nodded furiously. ‘Do you want to speak to Sally?'

Connie didn't. She should, if only to check she was okay, but she wasn't in the right frame of mind to dig back down into her domestic life.

Julian looked questioningly at her. ‘Sally, all good at your end? No overnight guests? Thank you for safeguarding our castle against the great teen invasion.'

Julian was always good with people, Connie thought, not for the first time. Sometimes, she couldn't be bothered to speak. She was in her own head and had no desire to be forced to face reality. It was the reason Luke and Connie split up. They were both locked inside, neither had been prepared to face the other and discuss their future. Julian had forcefully presented Connie with an alternative way forward. A great and powerful alternative. She had taken it.

‘Fabulous, good. Thank you, Sally. Speak soon.'

Connie relented and waved her arm at Julian, took the phone and stretched her neck to energise herself.

‘Sally, hello. How are you?'

‘Good, thanks, Connie.' Sally was always surreally calm. ‘How is it?'

‘Amazing. A real trip of a lifetime. I can't wait to show you the photos.' Connie felt guilty again. It was unfair, leaving Sally, seven and a half months pregnant, with four children, however teenage. ‘Are you okay?'

‘I'm great, thanks Connie.'

‘Don't forget, my mother's on standby. If it starts to feel too much.'

Sally had the easiest pregnancy, as if she wasn't pregnant except for the stability ball sucking on to her belly. She never referred to her growing baby. Connie thought that meant the father had to be a sperm donor. Whenever Connie brought it up with Julian, he insisted she had no right to pry.

‘Have a good week, Connie,' Sally said.

‘Thank you, I'll call you tomorrow,' Connie heard her own neediness, which wasn't reflected in Sally's goodbye.

Connie forced herself not to be disappointed. Sally was detaching herself because she was leaving. It was a wrench for her too. She was losing their whole family who had been her life for over ten years. She was planning to take six months maternity leave, which Julian rightly suggested they owed Sally, to bond with her new baby in her new home, a cottage in North Oxfordshire. Then she would get a job locally. Connie and Julian had helped her find an endearing two-bedroomed house outside the village of King's Sutton. It was a ten-minute drive to their constituency home. They could see her most weekends.

Julian was slumped down at the other end of the sofa with his phone. He sighed. He was doing that a lot lately. He seemed permanently distracted. She looked out across the reserve. Breathe and enjoy the view, she told herself. Only she couldn't. She didn't ask him what he was thinking about and he didn't ask her. He got up and dramatically swung back into the sitting room. ‘Well, where is the phone now?'

‘Back on the table over there,' She nodded towards the black receiver on the corner table.

He headed for the privacy of their bedroom. His voice could be faintly heard through the dividing wall. She released a tense sigh. She lay flat on the sofa and closed her eyes.

Focus on your breath. Don't let the thoughts get in the way. You need to breathe, stay calm and detach yourself from everything going on around you
.

Her yoga teacher hadn't met Julian.

She heard his footsteps, less decisive now, walking back out on to the terrace towards her. He crouched down, leaning his shoulder against her arm. He stroked it like she was a child. ‘Darling, can I get you anything?' He murmured. ‘Iced water? You must be hot out here, poor thing.'

Afterwards came the concern, the tenderness. The predictability was reassuring. She knew that the phone call wouldn't change anything, wouldn't erase their life together. Just jolt it. She closed her eyes.

‘You're getting a lovely tan.' His words were designed to soothe her, but actually they soothed him.

She opened her eyes and surveyed his face. She saw remorse scratched into his features. She pushed it away. She wouldn't deal with it.

‘Fancy a sleep?' Forgive me, for I have sinned.

They moved independently to the bedroom. The elegant white room had a dark four-poster bed with the mosquito net hanging over the tall frame. It was in the centre of the room with an unadulterated view from it, through the glass door out to the
reserve. Julian unwound her sarong with a mystified expression that he reserved for things utterly bizarre. He dropped it uncoiled to the floor. She stood in front of him in her white bikini, a bold choice, she had thought, for the first day by the pool. He looked her over appreciatively.

‘You're in such great shape, Constance,' he stated, resting his hands on her hips gently jutting out above the line of her bikini.

As she sat on the edge of the bed and stretched her arms up to start unbuttoning his shirt, he re-played his conversation with Lou.

‘I'm not convinced that bloody boyfriend hasn't moved in, in our absence,' he grumbled. ‘Sally sounded deliberately vague.'

‘Probably,' she said cheerfully. From this distance she didn't care.

She wondered whether there were couples out there who smoothly choreographed sex featured in films; who moved from under to over, up and down without awkwardness. Even after twenty years, Connie and Julian both tended to struggle to get Julian's boxers off while they were under the duvet. Trying to pull down his rather voluminous long board shorts, while he was on top of her now, proved next to impossible. They both laughed.

‘I'm getting fat,' he moaned.

‘Yes, you are.' Her only revenge.

‘Bitch!' He mock-slapped the side of her bottom. ‘You owe me big time.'

They were there. He kissed her. Every kiss made up for it somehow. Everything else was forgotten.

Afterwards, he was the first one to speak. ‘I do love you, Constance.'

Whether he was begging her for understanding, or for her forgiveness was never clear. Ultimately, it didn't matter. She didn't say she loved him back. How could she? Her reserve was all she had. And their shared love of their family. The living proof of the strength of their history together. Only they had the same reference points. Connie rolled over and smiled.

The Emmerson clan always watched television in Connie and Julian's bed. The tradition started when Leo and Lou were little and continued despite the size of their family. Their bed got bigger, but it wasn't large enough for all six of them, which was exactly the point. They would loll over each other, fight for space, even resort to bringing their own duvets and pillows down two flights of stairs to Connie and Julian's first-floor bedroom. Yet they all loved it. It was a weekend night retreat from their busy teenage lives back into the heart of their family.

‘Let's watch
Downton
,' suggested Connie, one night when they couldn't resolve their choice.

‘Mum, nothing happens in
Downton Abbey
,' moaned Hector.

‘It does,' pursued Flora. ‘There has been a murder, off set without guns.'

‘I think we should watch a James Franco movie,' murmured Leo.

‘What about Monty Python?' Julian was always happy to suggest something he knew would never get past the teen police.

‘Lame.' Lou rolled her eyes.

‘
Life of Brian
is a classic. Facebook someone, they will tell you,' Julian insisted with a flourish. ‘Your education is far from complete without it.'

‘Not tonight, Dad…' Leo rolled his eyes.

‘What kinda night is it, Leo?' Julian staged in a deep, lethargic voice.

‘
We're the Millers
,' Lou sounded triumphant. ‘It's out on DVD. It's funny in a wacky kinda way.'

‘What?' Julian snorted.

‘You know what I mean, Dad.'

‘If only I did, Lou. I'm lost in oblivion.'

‘It's supposed to be good, Dad.'

Julian grinned. ‘Okay. Let's do it.' He bounced into the middle of Lou and Leo.

‘Daaaad, move over. You lump.'

‘Teen trash, can't wait,' Julian curled up beside Connie, resting his head on her shoulder and grabbing a handful of salty and sweet popcorn from the bowl, politically placed on Connie's lap to be equidistance from all the under age.

‘Shush, Dad, quit the commentary: we're trying to watch the trailer,' Lou snapped.

Julian smiled, amused and happy. Connie smiled back.

The grass scratched at Luke's legs. It was thigh high and dense. They were treading through it in pairs. Their steps created a path. He was glad he had bought a new pair of desert boots, which were perfect for safari on foot. He was with Julian, immediately behind Sara and Gus, whose gun was slung confidently across his lower back. Luke was wearing his new grey Gae T-shirt. An expensive 520 rand (which he automatically translated to around forty pounds), doubtless due to the San markings circling the chest, created by some South African designer.

Far away but as visible as a Barbara Hepworth sculpture in a field, three giraffes stood behind a clump of thorn bushes. Their preposterous necks towered into the blue. They looked outsized even out here. While every living creature was on the move and on the make, they were still and silent. The one furthest to the right was delicately leaning over the top most leaves of an acacia tree; while the other two held their fine heads high and looked unblinkingly at them.

‘These three are girls,' stated Gus, ‘Can you see their bellies are rounded?'

Luke thought their faces marked them out as female: fine cheekbones, mysterious eyes with elaborate mascaraed eyelashes and a gentle expression. Knowing yet unknowable.

After they had returned from their morning safari he went straight to the massage hut in plenty of time for his ten-thirty slot. Kimberley was free and offered to
start right away. Her hands were stronger than he had expected. He wore his T-shirt and didn't let her do his back, insisting that she concentrate on his legs and feet. She was a good masseuse and he let his mind wander. If only Julian knew.

‘What do the blokes have?' Sara had to ask. ‘Penises?'

Luke shook his head, as he did he caught Connie's eye. She was obviously thinking how crude Sara was.

‘You could say that,' Gus seemed unbothered about Sara's behaviour. ‘They have a penile bump in the middle of their bellies, eh.'

‘They are calm,' Luke murmured. He was watching the giraffes, but he was thinking about Connie. She was so self-contained. Like his mother, come to think of it. Her easy silence was a welcome relief.

‘They aren't silent, eh. They do have a voice box. Under extreme stress, they snort, even bellow.'

Under extreme stress, Luke had never bellowed. He had held his scream inside, never breaking his vow of silence. When Emma shouted, his heart would thud violently and his left eye would twitch. Even the thought of her would sometimes make it do that.

When Connie had left him for Julian, he had said nothing. They never had the post-mortem that any other couple would have after a three-year relationship. Matt and Dan had insisted they must talk. Luke had been sure that they had nothing to talk about. If she was leaving him for Julian, he didn't want to know why.