‘Now you tell me.’
Ward attempts to start the engine once more, Grandad waiting patiently to wave us off. Nothing happens.
‘I think the battery’s dead.’
‘I don’t understand,’ I say irritably. ‘It was fine earlier.’
‘Not helpful, January.’
I wind down the window. ‘Grandad, don’t get cold,’ I say, determined we will set off any minute.
Next thing I know, Ward has his head in the bonnet, but clearly he doesn’t have a clue what to do. He looks up, oil smeared on his hands. ‘Is there a garage nearby?’
It’s Friday evening and Ward and I have no other option but to stay the night with Grandad. We need a new battery and, of course, it has to be ordered so we can’t get one until late tomorrow morning. Arrangements have been made. Thankfully Isla is spending the weekend with Dan and Fiona.
‘Do you need to call your wife?’ asks Grandad, observing him like a hawk as we sit by the roaring fire in the sitting room.
I hop up. ‘I’ll fix us all something for supper.’
Over fishcakes and vegetables, Ward asks Grandad about his career in the theatre. He tells us about the opening nights, the most exciting of events, as long as the actors didn’t forget their lines. ‘Oh, I got nervous all right,’ Grandad says. ‘Before every rehearsal, as I’d turn the corner to the theatre, a part of me hoped to see the building in flames.’
Ward smiles.
‘You need to feel nervous, Ward. If you’re not nervous surely that means you don’t care.’
‘I often get nervous before a pitch.’
‘You don’t show it,’ I say.
Ward looks at me as he says, ‘I hide my feelings well.’
‘Right, you two,’ Grandad says, after watching the ten o’clock news with coffee and chocolates. ‘Bed. Don’t stay up too late,’ he says, throwing me a warning look. I kiss him on both cheeks, his skin so soft and fragile.
Ward stands up, thanking him for the evening. ‘I’ve put a towel in the spare room,’ Grandad says. ‘And blankets on your beds. It’s darn chilly.’
When Ward and I are left alone I exaggerate a yawn, saying I might head upstairs too. As I get up from the floor where I’ve been sitting, he grips my arm.
‘Wait.’
‘Ward, I don’t know what you want from me.’
‘There are things that need to be said,’ he says, ‘things I need to explain to you. Why do you think I wanted you to come on the pitch, January?’
I sit back down on the floor, in front of the fire and hug my knees to my chest. Ward sits down next to me. I edge away, certain that if he comes any closer I will want him to kiss me again, finish off what we began.
‘January, it’s over.’
‘It’s over?’
‘My marriage.’
‘Your marriage,’ I repeat, giving myself time to digest it.
‘These last six months we’ve been on a trial separation.’
I work out that that’s practically since he began working for Sherwoods. All this time they haven’t been together? ‘What? How? I mean, why didn’t you tell me?’
‘I couldn’t. It was between us. Marina didn’t want anyone to know our business while we tried to work things out and I had to respect that. The only person who knew was Jeremy. When we were in talks over the new job, he happened to overhear a conversation between us and he’d asked me, quite rightly, if it would affect my work. I made him promise not to say a word to anyone at Sherwoods, that it was personal. But then, when you and I began to get close, I wanted to tell you, but I couldn’t. It was all so unexpected too, Jan, my feelings for you. I was confused and felt just as guilty as you. But I can be honest now because Marina and I are getting a divorce, and it’s out in the open among our friends. We’re sad, but we’ve agreed it’s the right decision. If we’re honest, our marriage was over a long time ago.’
