‘Oh, you know, the usual.’ He took a breath as if he too were aware that she didn’t know, because they were strangers. She had no idea if he ran marathons before breakfast or did macramé to fill the hours. ‘It’s been a quiet day really, and this is the best part of it, walking our dog, Fishstick.’
‘Your dog is calledFishstick?’
‘Yes.’ He spoke without the tiniest whiff of irony. ‘Do you find that amusing in some way?’
‘No, not at all,’ she mused, knowing if circumstances were different she’d have found it very funny. ‘My cat is called Pickle – well, Madam Pickle Paws to give her her full but mostly unused name.’
‘I see, it’s full names you want, is it? In that case, I am walking Master Fishstick of Fowey, which is where he was born. Oh, hang on a minute, he’s running towards a group of walkers and is yet to learn that not everyone wants to be bowled over, quite literally, by a hefty retriever who still thinks he’s a puppy!’
She listened carefully as Dominic called, ‘Sticks! Sticksy! Come on, pal!’ Delighted that the mutt had a nickname.
‘Disaster averted,’ he breathed heavily. ‘We like to wander the Bath Skyline walk, have you done it?’
‘Erm, no, no I haven’t.’
‘I envy anyone that hasn’t, experiencing it for the first time is the best thing!’
‘I feel like that about books, books I love, it’s with the smallest flicker of reticence that I recommend them to people, slightly envious, wishing I was about to dive in afresh.’
‘The things we do...’ He spoke softly, and she held the phone close to her face.
To hear his voice was like lighting a match under the fire of indifference she could construct when preoccupied with the routine of life, those busy times when he lived in memory only. There wasundeniably something about him, his manner, even the idea of him pulled at her, made her forget the thousand reasons why she should do the right thing and end the call. It was as if her whole body bent towards the sound of his voice, her skin deliciously prickling in reaction to no more than the words in her ear. And thewayhe spoke to her, like he had done so a thousand times before. As if it were the most natural and obvious thing in the world for the two of them to leisurely interact in this way. A salve to her loneliness that allowed the embers of possibility to glow brightly in a future that looked a little grey without her friend, her husband, her job, her son living close by. It was hard to define and even harder to rationalise how solid this connection felt after only the briefest of encounters, how strong the physical desire for this man that she knew was at the root of this... this... whatever it was... which she would not allow to develop. A dalliance that would not, could not take hold.
‘And how was your day?’ he asked casually, and just the thought of the news that was another wrecking ball to a simple, uncomplicated life was enough for her to feel the gathering of tears.
‘The usual,’ she lied, knowing it was not her place to share news that might have the direst of consequences for the people they both loved. This realisation in turn filled her with fresh guilt, knowing she was talking about Holly Hudson and that there was a little baby at the heart of it. It was the first time she felt warmth at the thought, as the shock momentarily gave way to the golden idea of grandparenthood.A baby, a baby to keep her busy, to fill her day, someone else to love, to help fill the gaps. Although how that would work with Holly and Aiden still miles apart and the widening void between her and Jenny, God only knew. She prayed her letter might go some way towards starting the healing process, closing her eyes briefly, upset now at the thought that every silver lining seemed to be mentally balled and discarded as quickly as she conjured it.
‘Our call was rather abruptly ended last night.’ He kept his voice soft, adding to the conspiratorial air that required no such emphasis.
‘Yes, there was a crisps location emergency.’ She stopped short, remembering how uncomfortable it was to talk about Aiden, about Iris, a reminder that her attraction to Dominic was a doomed infatuation that could never take hold.
So, end the call then!came the memo from her subconscious, and yet she did nothing of the sort. The warmth in the base of her stomach encouraging just a few more minutes of contact, of company, before the long night ahead.
‘Well, we had tears over whether crab and apple salad or sashimi tuna was the most appropriate starter for a wedding on a warm day.’
‘I think either will be equally disastrous if left in the sun.’
It reminded her of the day Aiden came back from Rome, his words a tsunami of destruction in their little lives. That day, not so long ago, when she had been overly concerned about the health of her prawns. Prawns that had ended up in the bin when much, much bigger concerns swept that worry away like twigs in the kerb as a storm hit.
‘My thoughts entirely.’ He spoke slowly. Here they were again, chatting and in accord. ‘I don’t want to be pushy, but I did want to finish what I started to say last night. I’d planned it, practised it in my head, and so to be robbed of the moment felt frustrating.’
It was an admission of his vulnerability, practising his speech. There was nothing cocky or assumptive in his words, but rather it suggested a hesitancy and a desire to get it right. She liked it.
‘As I said, I’ve been... I’ve been treading water, for the longest time. We,wehave been treading water. And we’re not desperately unhappy, there are no explosive rows, no anger. It might be better if there were.’ He drew breath. ‘It’s more like we’ve run out of steam. Stopped on the tracks and there’s no rescue in sight. We’restationary and therefore bored and frustrated. We snap at each other and it’s ugly, I’m ashamed that you saw that. It’s like we’re waiting for someone to come along and show us the signpost of where we go next. Static. We skirt around the topic. Both admitting we’re not happy, but the truth is it’s more than that, we’re done, and yet neither of us has had the courage to say it out loud, to blow the final whistle, not for the longest time, both afraid, I guess, of all that comes after. The disruption. It’s why I took the flat. We agreed it’s the physical separation that will ease what comes next.’
She thought briefly of her mum and dad, bickering the decades away.
‘Yet you have the courage to say it out loud to me.’
She was aware that this knowledge came with its own set of consequences that could be either a burden or a gift.
‘Yes,’ he whispered. ‘I do. I love Trish. That’s the strange thing. And probably the most surprising thing to me. I might have assumed that to feel the way I do would mean falling out of love and that can quickly lead to dislike, irritation, all those things that slowly erode a shared life. But no, I still love her. Very much. But tragically, I love her like I love my brother, my great friend, my kids. I don’t love her with a burning desire or, or a need to be with her, I’m notinlove with her.’
His words at once filled her with elation and desolation, to be talking so freely and intimately about the woman she had met only briefly. It was both disloyal and riveting. He didn’t sound like a man who was cruel or frivolous, quite the opposite. His words were considered and smart. It helped her understand the uncharacteristic attraction she felt for him. He loved his daughter; she remembered how the first time she’d met him he’d been waiting to see her safely boarded, listening to her playlist, wanting to understand her, and recognising that his child’s lyrics of choice, no more than her favoured poetry set to music, was a way to do that.It was beautiful. And he loved his wife. Ironically, just the kind of characteristics she would look for in a potential lover. If it weren’t so bloody complicated and impossible it would have made her laugh, not want to cry.
‘I suspect that you might be describing the majority of marriages after so long. Isn’t it just standard practice that the sparkle wears off? As it’s meant to. I can’t imagine that level of passion or burning desire being sustainable, and isn’t what replaces it more precious? That deep connection, the constancy?’
He gave a wry chuckle. ‘Of course, but what if it’s replaced with something less substantial than a deep connection? What if you’re left with something that feels thin, diluted, as if you are both settling rather than finding the courage to live your best lives? And why should we settle? Whydowe?’
