‘Are you all right? Do you want me to get Dad?’
I smile. ‘I’m fine. Really. Never better.’ In fact, I feel drunk, although I haven’t had a drink all night. I’m high on life … a cliché, I know, but I’m so grateful still to be here with the possibilities I want for myself in front of me. I think about Annie, wishing with all my heart she was standing in my shoes.
‘Wait here,’ I hear Maddie say to her girlfriend. ‘I’m getting Dad.’
‘No! I’m fine, really,’ I say, and wish she’d listen, but she’s gone already and I can see her pushing her way through the throng at the bar, reaching him and pulling him away from telling a story that involves swinging an imaginary golf club.
Pete reluctantly leaves his friends and follows her outside. ‘Jules, you okay? Maddie said you weren’t feeling well.’
‘I’m fine,’ I say, trying to calm the fuss that’s bubbling around me.
‘Shall I get you some water?’ Maddie asks.
I know she wants to help and is worried. ‘Actually,’ I say quickly, ‘some water would be great. Take, erm, your friend with you, get a jug.’
‘It’s Heidi,’ Heidi says.
‘Heidi, of course. Sorry, I couldn’t remember. Warm evening.’ I say, knowing that it really isn’t. We’re barely into spring. ‘I’ve had a lot on my mind.’
But Heidi doesn’t seem happy. ‘Yourfriend? Do you have lots of friends?’ she asks, as the two of them go inside.
As I watch them, I’m hoping I haven’t dropped Maddie in it.
Once they’re through the doors, Pete turns to me. ‘How long have you been out here?’ he asks.
I feel a glow of affection, warmth, security, but not the love we once had, giddy with excitement to be with each other. That’s gone.
‘Long enough,’ I say, without needing to add,long enough to work out what I need to do and say to you.
‘I didn’t realise—’
‘Pete,’ I cut him off. I need to get to the point. No use in prolonging this and making it tricky for either of us. ‘I … I need some time away.’
‘Another holiday? We could go to the coast for a couple of days.’
‘It’s not you. It’s me.’ I cringe at how corny that sounds. But I can’t stop now. ‘I don’t think …’ I look at him. He’s clearly confused and hurt, and I hate myself for doing this, but I’m doing it for us both.
‘I don’t think I can do this for another twenty-five years.’
‘Do what?’
‘You know, the routine. Coffee at seven thirty, morning news, Sunday lunch at the garden centre …’
‘I thought you liked the garden centre. We could always go toDeri’s café instead, but I didn’t think you liked their bacon baps as much.’
‘It’s not about the garden centre or Deri’s baps.’
‘You’re leaving me, aren’t you?’ he says, sounding resigned.
‘I … I just need something more right now. I need to remember I’m alive! I love you, and the life we’ve had and our kids, but we want different things. You like your Friday nights at the pub, and quiz night. I hate quiz night.’
He laughs. ‘I like black-out blinds and you like the curtains open,’ he joins in.
‘Pete, we haven’t shared a bedroom in well over a year.’
‘That was the treatment. I wanted you to rest.’
‘And I wanted you to get a good night’s sleep.’
