He sighs. ‘To be honest, I saw this coming. That’s why I wanted us to have the party – thought it might set us back on track. But it looks like we’re heading in different directions,’ he says sadly. ‘We have been for a while, haven’t we?’
I nod. ‘We’ll always be best friends. Parents to our children. We’ll always be family. But, yes, there are different roads for us to explore now. I just need some time away, to feel as though I’m making the most of my life after everything that’s happened. I want to embrace adventure and get away from everything that reminds me of Jules with the cancer.’
‘How long will you be gone?’
‘I’m not sure. But I think it would be good for both of us.’ I look at the golf-club doors.
‘Someone’s bringing the water,’ I say.
‘That’s Mandy. She’s the bar manager. Hang on.’ He hurries over to her, takes the jug and a glass and reassures her that, yes, everything is fine. ‘Mandy thought you might be having a turn. She’s been very supportive about the treatment.’
‘I don’t know her.’
‘Oh, she’s very nice, you’d like her. On her own since herdaughter moved out and her husband left. But she runs a great bar. Always has a good selection of crisps.’
He’s waffling now. He stops talking. Then he says slowly, ‘This is for real, isn’t it?’
I take a deep breath. ‘I want us both to be happy. Let’s pursue that happiness in our different ways. Do our own thing.’ I take hold of his hands and give them a gentle squeeze. ‘I need to find out who I am without the treatment going on. What the new Jules looks like.’
He gazes at me. ‘But what will I do without you?’
‘You’ll play golf.’ I chuckle. ‘And more golf.’
He joins in. ‘I do like golf.’
‘I know. And you still have work – you love your job at the warehouse. And you enjoy a Sunday drink here.’
He smiles. I put one hand on his forearm.
He pats it. ‘Thank you. For everything. I mean it. I want you to be happy,’ he says quietly.
‘And I want you to be happy. We want the best for each other, so let’s just give this a go.’
He slips into practical Pete mode. ‘Will you take your car?’
‘If that’s okay.’ Suddenly it feels bizarrely like we’re arranging a weekend away with friends, instead of ending our married life.
‘It’s just been serviced and there’s a full tank in it.’
Suddenly the tears threaten to reappear as I realise this is it: I’m walking away, to a new adventure.
‘Where will you go?’
‘Back to France,’ I say. ‘See if there’s anything there for me.’
He frowns. ‘What about the cat?’ He seems more worried about that than anything else. ‘She likes her routine.’
‘A bit like you …’ I say fondly.
‘Yes,’ he agrees.
‘Let her stay with you,’ I say gently.
‘And what about the cake?’ He points back towards the party.
‘You eat it. It’s your favourite. Chocolate.’
‘I’m a bit more of a lemon-drizzle man, these days,’ he says.
