When they had been married for six months, she suggested that they might take a weekend off and visit London. ‘It would give me a chance to meet some of your friends and catch up with the theatre, and you could report back to your company.’
Each time, Max found some new excuse for not falling in with her plans. But he did agree that they should return to Venice to celebrate their first wedding anniversary.
~
Ruth hoped the two-week break would revive the memories of their previous visit, and might even inspire Max, when he returned to Jersey, to finally settle on some premises. As it was, the anniversary couldn’t have been in greater contrast to the honeymoon they had shared the year before.
It was raining as the plane touched down at Venice airport, and they stood shivering in a long queue as they waited for a taxi. When they arrived at the hotel, Ruth discovered that Max thought she had organised the booking. He lost his temper with the innocent manager, and stormed out of the building. After they had trudged around in the rain with their luggage for over an hour, they ended up in a backstreet hotel that could only supply a small room with single beds, above the bar.
Over drinks that evening, Max confessed that he had left his credit cards in Jersey, so he hoped Ruth wouldn’t mind covering the bills until they got home. She seemed to have been covering most of the bills lately anyway, but decided now was not the time to raise the subject.
In Florence, Ruth hesitantly mentioned over breakfast that she hoped he would have more luck in finding premises for his company once they returned to Jersey, and enquired innocently if the firm was becoming at all anxious about his lack of progress.
Max immediately flew into a rage and walked out of the breakfast room, telling her to stop nagging him all the time. She didn’t see him for the rest of the day.
In Rome it continued to rain, and Max didn’t help matters by regularly going off without warning, sometimes arriving back at the hotel long after she had gone to bed.
Ruth was relieved when the plane took off for Jersey. Once they were back in St Helier she made every effort not to nag, and to try to be supportive and understanding about Max’s lack of progress. But however hard she tried, her efforts were met either with long sullen silences or bouts of temper.
As the months passed, they seemed to grow further and further apart, and Ruth no longer bothered to ask how the search for premises was going. She had long ago assumed that the whole idea had been abandoned, and could only wonder if Max had ever been given such an assignment in the first place.
It was over breakfast one morning that Max suddenly announced that the firm had decided against opening a branch in St Helier, and had written to tell him that if he wanted to remain as a partner, he would have to return to London and resume his old position.
‘And if you refuse?’ asked Ruth. ‘Is there an alternative?’
‘They’ve made it all too clear that they would expect me to hand in my resignation.’
‘I’d be quite happy to move to London,’ Ruth suggested, hoping that might solve their problems.
‘No, I don’t think that would help,’ said Max, who had obviously already decided what the solution was. ‘I think it would be better if I spent the week in London, and then flew back to be with you at weekends.’
Ruth did not think that was a good idea, but she knew that any protest would be pointless.
Max flew to London the following day.
~
Ruth couldn’t remember the last time they had made love, and when Max didn’t return to Jersey for their second wedding anniversary she accepted an invitation to join Gerald Prescott for dinner.
The twins’ old housemaster was, as always, kind and considerate, and when they were alone he did no more than kiss Ruth on the cheek. She decided to tell him about the problems she was having with Max, and he listened attentively, occasionally nodding his understanding. As Ruth looked across the table at her old friend, she felt the sad first thoughts of divorce. She dismissed them quickly from her mind.
When Max returned home the following weekend, Ruth decided to make a special effort. She spent the morning shopping in the market, selecting fresh ingredients for his favourite dish, coq au vin, and picking out a vintage claret to complement it. She wore the dress he had chosen for her in Venice, and drove to the airport to meet him off the plane. He didn’t arrive on his usual flight, but strolled through the barrier two hours later, explaining that he had been held up at Heathrow. He didn’t apologise for the hours she had spent pacing around the airport lounge, and when they eventually arrived back home and sat down for dinner, he made no comment on the meal, the wine or her dress.
When Ruth had finished clearing away after dinner, she hurried up to the bedroom to find he was pretending to be fast asleep.
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Max spent most of Saturday at the golf club, and on Sunday he took the afternoon flight back to London. His last words before departing for the airport were that he couldn’t be sure when he would be returning.
Second thoughts of divorce.
~
As the weeks passed, with only the occasional phone call from London and the odd snatched weekend together, Ruth started seeing more and more of Gerald. Although he never attempted to do anything more than kiss her on the cheek at the beginning and end of their clandestine meetings, and certainly never placed a hand on her thigh, it was she who finally decided ‘the time had come’ to seduce him.
‘Will you marry me?’ she asked, as she watched him getting dressed at six the next morning.
‘But you’re already married,’ Gerald gently reminded her.