What Goes Around...

I wasn’t the one with the problem.

I wasn’t the crap wife that pushed him away, that made him do what he did.

It wasn’t even about Lucy.

The problem lay with him.

‘Did you never think about having an affair, Gloria?’ He looks over.

‘God, no.’

I didn’t.

But I’m being lazy again. I am heading for the peanut butter jar that lives in my mind. I’m stuffing thoughts down, except I want a relationship that’s honest. I turn on the bed and I look to a man that might not be able to survive what I’m about to say here, but if it’s going to be better than good then I really need Paul to be able to handle my shame.

I tell him something I’ve never shared with another living soul.

I’ve had a few angry words with a dead one mind.

Oh, the stories I could tell!

And I do.

‘There was a time…’ I look over to him and my face is on fire. ‘After I had Alice, I lost a lot of weight. I really wanted my marriage to work, I’d have done anything to save it.’

He looks at me, his eyes tell me I can go on.

I can’t.

I am starting to cry.

‘Gloria?’

‘We went to a dinner party…’ My eyes are screwed closed and I am so ashamed, so ashamed and I cannot do this. ‘At the end of the night….’ I go to climb off the bed but Paul holds my arm. ‘There was just us and Greg and Shirley - Greg’s the MD. He’d told me before we went out that we needed to impress him, that I needed to behave.’ I don’t want to do this – I don’t want to re-live this, except I am. ‘They had one of those heated outdoor spa things.’ I open my eyes and I watch Paul as I tell him. ‘Shirley said it didn’t matter if I didn’t have a bikini and they were already in the water. I just went in in my bra and knickers…’

He’s still looking at me.

‘Shirley started talking about my weight loss, how great my figure was, how nice my breasts looked. Then she started feeling them. He told me take off my bra and, when I didn’t, Shirley did it for me.’

I know that Paul thinks this sort of stuff is disgusting and I do too – I’m disgusted by that time.

‘When I didn’t want to play with Shirley,’ I just tell Paul what happened. ‘He did.’

‘And Greg?’

I just lie there and I remember it, I remember how I’d have done anything to save my marriage, and so I did.

I was screwed by the MD because I didn’t have the guts to get up and leave.

I’m more ashamed of that, than what happened.

‘It was his sodding fantasy, not mine,’ I say. ‘But I did it – I went along with it…’

I tell him how excruciating work things were for me after that, how I needed five Bacardi’s and cokes just to get through them.

He holds me as I cry and, when I’ve calmed down, he’s still holding me, and then he kisses me.

He isn’t turned on by the story; he’s just turned on by me.

He knows me now.

Someone knows.

The person that matters the most in the world to me, actually knows my truth.

And the nicest thing of all is, he’s still here.

CHAPTER FORTY NINE

Lucy

I see the flash of the speed camera and I don't even blink, I don't care, I don't slow down–I have to get to her!

I feel like I did when I came home and saw the police car and ambulance, except I don’t want to slow down this time. I just want to get to her. There’s this panic inside and I want to be wrong. I want to have misheard, to have misunderstood. I want to have got it all wrong. I pull into their driveway and I'm shaking. Jess must have been looking out for me because I don't even ring the bell before the door opens. I know as soon as I see her that I didn't mishear and I didn’t misunderstand.

Luke’s left her.

‘It's okay!’ I put my arms around her. I can't really make out what's gone on, she's ranting and crying and any hopes that they’ve just had a major row are fading.

I mean that, I promise you that, because yes I’ve got a thing for Luke, you know that I do, so I cannot deny. If I've harboured any thoughts about them breaking up I'm ashamed of them, I’ve tried not to have them, but when I did (and judge me if you feel you have to but I’m just trying to be honest here) it was the other way round. It was Jess leaving him, because in my complicated, perfect fantasy, Jess didn't get hurt.

She's hurting so badly now.

She's this raw body of pain, like some multiple injury patient and I don't know where to touch her that won’t make it worse. I don’t know what to say to make her feel better. I feel helpless, yet I feel responsible; not responsible in the way that it's my fault (I’ll deal with that later), instead it's a grown-up responsible feeling. I know that it's my turn to take care of her, to look after her as she looked after me.

She tells me, in between glasses of water and tea and cigarettes (she drove to the garage at two am and got some – I’ve never seen her smoke). Slowly it comes out – not neatly, I have to jiggle all the pieces to work things out.

‘There isn’t anyone else,’ she shakes her head. ‘I know that’s what they all say, but I know Luke. He’d never cheat but that just makes it worse.’ She’s folding over in pain. ‘It’s just me he doesn’t want…’

‘No,’ I say. ‘No.’

Then she runs out of fags and I go and get some and I change the rules.

I smoke on the days of my husband’s funeral and on the day Jess’s husband leaves.

‘I thought maybe he was a bit depressed, I mean, since…’ and she looks at me and pauses, she doesn’t know how raw my wound is but I’m not hurting for me today.

‘He lost his best friend,’ I say, because sometimes you forget that, all the people who are propping you up when you’re grieving have lost someone too. ‘Maybe he is depressed.’

‘It was before that,’ she tells me.

There is an honest appraisal then.

The one that comes when you're at your lowest, before the lawyers and family and friends step in, before everybody pumps you up and convinces you he’s a bastard and that you did nothing wrong. There is a window and Jess is staring through it now and looking at her marriage and she’s looking through it with me.

‘It was before he died. It started going wrong in the New Year.’ Jess says. ‘I know he’s dark, I know he doesn’t exactly share his feelings; I’ve known that from the start. We’ve been rowing a lot lately… I’ve been storming back home to Wales.’

I think of that night and the real reason that they didn’t come around. I just never thought they were in trouble.

‘Jess,’ I put my arm around her. ‘All marriages struggle…’ and then I feel tension in her shoulders, and then, when her face turns to mine, she’s angry, but a different angry now. She’s angry with me and she doesn’t care about raw wounds now.

Here’s another thing they don’t tell you when you marry that man that already was when you met him.

There are so many curses to being a mistress and I’m served one now.

‘Is there something going on between the two of you, Lucy?’

I just stare at her stunned.

‘Because he’s round there all the fucking time.’

‘Doing paperwork.’

‘I mean it Lucy, I want to know.’

‘No.’

‘As if you’d tell me anyway.’ Her face contorts.

‘I wouldn’t do that to you, Jess. I would never break up…’

‘Well, it’s never stopped you before.’

She breaks down, she just starts sobbing and saying she’s sorry and I just sit there wishing I were numb, because yep, Karma can be a bitch at times.

‘I’m sorry, Lucy.’

‘Forget it.’ I close my eyes, because I have to forget that, she’s my friend and I love her and she’s done so much for me and my arm is back around her.

‘I can’t do this Lucy,’ she’s crying. ‘I can’t do this.’

‘You can,’ I tell her and then I shut up, because I need to listen and not talk. I love Jess and everything and she’s been so good to me, but that night when she had her accident, when I told her I wasn’t strong enough, that I was falling apart… I was.

I really was.

If I ever say those words to Jess again, I want her to act differently next time.

I want her to listen.

I want her to know that when someone says they can’t do this, maybe for a little while – they can’t!

‘You’re coming home with me.’

It’s one of the good things about not having him there – I don’t have to ring and check if it’s okay and we won’t have to worry how long she stays, or if she’s getting in the way. The choice is entirely mine and I make it.

‘I’ll go and pack for you.’

‘No,’ she says. ‘He might ring.’ She’s a mess. ‘He might come back…’

‘He might,’ I say. ‘But you won’t be sitting at home waiting for him.’

Charlotte is wonderful.

When I pick her up from school I’m worried how she’s going to take it, if it’s another crisis she really doesn’t need –she loves Luke and Jess so much but she is, in fact, wonderful. She goes and sits on Jess’s knee and gives her a cuddle and then she shares a sort of yikes look with me and we have a little smile.