Julie

It could have been so different, after I kicked Harry out.

My life could have gone in a whole other direction.

Then none of it would have happened.

That night would never have happened.

I phoned in sick the week after I threw Harry out, and the following Friday Toby turned up.

‘Jesus Christ, Julie. I knew you had money. But this place? You must come home from work and bleach yourself to get rid of the germs.’

We were standing at the door. I had yet to invite him in, so gob-smacked was I to see him at my home. Nobody from school, except Grace, who I’d known years, ever came out here. I’d never liked to mix the two areas of my life, mainly because of Harry.

‘Eh, is there a workman’s entrance you’d like me to use?’ Toby said, grinning but slightly nervous. ‘Do I need to check in with the staff downstairs?’

‘Oh. I’m sorry. Come in. I’m not with it – excuse me.’

I stood aside to let him pass and watched as he admired aloud the black-and-white diamond tiles on the floor, the spiral staircase to the balcony that overlooked the reception hall, the Baccarat chandelier.

‘Is Harry here?’ he asked, moving into the question seamlessly, as though it would naturally follow his exclamations about the wrought-iron stair railings.

‘No,’ I said. Then, ‘Toby, why are you here?’

‘I was worried about you,’ he said. ‘You missed your days. You haven’t been sick since you started at St Mochta’s. Is everything okay?’

I’d been on my own all week. I hadn’t left the house. I had ignored calls from Helen, and then from my mam. I’d texted that I was too busy to talk, but I knew I couldn’t speak to them because I wouldn’t be able to lie and pretend I was fine. I still hadn’t got back to confirm about Mam’s birthday and I knew Helen would be fuming with me.

Is everything okay? It was one little question, and Toby had inserted so much feeling into it. The fact that he’d come here, when I only worked part-time in the school and barely went out any more – the fact that he’d known I wasn’t all right because he was still in love with me, after all this time and no reciprocation …

I started to cry.

Toby practically skidded across the floor to put his arms around me.

I buried my head in his chest. It was unfamiliar. His body was harder than Harry’s, who was fit but didn’t teach teenagers how to play sport all week. Toby smelled of Lynx deodorant and aftershave from the chemist’s. The sandy-coloured bristles on his chin tickled my forehead.

It felt strange, and yet it was an embrace I could get comfortable with if I let myself. Like a first cigarette must taste.

‘You did the right thing,’ he said, murmuring into my hair. ‘Throwing him out. You were right.’

I nodded and pulled away. We moved into the kitchen and I poured myself a large glass of wine and him a smaller one, after he protested he was driving.

‘What happened?’ he said.

‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

‘You don’t need to give me the gory details. What did he do to you? Did he hurt you?’

Toby took my face and turned it this way and that, looking for signs I was a battered wife, which I think would have secretly pleased him. He could have come to my rescue big-style.

I gently removed his hand.

‘No, Toby. Not like that.’

‘He cheated on you.’

My eyes fell to the table.

Had he? Had my husband cheated on me? Was that worse than what he’d actually told me, what he’d been accused of? Raping somebody?

‘That wanker. I knew it. I knew he didn’t deserve you.’

I shook my head.

‘It’s not … he didn’t cheat on me,’ I said.

‘Don’t defend him, Julie. I know you’re upset. I know it’s your marriage. But you have to be strong. I’m here for you. All your friends are.’

‘My friends?’ I sobbed. ‘I’ve been a shit friend. Why would you be here for me?’

He shook his head.

‘Don’t be silly. We don’t have to see you every day to be your friends. I think about you all the time.’ Toby flushed. He’d said more than he meant to.

I looked at him. Properly.

It might have been the drink (it wasn’t my first that day), but it occurred to me that Toby was a very handsome man. He was the antithesis of Harry – shorter, stockier, fairer. But he had real character in his features, lines that said humour around his eyes and mouth, and a crooked smile that was endearing.

I’d felt so lonely all week and I was pathetically grateful for his company.

He stared back at me and I could see the yearning on his face, all that unspoken love he’d nursed for years. And I thought of all the times I’d sat in that kitchen on my own, wondering where Harry was and who he was with.

I could have been with Toby. With him properly, or having an affair with him, and I knew, I just knew, I would have been the only woman in the world for him.

He leaned towards me, his mouth close to mine.

I could have kissed him. I could have let him take me upstairs and make love to me. I would have been justified.

But there was an elastic band in my body that connected me to Harry and it snapped me back.

Toby was lovely, but he wasn’t my husband. If I slept with him I would cry all the way through, wanting it to be Harry’s body I touched, Harry’s mouth on mine, Harry inside me. Then I would die from the guilt of it. I’d meant my wedding vows. I’d given myself wholly and completely to my husband. I couldn’t be with anybody else. Not while I was still married.

I turned my head.

Toby pulled away like he’d been smacked.

‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘I can’t.’

‘But he’s not here.’ Toby’s voice was angry.

I put my hand to the side of my head.

‘He’s here,’ I said.

I expected Toby to understand, but he didn’t. He couldn’t. He’d come so close and I’d yanked it from him at the last moment.

‘For fuck’s sake, Julie. When are you going to cop on? Anna was right. You are a sap for that man.’

He stood up fast, knocking back the chair.

‘Toby!’ I said, shocked.

‘Fuck it. I’m sorry; I’m going to say this. You know I’ve fancied you for years, Julie. I’ve waited for you to see the light and leave that prick. He’s not right for you. He’s nothing like you. You’re one of us. I’ve waited for you to grow up and stop acting like a lovesick teenager who can’t see the fucking nose on her face, who can see beyond the money and the pizzazz. But you never will. He says, “Jump”, you say, “How high?” You always will, no matter what he does. You’re infatuated with him. I’ve been an idiot.’

My jaw dropped.

‘What the hell? Who do you think you are, Toby, coming here and presuming to know everything about my life, about me? We’re work colleagues. This is the first time you’ve even been in my home. You said you wanted to be my friend, but now you’re saying you’re only here because you thought you might get your leg over? Do you think I’m that easy? That any time my marriage faces a problem I’ll fall into bed with somebody else? Is that the kind of woman you could be happy with?’

‘No,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘I don’t think that about you. That would make you like a bloody normal person. Whatever you have going on with Harry, it’s not normal.’

I recoiled. Then I realized something.

‘Hang on. You came here because I rang in sick. You asked if Harry was here. I said no and you said I was right to throw him out. How did you know I’d thrown him out?’

Toby lowered his eyes, shamefaced.

‘Toby? How did you know?’

‘I saw him, all right. In town. He was propping up a bar, pissed. He started shite-ing out of him about how he’d messed everything up, how much he missed you. He asked me to …’

I covered my mouth with my hand. The bastard. The absolute bastard. Harry couldn’t stand Toby, and he’d still appealed to him, he was that desperate.

‘Get out,’ I said.

‘I—’

‘Don’t say anything, Toby. Just get out. Don’t come here again. And by the way, you’re right. You are a fucking idiot. I’ve never fancied you. I never will. It’s nothing to do with Harry. You’re just not my type.’

I wanted to hurt him. Partly because he deserved it, partly because I felt sick at the thought of what I’d almost done. What I’d considered doing. Letting Toby, an emissary sent in desperation by Harry, screw me because I wanted to feel better.

Toby stared at me, his fury making his face ugly.

‘I shouldn’t have come here. I’m sorry for that. I’m sorry for not being straight with you. I thought you had feelings for me, Julie. That’s the God’s honest. I thought you had some weird notion about marriage being sacred and that’s why you wouldn’t leave him. But now I see it. You’re just addicted to him. Well, good luck with that. I’m sure he’ll be back within the week. I won’t say “Be happy” – I know you won’t be. And it’s not just bitterness talking. You’re the only one who can’t see it. Or maybe you can but you just don’t want to admit it. He’ll ruin you, Julie.’

With that, he left.

I stayed at the kitchen table and picked up the wine.

I tried to remain angry at Toby, but I couldn’t. He’d put it all out there, and I’d thrown it back at him. He was jealous and hurt and rejected. So he’d been mean.

He hadn’t meant what he’d said.

That’s what I told myself as I picked up the glass he hadn’t touched and emptied it into my own.