The stranger had his hands clasped over his manhood, but his hands weren’t doing a terribly good job. Freddie would have been equally as naked if he hadn’t made a grab for one of her summer dresses as soon as Daisy opened the door.
‘It isn’t what you think,’ her boyfriend said. He looked mortified, embarrassed and as guilty as sin.
‘What am I supposed to think it is?’ she asked.
She was calm, surprisingly so, considering. There was a part of her which even now hoped she’d jumped to the wrong conclusion. Maybe this was a colleague from work, and they were… what? What could they possibly be doing together which meant they had to be naked…?
‘Er… um…,’ Freddie said. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Then tell me.’
Freddie hung his head.
Daisy wished he had his own clothes on, and not her lovely Laura Ashley flower-print tea-dress wrapped around his nether regions. She liked that dress, but she’d never wear it again, not after what it was currently rubbing up against.
‘Fucking, dahling,’ the stranger drawled. ‘Freddie and I were doing it. In your bed.’
‘Carl, there’s no need to be so…’ Freddie swallowed. He reminded her of a small boy who’d been caught cheating in class and was about to be sent to the headmaster.
‘Honest?’ Carl finished for him.
Daisy’s mouth was wide open. In her bed? Screwing in the bed she shared with Freddie? The one she snuggled into every night, feeling safe and loved? That bed?
Ew.
‘Freddie, is it true?’ Her voice was little more than a whisper.
Freddie said nothing.
Daisy wondered, rather hysterically, if Caring Cards had a card for this occasion. Maybe that should be her first attempt – the sorry-you-came-home-and-caught-your-man-bumping-uglies-with-another-bloke jingle. She wondered how well it would sell.
Carl took Freddie’s hand in one of his, exposing his not-inconsiderable manhood. He’s a big fella, Daisy noticed absently, in more ways than one, and the old adage regarding the correlation between the size of a man’s feet and the size of his appendage, came to mind. In this instance it was true, she noted.
Freddie couldn’t look her in the eye. ‘Yes,’ he said finally, as the silence stretched out.
‘You and him?’ Daisy asked, seeking clarification.
She thought she could cope with a woman, but this bloke? How the hell was she supposed to compete with that, she wondered, as Carl flashed his assets at her.
Please put them away, she pleaded silently. Wasn’t there another dress in there? She’d willingly sacrifice any dress she owned if it meant she didn’t have to look at his dangling manhood for a second longer.
Actually, she didn’t have to look. She could simply go downstairs and wait for him to leave.
‘How long had this been going on?’ she demanded. ‘No, don’t tell me, I really don’t want to know. What am I to you, Freddie? A front, so people don’t know you’re gay?’
His voice was so low Daisy strained to hear his reply. ‘Maybe.’
‘Did you ever love me?’ Tears threatened, though whether they were sad tears or angry ones, Daisy couldn’t tell. It was too early to say how badly her heart was broken. At the moment, disbelief was riding her hard. Freddie – gay? There must be some mistake.
He’d certainly not been gay when they’d had sex, had he? He’d loved her curves, her womanliness. He’d certainly not had any trouble responding to her. In the beginning, during the so-called honeymoon period, he’d been as randy as a butcher’s dog. He hadn’t been able to get enough of her.
What had changed?
Had she put him off women? Was it her fault?
‘It’s not you, it’s me,’ Freddie said, in a subdued voice. ‘I can’t help being attracted to men.’
‘Do you love him?’ Daisy demanded.
Without warning, she burst into tears. Not wanting to give either man the satisfaction of seeing her cry, she fled downstairs and into the kitchen.
All her dreams, all her plans had fallen down around her ears. A bigger house, a wedding, a family – none of that would happen now, and she had no idea what to do next. Staying in this house wasn’t an option. Staying in a relationship with Freddie was impossible. So where did that leave her?
She was wiping her eyes on a sheet of kitchen roll when she heard muted voices from the hall, then the front door clicked shut. The sound of a car starting up made her wonder if Freddie had left, along with Carl. A part of her hoped he had, for how was she supposed to face him after what had just happened?
Freddie sidled into the kitchen, looking apprehensive. He looked so sorrowful and contrite that she wanted to wrap her arms around him and tell him everything would be alright – but it wouldn’t, would it?
‘You didn’t answer my question,’ she said, sniffling and reaching for another piece of kitchen roll to blow her nose.
‘What question?’
She knew Freddie was stalling – she could read him like a book. Except, she’d missed out the “I prefer men” chapter, hadn’t she? She obviously didn’t know him as well as she’d thought she did.
‘Do you love him?’ she repeated.
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Is that a “yes”?’
‘Yes.’
‘How long has it been going on?’
Freddie sighed and looked away. ‘Is there any point in discussing this?’
‘Of course there’s a bloody point! I want to know!’
‘It won’t change anything.’
If Carl had been a woman, Daisy would have undoubtedly have asked questions like “is she younger than me?”, “do you think she’s prettier?”, and “is she better in bed?”. But none of these things applied, and she found she had no basis on which to compare. There was only one comparison which mattered – her absence of the correct chromosome. It was like trying to compare a dog to a cat, and at that moment, Daisy felt like the silliest bitch on earth.
‘Just tell me,’ she demanded, her arms folded across her chest, her chin wobbling as she tried not to cry.
‘Are you asking how long I’ve been attracted to men, or how long I’ve been seeing Carl.’
‘Both.’
‘All my life, and a few months.’
‘You could have fooled me. Oh yeah, you did fool me, didn’t you? We had sex for goodness sake. Didn’t it mean anything to you?’
‘Look, Daisy, I love you, you know that—’
‘I don’t know anything anymore,’ she interrupted.
‘—but I don’t love you, love you. Not like two soul mates should.’
‘I thought you were my soul mate,’ Daisy wailed. ‘We’ve been living together for years, we’ve got the same sense of humour, we like the same things. Mostly.’ Yeah, she thought cynically, seems we really do like the same things – MEN!
Freddie sat down heavily on one of the kitchen chairs and put his head in his hands. ‘I didn’t mean to hurt you,’ he said slowly.
‘But you did, though,’ she pointed out. She puffed out her cheeks in an effort not to cry and blinked, fluttering her hands in front of her face.
‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t want you to find out like this.’ Freddie actually did sound sorry. Not that it made the slightest bit of difference.
‘How did you want me to find out? When we were walking down the aisle, when I was pregnant with our first baby? When?’
‘I know it’s crazy, right? But I love him and there’s nothing I can do about it.’ He looked at Daisy, begging her with his eyes to understand.
And she did understand, in a way, but it didn’t make the situation any easier to bear. ‘What happens now?’ she asked.
‘Clean break?’ His tone was hopeful. ‘Split everything we own jointly straight down the middle?’
‘No.’
‘No?’ Freddie shrugged and suddenly Daisy noticed how thin he’d become, and how gaunt his face was. The secret must have been eating away at him for a long time. She experienced an abrupt and unwelcome surge of sympathy. She wanted to hate him, to rage at him, to call him every nasty name she could think of, to take a scissors to his stupid sweaters, and pour his expensive aftershave down the sink.
But all she felt was pity.
‘I don’t want half. I don’t want anything, except my clothes, make-up, and laptop. You can keep the rest,’ she said.
‘What about the lamp in the living room? You love that lamp.’
‘Not anymore. It would remind me of us, of you.’
‘Oh. If you don’t want anything then…?’
‘Move Carl in, or go live with him I don’t care.’
‘What are you going to do?’
‘Go back to my mother’s.’