Esther was in her kitchen, spooning ice cream into plastic bowls for the birthday boy and his guests while I attempted to decant various dips into other bowls at the same time as describing the latest developments with Jack. Mum and Dad were heroically trying to entertain a gaggle of three year olds in Esther’s garden – I didn’t want them to hear this conversation, even though the process of family osmosis would mean they’d know most of it anyway, somehow.
‘And tell me again why you can’t move out?’
I’d explained the difficulty of the situation, how until we could legally separate our lives for good, neither of us felt we could afford to move out, so we were stuck with each other for the rest of the year. Esther gave William his spoon and looked at me, one eyebrow raised.
‘So you are absolutely stuck there? With Jack? For eight more months?’
I raised the spoon up in frustration. ‘I know! That’s divorce, I guess.’
She folded her arms. ‘So there’s absolutely no escape for you?’
‘Have you seen how much rent is these days?’ I insisted, realising too late I was echoing Jack.
‘Zo, all of us live a bus ride away from you. Ave probably lives closer to your school than you do. If you really wanted—’
‘I can’t live with you guys for eight months, Es. It’s not fair on any of you.’
‘And you’re sure you’re not trying to find an excuse to stay with Jack?’
‘I just asked him for a divorce! I don’t think I could be accused of that.’
‘What about Mum and Dad? They wouldn’t mind you going home.’
I folded my arms too. ‘Yeah, that’s what I need. To be the almost thirty-year-old divorcing her husband and moving back in with her parents. My god, even Mum said that was a bad idea.’
Esther came over and put an arm around me. ‘Alright, alright. Sorry. It’s not an ideal situation—’
I snorted.
‘—and I’m sure you’ll do the best you can with it.’
‘It’s going to be fine, I’m sure. As long as we can remain pleasant and mature with each other, I don’t see why it has to be that hard.’
Esther squeezed me. ‘Ok. If you say so. Now keep being a helpful waitress and I might let you take some leftovers home.’
‘You have got to be kidding me.’
‘What’s the problem?’
I was standing over Jack as he lay reading in bed, late one Saturday evening. I’d been out all day with Liz, and was now pulsating with rage, clutching a wadded mass of snot-green cotton.
‘What. Is. This?’
‘Bedding. Don’t you remember? We got it from my old boss for our wedding. If you can bear to recall such a hideous occasion. I put it in the washing machine. Sorry it isn’t quite dry yet.’
‘It wasn’t green when I left this morning.’
‘Ah, see, there’s always that risk when I do the laundry. Haven’t I always tried to warn you? Still, at least it was only sheets. At least it wasn’t your wedding outfit or anything,’ he called cheerily to me. ‘Although I expect that’ll be in a bonfire any minute.’
I stomped back to the sofa and wrapped myself in a blanket. So that’s how you want it, is it, Jack? Ok. But you’re going to regret it.
The next weekend, I was tucked up on the sofa, reading the papers and enjoying the fresh cup of tea I’d just made – carefully squeezing out the teabag then placing it exactly in the centre of the empty sink – when I heard Jack’s key in the lock. The sofa’s back was to the door, so he couldn’t see me, but I hunkered down lower just in case, hoping I could make myself entirely invisible. But with him, I could hear a woman, one who seemed very giggly and eager to look around Jack’s flat. He’s brought another woman back here? I thought. Well, at least I’d have my adultery grounds. Jesus Christ.
I waited until Jack was about to show her the bedroom before I piped up from my hidden position on the sofa. ‘Hi, guys. I’m Jack’s wife. Did he tell you about the time he accidentally called out his grandmother’s name during sex? I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.’
Jack was biting his lip. ‘This is Jenny. She’s Iffy’s new girlfriend. Iffy had recommended that she come to see our flat because she’s doing hers up. But thanks for making her feel super welcome – I know Iffy will be really grateful.’
Jenny looked like she was really hoping there might be a freak earthquake any minute, and I waved silently at her while sinking slowly back into my hiding place on the sofa.
A few days later, seriously premenstrual and in desperate need of some dark chocolate, I remembered my luxe emergency stash in the back of the cupboard. Mmm. It wasn’t behind the pasta, or the rice, or hiding behind the spices or stock cubes or the jars of mystery chutney. I was beginning to panic.
‘Jack! Have you seen that bar of chocolate that was in the back of the cupboard?’
‘Oh yeah, I had that after a run the other day.’
‘Iffy gave me that!’
‘I think you’ll find Iffy gave me that.’
I crossed my arms.
He held his hands up. ‘Fine, sorry, my mistake.’
‘You don’t even like chocolate!’
‘I needed an energy boost. It was a really long run.’
‘You could have eaten literally anything else.’
‘Whoops. If it’s any consolation, it wasn’t even very nice.’
I resolved to harness my hormonal fury for revenge.
Two days later, Jack managed to seriously pull a muscle on another run, and was advised to rub some vile-smelling ointment into his thigh each morning before his shower. I’m not saying I definitely squeezed a whole tube of hair removal cream into his ointment tube, then squished it all around to mix it – but I’m also not saying I definitely didn’t.
This morning, there was a satisfying amount of screaming coming from the bathroom.
The week after, all my chargers went awol for the whole week. I was reduced to calling my sisters on the landline.
* * *
‘So who’s next then?’ Kat stirred her drink with her straw and smiled innocently at me.
We were at the opening of a new bar and I’d made the effort to dress up, on Kat’s orders. We’d got two seats at a high table in one corner, but the bar was already rammed.
‘What do you mean, who’s next?’
‘Come on, Zo. Look around you! We all love Jack, but it’s probably time you got back on the horse, isn’t it? Before it dries up entirely.’ She banged her handbag somewhere between my thighs.
I choked. ‘I really don’t think it’s the right time for me to start dating.’
‘You’re missing out. Every day you’re alive is a day you’re never going to get back.’
‘Is that supposed to be a pep talk?’
‘I’m serious. All these opportunities, and you’re just ignoring them all. You’re divorcing, we get it, and what’s the best remedy for heartache?’
‘A medically induced coma?’
Kat rolled her eyes. ‘What about that guy over there? In blue. The one in the hat.’
‘He’s wearing a hat. Indoors. Nope.’
‘Well, that knocks about eighty per cent of our options tonight.’
‘Good!’ I took a swig. ‘Only twenty per cent left for me to reject.’
‘You shouldn’t be so fussy, sis. You’re not getting any younger.’
‘I’m twenty-nine, Kat. Also, this is not the nineteenth century.’
‘What about him? In the red trousers?’ She looked at me, laughing. ‘Ok, fair enough. The bartender?’
‘Stop, stop. This is insane. We’re still living together, Kat!’
‘You’re going to be living together for ages, according to you. What are you going to do, become a nun?’
I tried not to think about George’s face. And his arms. ‘My wedding bouquet’s probably still blooming, for god’s sake.’
‘Alright,’ Kat shrugged. ‘I’m just saying, maybe Jack’s going to get the wrong idea if you don’t start seeing someone else.’
‘And if I do, he might get an even worse wrong idea. That I was seeing someone else all along?’
‘Fine. Maybe not tonight. But I think – for both of your sakes – you need to seriously consider getting back out there.’
‘Kat, this is a horrible discussion that I’m ending now. Anyway,’ I said, watching her out of the corner of my eye, ‘I’d much rather hear about your new job. Since that night at the bar with your team, I’ve not heard a thing. How are you finding it?’
Kat turned away. ‘It’s fine. Bit awkward to discover your boss is your sister’s best friend’s ex, but it’s fine.’
I looked down at my drink, remembering my lie to her at the bar that night.
‘He’s not mentioned it, so neither have I. It’s fine.’
‘But what about the rest of the job? How’re the colleagues?’ I took a sip of my drink, keeping my eyes down. ‘How’s … Chuck?’
‘You’re being weird again, Zo. Did you have a crush on him back in your teens or something? He’s a bit … creepy, isn’t he? Ugh, please don’t make me think about you fancying him.’ She shivered dramatically.
‘Creepy? But … it’s ok, isn’t it? What do you do? What’s your job? What do you have to do every day?’
‘It’s a job! It’s just a job, dude.’ She was eyeballing me like she was trying to burn a hole in my forehead. ‘Stop grilling me. It’s a job. I go there, I do work, I come home again. Just … stop.’
With both work and relationships declared off topic, we finished our drinks quickly and headed to our separate homes. I texted Esther: Is it just me or is something up with Kat? Any news on Chuck? I think we need to keep our eyes peeled xxx
If I couldn’t even look after Kat, what hope did I have?
The end of term saw two departures from our Science department, so we headed out for curry and karaoke; it ended in kebabs, something I realised when I woke up in bed fully dressed and face-first in a greasy tray.
Various images were filtering through: singing, arm in arm with Miks and the deputy head; the night bus; selfies at the kebab shop with a group of teenage girls – oh god, please don’t let them have been my students; lying on grass, somewhere. Upstairs Jan calling my name? Was that a dream?
Where was my phone? Christ, where was my bag?
I found the phone down the side of the bedside table, mayonnaise smeared up the back. But my beautiful Chanel bag was nowhere to be found.
I’d had it in the evening.
I’d had it on the bus.
I must have had it coming in, because I’d clipped the house keys inside so I wouldn’t lose them.
And only one other person had been in the house since then.
I scoured the bedroom and bathroom, then stormed through the rest of the flat as best I could while suffering under a clumping, sharp-hooved hangover. Not in the kitchen. Not in the lounge. Nowhere.
‘Where is it?’ I growled.
‘Where’s what?’
Jack was eating breakfast, hunched over a casserole dish of Cheerios, eating them with a giant yellow plastic ladle. He looked up at me, then his eye was caught by something on my hand. Or rather, not on my hand.
‘Right. You’ve taken your rings off, then,’ he said quietly.
I put my hands behind my back, vibrating with rage.
‘Don’t change the subject, Jack. You know.’
He slurped dramatically.
‘I don’t know.’
‘Jack, where’s my bag?’
He slurped again. Then he slowly lowered the ladle into the soupy cereal and beamed at me wickedly.
I narrowed my eyes at him. His eyes flicked for a moment to the back door, then we both rushed towards it, him beating me there by a fraction of a second. He stood in front of me, blocking the way.
‘Zoe.’ He looked suddenly guilty. My heart pounded. And then I saw it, through the window of the back door.
Stranded.
Stained.
Soaking.
My handbag. With a howl of horror, I pushed Jack out of the way and slid the door open, rushing over to my beautiful bag. The leather was dappled with rain, where it wasn’t streaked with mud. I let out a sob, and picked it up by one handle, at which point a squirrel, who must have thought she’d really lucked out with new digs, leapt from the warmth of the bag and launched herself at my face.
I screamed.
The squirrel screamed.
I could hear Jack doing something in the doorway, before I became aware of him putting one hand on my breastbone and pulling the squirrel off with the other.
The squirrel scampered away.
Jack was biting on both his lips, desperately trying to keep a straight face.
‘What the HELL did you do that for?’
He looked stunned.
‘Did you want the squirrel on your head?’
‘You know that’s not what I’m talking about. Why would you put my bag out in the rain? Jack, it’s my one nice thing that I own. Why would you do that?’
‘Why would I do that?’
‘For fuck’s sake, I know you think it’s just a handbag. Haha, Zoe’s parents spent all their money on something to carry her lipstick in. I know you think it’s stupid, but it was the only really special thing I owned, and you thought it would be funny to just chuck it into the garden and wreck it—’
‘Whoah, hold on a minute—’
‘What, you didn’t think it was stupid to spend that much on a bag? You didn’t make fun of it?’
‘Zo, I might have said—’
‘No. You did. And now it’s ruined. I hope you’re pleased with yourself.’
‘Hang on a minute—’
‘No! I will not hang on a minute! You doing something so petty, so spiteful, has lost you the right to demand a single second of my time, Jack. I never thought you were perfect, but I thought you were above this. Chucking my bag in the garden? Thank god we’re getting a divorce, is all I can say.’
Jack’s face hardened.
‘I feel exactly the same.’
He stomped back into the house, tipped the rest of his breakfast back in one, grabbed his stuff and left, shutting the door behind him as gently as he could, considering we were in the middle of yet another fight.
I wasn’t sure how we’d got here again. We’d both agreed to split up – technically, this was an amicable divorce – yet we couldn’t even be in the same room as one another, and to top it all, I now had a wrecked handbag. I couldn’t work out where I was going wrong.