It was late afternoon before Nancy was able to phone Jim. She’d spent all day settling her mother, shopping for food—in the vain hope she might eat something—warming the place up, changing the sheets, then nipping back later to make sure she was all right. Her mother had been very quiet, but she seemed glad to be home. Nancy had canceled the appointment she’d made with her own doctor for Friday. She’d have to contend with the twelve-year-old half-wit instead.
“I’ve arranged for you to see Dr. Henderson on Thursday,” she’d told Frances, who was sitting on the sofa covered with a soft throw, looking very cozy, almost asleep.
Her mother’s eyes sprang open. “Is there any need, darling? I’m perfectly all right now.”
“He wanted to check you out. He was worried about your weight, Mum.”
Frances shook her head in irritation. “There’s no point in my going to see the doctor so he can tell me I’m thin. I know I am.” She gave an exasperated sigh and closed her eyes again.
“He wants to find out if there’s a reason why you are,” Nancy said, but her mother pretended not to hear and Nancy didn’t want to upset her again.
Now she was back home, and although she was enjoying the solitude, she was very uneasy about her mother.
“She’s so bloody stubborn,” she told Jim. “I know she knows there’s something wrong, but she refuses to do anything about it.”
“Well, I suppose it’s her life.”
“You’re telling me I should do nothing? Not bother to get her checked out? Really?”
“I’m not telling you anything . . . but maybe she doesn’t want to have tests and scans and ops and shit. It’s her call.”
“So I just leave her to die.”
“Hey, Nancy, don’t get upset.”
She swallowed hard, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “It might be something simple, something that could be fixed without too much trouble. And then she’d be fine again.”
“It might.” Jim sounded dubious.
“We had a fight, about you staying over. That was why she huffed off home.”
“Ah. I’m sorry about that.”
Nancy sniffed. “Don’t be. It was wonderful.”
Jim was silent for a moment. “Seems tough that you’re paying for it now, though.”
She listened to him breathing, gave a long sigh. “Will you come over tomorrow?”
“Love to.”
“We’ll have the place to ourselves.”
“Fantastic. I’ve got a student at four. I’ll come after that.”
They said goodbye and Nancy felt calm for the first time in a while. The sound of his voice, the tenderness she’d heard in it, his concern for her and her problems, was like balm to her soul. Still holding the phone, she leaned back against the sofa cushions and closed her eyes.
*
Her phone woke her. Glancing at the clock she saw it was nearly seven. She must have been dozing on the sofa for a couple of hours.
“Lindy, hi.” She struggled to sit upright, her neck stiff from the awkward angle at which she’d been lying. She was cold—it had been such a rubbish summer so far.
“How are you?” Lindy sounded a bit strange.
“I’m fine. You?”
“Yeah, good.” Her friend paused and Nancy waited for her to go on. “Just wondering if I could pop round.”
“Now?” It was the last thing Nancy wanted.
“Just for a few minutes. I’ll be up your way in about twenty. There’s something I want to talk to you about.”
“Yes, of course. Come in and have a glass of something.”
“I won’t stay long.”
Nancy didn’t ask what Lindy wanted to talk about, but she felt a certain uneasiness as she waited for her friend to appear. Lindy was always rushing about so it was perfectly possible that she was passing, but she had sounded unusually grave when she’d said she wanted to talk. Perhaps she needed a favor. But Lindy didn’t beat about the bush. If there was something she wanted Nancy to do for her, she’d come right out and say it.
Nancy went upstairs and washed her face, brushed her hair, put on a clean T-shirt and some lip balm. She’d been on the run all day and she felt sweaty and tired still, despite the snooze. But then, she thought, with a small smile, she hadn’t slept much last night. The row with her mother had sidetracked her, but now she sat on her bed and remembered. It seemed nothing short of miraculous the way she felt about Jim . . . and the fact that her feelings appeared to be reciprocated. It wasn’t just sex, fantastic as that was between them: they could talk too, never stopped. She reckoned she’d said more to Jim in the two months they’d known each other than she’d said to Christopher in thirty-plus years of marriage. Still smiling to herself, already dreaming about seeing him tomorrow, she heard Lindy’s car in the driveway and went downstairs to greet her friend.
Lindy immediately gave her a big hug. Then, without more ado, she took hold of Nancy’s arms and guided her backward, down onto a kitchen chair.
“Darling, I’ve got something to tell you and you’re not going to like it.”
Frowning, Nancy stared at her. “What do you mean?”
“Can I get us both a glass of wine first?” Her friend was already moving toward the fridge, where she found a bottle and unscrewed the top. “Glasses?”
Nancy pointed to the cupboard above the dishwasher, her heart beginning to pound.
“Right,” said Lindy, sitting at the end of the table, next to Nancy and handing her a glass. “Now, there’s no easy way to say this. Jim’s married.”
Nancy stared at her. “He was . . . but he’s divorced now.”
“No, he’s not. He’s married and still living with his wife.”
Nancy felt a fluttering in her chest and realized she was trying to breathe. “That’s rubbish. They separated three years ago when Chrissie ran off with some barman.”
Lindy did not take her eyes off Nancy’s face. “No, Nancy. They live together in a house off Sutherland Road. Fact.”
“I don’t believe you. Who told you this?”
Lindy leaned back and let out a weary sigh.
“It’s a long story. Chemmy, my boss at the shop, knows Jim because his son, Tanner, does guitar lessons with him, at his house.” She pursed her lips, eyeing Nancy with real concern. “Tanner’s met Chrissie, darling, she often opens the door to him.”
“Chemmy told you this? Why? Why were you talking about Jim?” She felt confused, as if her head were filled with sand. She couldn’t work out what to focus on first.
“Okay. It happened like this. I was at work and my boss was there. Tanner dropped by on his way home from his lesson.” Lindy stopped, checked Nancy’s face. And seeing whatever she saw, she reached over and took her hand, gave it a squeeze. “You want me to go on?”
Nancy nodded dumbly, quickly removing her hand.
“So Tanner was chatting to his father, saying that Jim had been encouraging him to sing and that he thought he might do some singing lessons as well as guitar. Chemmy wasn’t best pleased about that because, of course, he’d be the one funding the lessons and he hadn’t been too keen on his son becoming a musician in the first place. Anyway, I heard all this and asked, ‘Is that Jim Bowdry you’re talking about, by any small chance?’”
Nancy took a gulp of wine. It tasted sharp and too cold and she put the glass down hard on the wooden table.
“Tanner said it was, and I said, ‘What a coincidence. I know him and my friend is dating him.’ Then Chemmy said he thought Jim was married. Turns out Chemmy’s sister-in-law works with Jim’s wife at the council. God, small world, eh?”
When Nancy didn’t respond, Lindy went on, “It was Chrissie who’d suggested Jim as a guitar teacher for Tanner.”
Nancy’s brain was spinning. She couldn’t make head or tail of what Lindy was talking about. Tanner, Chemmy, a sister-in-law with the council . . . She shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
Her friend took a long breath. “No, well, I don’t blame you.” She topped up her glass. “But, Nance, it makes sense, no? You said Jim’s never taken you back to his, which is odd—or, at least, I think it’s odd after all this time. If he were on his own, wouldn’t that be the first place he’d take you? Especially with all your family crowding in on you over here.”
“He said his son was staying.”
Lindy raised an eyebrow, and didn’t reply.
Nancy tried hard to marshal her thoughts, trawl back over the many conversations she’d had with Jim. Did he actually say he was divorced? “He never wanted to talk about her,” she said, remembering the tension when she’d brought up his family.
Lindy just nodded.
“But he definitely said they were separated. He always refers to her as his ex.”
“Well, looks like she’s not.”
“You don’t know that for certain.” She didn’t think that even she believed what she was saying, so she stopped and stared straight ahead, at the jumble of colorful felt-tip and painted images, pinned to the fridge with magnets, that the girls had done. None of it made sense.
“Lucky you hadn’t got around to the bonking bit yet,” Lindy, ever practical, suggested.
“We did. Last night.”
“Oh, darling.” Lindy frowned, mouth tightening. “Bastard.”
“He’s not a bastard,” Nancy blurted out. “You’ve met him, Lindy. Jim’s not a bastard.”
“I must say, I didn’t have him down for one.”
“There’s got to be some explanation,” Nancy said.
“What are you going to do?”
“Ring him, I suppose. Find out what it is.”
Jim answered on the second ring. Lindy was long gone. She had been reluctant to leave Nancy alone, although Nancy had assured her that she’d be fine. In the end she’d virtually had to push Lindy out of the door, desperate to be alone and away from her friend’s kind but pitying gaze. Then she had just sat for a long time as the summer light faded, baffled by what she had heard. She plumbed her brain, searching for deceit in Jim’s eyes, his words, his touch, but she could find none. He was loath to discuss his ex-wife—wife?—but that seemed fair: she didn’t much like discussing Christopher.
And the fact that he hadn’t asked her home . . . If his son was there, why would he?
“Hey, Nancy,” Jim’s deep voice made her heart flutter.
“Hi.” She swallowed hard. She was not going to cry.
“I’ve been walking around in a daze,” he was saying, “after last night.”
She took a deep breath, batted his words away. “Lindy came round just now. She told me that you’re married and still living with your wife.” The words sounded aggressive, rude. She immediately wanted to retract them. There was a stunned silence at the other end of the line. “She works for Tanner’s father.”
“Right . . .” she heard Jim whisper.
“Is it true?”
“Nancy . . .”
“Is it true, Jim?”
She heard him sigh. “Yes, I am still married to Chrissie. And yes, she does still live in the same house. But we haven’t lived as a married couple for three years, just as I told you.”
“You told me you were separated.”
“We are. We live in different parts of the house. She lives downstairs, I live upstairs. We have nothing to do with each other, I swear.”
“Lindy says that Chrissie was the one who recommended you to Tanner. And Tanner says she often opens the door to him. That’s not exactly nothing.”
“She opens the door because her room is closest. And, yes, I suppose we talk sometimes. God, Nancy—you’ve got to believe me that it’s totally over with her. We haven’t had sex or anything, we barely speak—we haven’t for years, not since Benji.”
Nancy heard the desperation in his voice. “Then why didn’t you tell me?” The question was the only one she really wanted answered. It wasn’t Jim’s circumstances that tore at her heart, it was that he’d lied to her so comprehensively.
“I—it was bloody dumb of me, but when we first met I thought if I said I was still married and living with Chrissie but not living with her it would sound wrong and you wouldn’t believe it was over. Men always say that just to get their leg over. You’d have run a mile.” He paused. “You would, wouldn’t you?”
“Why aren’t you divorced, if you’ve been separated for three years?”
“Money. It costs a lot to get divorced. And before I met you, it didn’t seem important. Neither of us was with anyone else.”
They both fell silent.
“I’m so sorry, Nancy. I’ve been kicking myself for not telling you the whole story right from the start. It’s been tearing me apart. There were a couple of times when I nearly did, but then I thought you’d just walk . . . and the longer I left it, the bigger the hole I’d dug got.”
She didn’t answer. She didn’t know what to think.
“But this doesn’t change anything. Certainly doesn’t change how I feel about you, Nancy. Please, please, believe me. My wife means nothing to me anymore. Nothing. And she knows that. Our relationship is totally non-existent. We’ve just never bothered to sort out the technical side.”
“Doesn’t change anything?” Nancy was stunned. “How can you say that? Of course it changes things. It changes everything. You’re a married man, living with your wife. You lied to me.”
Jim emitted a low, agonized groan. “Nancy, please, will you let me come over, explain to you properly, face to face?”
She wanted nothing more, in that moment, to see him, to lie in his arms, for him to tell her it didn’t matter until she believed him. “No. Don’t come over.”
“But . . . we’ve got to talk about this. We can’t let it ruin things. I’ve filed for divorce now—I saw the solicitor yesterday. It’s only a matter of time . . .”
“I’ve got to go.” She put the phone down without saying goodbye.
It was as if the world had gone very silent. She shivered, feeling disoriented. Christopher’s betrayal, although shocking at the time, was somehow in character, and her connection with him had faded to an almost perfunctory state by the time he’d left. But Jim . . . Jim was her soul mate. Jim was . . . Jim was . . .
*
Louise was on the doorstep just before eight. “Mum, hi.” She peered at her. “God, you look rough. Did you have a bad night?”
Nancy nodded, waiting for her daughter to state her business.
“I’ve sent you a couple of texts, but maybe your phone is off?”
“Yes.” She had turned it off soon after her conversation with Jim because he kept calling and she couldn’t bear it.
“Only I wondered if you wanted me to pop in on Granny this morning, or if you’re going to.” She looked round to check the girls’ progress. Hope was standing on the gravel, strung about with her school paraphernalia, staring at something on the ground. “Hope, get into the car . . . I could drive by after I’ve done the school run if you’re not.”
“Thanks, Lou. I was planning to go anyway this morning. I’m sure you’re busy.”
“Well, let me know if you want any help.” She began to turn away, then changed her mind. “Maybe you ought to go back to bed, Mum. You don’t look too hot.”
“I’m fine.” She was dreading telling her daughter about Jim. She knew, word for word, what Louise would say, Frances too.
As she shut the front door, Nancy remembered she was still in yesterday’s clothes. She hadn’t been to bed, hadn’t changed or washed since her phone call with Jim. She wasn’t sure if she’d slept—she must have: the hours had passed quickly enough. But she had barely moved from the sofa all night, her mind in a fog of bewilderment.
She knew that Jim had told the truth. She believed that his relationship with his wife was over—or at least she told herself she did. But the foundations of their relationship had shattered into shards, like broken glass. She didn’t even dare touch it because she knew it would hurt too much. All she could do was tread gingerly over their time together and try to understand where she had gone wrong, why she had trusted him so completely on such little evidence. And if he could love her so apparently sincerely while concealing this huge lie, what else might she uncover if she looked?