25
Bing had shown up AND everything had made sense. Seeing him, hearing his voice, smelling his skin, had revived feelings she hadn’t experienced since she was twenty. It was heady stuff – febrile, delicious, curative. Yet occasionally disappointment settled on her like a layer of dust, taking the shine off things.
‘You seem preoccupied,’ Hazel said.
The observation caught Miriam off guard. ‘Do I?’
‘We could knock off early and go for a coffee if a chat would help.’
In most friendships, there are talkers and there are listeners. It was in Miriam’s nature to listen. Admitting to someone that things weren’t quite right, didn’t come easily to her. But unlike Naomi or Frankie, Hazel could be relied on to be objective, non-partisan. Although she was on nodding terms with Bing, she hadn’t met Miriam’s family. If she intended sharing her very personal anxiety with anyone, Hazel would be the one. They ended up in the bar of the Angel Hotel. It was that between-time – too late for afternoon tea and too early for drinks – but they decided a bottle of white wine might ease conversation.
Hazel settled back in her chair, and raised her glass signalling she was ready to listen.
‘When I married Sam,’ Miriam said, ‘I found myself living in a nice enough house with a nice enough husband. I had a nice enough job. But when you’re twenty-two, “nice enough” is – well, it isn’t enough. I had nothing to complain about yet I couldn’t help thinking is this it? Is this how it’s going to be forever? Compared with the future Paul and I had dreamed of, it fell pathetically short.’
‘You must have had an inkling what being Mrs Siskin would entail.’
‘That’s the thing. I knew exactly how it would be and I accepted it. God only knows what was going on in my head. Was I punishing myself for betraying Paul? Or trying to make my parents love me more? Perhaps I wanted to make them feel guilty. There was definitely an element of self-flagellation involved.’
‘You never considered leaving Sam and going back to Paul?’
‘How could I? He’d never have trusted me after what I’d done. Besides, I fell pregnant almost immediately. Carrying another man’s child was not the ideal way to prove my undying love. Naomi was born and suddenly the stakes were higher. This innocent little soul who was only in the world because of me, deserved to grow up in a stable environment. I had no alternative but to knuckle down. It wasn’t so hard. Naomi was an easy, delightful baby and Sam was besotted with her. He was cut out to be a father. Patient. Gentle. He would have loved half a dozen. We tried but it didn’t happen. We were sad and disappointed but we’d become a solid family unit. Things toddled along. We had our ups and downs – which family doesn’t? – but nothing major. Naomi grew up and married David. Rosa and Max came along and Sam doted on them. Silly old me assumed it would go on that way forever.’
The bar was beginning to liven up. Miriam glanced at her watch. Bing wouldn’t be home for a while.
‘When Sam bankrupted us, I wanted to kill him. Unfortunately he got there first.’ Her voice caught. ‘Is that a terrible thing to say? Put yourself in my shoes. I’d done everything expected of me for forty years and he hadn’t the balls to face up to what he’d done.
‘I lost the plot. It all seemed futile. Too much of an effort. But then Max would give me a cuddle, or Rosa would giggle at something I said, and I knew I had to hang in there. Their father had left them. Their grandfather had left them. I couldn’t go too.
‘I muddled on, helping Naomi with the kids and the house. To my great relief I started to heal, to dare to look at the future, and I realised that being an adjunct to other people’s lives wasn’t going to be enough. That’s when the job at the art college came up – just a couple of mornings, but it made a huge difference. I began believing in myself. Regaining my confidence, I suppose. Not long after that after, I found out Paul was divorced. You know the rest.’
Hazel re-filled their glasses. ‘So what’s happened?’
‘Nothing. That’s the problem. We’ve lost momentum. We’ve stalled. It’s as if finding each other was the end of the process as far as Paul’s concerned. He’s happy with things as they are, but I signed up for more than a part-time job, redecorating the kitchen and pottering in the garden. If Romeo and Juliet had made it to sixty, I can’t think they’d be satisfied with a trip to the garden centre on Sunday afternoon. After waiting for each other for forty years, there’s got to be more to our story than that.
‘No doubt you’ll say I must have it out with him. Explain how I’m feeling. But what would I say? I need more from life than you’re giving me? What’s that going to do to him?’
‘Sorry to be so predictable,’ Hazel said, ‘but look at it another way. You’re doing him a disservice in allowing him to go on thinking everything’s fine. The longer you leave your discontentment festering away, the more poisonous it’ll become. Surely he’d rather hear a few home truths now than end up making you miserable.’
The wine was making talking – telling – too easy. ‘There’s something else,’ Miriam said. ‘When I go out on my own, he wants to know where I’m going, who I’m seeing. He gets in a state if I’m ten minutes late home. Sam was a hopeless timekeeper. If he bumped into a friend, he’d stop to chat. Or he’d go for a drink. It was bloody irritating at times but the upside was he was happy for me to do the same. I didn’t realise what a gift that was. How liberating. Paul pretty much has a post-mortem on my every move. Or that’s how it’s starting to feel. It’s like being under curfew.’
She held out her phone. ‘Look. He’s called three times in the past twenty minutes.’ She took a gulp of wine. ‘When we go anywhere, he won’t leave my side. He doesn’t like my talking to other men. And he can’t bear those dinner parties where they split couples up. He seems to think every chap I come across is hell-bent on seducing me. For God’s sake, I’ve got a bus pass.’
She sighed. ‘I might as well get the whole lot off my chest while I’m at it . Naomi’s been pushing for a get-together – Paul’s family and ours – but whenever the subject’s raised he comes up with some random excuse why it can’t happen. It’s eighteen months now and I still haven’t met Camille. You must admit that’s bizarre.’
‘He’s happy to spend time with your family, though?’
‘Happier than I am. He can’t do enough for my parents. The kids adore him. We all adore him.’ She puffed out her cheeks and exhaled noisily. ‘I hate having these negative thoughts.’
Hazel lifted the bottle of wine but Miriam rested her hand on the top of her glass. ‘Your getting back together – it all happened very quickly,’ Hazel said.
‘It must seem like that to outsiders, but as soon as we saw each other we knew. It was preordained. What was the point of waiting? We were both free. We weren’t hurting anyone. And we weren’t getting any younger.’
‘Maybe you were a tad—’
‘Ingenuous?’
‘Optimistic. You aren’t those two starry-eyed youngsters who parted when the Beatles were in the charts.’
‘Maybe not. But we’re fundamentally the same. Our natures haven’t changed.’
Hazel looked sceptical. ‘Your context has. You must have heard that old saying about not being able to step twice into the same river. You’ve advanced a couple of generations for one thing. Your priorities are bound to be different. You have to honest with yourself. How do you want things to be? What needs to change to bring that about? When you’ve fathomed that out, you have to sit Paul down and talk it through. This is a two-way thing, don’t forget. He may come back with a list of things that aren’t working for him. You’ll have to negotiate.’
‘You make it sound so easy.’
‘Other people’s problems generally are.’
Miriam glanced at her phone and grimaced. ‘Come in Miriam, your time is up.’
‘Shall I write you a late note?’
‘Don’t. That’s a bit too close to the mark.’ She dropped her phone into her bag. ‘Sorry to be such a wuss. Next time, it’s your turn on the couch.’
As her bus crawled through the traffic, she re-played their conversation. She hadn’t intended pouring it all out. That bottle of wine – bad idea. She’d made Bing out to be a control freak which was unpardonable and disloyal. Hazel had offered no silver bullet but her advice was rock solid. Talk to him. Why was that so difficult? Was she frightened to admit there were flaws in their flawless partnership? What was the worst that could happen?
She’d never dodged a row with Sam. When a niggle escalated into an out-and-out quarrel, they’d each given as good as they got. To all intents and purposes, theirs was an arranged marriage. Knowing she’d rather have been with another man, Sam might have been tempted to pander to her in order to win her affections. He’d never done that, which, on reflection, might have gone a long way to account for the quiet success of their marriage.
Bing was in the kitchen, whistling and chopping vegetables.
‘Sorry I’m late,’ she said, ‘Hazel and I went for a drink. We were chatting away and I lost track of time. It was noisy and I missed your calls. Sorry.’
Excuses. Apologies.
‘No big deal. I only wanted to know if we had any ginger.’ He raised the knobbly root. ‘Found it in the fridge, behind the cottage cheese. Stir-fry okay?’
He’d changed into khaki shorts and T-shirt. His hair was sticking up at the back. He looked like a schoolboy. Running her hand up beneath his T-shirt, she grinned. ‘Wonderful.’