‘Tell me again,’ Gray said. They were walking in Green Park. Lydia was wrapped up in scarf, gloves and hat, and all he could see of her was her face. When she’d texted last night, he’d just sent her a message proposing a meeting in London today. As soon as he’d learned when she and Bob were coming back from Paris, he’d arranged to take a day off from the hospital. All the time the two of them had been in France, he hadn’t been able to stop himself imagining what they were doing and the one thing that had kept him going was the possibility that maybe, if he was lucky, she’d manage to ditch Bob on the way home, get him on to an earlier train or something, which would allow her to spend a couple of hours with him. They’d go to a hotel room. What they’d do there played over and over in his mind like a movie on a repeating loop: clear in every detail. Thinking about this had kept him more or less on an even keel while she was in Paris.
Then, last night, she’d texted him. He thought it was in answer to his own text but it was obvious she’d not seen that when she sent hers. She would have discovered his message as she began to write her own. Can you meet me tomorrow? It’s terribly urgent. He’d texted back to say yes, he had the day off, and would meet her at Victoria station at half past nine.
He started to run towards her as soon as he spotted her at the barrier. For minutes, they clung together without speaking, and he felt her pressing herself against him, burying herself in his coat. He’d turned her face up to his, wanting to kiss her, wanting to breathe her in … How long had it been since they were together? Weeks. But he stepped back when he saw tears pouring down her cheeks and said, ‘Lydia? What is it? What’s happened?’
‘They know. Zannah and Em. About us. They know … ’
‘Don’t say a word. Not till we’re sitting down. Let’s go and find a place.’
‘No, not a café. I couldn’t … I want to be outside.’
‘But it’s freezing … ’
‘I don’t care. I don’t want anyone – anyone at all – to see us. Or hear what we say.’
‘I’m not going to say anything. Except it’s great to see you.’
They had come to Green Park because it was the nearest open space. The branches of the trees made a lacy, black pattern against a sky that was almost white. Their footsteps made a crunching noise on the path. The park was deserted.
‘Tell me,’ he said at last, when they’d been walking for some minutes.
‘Zannah and Emily saw us in the restaurant. Zannah caught you looking at me. Emily noticed me squeezing your hand when we … when we said goodbye. They asked me if we were having … having a relationship.’
‘What did you say?’
Lydia didn’t answer. Gray prompted her. ‘Tell me what you said.’
She came to a standstill in the middle of the path and turned to face him. ‘I told them you loved me. And I said that of course we hadn’t slept together.’
‘Did you say you loved me?’
Lydia shook her head.
‘You didn’t tell them?’
Because she was obviously distraught, because he felt as though his heart was breaking (and part of him, the detached part, was thinking, it really does feel like that. A pain. Sharp. Localized. There, in the centre of my chest) he said nothing, but a mixture of fury and dread filled him. He said, ‘Why not? I know we said we’d wait till after the wedding, but if they know already, then maybe it’s best to bring everything out in the open now. The wedding’s months away still.’
‘But we can’t. You must see that. Think of the embarrassment. It’s impossible, Gray. I couldn’t. And besides, I promised them both … ’
‘What? What did you promise them?’
‘That … that I wouldn’t see you again. Except, of course, for family things … the wedding and so forth.’
A bench. There’s a bench, Gray thought, and stumbled towards it. He sat down, feeling as though some heavy blow had felled him. Lydia came to sit beside him and murmured, ‘I’m sorry,’ under her breath.
‘Fuck being sorry. That’s not good enough, Lydia. You promised me something, too. Or don’t you remember? Maybe Paris with your husband was so idyllic that you want to put everything we … everything … behind you. D’you want out, Lydia? Is that it? Is it? Tell me now, if you do.’
Lydia burst into tears again. Gray waited till the first paroxysm was over, deliberately not putting his arms round her, keeping his distance. Rage surged within him like a liquid that he could feel burning his throat, his face, every bit of him. He wanted to smash something, hit out blindly, but stopped himself. He sighed and said, ‘I’m sorry, Lydia. I don’t know what you want. What you want to do. About us. About me.’
‘I think … ’ she said, ‘that we should … I didn’t promise not to email you or write to you. I just said I wouldn’t see you. That’s all.’
‘That’s all? Are you mad? That’s … it’s ridiculous. How could you promise such a thing?’
‘I thought … I mean, it’s only five months till the wedding and I thought … ’ Her voice faded away to such a soft whisper that he could hardly hear her.
‘What did you think?’
‘I thought we could wait. That’s all. I thought we’d get through it.’
For a few moments, Gray sat in silence. Then he said, ‘And during those few months till the wedding, you would, naturally, not sleep with Bob?’
‘I can’t say that, Gray. You know I can’t. You and Maureen … ’
‘Maureen and I have nothing to do with this!’ He was furious now, shouting at her. ‘If you asked me, if you said so, I’d not even go back there tonight. I’d leave my wife, my job, everything. D’you get it? Every single thing. For you, now this minute. Just ask me to and I will. But you … you’re happy with not seeing me at all. Not for months.’
‘I promised the girls … ’
‘And they’re more important than I am?’
‘Yes!’ Lydia was on her feet now. ‘They are. They’re the most important thing in the world. More than you. More than Bob. More than anything. I can’t hurt them.’
‘But you can hurt me? Right?’
‘Not right, Gray. You know that’s not right. I don’t want to hurt you. I love you. You must know I do.’
Silence. He couldn’t think how to answer. All the words he wanted to say stuck in his mouth and he couldn’t speak. At last, he said, ‘Okay. Let me get this straight. You love me, but you’re not prepared to leave Bob yet. You’re willing to wait till after the wedding, but while you’re waiting you’re not going to see me because you’ve promised your daughters.’ His voice grew harsh and he glared at her. ‘What’s the matter with them anyway? They’re grown women, for God’s sake, not little kids. What d’you think’s going to happen to them if you leave Bob? Will they fall to pieces? Bollocks.’
‘Zannah was terribly hurt when she left Cal. I don’t want to … unbalance her and make her unhappy before her wedding. Is that wrong of me? If it is, I’m sorry, but I’ve got to think about her more than anyone till May. And Em … Well, she’s worried about her father. How he’ll feel. She doesn’t like the thought of him being hurt. You must see that, Gray.’
‘Well, I don’t. I’ve got to make do with emails and texts and the odd phone call. Is that right? Have I left anything out? Oh, yes, of course! Stupid of me. You’re still going to have sex with your husband. Is that a fair representation of what’s going on?’
Lydia nodded miserably. ‘I suppose so … but, Gray … ’
‘I don’t want to hear justifications. Okay? I don’t want to hear them. This is what’s happening. I’m going to cut this off now. Right here. Don’t get in touch with me. Don’t write to me, don’t text me, don’t email me. I won’t answer. I promise you I won’t. D’you understand? This is it, Lydia. It’s not going to work. It’ll never work while you’re … while you’re still … I’d rather have nothing to do with you at all than this. I can’t deal with what you’re suggesting.’
‘You can’t … Oh, Gray, please. Listen, please, listen. I don’t want … ’
‘So break your promise to your daughters.’
‘I can’t do that.’
‘Yes you can. Tell them you’ve made a promise you can’t keep and you want the right to act as you feel you must when it comes to your relationship with me.’
‘I couldn’t do that.’
‘Oh, God, we’re back to that again. I’ve heard it. Zannah will be in pieces. It’ll wreck the wedding. Em will be upset at her father being hurt. I know. Fine. You’re not moving and neither am I. Frankly, I don’t see what’s going to change after the wedding. How come you’re going to be so firm then and you can’t face it now?’
‘It’ll be easier, that’s all. Maybe I want the extra time to make up my mind. What’s wrong with that?’
‘Nothing, nothing. Maybe it’ll be okay. Maybe you’ll decide it’s not worth breaking up two households that have functioned perfectly well for thirty years and more, just on a whim?’
‘It’s not a whim, and you know it.’ Lydia was angry now. ‘You’re being unreasonable. Cutting off your nose to spite your face. Making sure we have nothing instead of simply less of one another. Anyone’d think you’re only in it for the sex.’
This struck Gray as so monstrously unfair that he stood up, and said only, ‘Right, I’m not discussing this any more. Goodbye, Lydia. Don’t contact me, please.’ He strode away towards Piccadilly. When had it started to drizzle? She would certainly run after him. She would come down the path shouting: Stop, Gray, don’t go. Come back … Nothing. Silence. She wasn’t coming after him. He was alone. This was the end of something. He could feel it. He allowed himself a glance over his shoulder and saw her, sitting on the bench with her head buried in her hands, not even looking at him. Not the end of something, the end of everything. That was what it felt like. The drizzle blowing against his cheek mingled with his tears. When was the last time he’d cried? He couldn’t remember. He was finding it difficult to remember anything except Lydia’s voice. Her face.