Gigi

It was always going to be a dam that burst, and if Gigi had had to guess, she’d have guessed that it would be with Emily that it happened. And so it was.

She’d given Ava a bath while Emily made them some supper. Christopher was away at a conference. Ava was sitting up now, her little Buddha belly holding her centre of gravity low in the bubbly water. They had a sort of rubbery, plasticky ring thing with suckers on the bottom that held her safe so she could play. They had so many new things these days, for babies. Ava loved the bath; and any efforts Gigi made – pouring small cups of water over her head or sending little tidal waves towards her – were rewarded with peals of delighted laughter, and fists splashing furiously against her kicking thighs, encouraging more, more, more. You could lose yourself in Ava and bathtime, and Gigi had luxuriated in doing just that, kneeling against the side of the bath, her sleeves rolled up, but wet anyway.

Afterwards, she let Ava kick, naked, on her towel for a while. She rolled over now and tried to pull herself up. It was a wrestling match to get a nappy on her, a contortion trick to button up her Babygro. All the while they chatted to each other – Ava without words, but nonetheless effusive and communicative for it. Gigi loved that she knew her. Loved that she trusted her. Loved that someone else was cooking supper so there was all the time in the world for this, not like when she’d been Mum and cook. She just loved her.

Then it was time to calm down and let the lavender of the bubble bath and the warmth of the milk make her sleepy. Ava looked up at Gigi while she sucked on the bottle, eyes wide open, then lids slowly drooping. Exhausted by her day, Ava relaxed and grew heavy in Gigi’s arms. From the next room, Gigi heard the Archers theme tune. Emily was flitting about in the kitchen: cutlery and glass clinked against the table, something on the stove sizzled, and she smelt garlic and herbs. The phone rang, and she heard her daughter-in-law answer, heard her voice soften and slow when she realized it was Christopher. She couldn’t hear the conversation, but they talked for a while, and laughed a little at something. At one point, Emily came into the sitting room, smiled at her – ‘Your mum’s here doing bedtime, the absolute angel. I’ll tell her … Sending you his love’ – and checked a detail on a letter on the desk. ‘Yep. Says the 15th. Ten fifteen.’ My day. Your day. Our life. Plans. Normal married stuff. A dull ache started pulsing in Gigi’s chest.

Off the phone now, Emily came back in with a glass of white wine for her. She leant against the doorframe for a moment, smiling at the tableau of her sleeping child in the arms of her grandmother. Then she saw Gigi’s face crumple. Without a word, she put the wine down, picked up the baby, limp now with sleep, and took her up to bed. ‘Drink the wine, G. I’ll be down in a minute.’

Gigi was crying too hard to drink anything when Emily came back down a few moments later. She sat on the footstool beside the sofa and hugged Gigi’s knees.

‘What is it?’

For a moment, Gigi couldn’t form any words that made sense. Eventually, she spluttered, ‘I’m such a fool.’

‘You’re not. Ssh. Please don’t cry. You’re not …’

Gigi sniffed. ‘I’ve made such a bloody mess of everything.’

‘Hey. Ssh.’

‘You don’t know …’

‘Don’t know what?’

Taking a deep breath, Gigi blurted out what she hadn’t told anyone. ‘I’ve left a good man. A man who loves me. The father of my children. The man I’ve spent more than half of my life with. I’ve broken his heart, Em. Broken all of him, actually. Just broken him. Destroyed my family. Or at least the togetherness of my family. The wholeness. And I’ve slept with Adam.’

That was the stinger. That last bit. Emily sat up like a meercat.

‘Adam your landlord Adam?’

‘Adam my landlord Adam.’

‘Christ.’

‘Exactly.’

‘When? Sorry. None of my business …’

Except Gigi was making it her business.

Emily rephrased her curiosity. ‘I mean … like a one-off? Or are you a thing?’

She said ‘thing’ with incredulity, despite herself.

‘I don’t know.’

‘Okay.’ Emily was buying herself thinking time, clearly entirely unsure about how to react to this news.

‘You must promise not to tell Christopher.’

‘Of course. Does Richard know?’

Gigi shook her head vigorously.

Emily took the glass of wine she’d poured for Gigi off the coffee table and swallowed a big glug. ‘I was giving up alcohol mid-week. Sod that …’

She laughed. Gigi laughed too, although the sound of it was very close to tears.

‘Do you want to be with this guy?’

‘No … I don’t know … maybe.’

‘And Richard?’

‘I don’t know. I miss him.’

‘Lawd.’

‘See … told you … a bloody mess …’

‘And totally inappropriate behaviour for a grandmother.’

‘I know,’ Gigi wailed, and Emily hugged her.

‘I’m sure this is an overshare, but I never slept with anyone except Christopher’s father before.’

‘No?’

‘No.’

‘Brave.’ It was an unexpected word. Gigi was grateful to this loving, lovely girl. Not only for not judging her, but for seeming to understand.

‘I totally one hundred per cent completely have no idea what to do. I feel like an idiot.’

Emily shook herself, and looked straight at her.

‘Right. Stop that. You’re not an idiot. And you’re not a mess either, by the way. Stop. Look – you’re an adult, Gigi. Working through some stuff. Trying to be happy. Trying to be happy without making other people unhappy, which is laudable, even if it isn’t always possible. Maybe sleeping with Adam was a mistake. But it’s just sex. Or it’s more than that, I don’t know. Maybe leaving Richard was a mistake. Maybe both were, maybe neither. You’ve committed no crime. And, more to the point, you’ve closed no door. Sleeping with Adam doesn’t mean you owe him anything. Doesn’t mean you’ve ruined things with Richard either. Whether he finds out or not. Your life, your body, your decisions, your right to take a bit of bloody time out of a life lived so much for other people to decide what you need.’

It was quite a speech. Emily had a hand on either hip now. She nodded her head decisively.

‘So no more of this mess talk. And no more tears, please. I can hardly bear those.’

‘Sorry.’

‘And no more sorry, dammit.’ The rage was faux. ‘I saw you unhappy with Richard. And your marriage was never any of my business, any more than anyone’s. But I confess I always thought it needed tweaking. Not obliterating. There has always been love. You can see when that is there and when it isn’t. And Richard loves you. Maybe he just needed shaking up a bit. But your going seems like the right thing to me. Space. Time. I’m not necessarily right. Only you know that, Gigi. You two. If I’m wrong, and you’re happier on your own or happier with Adam, or some other guy you haven’t even met yet … that’s all right too. You haven’t wrecked things for us. Your kids still have two healthy parents. Their own lives – even Princess Megan … Even Richard would survive. You’ve got to do what is right for you.’

‘It feels so selfish.’

‘It’s what everyone else is doing all the time. You’ve just not flexed the muscle for a long, long time.’

Gigi smiled. ‘You make it sound okay, you know.’

‘Because it is. Or it will be …’

Gigi almost believed her.