Worn Out Wife Seeks New Life Read online

  ‘Are you sure I’ll be all right?’ was her next question.

  ‘You? Of course you’ll be all right. Go off and have a great time.’

  She screwed up her eyes for courage, but didn’t quite want to let go. This would be it – this would be their last hug for weeks and weeks.

  When she finally let go, she left the house as slowly as possible, clinging to the metaphorical doorposts.

  But then she was in the taxi, speeding through lanes with hedgerows so lush, so green, so overspilling with cow parsley and blossom and hawthorn that your heart could break. She was still so sad not to be going away with her family, the way she’d planned for so long. But maybe she could feel the first prickling of excitement. Maybe this could really be an adventure… and an adventure all of her own.

  Tess sat on the arranged terrace, at the arranged time, having hauled one suitcase and one piece of hand luggage onto the underground and up the escalators and along a busy pavement. It was, on reflection, a mad idea to be meeting on his lunch break on her way to Gatwick. She was exhausted by the hassle of dragging her luggage across town. But she felt she had to see him in person before she left. She was, in fact, a little desperate to see him.

  And now, just a few minutes late, she picked him out, loping with his big stride along the pavement towards her.

  As he drew closer, she took in the details. His hair looked dry and overgrown and as soon as he spotted her, she suspected from his tense smile that she was going to get nervy, irritated Alex, not joyful and funny Alex. He was mercurial, always had been. When he was feeling happy and positive, he could be an energetic and enthusiastic delight to be with. But when he was gloomy or low, he could be tense, snappy, irritable and frustrated.

  Never mind, Tess told herself, over the years she’d learned many ways to bring him round. She stood up to hug and kiss her son hello, holding him close for as long as he allowed her to.

  ‘It’s lovely to see you,’ she told him, grinning, looking at him up close and taking in all the details. His face was freshly shaved and he was dressed in the regulation young workers’ uniform of dark skinny trousers, a white shirt and a jacket too loose and boxy for his slim frame. His blonde hair was short at the sides, but unruly on top. Although the sun was shining brightly and the weather had been good for week after week, Alex was winter pale with dark circles under his eyes.

  ‘How are you doing, darling?’ she asked him, once he’d settled in his chair.

  ‘Good, I’m good… how about you? Going off on this big adventure!’

  ‘Yes!’ and as she talked him through her plans for the next few weeks, he relaxed into his chair a little and his smile warmed up, but then when she asked how his work was going, the tension immediately came back to his face and his posture.

  ‘It’s fine… interesting,’ he told her, as they glanced through menus and made the lunch order. ‘They do keep us really busy, which is good.’

  ‘Yes, you look as if you’ve hardly spent five minutes outside in this weather.’

  ‘Yeah… well, my hay fever’s been terrible,’ he said, running a hand through his hair. ‘Worst summer ever, in fact.’

  ‘Oh dear… and you’re taking the…’ she began gently, knowing he didn’t like her interference.

  ‘Yes, Mum,’ he interrupted with a roll of his eyes.

  Their food arrived and she expected Alex to fall on it, as he would always have done as a teenager and then as a permanently hungry student. Instead, he sliced it up carefully and forked up the odd mouthful, but as they talked, the pauses between mouthfuls became longer and longer. And there was still plenty of food on his plate when he let the waiter carry it away.

  ‘You’re not hungry?’ she couldn’t help asking.

  ‘No… had a muffin with my coffee not that long ago. Sorry.’

  He was fiddling with his cuffs, checking his watch and just couldn’t seem to settle in his chair.

  ‘Is it okay for you to come out and meet me for lunch?’ she asked, wondering if he was nervous to be out of the office for too long. ‘Do you need to be back soon?’

  ‘No, it’s fine, it’s absolutely fine,’ he replied, sounding annoyed.

  She asked more about work, the people there, was he making new friends? And he answered everything but still with the same stressed, annoyed tone. His answers didn’t give the detail she’d been hoping for. They sort of kept her at arm’s length and it just didn’t sound as if he was having a great time.

  She’d hoped there would be news of new friends, a girlfriend even, and nights out with work colleagues, and busy weekends of London fun. Tess’s first job had been a five-year stint in London and it had been an action-packed, exhilarating time. Three years into it, she’d fallen in love with Dave. Instead, Alex talked a lot about going for walks, enjoying the scenery, finding quiet boltholes in the urban jungle. And that would all be fine, if he seemed happy about it.

  But the simple, sad fact was that he didn’t look happy. He was still fidgeting and looking off into the distance instead of meeting her gaze. But all her attempts to ask if he was okay, in different ways, were met with an irritated ‘I’m fine’. She thought back and wondered if he’d been happier at university… maybe he’d seemed a little happier then… well, not in that dreadful final year when he’d turned himself into a stressed-out wreck and he’d had to move home to study for his finals. She didn’t think he’d been really, fully happy for some time. Not in the relaxed, bouncy, carefree way that Natalie could be happy. But there was always going to be a difference. Alex was naturally more wary, cautious and tense.

  ‘Alex, it is a good job you’ve landed…’ she began.

  ‘I know, I know,’ he countered. ‘I’m grateful to have it.’

  ‘No, sweetheart, what I want to say is, if it’s not the right one for you, you can change it. And if London isn’t the right place for you, you can move.’ She put her hand gently on his forearm and told him, ‘Come back home and recharge if you need to. You will always be welcome, darling. You always have a home with us, whenever you need it.’

  Alex nodded.

  ‘I know,’ he said finally, ‘but I think I’m okay. I’m just… I’m trying to work things out. And I think it’s going okay.’

  ‘I’m always here for you…’ she said and then couldn’t help laughing at herself. ‘Listen to me, I already sound Californian, but I really do mean it.’

  ‘Imagine how you’ll sound after six weeks in LA?’ he said and she so enjoyed the return of his grin.

  ‘Why don’t you come out and see me? I have a second bedroom. And a pool! We can go to the beach. And we can go to the movies, of course. And we can do all the high-brow arty things that you like to do.’

  ‘In LA?’ he scoffed.

  ‘Honestly, they have the most incredible art museums. I’ve been looking everything up. Come and see me?’ she asked again, but she suspected she wasn’t going to get a commitment.

  ‘Hmmm…’ he gave her a smile. ‘I’ll think about it,’ he said finally, ‘it does sound nice.’

  ‘I’ll send you daily pool photos until you will be begging to come over. Have you made any other plans for the summer?’ she asked.

  ‘No,’ was his simple reply. He didn’t elaborate.

  ‘You are going to get some time off, though?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes, a week, maybe even two… should be okay.’

  ‘Come to LA… please? I’m sure after a week or so I’ll be desperate to have someone to keep me company.’

  ‘Okay, Mum, I’ll think about it…’ He sounded ready to tip over into irritation with her again.

  This was followed by: ‘Mum… are you and Dad okay?’

  ‘What do you mean?’ she asked defensively.

  ‘Well… you know… as a couple.’

  She was about to brush it off with an ‘of course,’ or ‘don’t be silly’ reply, but his light brown eyes focused on hers and asked her to be honest.

  ‘We’ve had some difficult
times,’ she admitted, ‘it’s really hard work being parents…’ Alex gave an eye roll, but she carried on, ‘and we’ve had a lot to adjust to with you both moving away from home. I’m not sure we’re adjusting very well. And I hope… we both hope that some time apart might help. But… to be honest, we’re not great at the moment. But we both want things to get better.’

  Was that true, she asked herself as she said it? Did she honestly want things to get better? Or were her thoughts turning more often to life without Dave… life after Dave? Was she mentally rehearsing for divorce?

  ‘Does that help?’ she asked gently.

  ‘Yeah,’ Alex said and the lines of concern between his eyebrows relaxed a little.

  And Tess tried to imagine what it would be like to tell Alex and Natalie if she and Dave were going to split up. It would be horrendous, the worst conversation of her life. Maybe it would make them look back over their childhood and question so many times when they’d assumed they’d been part of a happy family. But could she carry on being unhappy, for the sake of keeping everyone else happy?

  ‘Good luck, especially with your holiday. It’s not very you.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, just going off somewhere, without much planning… and on your own. It isn’t very you.’

  She had to admit that was probably true, especially the bit about not planning.

  ‘Well… I’m trying something different… trying to shake myself up a little. Now tell me what you’ve been reading. Anything interesting?’ She knew how much he got into new books and loved to talk about them.

  ‘Yes.’ His face brightened up immediately as he began: ‘I’ve discovered this South Korean writer…’

  The hour was soon over and it was time for Tess to catch her train to the airport. Alex insisted on helping her with her bags all the way to the underground, although she worried he would be late back to work.

  ‘They know I’m meeting you. They know it’s a one-off, so don’t fret,’ he assured her.

  And then it was time for her to hug him goodbye, which made her tearful.

  ‘Please look after yourself, darling,’ she told him, ‘you can be in touch any time. And I’ll phone you. It’s not easy being your age and trying to work out what you want to do. I know it’s not easy.’

  ‘Take care, Mum.’

  ‘You too. We love you,’ she told him, hugging him hard.

  Tess watched as he walked across the station, up the stairs and out into the stark sunshine of a July afternoon. He was wearing trainers, she noticed, as he reached the top steps.

  She thought she’d seen some mention of his work dress code banning trainers… and this thought was a troubling undertow to all the other things swirling round her mind on her way to the airport. Until she finally put it to rest by telling herself that maybe the code was relaxed in the summer. And anyway she would ask him the next time they spoke.

  Yes, of course, she would ask him.

  13

  River was exhausted. Taxi, plane, train, train, taxi… it was all blurring into a jumble that she was beginning to think would never end. She needed sleep, or maybe more caffeine, nicotine even; she needed to pee and/or maybe to be sick. And when was this twisting, turning, churning car ride ever going to end?

  There was an abrupt jerk on the brakes and, finally, the car began to slow.

  ‘Here we are, ma’am… this is Ambleside,’ the taxi driver announced as they pulled to a halt. ‘Looks like a lovely place to stay.’

  River pushed her sunglasses on top of her head and opened her blurry, gritty, exhausted eyes.

  Oh. My. Gosh.

  Her eyes widened to take in the beauty of Tess and Dave’s family home. It wasn’t just like in the photos; oh no, it was so much better. It looked bigger. It looked thicker, and much more solid, as if it had been here for hundreds of years and would be here for hundreds more. The plant trained to grow up and around the charming wooden front door was flowering in big clumps of pale lilac. The front garden, the hedges, the setting around the house… everything was so ludicrously luscious and green.

  The taxi driver pulled into the paved driveway and got out of the car to help her with the luggage in the back. There were two medium-sized suitcases, but she’d kept her handbag and precious laptop bag in the front seat right beside her. Her two-year old MacBook, her hands and her wrists were her ‘tools’ that she guarded carefully. The MacBook, although she tried to back up regularly, was jam-packed with all of her projects – past, present and future. The hands and wrists were the physical means to channel her thoughts directly from her mind to her fingertips, to the computer screen. How anyone had got anything written in an era of typewriters was a mystery to River. Imagine no delete? No copy, cut and paste. And then before typewriters, imagine having to deal with only pen and paper? Holy mother… Tolstoy’s wife having to copy out War and Peace by hand, not just once but over and over again, so that he had spare manuscripts. Shakespeare writing by candlelight on parchment made from the skins of baby cows!

  Really, a modern writer had no excuse not to be writing tens of thousands of words a week, with the current tools at hand. Mind you, they also had to battle with the internet: an infinite warren of rabbit holes of distraction, available at the merest tap of the touchpad.

  River reined her mind back in from this cascade of thoughts right back here to the present. She got out of the car and watched as a man on crutches opened the front door. He was stocky with a greyish beard and darker, shaggy, collar-length hair and the kind of outdoor tan that ends at the open neck of a shirt and its rolled up sleeves. He looked a little bit like a rock band roadie on holiday. He looked like quite a lot of fun, actually. She was guessing this was Dave.

  ‘Hello, you must be River. You made it! How lovely to see you,’ he began, and his smile was warm and enthusiastic.

  ‘I sure did. It’s absolutely awesome to be here.’

  ‘I’m Dave,’ he said leaning forward, elbow on the top of his crutch so that he could shake her hand.

  Big, warm handshake, big, warm guy… River was thinking as she held eye contact and smiled broadly.

  Dave took a long, appreciative look at River. She was tall and skinny, Latino-looking with cascades of hair in shades of mahogany, caramel, rust and blonde. Golden bangles tinkled on her wrist, golden hoops hung from her ears. Skinny jeans, ankle boots, a conker brown leather jacket and a creamy shirt made up her simple, but slightly rock’n’roll outfit. Her smile broke across the honey-coloured skin of her face and highlighted high cheekbones and pearly teeth.

  ‘How was your journey?’ he asked.

  ‘Absolute freaking hell,’ she replied. ‘I’m never going on a plane or a train again. Sorry, but I’m gonna have to move in here for good.’

  They both laughed at this.

  She paid the taxi driver and as Dave apologised that he could do nothing to help, she wheeled the bags towards the front door.

  ‘Right,’ she said, ‘you first, let’s do the tour. I am so excited!’

  With a burst of surprise, Dave realised he was too.

  ‘So… number 1635 must be on this stretch,’ the taxi driver announced, indicating and pulling off the three-lane highway into a side road that ran along the front of a row of faceless six-storey high apartment blocks. They had that grimy look that concrete, railings and awnings get when exposed to a dirty, dusty road for year after year with little rain to wash the grime away.

  Tess squinted her eyes against the glaring sun and looked at the numbers: 1625, 1630… 1635. Really? Are you absolutely sure? She wanted to ask the driver. But somehow, she was sure. She hadn’t expected River’s home to be on such a busy road, that was true. But maybe in LA the loveliest of apartments were tucked behind workaday façades like this one. This place had a pool, for goodness’ sake, so it could hardly be shabby.

  The taxi parked up and the driver wanted to be paid before he opened the boot and got out her bags. Maybe he’d had too many bad experience
s. Although she wasn’t sure how exactly he was expecting her to do a runner with a large suitcase.

  She paid the fare, adding a tip, and steered her bag to the front door. It was just after 2 p.m. LA time and the heat glared off the concrete at her. There was a sliver of a key to locate from a tiny lockbox, then she had to open River Romero’s mailbox and retrieve the envelope with the proper apartment keys. Once she’d done this, she spent a moment or two trying different keys on the front door until she had success. Then, trailing her bag behind her, she stepped into a lobby as unloved and grimy as the front of the building. Ahead of her was a table overspilling with junk mail, and two windows leading out towards the back of the building that were so dirty, she couldn’t tell what lay beyond.

  She knew River’s apartment was on the top floor, so she called the disappointingly dreary lift and took it up. On the top floor, a corridor of dark wooden doors greeted her and she sought out number 44.

  As she took the key and made a first pass at the locks, a rumbling, barking sound started up from the other side. Tess double-checked, this was definitely door number 44… and the key was turning in the lock. There was more barking, right up against the door now and scratching sounds as two excited dogs anticipated the return of their owner.

  Dogs… but River hadn’t said anything about dogs?

  Maybe with the exhaustion of jetlag, Tess was imagining dogs. She listened carefully and definitely heard scratching and barking. Despite really liking dogs, Tess was now very unsure. Dogs were very territorial. What if these ones were not happy to see her?

  ‘Hello, doggies,’ she said cheerfully, as the final key turned and she knew the door would now open, ‘hello there… hello, hello… good boys or maybe good girls…’

  The door was just a few inches ajar and already two furry white snouts were poking out, sniffing and whining with excitement.

  She pushed her suitcase in first, then followed, careful not to open the door far enough to let the dogs scramble out.

  As soon as the door was shut, she was face to face with two very excited, very furry dogs. They were so big. One reared right up, planting its paws on her chest. She just about screamed in fright, thinking it was going to attack. But no, this appeared to be friendly. Now the other one joined in, and Tess was caught up in a blur of white fur, fluff, dog tongue, dog teeth and terrible, terrible dog breath.