An Autumn Affair (10 page)

But how naive they had been. Even trying not to be fazed when they’d discovered there wasn’t just one baby, but two.

Still, though, for all it had been hard work –
very
hard work in fact – and that things hadn’t panned out quite as planned vis-à-vis Julia’s career, Paul would never regret their decision. He loved his kids. And he still loved his wife. Granted, not in quite the same way he had during those heady first months of their relationship. More in a cosy, familiar kind of way. But, after nearly twenty years of marriage, could you really expect anything else?

*****

Max’s business card burned a hole in Julia’s bag. How many times had she taken it out and looked at it? Too many. But, as delicious as it had been spending time with Max, she really couldn’t do it again. After leaving the garden centre, she’d felt like she was floating on air – a wonderful feeling she’d forgotten existed. Then she’d arrived home. And reality had kicked in. A big hard kick in the centre of her gut. Followed by a torrent of guilt. She’d only just managed to pull herself together following their first encounter in the cereal aisle and now, here she was, back at square one. She shouldn’t even be thinking about Max, let alone going for coffee with him. She should, as she’d told herself more times than she cared to recall over the last few weeks, be concentrating on what she did have, rather than what she didn’t. And that fact had been hammered home to her during the family’s bowling evening. It had been great spending time with Paul and the kids. Too immersed in all the humdrum day-to-day drudgery, she’d almost forgotten that there could be good times as a family, as well as bad. Okay, so her life wasn’t perfect, but there were lots of people a heap worse off. She had two healthy children, lived in a lovely house in a beautiful village, and her husband earned a more than decent salary, meaning she’d never had to worry about money and could have any material thing she wanted – including the ‘sporty little Merc’ Paul was constantly needling her to trade in the Punto for. She should count her blessings. She’d coped perfectly well – well, perhaps not perfectly, but she had coped – for the last twenty years without Max Burrell in her life, and she could continue to do so. Which was why, to minimise the chance of seeing him again, she decided to change her shopping day.

‘But you’ve always gone to the supermarket on a Friday,’ Paul pointed out, evidently bewildered by this change to their well-ordered lives.

‘It’s far too busy,’ Julia countered. ‘Sometimes I have to wait ten minutes for a parking space.’

‘Oh,’ Paul had conceded. ‘Well, I don’t suppose it makes much difference whether you go on a Thursday or a Friday really.’

‘Quite,’ Julia had agreed, relieved that more justification had not been required.

Now all she had to do was stop the persistent thoughts about Max rioting through her brain like Japanese knotweed, and things could return to normal. Whatever that was …

*****

The only thing in life Julia dreaded more than an internal examination of her reproductive organs was an invitation to Paul’s company’s social events. While thankfully rare, it meant that when they did crop up, she was ill-placed to decline. It wasn’t only the event itself she dreaded, but all the ridiculous preparation. This latest invitation – to a corporate cocktail party – involved hours trawling round the shops for suitable attire – an activity of which Julia had never been fond – plus an interminable amount of time in the hairdresser’s making banal conversation about the weather.

‘Can’t you say I’m ill or something?’ she pleaded with Paul, making one last escape attempt as they were about to leave the house.

‘No, I can’t,’ snapped Paul. ‘For God’s sake, Julia. It’s only one evening. It’s not like I ask much else of you, is it?’

Julia gawped at him. ‘What do you mean, you don’t ask much else of me?’

‘Well, you have a pretty nice life, don’t you?’

Julia’s eyes widened. ‘Is that honestly what you think?’

Paul shrugged. ‘Of course. You’ve never had to go to work. Never had any pressure to …’

‘But I wanted to go to work. I wanted to be an interpreter, if you remember.’

‘Of course I remember. But that was before the twins came along. You haven’t mentioned working for years.’

‘But it doesn’t mean my ambition went away.’

Paul shook his head, looking completely nonplussed. ‘And how the hell am I supposed to know that when you never said anything? I thought you were quite happy with the way things were.’

‘Yes, well I’m not. But you wouldn’t have a clue how I feel because you never ask me,’ retaliated Julia, unable to recall a time when she’d felt so angry. But now really wasn’t the time to carry on this discussion. The taxi was outside and she had hours of inane chit-chat ahead of her. She blinked rapidly to dispel the tears pooling in her eyes, and sucked in a deep breath. ‘We’re going to be late,’ she said, before striding out of the front door.

Anger still coursing through her, Julia couldn’t think of a single word to say to Paul during the ride to the hotel. And, by the uncomfortable heavy silence which pervaded the cab, he evidently felt the same. Sitting next to her husband in the back of the car, the man with whom she’d spent almost twenty years of her life, it occurred to Julia that Paul didn’t know her at all. But was that really so surprising? They’d spent so little time together as a couple before the twins had arrived, detonating – with the efficiency of a nuclear missile – every last shred of life as they’d known it. Julia’s world had instantly shrivelled, revolving entirely around these two tiny beings. And so it had continued for the last seventeen years. Every ounce of her energy, every second of her time, being sapped by the twins, leaving no room in her life for anything else. Her husband included. In fact, now she actually thought about it, the only time she and Paul communicated was to talk about twin-related matters. Never about their own feelings, hopes, fears or desires. Was it really any wonder, then, that Paul had no idea how she’d felt all these years?

By the time the taxi pulled up outside their destination – a palatial hotel in the centre of Leeds – Julia had resolved to do something about their sorry situation. The twins would – hopefully – be off to university in a year. She should be encouraging them to be more self-sufficient. And she should be making more time for herself – and Paul.

‘Paul. I’ve been waiting for you.’

No sooner had Julia and Paul stepped into the lush hotel lobby than Paul was accosted by a tall, willowy supermodel, whose perfect figure and golden limbs were encased in a strapless ivory silk sheath.

‘Did you get my text?’ she asked, tossing a lock of long honey-blonde hair over her toned shoulder.

Julia gaped at her. Who was this woman? Why was she texting her husband? And why did Paul look so awkward all of a sudden?

She watched as Paul cleared his throat and straightened his bow tie. ‘Er, yes, thanks,’ he muttered. ‘We’ll, um, discuss it later.’

The girl beamed at him, displaying two rows of perfect white teeth. ‘Great,’ she gushed, before turning her attention to Julia.

‘I’m Natalia. Paul’s assistant,’ she announced, holding out a smooth, tanned hand. ‘You must be his wife, Juliette.’

‘Julia,’ Julia corrected her.

‘Of course,’ continued Natalia, with a disingenuous smile. ‘He’s always talking about you.’

Obviously
, Julia resisted saying.
If you don’t even know my name.
‘How nice,’ she replied instead, injecting her tone with a large dose of sarcasm.

‘Well, it’s lovely to meet you at last,’ Natalia breezed, casting such a meaningful glance at Paul that Julia’s heckles immediately rose. ‘Excuse me a moment, won’t you? I’m expecting an urgent email. I must go and check my phone.’

As Natalia’s pert bottom sashayed across the lobby, Julia turned to her husband. ‘You didn’t mention you had a new secretary.’

Was it just her imagination, or did he look sheepish?

‘Didn’t I?’

‘No. You didn’t.’

‘Well, it’s not really important, is it?’ He ran a finger under the collar of his shirt. ‘Anyway, she’s more of an assistant than a secretary.’

‘Is she now?’ muttered Julia. ‘How old is she?’

Paul fiddled with his cufflink. ‘I, er, can’t remember. Twenty-two. Twenty-three, something like that. She’s on the new graduate trainee scheme. She’s hoping to travel with the company eventually. Spend some time working in Japan.’

A bolt of unaccustomed jealousy struck Julia. ‘How nice. I would’ve liked to have done something like …’

‘Oh, look,’ gushed Paul, his voice dripping with relief. ‘Here’s a couple of familiar faces for you. It’s Hugh and Helena Bell. You’ve met them before, haven’t you?’

‘Unfortunately, yes,’ Julia mumbled, her stomach plummeting. Hugh and Helena’s faces might be familiar, but she couldn’t stand either of them. She swiped a glass of champagne from a passing tray before turning to the approaching middle-aged couple.

‘Paul, good to see you,’ exclaimed Hugh, slapping the younger man companionably on the back. ‘And your lovely wife, too. Judith, isn’t it?’

‘Julia,’ corrected Julia, tipping the entire contents of the champagne flute down her neck.

‘Of course. Of course,’ guffawed Hugh. ‘Well, how are you, old girl?’

At the ‘old girl’ reference, Julia’s already heightened hackles shot off the scale. Firstly, she wasn’t old. And secondly, did people really still say that? It sounded like something out of a 1950s black and white film. Well, two could play at that game.

‘Spiffing, thank you,’ she replied.

‘Good show. Good show,’ cackled Hugh. ‘Well, lovely evening for it, isn’t it? We’ve just been for a spin in Helena’s new car. One of those sporty little Mercs. Convertible and all that. Just picked it up this morning.’

‘I’m trying to persuade Julia to get one of those,’ said Paul. ‘She is, however, welded to her old car.’

‘I know how she feels’ piped up Helena, smiling sympathetically at Julia. ‘I loved my old BMW. But Hugh insists it’s no good keeping a car for more than two years. What do you drive now?’

‘A Fiat Punto,’ Julia informed her, relishing the sight of colour draining from Helena’s perfectly made-up, surgically enhanced face. ‘It’s ten years old.’

This final piece of information appeared to push Helena close to the edge. The woman looked as though she were about to pass out.

‘Another Pimms, darling?’ asked Hugh.

Helena flashed her husband a grateful look.

The look which Paul flashed Julia contained zero gratification. ‘What the hell are you doing?’ he growled, through a clenched smile, as Hugh steered a clearly bewildered Helena out of the lobby and towards the bar.

Julia feigned innocence. ‘Telling the truth. I do drive a ten-year-old Fiat Punto.’

‘Yes, well, you shouldn’t,’ Paul snapped. ‘I’ve a good chance of being promoted to the Board this year but you carrying on like this is not helping my chances at all.’

‘I’m not “carrying on”,’ Julia protested. ‘And what’s wrong with my Punto anyway? It’s a good little car.’

‘It’s a car with no status. As a director’s wife, you have a role to play.’

‘And that’s how you see me, is it? As a “director’s wife”?’

Paul looked confused. ‘Of course. And a mother.’

‘A wife and a mother. Nothing else?’

Paul stared at her blankly. Several seconds passed, during which Julia could almost see the wheels of his mind whirring.

‘I don’t know what you want me to say,’ he eventually confessed.

Julia rolled her eyes. ‘What about
me
, Paul?
Me?
As in me as a person in my own right?’

His befuddled expression conveyed the fact that he had no idea what she was trying to say. ‘Of course you’re a person. We’re all people.’

Julia closed her eyes for a moment, in an effort to compose herself. She’d only just opened them again, and was about to explain to her husband exactly what she meant, when up tottered Natalia, all swishy hair, moist lips and perky breasts.

‘Sorry to bother you, Paul,’ she began, completely ignoring Julia. ‘But I’ve just had a call from Japan. That top-secret proposition we were discussing last week? There’s been a development. You don’t mind, do you?’ she said, turning cold dark eyes to Julia. ‘But we need to get back to them right away.’

Then, before Julia could say whether she minded or not, Natalia, speaking conspiratorially to Paul, had placed her hand on his arm and begun steering him away.

As Julia watched their retreating backs, yet another wave of anger engulfed her. Who the hell did Natalia think she was? Since when had twenty-two-year-olds shown so little respect for their elders? And since when did fresh-out-of-school assistants partake in ‘top-secret propositions’? Julia’s blood began bubbling like a freshly stewed pot of jam. And that was before she’d given any thought to Paul’s recent interest in his shirts. And, worse still, his comments on Julia being nothing more than a wife and a mother. No identity of her own – only that linked to other people. Paul’s wife. The twins’ mother. End of. Ugh. She was so furious she could scream. But she couldn’t scream. Not in the middle of all this … this … corporate-ness, however tempting it might have been to observe the snooty Helena’s reaction. No. If Julia planned on making any kind of anti-social noise at all, it would be much more sensible to do it in the privacy of her own home. Precisely where she wanted to be. Right now. She fished around in her handbag for her mobile to call a taxi. Her hand landed on a small piece of card.

Max’s business card.

Causing Julia’s thoughts to hare down quite a different track.

Chapter Seven

Faye had been secretly hoping her dad might suggest another bowling evening this week. For all she would never admit it to another living soul, she’d really enjoyed spending time with her family at the bowling alley. And it had been brilliant finding something she could do better than Leo. Something that had impressed her parents. Like the time she’d won the egg-and-spoon race at school, and they’d both made such a fuss of her. Until Leo won the next three events, and Faye’s achievement paled into insignificance. So, quite understandably in her opinion, when she’d said she enjoyed thrashing her brother at bowling, she’d meant it. Not, she realised, that it was Leo’s fault he was a genius. He got on her nerves a lot of the time, but she couldn’t think of anyone else she’d like as a twin. And he’d always watched out for her. Like the time in junior school when two of the older girls had dragged her around the back of the building and tried to pinch her new shoes. Faye still didn’t know, to this day, how Leo had known where to find her, or that she was in trouble. It must be that special ‘twin thing’ people raved on about. Still, though, for all it was a bit spooky, it was also quite reassuring. Not, of course, that Faye would ever admit that to a living soul either. That wouldn’t be cool at all.