Good Husband Material (29 page)

‘If you’d been listening to me lately you’d know. I’ve resigned from my position as nanny and housekeeper. How often do I have to explain? I want a separation.’

‘Come on, Tish! It isn’t that bad. I’m happy enough, or I was until you started getting all these strange ideas into your head. Though I’m not saying I didn’t wish you could cook better, and – but never mind that now. Look, let’s discuss things, at least. You can’t just expect me to disappear when the house is as much mine as yours – more so, because I worked for it!’

‘You have a serious blind spot where money’s concerned, James. I’ve been paying an equal share of all our expenses since we married, and we both worked and saved for the cottage.’

‘Let’s not squabble over it. I’ll be home at the usual time tonight and we can talk sensibly about it. Perhaps I’ve been out too much lately and you’ve got lonely. We can work things out.’

The unbearably self-satisfied tones of someone confident of their own infallibility reasoning with a hysterical idiot made my blood boil.

‘That’s what
I
suggested only a few weeks ago, only you wouldn’t listen. But now I don’t even want to try and work things out – I just want to be on my own. Don’t bother coming home tonight, because I’m not letting you in.’

‘You can’t keep me out of my own home. I’ve got a perfect right to live there!’

‘How can you call it your “home” when you’ve used it like a lodging house?’

‘Look, Tish, this is getting us nowhere. I’ll talk to you tonight.’

My determination hardened. ‘I’ve said all I want to say, James, but I don’t want to argue. I’ll meet you somewhere neutral tomorrow, if you like, to discuss arrangements.’

‘Arrangements? Stuff your fucking arrangements!’ he bellowed, and slammed the phone down.

My hands shook slightly as I replaced the receiver, but otherwise I felt quite calm. Just cold … very cold. A chilly breeze was winding itself around my legs like a cat.

A breeze?

Galvanised, I ran to the back door, which was ajar – and the silly bitch was missing. Just as she’s coming into season, too!

‘Bess! Bess!’ I yelled, dragging on a coat and running out, but I had to go all the way to the pond, calling and rattling her lead, before I spotted her romping in great joyous circles with the entire male dog population of the county in hot pursuit.

When I called her she rushed across to me, wet and muddy, with her long pink tongue hanging out of the side of her mouth. I put her on the lead, fending off the advances of the other mutts with my foot, and began to drag her home.

The other dogs followed, trying disgustingly to leap on her from behind, until I found a large branch and beat them off.

In this undignified way we finally reached home, and I tied Bess to the table leg until I could deal with her.

But first I filled two buckets with cold water and poured them over the assembled dogs from an upstairs window, to cool their ardour. A smell of wet dog arose and they fled, yelping. I suppose they’ll be back.

I didn’t think Bess had been out long enough to have actually
done
anything, so I washed all the mud off her under the shower, and dried her long, silky fur.

She’ll be murder to brush tomorrow. I was almost tempted to eject her for James to collect, but I think I need a dog if I’m going to live alone, and it might as well be Bess. He might want her back, though (not that he’s ever done anything for her).

The dogs returned and hung around all afternoon, while Bess lay on the mat snuffling and making shameless moaning noises, until I tied her to the table leg again.

Perhaps I should have taken her to the vet – only it’s such a long way, when you don’t drive.

I really will have to learn now. I wonder if Mrs Deakin knows a good driving instructor? I didn’t much feel like wading through the dogs to find out, but I’ll definitely ask next time I’m in.

As the evening advanced I began to feel twitchy. What if James showed up? I didn’t regret what I’d done, but I did feel a tiny little bit sorry for him, because I don’t think he’s capable of understanding why I don’t want to live with him any more.

But he didn’t turn up – Margaret Wrekin did instead.

‘Hello, Tish!’ she said breathlessly, looking at me strangely. ‘Can I come in?’

‘Of course.’ I wondered if something had upset her, for it was an unusual time for her to visit, and she did look a bit odd. ‘Go through to the kitchen, if you don’t mind.’

But she watched me bolt and bar the door first.

‘There are such a lot of strange people about lately,’ I explained (and I should know – I’m married to one of them).

The kitchen was warm and spiced with the scent of rock cakes and coffee. Margaret seated herself gingerly on the edge of a chair.

‘Are you all right, Margaret? You look a bit tense.’

She opened and shut her mouth silently a few times like a goldfish, then stammered, to my complete astonishment, ‘It’s James … I’ve come … James asked me to come and talk to you.’

‘
James
!’

‘Y-yes. He stayed with us last night, you see, and he told us that you wouldn’t let him in. And well … he feels … er … that it might be better if I talked to you instead of him.’

Under my incredulous stare she flushed and dropped her eyes, as well she might.

Fancy retailing all our private affairs to people we’ve only just got to know and then sending Margaret round to talk me into having him back!

‘I suppose he’s told you that I’m off my head, just because I don’t want to live with him any more? Well, if not wanting to live with him is a sign of insanity, then I’m guilty as charged, but personally, I just think I’ve come to my senses at last.’

‘But, Tish, I’m terribly sorry to butt in, and all that – but James did ask me, and I like you both so much! It would be awful if you split up over some little misunderstanding.’

‘There is no little misunderstanding. On the contrary, I understand everything perfectly for the first time. I no longer wish to live with James. I’ve had enough of James. I’ve reached saturation point with James. Since he didn’t seem able to grasp this concept I had the locks changed. There: that’s all very simple, isn’t it? I told James again today, but he just can’t seem to get the hang of it.’

Her eyes became all sad and accusing. ‘Oh, Tish, I didn’t think you could be so hard! Poor James says you’ve always been perfectly happy together until the last couple of months when you’ve become a little … a little strange …’

She took a scared look at my face, gulped, and finished in a rush, ‘He says you’ve started getting some very odd ideas!’

‘Oh, I have! Odd ideas like not wanting to wait on him hand and foot any more, or give up writing and have children.’

‘But surely you can get together and sort it out?’

I don’t think she can have been listening.

‘No,’ I said patiently. ‘And if James ever listened to me, then he wouldn’t be so surprised now.’ I thought
she
was a fine one to preach to me about leaving my husband – only she doesn’t know that I know all about her.

She eyed me with mournful amazement. ‘You really mean it? You don’t want him back? And you aren’t even going to discuss it with him, hear his side?’

‘I told him I’d meet him somewhere neutral if he liked, to work out arrangements. He can come and collect his things later – I’ll pack them up and put them on the doorstep.’

I took a reviving swig of coffee. Margaret’s cup was still full and untasted and she had spurned my offer of a fresh rock cake.

‘How vindictive you are!’ she sighed softly. ‘I hadn’t realised you knew. But this can’t all be because you’re tired of him, can it?’

‘Knew what?’

She reached across and touched my hand. ‘Look, Tish, I know all about that blonde he’s been seeing, and you can talk about it to me. Really, it meant nothing.’

‘What blonde?’ I asked blankly.

Hazel eyes goggling with horror, she clapped her hands over her mouth. ‘You mean you didn’t know? Until I just
said
? Oh God!’

Everything inside me stopped like a dead clock and then, joltingly, restarted, leaving me cold, sick and empty.

‘No, I didn’t know,’ I said evenly. ‘Unless – do you mean Vanessa? But he swore it was nothing more than a bit of drunken horseplay at the office party! And she isn’t blonde.’ (Mind you, I’ve only James’s word for it she isn’t blonde …)

‘No – no, I don’t think it’s anyone at the office.’

‘How long has it been going on?’

‘It’s not – still going on, I mean,’ she babbled miserably. ‘I only saw him with her once, and Ray said it was a girl James had met at a party in a friend’s house, but it was nothing.’

I bet he did. But if he did meet her at a friend’s house …

My mind began sluggishly to weave threads together into an unlovely cloth. If it
really
wasn’t Vanessa, and he did meet the girl at a party, was it one of Howard’s? And all those nights when he stayed there, or was out practically till dawn …

‘You don’t know who she is, Margaret? Her name?’

‘No idea, but she was small with long blonde hair.’

So was the girl at Howard’s party who’d glared at me. Alice’s sister? Wendy, was it?

How could he, the pig! That just about puts the lid on it! I did have one or two guilty pangs, throwing him out just because I’d had enough of him – but now I’d like to take a hatchet to him!

Horrible images of him with this strange girl flitted through my mind like the remnants of a nightmare. No wonder he hadn’t touched me for months and was always so exhausted (apart from the night of the barbecue, and the thought of that revolts me now). I only hope that girl hasn’t got some unmentionable disease! But I hope she now gets syphilis and
both
their noses fall off.

All those presents when he stayed overnight at Howard’s – conscience money?

Margaret was snivelling into a bit of pink tissue. ‘I wish I hadn’t come!’ she sobbed. ‘I’ve only made it worse, and I meant to help!’

‘But I’m glad you came,’ I assured her sincerely. ‘It was a shock, but at least I can now carry on with a clear conscience. Tell James I’ll pack his clothes and things, and leave the cases in the front garden. He can pick them up when he likes. I’ll send him a letter about the rest of the stuff.’

‘But, Tish! What will he say when he knows I told you about his girlfriend? He doesn’t know that I know about her.’

‘Tell him I already knew. Now, I’m afraid I’ll have to get on with the packing.’

She took the hint and got up to go, still snuffling dolefully and pink about the eyes and nose.

I wish
I
had a real Burberry.

She turned plaintively at the door. ‘We will still be friends, won’t we?’

‘That might be difficult while James is staying in your house and telling everyone I’m unhinged. You can’t run with the hare and hunt with the hounds. Good night!’

Several pairs of eyes gleamed wolfishly at us from the darkness: Bess’s admirers.

Running upstairs, I began tossing James’s things into three large suitcases, crammed his brush, razor, etc. on top, and then added any odds and ends of his I found lying around.

It was surprising just how much I could get in there. I couldn’t quite expunge all of him from the house in one go, of course, but it was a pretty good start.

After checking to see he wasn’t lurking in the garden, I shoved all the cases out of the front door; but actually it was quite late when he signalled his arrival by a lot of rather drunken shouting and a few yelps.

‘Tish! Tish!’

I opened the little living-room window, which he couldn’t possibly get through unless he’d turned into a complete worm.

‘What are all these bloody dogs doing here?’

‘Bess is in season.’

‘Thass another thing! Take my house, my money – now my dog!’

‘I’ve taken nothing, and I’ve been looking after Bess ever since we married. Do you want her back?’

‘Yes, I damned well do! Hand her over.’

‘Now? Don’t be silly. The Wrekins won’t want her galumphing all over their house.’

‘Thass all you know!’ he retaliated childishly. ‘They’re letting me have the granny flat over the garage until all this is sh-sorted out. Now gimme my dog!’

Bess got excited when she heard her lead. ‘Stand well back!’ I called. ‘I’m putting her out and I don’t want you coming in here in that condition.’

His pale face receded, and I quickly pushed Bess through the front door and relocked it.

There was a crescendo of yaps, barks and swearing, and I got back to my window just in time to watch James drag Bess away, while fending her beaux off with one of the suitcases.

I didn’t hear him come back for the other two, but they weren’t there an hour later when I went to bed.

Perhaps he sent Margaret for them.

I miss that stupid dog more than I ever thought possible. I suppose I ought to get another one if I’m going to live alone, though not a canine moron like Bess.

And I don’t know why I bothered going to bed at all, because as soon as I lay down and closed my eyes the whole sham of our marriage swept before me, in Inglorious Technicolor. What a blind, trusting fool I’d been – and I’d never really known him at all. Or he me, come to that.

Was this girl even the first one? And what about the silent phone calls – was it the girl doing it, trying to get James? Or just trying to unsettle me? (She succeeded.)

I spent a largely sleepless night turning these unsavoury possibilities over, and as soon as it began to get light got up to my strangely quiet and empty house. The only sound was Toby, morosely cracking sunflower seeds and spitting the shells out.

Without even stopping to have any breakfast, I went through the house room by room with my handy little red book, listing the contents, and any melancholy this might have engendered was banished by the thought of That Woman.

The James I chose things with, lived with, thought I loved, either only ever lived in my imagination or has transmuted into something unpalatable.

I wonder what That Woman is really like?

The list was surprisingly long, and I copied it out for James with suggestions on dividing everything equally. Then I went through all the figures for the mortgage and other overheads, wondering if I could manage on my own.