The Truth Club (33 page)

‘What?’

‘Ziggy falling in love with that guy.’

‘The transvestite?’

‘Yes. He’s called Richard. He looks great in fishnet tights.’

‘
You’ve actually seen him wearing them?’

‘I came home early one night, and there they were, cuddled up
on the sofa. He was wearing a short black dress with purple
sequins, and the fishnet tights. He has good legs, though he’s a bit
hefty around the calves.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘I don’t mind him having good legs. He would have to, to go around dressed like that. Ziggy enjoys dressing him up.’

‘No, I mean I’m sorry that Ziggy didn’t love you properly. Not
in the way you needed.’

Nathaniel pulls the cork out with a pop. ‘She believes in open
relationships. She thought she could date Richard and still have me, and maybe fit in an affair or two when she got bored. She likes variety.’ He reaches for two large glasses.

‘Why did you marry her?’

Deep-red wine gurgles into the glasses. ‘I loved her. At least, I
thought I did.’ There is a silence. ‘I’d still be with her if she could
be faithful to me, but it’s just not in her nature. I’d have to share
her, and I can’t do that.’

I wonder if he talks to Eloise about Ziggy. He always speaks of Eloise so matter-of-factly. He enjoys her ruggedness, the way she
just grabs what she wants; it’s almost as if he enjoys being taken
in hand by her, finds it amusing. I wonder if one day he’ll resent it.
I wonder if he loves her, or if she’s just helping him to forget Ziggy.

‘Ziggy was so shiny and bubbly and enthusiastic, in that American way,’ he says, ‘and so friendly to almost everyone – though some of that was fake. Nice fake, though. I’d never met
anyone like her before.’ He hands me a glass. It’s so full it might
spill. ‘Don’t worry; the carpet is very accommodating about spillages. It enjoys a good Chardonnay. It disappears into the fabric without a trace.’

I take the glass carefully and sip it. ‘You must miss her.’

‘Not as much as I thought I would. I miss the Ziggy I thought
I’d married. It was fantastic at first; Ziggy is great at beginnings.’
He sits on the sofa beside me and stretches out his long, denim-
clad legs. ‘She loves the discovery, the excitement. But the next part bores her – the bit where you’re deciding whether you need
more shelving, or whether you should try that new supermarket
with the special offers. Buying food bored her. She wanted to eat
out and meet people. We always seemed to have dinner with at least ten friends.’

‘It must have got sort of tiring.’

‘Yes, it did. It began to feel like we didn’t have a home; our flat
was more like a base camp. We never seemed to have private
conversations. She crammed our lives with other people. After a
while, I realised she was scared of letting someone really know her. She didn’t want that intimacy.’

‘And you did?’

‘Yes. Yes, of course I did. That’s the point, isn’t it? For me, anyway.’

I feel a tingle in my chest. There is a kind of brightness between
us, almost like a caress.

Nathaniel leans forward, and our foreheads almost touch. ‘I wish we’d talked at the party.’

‘Yes,’ I whisper. Suddenly I want to remove this space between
us. I want to travel the miles from my soft blue cushion to his, take his hand and hold it to my cheek. I want to kiss his fingers softly…

Then I remember Eloise and Diarmuid. It’s almost as if they are
in the room with us, gazing at us reproachfully. I draw back and
stare into my glass.

Nathaniel pats Fred, running a hand along his back in gentle sweeps. ‘I wasn’t as romantic about marriage as Ziggy was. I knew we’d have to work at it, but she didn’t want that. She thought love just happened. So her solution was to find Richard and distract herself. We’d both got so lonely. That’s what we couldn’t deal with, really…’ His eyes are cloudy and sad,
bewildered. ‘The dreadful, secret loneliness of being with
someone but feeling alone. Not knowing how to reach them.’ He
might as well be talking about me and Diarmuid.

He empties his glass and gets up to refill it. ‘Do you want some
more?’

‘No, thanks.’ I’ve been sipping my wine very slowly. I really don’t want to be a cheap drunk tonight. I want to have my wits about me.

‘Would you like a chocolate biscuit?’ He waves the half-eaten
packet at me.

‘No. It’s OK.’ That’s the first time I’ve refused a biscuit in months.

Nathaniel stuffs one into his mouth and returns to the sofa, bringing the biscuits with him. ‘So you’re going to let me get drunk and morose on my own, are you?’

‘You’re not morose.’

‘I get very depressed about it sometimes. I feel so guilty.’

‘You didn’t fall in love with a transvestite,’ I say. ‘What do you
have to feel guilty about?’

‘I’ve always felt that most people give up on marriages too
easily.’ He pops another biscuit into his mouth. ‘I feel like I should
have bought the right book or gone to the right counsellor. I feel
like I should have been able to change her, somehow – make her
see that dating other people while you’re married is… well
,
unreasonable
,
I suppose.’

‘It’s like not being married at all,’ I agree.

‘And then she started on about adopting a child again. She got
it into her head that we should do it within the year.’ Fred is
trying to get at the packet of biscuits, pawing at Nathaniel’s knee.
‘I felt sorry for this kid we might have – dragged over from India to be brought up by a couple who could hardly meet each other’s
eyes any more.’

He looks into mine, and then he stands up suddenly. ‘Anyway,
I’m sorry. I’ve been going on and on about myself, when you have
your own problems.’ He tucks his hands into the back pockets of
his jeans. ‘Would you like a cup of coffee… or tea? Or would you
just like me to drive you home?’

‘What about the DVD?’ I can’t believe he has suddenly dis
engaged from me like that. I felt so close to him, and now he’s all
business. I feel like I’ve been slapped.

‘Do you really want to watch a DVD?’

‘No.’

‘Thought so.’ He reaches for his denim jacket.

I stand up. I don’t understand what’s going on. Even Fred is staring at Nathaniel with a puzzled expression.

‘Nathaniel.’ I tug at his sleeve as he turns towards the door. ‘What’s happened? Did I say something wrong?’

His shoulders soften. He reaches out and takes my hand. ‘Of course you didn’t. You’ve been… lovely.’

‘Is it because I asked you about Ziggy? I’m sorry. I shouldn’t
have.’ I am looking down at the floor.

‘Oh, Sally.’ It is a deep, ragged sigh. ‘Do you really want to know the truth?’

‘Yes.’

‘That glass of wine made me want to kiss you.’

I stare up at him. I feel like I might melt with longing and disbelief.

‘It was only the wine, of course. If I’d gone for Earl Grey,
I might have started to spout my opinions on quantum physics.’ He moves closer. ‘But, because of the wine, I wanted to kidnap
you and prise you away from Diarmuid. I’m very annoyed
with Diarmuid – talking to
mice,
when he could have been
cuddling you.’

‘And I’m very annoyed with Ziggy,’ I say quickly. ‘Going off
with a man in fishnet tights, when she could have been…’

He must read my thoughts. ‘Indeed.’

‘Why didn’t the wine make you kiss me?’ I have to know.

‘I decided it would be unfair. You’re vulnerable at the moment,
a
nd so am I. We’d be like two lost kids clinging to each other. Our f
riendship is important to me; I don’t want to risk it.’
Friendship.
Is that all it is?

His eyes darken. ‘And then, of course, there are Eloise and Diarmuid to consider.’

‘Yes,’ I agree. ‘There are all sorts of things to consider.’

‘So it’s probably best if you go now and have that lavender-scented bath.’

‘Yes, of course it is,’ I say. ‘It’s the only sensible thing to do.’

Chapter
Twenty-Two

‘And what happened then
?’ Erika is almost falling off her
chair with excitement. ‘Did Nathaniel kiss you?’

‘
No. He hugged me, and then he drove me home and I had a
lavender-scented bath. It was only when I was drying myself that
I realised I didn’t have my wedding ring with me. I’d left it on his
sofa.’ It’s been a few weeks since Nathaniel almost kissed me, but
I didn’t feel ready to tell Erika and Fiona until today. I knew they’d pester me for details.

‘Oh, sweet Jesus!’ Fiona exclaims. ‘Did you phone him?’

‘Of course. And he looked and looked for it, but he couldn’t find it. Maybe it went down a crack in the floorboards.’ I sigh.
This has become yet another farcical detail of my marriage. But,
since Diarmuid hasn’t worn his wedding ring for weeks, I find myself being surprisingly philosophical.

‘You could get another one,’ Fiona says. ‘I know a jeweller
who’d be able to make an almost exact replica. Diarmuid would
never know.’

‘Thank you, Fiona.’ I haven’t the heart to tell her that the ring
may not be needed anyway, even though she must have her suspicions.

Fiona seems somewhat distracted. ‘Sally, could you help me with
the tea?’ she says. I follow her into her gleaming kitchen, leaving
Erika to fuss over Milly in the sitting room. As soon as we reach
her kitchen table, Fiona slumps onto a chair and sobs inconsolably.

I’m the only friend who knows her secret, so I am the only person she cries with. ‘Zak is going to leave me,’ she whispers p
iteously. ‘He’s going to leave me and Milly when he finds out the
truth.’