One Good Thing, page 18
‘Ssshh! We don’t want to be giving away the answers!’ he hisses, looking over his shoulder to see if anyone’s listening.
By half time we’re all rather exhausted and grateful for the free food put on by the pub. It’s like being in an exam, and not quite the fun event I had planned.
‘Sorry – I had no idea,’ I say to Ajay as we’re handed free plates of Yorkshire pudding and gravy. ‘I thought it would be a bit more relaxed.’
‘It’s cool,’ he smiles and slips a hand onto my knee under the table.
I feel a prickle of anticipation. Earlier, when Ajay asked if he could stay the night at mine, so he could drink and not have to drive, I’d made it clear he’d have to sleep in the spare room.
‘I like a bit of competition.’
‘Oh, you do, do you?’ I flirt back unashamedly.
Several drinks later and of course we both know he isn’t going to be in the spare room. Like I said, I’m determined to throw caution to the wind and start living in the moment.
‘In that case, they’re the ones to watch out for,’ interrupts Valentine, returning from the bar with a round of drinks and pointing to a table of three curly white heads, over by the dartboard. ‘The Three Degrees.’
‘Seriously?’ Ajay looks intrigued and passes him his plate of food.
‘Don’t be fooled,’ Valentine nods, lowering his voice. ‘Gladys used to set the cryptic-crossword questions for the Yorkshire Standard, Janice was a local magistrate and Evelyn’s a retired head teacher.’
All of us turn our heads to look over, at exactly the same time as they look at us. There’s lots of nodding and raising of glasses in acknowledgement. I notice one of them is drinking a pint of Guinness. I watch her say something to her friends, then get up from her chair and come over.
‘Valentine, how nice to see you back at the pub quiz.’
‘Don’t talk rubbish, Evelyn.’
She lets out a cackle of laughter. ‘Aha, it’s true – I’m horrified really.’ She beams, evidently delighted. Evelyn, I notice, has quite a glint in her eye. ‘This man here is one of my arch-rivals,’ she informs the table, before turning back to him in his armchair and lowering her voice. ‘Now, I’m not going to nag, but I know you got my cards and notes, because I delivered them myself.’ Resting a hand on the arm of his armchair, she fixes him with a firm gaze that is a world away from the patronizing head tilts and sympathetic platitudes. ‘And I know what it’s like to be too proud to ask for help, as it was the same for me when my Charlie fell ill.’
They share a look. Valentine nods but doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to.
‘But you know where I live, so I’ll leave it at that.’ Satisfied she’s got the message across, Evelyn turns to the rest of us with an authoritative air. ‘Now, may be the best man win.’
‘Or woman,’ I add and she registers me with approval.
‘Wow – it’s packed,’ says Maya, returning from outside, where she’d gone to check her messages, away from the watchful eye of the landlord.
‘I’ve never seen so many people,’ I agree, watching Evelyn weaving her way back to her table.
‘Well, it’s one of the few places we can go these days; what with the village hall being closed, it’s either this or the church,’ says Valentine, catching my eye. I make a mental note to ask him more about Evelyn later.
‘Why’s it closed?’ Ajay reaches for the salt.
‘Council cuts. They said it cost too much to run and let it fall into disrepair. Now there’s so much work needs doing to it. It needs a new roof, for starters, after last year’s storm blew holes in it.’
‘So does my cottage,’ I groan.
‘It’s always a new roof.’ Ajay shakes his head, along with the pepper.
‘You should set up a crowdfunder,’ suggests Maya.
Valentine frowns. ‘What’s that, when it’s at home?
‘It’s a way of raising money on the Internet,’ I explain. ‘You ask for a small amount of money from a large amount of people.’
‘What people?’ Now Valentine looks really bewildered.
‘All kinds of people,’ shrugs Maya. ‘People who live locally, friends of friends, strangers, businesses. People from all round the world.’
‘You’re telling me a complete stranger from the other side of the world would donate money to fix the roof on our village hall?’
Maya nods. ‘If it goes viral, yeah.’
‘Well, I never.’ He shakes his head.
‘That means if lots of people see it,’ says Ajay helpfully, but Valentine tuts impatiently.
‘I know what going viral means,’ he says impatiently, turning back to his Yorkshire pudding. ‘Why do you think I have my flu jab every year?’
The Three Degrees win, followed by Emergency Brexit. We come a respectable third. Our prize is a round of free drinks. As I’m collecting them from the bar, I spot Ben walking in. He doesn’t notice me and goes straight to the other end of the bar. He orders a drink and I watch him talking to the girl serving him. He’s being very friendly. Some might say flirty. The girl is laughing and flicking her hair. I look away and walk back to our table. It’s none of my business.
‘Fancy seeing you here.’
A few minutes later I glance up, to see Ben standing next to me. He’s smiling and I get the sense this isn’t his first pint.
‘Ah, of course. The Quiz. I should’ve known – you always were brainy.’
He seems a little unsteady and his cheeks are flushed. He rocks backwards slightly on his feet and his beer spills over his glass.
‘Hi, Ben, how are you?’
He’s drunk, and I feel a slight beat of concern.
‘I think you’ve all met . . . Ajay, Valentine, oh, and this is Maya, one of my pupils.’
Ajay nods, while Valentine says, ‘How do’ and there’s some small talk about plastering and painting. Maya, now reunited with her phone, smiles politely, then continues scrolling furiously. God only knows how many posts and likes she’s missed during the hour it was turned off.
‘I should have asked if you wanted to be on the team,’ I continue brightly, trying to head off any potential awkwardness. Absently I wonder who Ben’s come to the pub with or if he’s on his own.
‘Oh, no, I’m not clever enough.’ He shakes his head dismissively. It seems to roll backwards on his shoulders. ‘Make sure you study hard. You don’t want to end up like me,’ he warns Maya, laughing as he raises his pint to his lips.
No one else laughs, and I feel looks flying around us. I get a sense of other people in the bar glancing over. Wedged in behind the table, I resist the urge to get up and have a quiet word, make sure everything’s OK. Like I say, it’s none of my business. If Ben wants to go out and get drunk on a Wednesday night, he can. He’s my builder, not my husband. I think about his wife. I wonder if they’ve had a row.
God, this is uncomfortable.
‘Well, you look a bit busy, so I’ll leave you to it.’ Seeming to get the message finally, Ben raises his pint. ‘See you tomorrow, Livvie.’
‘Yeah, see you tomorrow, Ben.’
I feel a beat of relief, and watch as he stumbles away.
‘Someone’s going to have a sore head tomorrow,’ jokes Ajay.
‘Yes, you,’ I snap, feeling unexpectedly protective towards Ben. Ajay looks hurt. And now I feel guilty. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean it.’ I reach for his hand and he interlaces his fingers through mine, but I still feel unnerved.
‘It can’t be easy for him,’ mutters Valentine. ‘His wife used to work behind the bar, before . . .’ He trails off and doesn’t get any further.
I turn to look at him. ‘Before what?’
Valentine peers at me from underneath those shaggy grey eyebrows of his. ‘Before the car accident.’
‘Oh, I had no idea.’ I glance over at Ben propping up the bar. ‘Is she OK now?’
I turn back to Valentine, but when I see his expression I already know the answer.
‘Ben’s wife died a couple of years ago.’
The Morning After
Ajay stayed the night. Nothing happened, apart from a bit of hand-holding as we walked home together, and some drunken kissing on my doorstep. He barely made it up the stairs before he crashed out on my bed, still fully clothed – the result of drinking several large glasses of house red and a couple of celebratory whiskies for coming third in the quiz.
When I came out of the bathroom, where I’d gone to freshen up and steady my nerves, I found him face down and snoring. After all that build-up I should have been disappointed, but if I’m honest, I felt relieved. Not because I didn’t find him attractive, because who wouldn’t find Ajay attractive? Or because it was such a long time since I’d slept with anyone who wasn’t my husband.
But because of Ben.
Hearing the news about his wife had completely thrown me. I felt shocked, upset and confused. He wore a wedding ring, and I’d assumed the woman I’d met was Stanley’s mum. His wife. But now I didn’t know what to think. On the way back from the pub, when I was supposed to be flirting with Ajay, I was thinking about Ben. Scrolling back through all our conversations, trying to remember what we’d talked about – what he’d said, what I’d said. Looking for clues, but not finding any.
How could I not have known? I kept asking myself. How could I have known? I kept telling myself.
Guilt gnawed at me. I thought back to when he’d first given me a lift home in his van; my dismay at seeing him again after all this time; all my preconceived ideas and prejudices against him. Born of what? Teenage hurt feelings and Ben’s troubled past? I’d judged him and I’d been so very wrong. All this time I’d assumed his joking and his flippant remarks proved that he didn’t take life seriously, when all along life couldn’t have been more serious for him.
Let that be a lesson to you, Liv: who ever knows what’s going on in someone else’s life? And yet I’d been so quick to form opinions. I felt ashamed. And then I thought about Stanley, and my heart broke for him.
So not exactly the kind of lustful thoughts that should have been running through my head as I headed home with a gorgeous man who clearly intended to get me into bed. And yet the last few days had been spent looking forward to exactly this possibility. I’d dug out the expensive scented candles I’d been saving for a special occasion, swapped my comfy unflattering undies for the kind of lingerie you have to hand-wash, and had done some serious preparation with various body-scrubs and creams.
People always assume that if your husband has an affair and leaves you for a younger woman, he’s ‘not getting it at home’, which is as glaringly sexist as it’s so often untrue. David and I had a healthy sex life, whatever that is; it was the glue that kept us together. Even when we fought and didn’t like each other very much, we were attracted to each other. In a way, it would have been easier if we hadn’t been, as that would have made it simpler to understand. If he wasn’t looking for sex, then what was he looking for? It was less straightforward, more complicated than that.
But then things always are, aren’t they?
Ajay finding me attractive had made me feel good about myself again. My divorce had killed my libido, but now it stirred back into life. Which seemed to be at odds with how I should be feeling, according to all those magazines aimed at women of my age. Only the other day I’d flicked through a few at the supermarket while looking for ones on interiors, and there seemed to be an endless stream of articles about baking your own sourdough or taking a ceramics class. And nothing at all about sleeping with a man ten years younger than you – which seems a lot more interesting than getting your dough to rise, frankly.
But maybe it’s just me. It’d been so long since those feelings of excitement and anticipation, and I relished them. But then I heard about Ben’s wife and everything changed. Of course Ajay wasn’t to know, and he continued flirting and flattering, while I kept trying to behave as if everything was normal. Later, as I left him undisturbed and went to sleep in the spare bedroom with Harry, I thought about how this wasn’t as I’d imagined it would be. And then I thought about Ben – and how so much of life never is, is it?
I wake up early and, slipping on my dressing gown, go and check on Ajay. He’s still sound asleep, so I leave him and come downstairs to make tea and feed Harry. I’ve got used to living in a building site now and I pick my way through the construction work.
The sun is streaming in through the windows and I open the kitchen door and let in some fresh air. It’s going to be another lovely day. I check my phone and reply to the WhatsApp that Naomi sent last night. She’s trying to get a few people together for her birthday:
Naomi
It’s not until July but it’s a Big One.
I feel I should do something, especially
since I’ll probably be single .
We haven’t spoken since she got back to London and we’re due a proper catch-up, but obviously things have not gone well with Danny.
Whatever you decide, count me in!
I get a thumbs up and start typing her a message about last night, before realizing this is a group WhatsApp. That’ll teach me not to wear my reading glasses. Thankfully I manage to delete it.
As I wait for the kettle to boil, I do a cursory check of the bird feeder. Still untouched. It’s been hanging there for months now; it’ll be summer soon. Despite Valentine’s advice to have patience, I’m fast losing hope the birds will ever find it.
‘Is there enough water in the kettle for two?’
I turn round. Ajay is standing in my half-finished kitchen in the shaft of sunlight. He looks rumpled and bemused. He scratches the stubble on his chin.
‘How do you take your tea?’
‘Milk, no sugar.’ He smiles sheepishly.
‘Coming right up.’ I reach for another mug.
‘Look, about last night,’ he begins, but I don’t let him finish.
‘It’s fine, don’t worry.’ It strikes me that the roles are reversed and now it’s my turn to say it.
He slides onto a stool and rests his forehead on his elbows, scraping his fingers through his thick dark hair.
‘I don’t remember anything.’ His voice is muffled and he’s hugely embarrassed.
‘There’s nothing to remember.’
‘I crashed out.’ He raises his eyes to meet mine.
‘I know.’ I put the teabags in the mugs and pour on the boiling water.
‘Did I snore?’
I can’t resist. ‘A little bit.’
He groans loudly. ‘I had this whole big seduction planned.’
As I grab the milk from the fridge, we both look at each other and grin.
‘I’m sure it was wonderful,’ I pass him his tea and lean against the counter top, opposite him. ‘Maybe you shouldn’t drink a whole bottle of red next time.’
‘Is there going to be a next time?’
He raises an eyebrow, but as we look at each other, we both know the answer.
‘Listen, it’s not you—’ I begin.
‘That’s normally my line,’ he interrupts with a rueful smile.
I laugh and put down my tea.
‘See, I made you laugh at least.’
‘Don’t say that. I had a good time last night,’ I protest.
‘Me too.’
‘It’s just . . .’
‘I know.’ He nods. ‘It’s like we keep missing each other, right?’
‘Yeah, it’s exactly like that.’
Putting down his mug, he reaches out and strokes Harry, who has somehow managed to wedge himself under Ajay’s stool.
‘Keep in touch?’
‘Absolutely,’ I nod.
‘I’m available for pub quizzes and bar mitzvahs.’
I laugh and he gets up off his stool and comes over, sliding his arm round my waist to give me a hug. It strikes me how different this feels to when Ajay held me last night on my doorstep.
I hear the key in the lock. It’s the builders arriving. As the door opens we break apart, but Ben has already seen us.
‘Morning.’
‘Morning,’ I say brightly. For some reason I didn’t want this to happen. ‘Ajay was just leaving,’ I add quickly, then wish I hadn’t. Why do I feel the need to explain?
Ben is carrying a large container and he steps aside to allow Ajay to pass. Briefly they say hello and I follow Ajay outside, bumping into Fetch Me and Carry Me, who look very surprised to see a man leaving my house so early in the morning. I ignore the looks flashing back and forth between them. Why do I get the feeling this is going to be discussed very loudly across the back garden later?
Outside, I offer to give Ajay a ride to the station. ‘If you wait five minutes I can throw on some proper clothes, grab my keys.’ But he refuses, saying he needs to walk off his hangover, so I wave goodbye, then turn back and walk up the path, trying to rehearse what I’m going to say to Ben. There are so many questions, so much I want to say, but I don’t know where to start. How do you bring up the subject of someone’s dead wife?
I walk back inside to find Ben with the other builders, clustered around the Aga. He looks up when he hears me.
‘Livvie, if you’ve got a minute, do you want to look at these tile samples for the splashback?’
‘Yeah, sure,’ I nod.
Answer to my own question: You don’t.
Maya
It was just after they’d left the theatre and were walking across the city centre towards the car park. Liv, her English tutor, had got tickets for a production of Macbeth and they were discussing the performance. Exams were only a couple of weeks away and the play was one of her A-level texts.
‘I thought it might be really helpful to see it onstage,’ Liv had said, all enthusiastic. ‘It’s in Leeds – an hour’s drive away – so I’ll pick you up.’
Maya liked Liv. She was cool. Much cooler than her parents, although she was probably about the same age. Plus she’d adopted Harry and was into sustainable fashion, though she really needed to have a word with Liv about all that fleece. She was also a good teacher. She made things fun and interesting and her enthusiasm rubbed off.
