I smile.
‘What’s funny?’
‘Nothing.’
I realize a part of me wants to get away. I need to be on my own, to find solitude and process what I’ve just done, and the reasons I did it. I didn’t mean to, when I came here, yet here I am. ‘I’d love some lunch, but I probably ought to get going. Soon.’
He strokes my shoulder. ‘Have you got to go?’
‘Yes.’ I search for an excuse. ‘I’m meeting someone. A friend.’
He nods his head. I realize I’d like him to ask me to stay, I’d like him to beg me to cancel my friend, I’d like to see disappointment when I tell him I can’t.
But I know he won’t ask. Spending the rest of the day together was never part of the deal he thought he’d struck with me; it’s against the terms of our engagement. And so the silence between us extends, becomes almost uncomfortable. The schizophrenia of lust; it’s hard to believe the intimacy we shared just a few moments ago can evaporate almost in an instant. I become aware of the details in the room, the clock on the TV that’s mounted on the wall opposite, the fireplace, the stack of old hardback books on the mantelpiece that surely no one reads. I hadn’t noticed them before.
‘When’s your flight?’
He sighs. ‘Not till tonight. Eight o’clock, I think.’ He kisses me. I wonder dimly why he hasn’t checked out, then realize I’m the reason. ‘I have all afternoon.’ He kisses me again. Harder, this time. ‘Stay…’
I think of him getting on his flight, going back home. I think of never seeing him again. I remember when I’d thought the same thing about Marcus, when I believed that he’d meet someone else in Berlin, someone more interesting, and I would end up coming home, back to Kate and my father, my old life. But he hadn’t. Our love had deepened, intensified. In winter we would open the window of our apartment and crawl out on to the cold ledge. We’d wrap ourselves in a blanket and look at the Fernsehturm glowing in the bright blue sky, talking about our future, all the places we’d go and the things we’d see. Or else we’d take a bottle of cheap wine, or vodka, to Tiergarten, or hang out at Zoo Station. I had my camera; I took pictures of the rent boys, the dropouts and runaways. We met people, our lives expanded, opened out. I missed Kate dreadfully, but I didn’t regret leaving her behind.
But that was the old me. I can’t behave like that any more.
‘I’m sorry,’ I begin. I have the distinct impression that I’m slipping away, that Jayne – the me, the version of me, that is able to do what I’ve just done – is disappearing. Soon it will be replaced by Julia – mother, wife and, once upon a time, daughter. I’m not sure I want her to go.
‘I really have to—’
‘Please don’t.’ He’s fierce now, and for a moment he looks so desperate, so alive with desire, that I feel a sudden rush which takes me by surprise. It’s happiness, I think. I’d forgotten what it was like, this pure, uncomplicated happiness, more powerful than any drug. It’s not what I just did, what I realize I’m about to do again. It’s not that I’ve deceived my husband and got away with it. It’s me. I have something, now, something that’s mine. A private thing, a secret. I can keep it hidden, in a box, and take it out occasionally, like a treasure. I have something that belongs to no one else.
‘Stay,’ he says. ‘For a while at least.’ And I do.
Chapter Fifteen
I go home. When I open the door I find a handful of postcards pushed through the letterbox. I bend down to pick them up and with a gasp of shock see that they’re the postcards that prostitutes leave in phone boxes. On each there’s a picture of a woman, a different woman, wearing lingerie, or nothing at all, and posing next to a phone number. ‘Hot Young Slut’, says one, ‘Spanking fun’, reads another. Straight away my mind goes to the last thing Paddy had said to me – Fuck you – and straight away I tell myself they’re from him. He’s pushed them through the door in a fit of childish, spiteful anger.
I try to calm myself down. I’m being paranoid. They can’t be from him, surely. It’s as ridiculous as me thinking it was him standing outside my window. The simpler the explanation, the more likely it is to be true, and Paddy would’ve had to travel across town, on a day when he’s supposed to be at work, during a time when he knew I wouldn’t be in the house. It’s much more likely it was kids. Just kids, messing about.
Yet still I can taste fear in my mouth as I tear them into little pieces and put them in the bin. I ignore it. I won’t let it get to me. It’s nothing, nothing to worry about, a stupid prank. I must stop being paranoid.
I go upstairs and step out of my boots. I take off the make-up I’d put on earlier, then the clothes. It’s hard to imagine that just a few hours ago I was putting all this stuff on; it’s as if a film’s playing backwards, a life spooling in reverse. By the end it’s a different me standing here, in front of the mirror. Julia. Not better, not worse. Just different.
I put my jeans on, a shirt, then go back downstairs. My phone rings. It sounds alien, too loud. I’m annoyed; I’d wanted more time with my own thoughts before the real world crashed back in, but when I pick it up I see it’s Anna and am pleased. She’s someone I can talk to, someone I can be honest with.
‘How did it go? Did you find anything?’
‘He knows nothing. I’m certain of it.’
She hesitates, then says, ‘I’m sorry.’
Her voice is soft. She knows how much I need answers.
‘It’s okay.’
‘I really thought—’ she begins, but I’m gripped with an urge to tell the truth and she’s the one person who might understand.
‘We had sex.’
‘What?’
I say it again. I consider telling her I thought it might help, but I don’t. It’s not true, no matter how much I might want to believe it. We had sex because I wanted to.
‘Are you all right?’
I wonder if I’m supposed to feel bad. I don’t.
‘Yes. Fine. I enjoyed it.’
‘Is this because of Kate?’
Is it? I don’t know. Did I want to have sex with Lukas so that I could walk in her shoes?
Either way, I understand her better now.
‘Maybe.’
‘Will you see him again?’
Her question shocks me. I search for a hint of condemnation in it, but there’s none. I know she understands.
‘No. No, I won’t. In any case, he leaves tonight.’
‘You’re all right about that?’
‘I don’t have any choice,’ I say. ‘But yes, yes I am.’
I’m trying to sound light, unconcerned. I’m not sure she believes me. ‘If you’re sure,’ she says, and then I change the subject. We talk some more, about her, and her boyfriend, Ryan, and how well it’s going. She says I ought to come and visit her again, when I get the chance, and tells me that she’ll be over with work in the next few weeks but hasn’t been given the dates yet. ‘We could catch up then,’ she says. ‘Go for dinner, maybe. Have a bit of fun.’
Fun. I wonder what kind of fun she means. I remember she’s younger than me, but not by that much.
‘That’d be great,’ I say. I know I must sound distracted. I’m still thinking of Lukas, imagining meeting him again, wondering what it might be like to be able to introduce him to my friends one day, wondering if the reason I never will is what makes the thought so appealing.
I remind myself that this is my real life. Anna is my real friend. Not Lukas. ‘I’d like that a lot,’ I say.
Connor gets in. I make him a sandwich and tell him to make sure he remembers to put his PE kit in the laundry, then a while later I hear Hugh’s key in the lock. He comes into the kitchen as I’m cooking dinner. I kiss him, as usual, and watch as he gets a drink, then takes off his tie and hangs his jacket carefully over the back of the chair. The guilt I feel is predictable, but surprisingly short-lived. What I did this afternoon has nothing to do with the love I feel for my husband. Lukas in one box, Hugh in another.