The Last Year Of Being Married. Sarah Tucker
like you. From what you’ve said, sounds as though he’s done this more out of anger and lust than anything. And relationships that start that way aren’t built on firm foundations.’
Sarah—‘Perhaps. But that’s not my problem. Wonder if she’s good at gardening and cooking and stuff?’
Kim—‘Who gives a fuck? Do you want to be good at those things?’
Sarah—‘Well, no.’
Kim—‘Then why worry? Let her prune his roses and mend his slippers.’
Sarah—‘Mmm, suppose so.’
Kim—‘What have you planned this week?’
Sarah—‘Well, this past week Ben’s had chicken pox, so I’ve been looking after him. Paul has been home occasionally. Of course acting strangely. It’s sort of like sleeping with the enemy.’
Kim—‘Hasn’t started to line things up in the cupboards, has he?’
Sarah—‘No, not that bad yet. But, you know—watching me when he’s here. Bit like the way Jack Nicholson got with Shelley Duvall post-axe scene in The Shining.’
Kim—‘You’ve got to get him to move out, then, Sarah. You can’t move out—nor can Ben. He’s got to move out.’
Sarah—‘He won’t.’
Kim—‘Then its going to end up like War of the Roses. Must admit when I first watched that film I thought it was overdoing it. But the more I learn about this divorce thing, the more I’m amazed most divorcing couples don’t kill each other.’
Sarah—‘Thanks for the cheery thought, Kim.’
Kim—‘I’m sorry, Sarah. But I can’t help thinking that Paul—love him though you think you do at the moment—has done you a huge favour. So has this other woman. Fuck, she’s got a man who’s a baby—a rich baby, but a baby nonetheless. With emotional baggage.
You don’t need that. You’ve got your life to lead and—fuck it, girl—you’re thirty-seven and look ten years younger. Even if this girl is years younger than you she’ll have to go some way to look as good as you. You’ve come a long way, despite little support from your husband, family or his family, and you’ve given him a wonderful son. Where did that blip occur? You obviously had sex once.’
Sarah—‘During a week in Mauritius.’
Kim—‘How the fuck did he expect to have children if he didn’t sleep with you, for Christ’s sake?’
Sarah—‘I know, I know. But he claimed I made him impotent. The abortions. Telling him about John on our honeymoon. Then finding out about Stephen and the shower. He struggled to deal with it and he couldn’t.’
Kim—‘All this is supposition, Sarah.’
Sarah—‘It has to be. The guy won’t talk to me. He tells me not to talk to him. Not to e-mail him at work. Not to text him. He hides his mobile phone, which makes me think he’s sending and receiving intimate love messages from this girl, and it’s driving me nuts.’
Kim—‘That’s jealousy. That’s pride speaking, not love.’
Sarah—‘I know, and I have to deal with it.’
Kim—‘You don’t want him, Sarah. You just wish it hadn’t happened this way.’
Sarah—‘Maybe. But at the moment I’m reeling, Kim, and I don’t know where I stand legally about leaving the house. Should I stay or go?’
Kim—‘Then find out. Go and see bloody good solicitors and listen to what they say. They strip the emotion and look at the facts, which is what the court will do. And they can be as ruthless as Paul—at this moment you can’t. I could be wrong, but I think from the sound of it Paul is on a mission, and he wants out. He’s a banker, a trader, and they’re compulsive about getting closure quickly. Just surprises me he hasn’t got the papers for a divorce signed up already.’
Sarah—‘Perhaps he wants to wear me down emotionally first. I don’t know, perhaps you’re right. Only I don’t know any good solicitors. I know—I’ll contact Jane. She’s been through all of this recently with her ex—Pierce. He works with Paul. It’s a bit incestuous, but Jane knows her business, knows Paul, and thinks straight. Perhaps I can use her solicitor.’
Kim—‘Sounds good to me. Well, my love, I’ve been here for fifteen minutes and they haven’t asked what we want to eat and I’m fucking starving. Where’s this Duncan, then? Where’s my chips?’
SEPTEMBER
Leaning on the wrong shoulder
Café Nero. Liverpool Street Station. Three p.m. Watching all the bankers go by with their secretaries, or maybe their work colleagues. Wonder if one of them will be Paul. And her.
Waiting for Jane, thirty-six, buzzy, brilliant, beautiful, and ex-wife of Pierce. Always has a mobile in her hand. Pierce told Paul she even took calls while he was going down on her. Chief accountant at Malvern & Duff, merchant bank. Not a conventional banker’s wife, either. Hence divorce a year before. She lost two stone, if I remember rightly. Pierce had to take a month’s leave with a suspected nervous breakdown. She’s met someone else. Getting married next year. Pierce was always meeting someone else, but probably won’t ever again—get married, that is.
Paul and I got Pierce’s side of the story. Never knew hers. But, knowing Pierce, hers is probably a more honest version. Perhaps will find out now. She’s agreed to meet me between meetings. I’ve got fifteen minutes. I’ve briefed her already about Paul. About the affair. About the history. And about the divorce.
I’m early again. Sit and order a black coffee, waiting until Jane arrives.
She’s on time, smiling, striding towards me, turning heads in her tight white cotton Paul Smith blouse, just—above-the-knee skirt and kitten heels. Legs up to armpits. Mobile in one hand. Purse in the other.
She hugs me, and looks me up and down a few times.
Jane—‘Hello, Sarah. See you’re feeling it, then? Can’t eat anything?’
Sarah—‘No. Bit like you were.’
Jane—‘It will pass. You’ll look back on this in two years’time and think, Hey, wish I could lose weight like that when I want to. You will put it back on; don’t worry. But I think you should look healthier and be healthier for Ben. You’ve got to look after him, and to do that well you’ve got to look after yourself well. And, more importantly, be seen to be looking after yourself well.’
Sarah—‘What do you mean—be seen to be looking after myself?’
Jane—‘If it goes to court, you will need to show you’re responsible enough to look after Ben. Fit mentally, financially and physically. Looking like someone who’s just come out of a concentration camp is not a good look. The mother usually gets custody, but I know Paul, and he sees everything as a possession. It’s not just his house and his money, but it’s also his son. So he may fight for custody at some stage.’
Sarah—‘Well, Ben is his son. But Ben is my son too.’
Jane—‘Quite. But he doesn’t see it like that, Sarah. And it’s not his house or his money. It’s your money and your house as well. Remember that. Because the court will remind him of that. The fact he suggested you leave the house makes me think he’s done his research, but you need to see a solicitor to give you all the details, Sarah. Try my solicitor. She’s good.’
Sarah—‘I don’t want to divorce him, Jane. I love him.’
Jane—‘Do you think you can salvage the marriage?’
Sarah—‘Don’t