She asked me only one question; whether I loved him. I told her that I didn’t and then, with a sense of foreboding for her, as she seemed to brighten on hearing that, I just wanted the call to be over. When it was, I retreated into the kitchen, made myself a second cup of coffee and, with total sangfroid, sat down and called Stephen.
He answered within half a ring. Quite a contrast, I mused, to the days when he could never answer a call, presumably because his wife-to-be, or rather not-to-be, was hovering.
‘Hello, Alice,’ he said, sounding as calm as I felt. ‘It’s so good to hear from you.’
‘Hello,’ I replied. ‘I’m calling to let you explain your behaviour.’
‘Great,’ he said. And then, after first confirming that he and Catherine had been a couple for two years, he began his explanation, whilst I listened patiently and with detached interest.
‘It was always my intention to end my relationship with Catherine as organically and painlessly as possible,’ he said, his tone that of a kindly teacher, eager to convey information clearly and concisely to a promising student. ‘And I knew that the physical separation of relocation would provide me with the perfect opportunity to do this, smoothing the transition and underlining the finality of the situation for her.’ He paused. ‘But then I met you and my additional, in fact my main focus,’ he said gently, ‘became to protect you from a situation you had nothing to do with, and over which you had no control. My relationship with Catherine was no longer emotionally relevant to me,’ he continued, ‘and it had never had any relevance to you. And much as I would have liked to share the situation with you, to offload, it would have been selfish of me to burden you with it. And so I kept it from you.’
‘Right,’ I said, my ongoing emotional coma freeing me from any urge to point out the more obvious reason for not telling me about Catherine – namely that I would have told him to get lost had I known that he was already engaged to someone else.
‘My only regret,’ he sighed, ‘is the unforeseen situation which arose on Friday evening.’
‘Yes,’ I said, assuming that he was referring to his unforeseen unmasking as a complete bastard and the unforeseen arrival of his temporarily deranged fiancée on my doorstep at midnight.
‘But I hope you can see,’ he continued, ‘that I did my best to protect you. And I hope you can also see just how important you are to me. We have so much potential and we mustn’t let this spoil things. I know Friday was a shock. And I hate the thought of you being upset by that. But I also know that we have to see beyond Friday to the future we can have together. I still want that future,’ he concluded quietly, ‘more than anything.’
‘I don’t,’ I said. ‘So please don’t try to contact me again.’ And then I hung up the phone, blocked all further calls from his number, stretched myself out horizontally on the sofa and took to studying the ceiling.
I then lost all track of time, because when I checked my watch at the sound of the doorbell it was well after midday. I sighed, wondering if it was Miriam, worried about my failure to call and impatient to check on my welfare. I hauled myself to my feet and trudged down the hallway, opening the front door just in time to see my visitor reach the top of the stone steps which led up to ground level. He, for it was a man, turned, offered me a smile more anxious than any I had ever seen and then made his way back down the steps towards me.
‘I was just dropping those off for you,’ he said, gesturing towards a large bouquet, lying to the left of the front door. ‘I thought you must be out or…’ He hesitated. ‘…or resting.’
‘Thank you,’ I said, stooping down to retrieve the flowers. ‘That’s very kind but you didn’t have to do that.’
‘Oh,’ he said, scratching his ear and studying his feet, ‘I think I did, you know. I feel a right idiot. I am a right idiot. And it’s led to you getting hurt.’ He looked up. ‘I’m so sorry, Alice.’
I shook my head. ‘Don’t worry about it, Greg,’ I said. ‘I’m absolutely fine.’
And then I started to cry.
Chapter 45
‘Here you go,’ said Greg, handing me a mug. ‘I hope I’ve used the right teabags. You’ve got quite a collection in there.’ He smiled and sat down in the armchair opposite me.
‘Thank you, I’m sure it’s lovely,’ I said, resting the mug carefully on the arm of the sofa, to enable me to blow my nose. ‘I’m so sorry for crying, Greg. I’m really embarrassed.’
‘Nonsense.’ He shifted in his seat. ‘It’s me who should be embarrassed. And I am embarrassed, actually. Very.’
I picked up my tea. ‘None of this is your fault.’
He looked doubtful. ‘Well, I’m afraid Connie doesn’t agree with you on that. And, much as I’d like to, I can’t agree with you either. I should have taken more care over who I put you in touch with. I should have vetted him more thoroughly.’ He sipped his tea. ‘You see, I didn’t know him that well, did I? I mean we had a professional relationship. But I didn’t know him personally – on a personal level – that’s what I mean. Connie’s ever so cross with me, you know.’
This latter statement gave him the air of an eight year-old schoolboy, caught doing something unintentionally naughty. He looked thoroughly miserable and I felt immediately sorry for him.
‘Well, I don’t hold you at all responsible,’ I said. ‘I didn’t expect anyone to run background checks.’
He smiled sadly. ‘That’s very kind of you,’ he said. ‘But he had mentioned a girlfriend in the past. The thing is, when he said he was moving to the area and didn’t mention anyone else, I just assumed they’d split up. And so I never mentioned a girlfriend to Connie.’ He stared forlornly at his tea. ‘And then when she said how desperate you were to meet men… well…’
I didn’t say anything, finding myself more troubled by Greg’s turn of phrase regarding my desperation for male company, than his failure to check out Stephen’s backstory.
‘But, of course, they hadn’t split up, had they? They were engaged,’ he continued more anxiously, unsettled, I guessed, by my lack of response. ‘Dear God. Engaged,’ he said quietly.
‘You weren’t to know that,’ I said. ‘I would have made the same assumption as you. You’d expect someone to mention something like that. And you were just trying to help,’ I added.
He looked up at me and seemed momentarily relieved. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘But Connie is furious with me.’ His face fell once again. ‘Absolutely livid.’
I struggled to form a mental image of Connie being livid. But even trying to picture her mildly ticked-off was a stretch; livid was impossible. ‘I’m more than happy to talk to her, Greg. If that would help.’
He held up a hand. ‘You’ve got quite enough on your plate without me adding bother,’ he said. ‘Although, I know Connie would love to talk to you at some point, when you’re feeling up to it. She’s a worrier about people at the best of times but she was beside herself about you this morning when Miriam phoned.’ He heaved a sigh and when he spoke, his voice cracked slightly. ‘We both were, if truth be known.’
I felt tears begin to sting my eyes again and I swallowed hard. ‘I’m actually feeling fine, you know,’ I said. ‘I mean,’ a tear escaped and Greg’s face fell another inch, ‘obviously I’m not totally fine or I wouldn’t be sitting here sobbing into my tea. But I’m fine about him. It was very early days and I wasn’t head over heels or anything…’
‘I can sense a “but” coming,’ said Greg gently.
‘But,’ I put a hand to my forehead, ‘I’m just so embarrassed, Greg. It was all so public and I hate the thought of everyone worrying about me and feeling sorry for me. Plus, you know, it just makes me feel a bit…’ I shrugged, ‘unappealing. I think that’s the best word for it. I feel like I don’t hold sufficient appeal.’
‘Now, hold on moment,’ he said, leaning forward in his chair. ‘You’re not being logical there, Alice. Let’s back up and think about what you just said, because I think you’ll find you’re
being entirely contradictory.’ He placed his mug on the small table to his left and folded his arms. We were suddenly, I felt, at a board meeting. ‘So, to sum up: on the one hand you’re saying you feel unappealing; whilst on the other, you are acknowledging that there are an awful lot of people concerned about you. Is that right?’
It felt like some sort of kindly trap. ‘Well, yes,’ I said warily.
‘Well, people aren’t generally concerned about unappealing people, are they?’
‘I suppose not,’ I conceded.
‘Absolutely not,’ he said, making a fist with his right hand and slapping it against his left palm. ‘People don’t get upset about unappealing people over breakfast and then come round with bunches of flowers for them, do they?’
I shook my head.
‘And they don’t phone each other anxiously all morning to see if anyone has heard from an unappealing person, do they? Well, not unless they’re parole officers of course.’
‘I guess not.’ I smiled and he broke into a grin.
‘That’s better,’ he said. ‘And, Alice, I would just like to add one thing.’ There was a pause whilst he cleared his throat and then looked around the room, as if for inspiration. ‘I don’t know what my opinion is worth anymore,’ he said eventually, ‘or whether it has ever been worth anything, but on the occasions Stephen mentioned you, I felt he was smitten.’
I tutted but smiled again. ‘Oh, Greg.’
‘I mean that,’ he insisted. ‘I came home and said so to Connie at the time. You can ask her if you don’t believe me. Of course, I know it’s of little or no comfort to you at the moment. The idiot bastard, pardon my French, went about everything in completely the wrong way, and I shall certainly tell him that, possibly with my fist, when I get the chance. But,’ he unfolded his arms and reached for his tea, ‘I’m pretty confident that he’s feeling worse about this than you are.’ He saluted me with his mug. ‘And I can’t say I’m unhappy about that.’
There was a pause, whilst we finished our tea.
‘Thank you, Greg,’ I said at last. ‘You’ve made me feel better.’
‘Have I?’ he said. ‘Have I really?’ He looked both surprised and delighted. ‘Well, perhaps there’s hope for me yet.’
‘Hope for us both, maybe,’ I said, rising to my feet. ‘Now, would you like a top-up of your tea? Or are you anxious to get home?’ I asked.
His mouth stretched to a worried grimace. ‘If you don’t mind, Alice,’ he said, ‘I’ll just send Connie a quick text telling her that you’re OK and then I would love another cuppa. You know, just to give her a chance to, er, cheer up.’
‘Very wise,’ I said. ‘Pass me your mug.’
He stretched back into the armchair and, for the first time since arriving he looked relaxed. ‘Thank you,’ he said holding his mug out towards me and smiling. ‘Hey and I tell you what.’
‘What?’ I asked.
He winked at me and grinned. ‘I’d absolutely kill for a biscuit.’
* * *
As Greg rose to leave after his second cup of tea, we were both, I felt, in a much better state than on his arrival. Connie had replied positively to his reassuring text and I had told her, via him, that I would call her for a chat later in the day.
‘I’ve got an awful lot of phone calls to make,’ I sighed, as I opened the front door for him.
‘Well, don’t you worry about the one to Connie,’ he said. ‘She’ll be happy with my assurances. You just call her when you come up for air. I’ll explain.’
‘OK,’ I smiled, hugging him goodbye. ‘And thanks for coming, Greg. You really have cheered me up.’
He smiled, appearing simultaneously proud and bashful. ‘I have to say, I didn’t think I was going to, but I’ve enjoyed my visit,’ he said. ‘It’s a sad business but I can tell you it’s given me a few things to think about.’
‘Really?’
‘Hmm…’ he said, looking down. ‘I’m going to work on a bit more of this…’ He tugged at his ears. ‘And a lot less of this…’ He tapped his mouth. ‘Especially where my wife is concerned,’ he said. ‘She talks a lot of sense and I don’t always take heed as I might.’
I smiled. ‘I often let my mouth run away with me,’ I said. ‘So we could work on that together.’
He turned to walk up the steps. ‘You’re lovely the way you are,’ he said. ‘And don’t you forget it.’
He offered me one last wave and then he was gone. I closed the front door and leaned against the hall wall for a moment. I had been telling the truth when I said that Greg had made me feel better. However, I remained somewhat daunted by the prospect of the various phone calls which still lay ahead. Connie’s I could perhaps delay, Hugh, I knew, would prefer a text, but Miriam had already left a voicemail to say she was looking forward to hearing from me and, of course, I had to phone Dad. He, I decided, was the priority. I had heard nothing from Abs, Sophie or Jon which, I supposed, meant that bad news didn’t always travel fast. I was pleased about this and had no urge to bring any of them up to speed. I had enough people to reassure as it was; everybody else could simply find out as and when.
I went into the kitchen, fetched myself some cheese, crackers and salad – primarily because I knew I should eat, rather than because I had an appetite – and then, after a deep breath, I picked up the phone. It rang three times before he picked up.
‘Hello?’
‘Hello, Dad, it’s Alice,’ I said.
‘Oh darling, whatever’s wrong?’ he asked.
‘Actually,’ I began, feeling the tears begin to well, ‘I think something has been put right.’ And then, in between sobs, I told him the tale.
Chapter 46
With breaks for coffee, Jane Eyre and a long afternoon stroll, I hung up on what I hoped was my last phone call of the day at just after 6pm. I was, I decided, all talked-out – in a good way, but talked-out nevertheless. Feeling emotionally and physically exhausted, I poured myself a glass of wine and ran a bath, with the intention of perhaps watching a movie and being in bed by nine. It was with a weary sigh then that, just as I turned off the taps, I heard my phone ring and saw Sophie’s name appear on the screen. Much as I wanted to ignore the call, I knew I couldn’t. I pressed ‘accept’ and began my reassurances even before she had said hello.
‘Before you say anything – I’m fine,’ I said. ‘Yes, he’s a bastard, or something worse according to Miriam, but I’m fine.’
‘Who’s a bastard?’ asked Sophie, sounding bemused. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘Stephen,’ I said. ‘I’m talking about Stephen.’
‘Why is he a bastard? What’s happened?’
‘Oh, I thought that’s why you’d phoned.’
‘You thought what was why I’d phoned?’ She was starting to sound tense. ‘Start from the beginning and tell me what’s happened.’
I explained events, with no interruption from her, save for the odd gasp and, of course, four-letter word.
‘And anyway,’ I concluded. ‘I’m blocking his calls and won’t be having anything more to do with him. The end.’
There was silence for a moment. ‘Jesus, Alice,’ she said eventually. ‘I’m sorry.’
I sighed. ‘Absolutely everybody is sorry – except him.’
‘No apology?’
‘No,’ I said.
‘He doesn’t think he’s done anything wrong,’ I explained. ‘He thinks he’s been protecting everybody from the situation and themselves. Like some weird psychiatrist, superhero hybrid.’
‘Captain Crazy-Crap,’ said Sophie.
‘Exactly,’ I agreed.
‘And how are you?’ she asked quietly. ‘Honestly.’
‘I’m honestly OK,’ I said. ‘This isn’t an Eddie situation. In fact, I’m totally the other side of the fence. I’m Pip. Oh, God, I’m Pip.’ I groaned at the thought.
‘You’re not Pip,’ she protested. ‘You were clueless. She wasn’t clueless.’
‘I was clueless,’ I repeated. ‘Now, why doesn’t make that feel any better?’
She laughed. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘Poor choice of words. But you know what I mean.’
‘Yes, I do.’
‘Are you sorted for the rest of the weekend?’ she asked. ‘What are you up to? Do you fancy getting together?’
‘Well, I’ve been on the phone for most of the day…’
‘Sorry.’
‘No, no, I’m not complaining,’ I said. ‘It’s all been very helpful, very cathartic, but I’m done-in. I’ve just run a bath and then I’m going to watch a movie and go to bed.’
‘Sounds good,’ she said. ‘And what about tomorrow?’
‘Off to Dad’s for lunch.’
‘That’ll be nice. Well,’ I heard a sigh, ‘I’ll let you get on with your bath. We can catch up properly on Monday. Perhaps a drink after work?’
‘I’ve just arranged one with Miriam. The three of us can go.’
‘Hmm…’ There was a pause. ‘I’ll think about it but maybe I’ll drag you out another evening.’
She sounded a little flat. ‘Are you OK?’ I asked.
She laughed. ‘Am I OK? God, you’re priceless. Yes, I’m fine.’
‘So, what were you calling about?’
Another pause. ‘Oh… no… nothing. You’ve got enough going on.’
‘What do you mean?’ I asked. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘Nothing at all,’ she said. ‘I just meant you’ve got enough going on without me spouting trivia. I was just phoning for a general chat. Go and get in your bath before it goes cold. I’ll see you on Monday.’
‘And there’s nothing wrong?’