The Peacock Emporium(119)
She forced a smile, braver than she felt.
“I don’t think your man was too keen either, from what he told me.”
“What?”
“Alejandro. Told me he was off to Argentina.”
“He’s going back?”
“Shame, isn’t it? Nice guy. Still, can’t say I blame him. It’s not the easiest town to settle in. And he’s had a bumpier ride than most.”
* * *
—
Suzanna lay awake for most of the night. She thought of Cath Carter, and of Jessie, and of her broken, empty shop. She watched as the dawn broke, the blue light filtering through the gap in the curtains that she had never liked.
Then, as Neil sat in the kitchen cramming toast into his mouth while he searched the work surfaces for his cuff links, she told him she was leaving him.
He seemed not to hear her. Then, after several seconds, “What?” he said.
“I’m leaving. I’m sorry, Neil.”
He stood very still, a piece of toast protruding from his mouth. She felt rather embarrassed for him.
Eventually he removed it. “Is this a joke?”
She shook her head.
They stared at each other for some minutes. Then he turned, and began to pack things into his briefcase. “I’m not going to discuss it now, Suzanna. I’ve got a train to catch, and an important meeting this morning. We’ll talk this evening.”
“I won’t be here,” she said quietly.
“What’s this about?” he said, incredulity on his face. “Is this because of your mother? Look, I know it’s all been a shock to you, but you’ve got to look on the bright side. You don’t have to live with all that guilt anymore. I thought you all understood each other better now. You told me you thought things might improve.”
“I do.”
“Then what? Is this about having children? Because I’ve backed off, you know I have. Don’t start making me feel bad about that.”
“It’s not—”
“It’s just stupid to make life-changing decisions when you’re not thinking straight.”
“I’m not.”
“Look, I know you’re still upset about Jessie. I feel sad about her too. She was a nice girl. But you will feel better after a while, I promise.” He nodded to himself, as if in confirmation. “We’ve had a tough few months. The shop is a drain on you, I know that. It must be depressing having to go in to work with it looking . . . well, with all that still in the air. But the windows are going in—when?”
“Tuesday.”
“Tuesday. I know you’re unhappy, Suzanna, but just don’t overreact, okay? Let’s just get it all in proportion. It’s not just Jessie you’re grieving for, it’s what you thought was your family history, probably your mother, even. It’s your shop. It’s your way of life.”
“Neil . . . it’s not the shop I wanted.”
“You did want the shop. You went on and on about it. You can’t tell me now you didn’t want it.”
She had heard an edge of panic in his voice. Her own was almost unnaturally calm as she said, “It was always about something else. I know that now. It was about . . . filling a hole.”
“Filling a hole?”
“Neil, I’m really sorry. But we’re kidding ourselves. We’ve been kidding ourselves for years.”
Finally he was taking her seriously. He sat down heavily on the kitchen chair. “Is there someone else?”
Her hesitation was just brief enough for her answer to be convincing. “No.”
“Then what? What are you saying?” He stood up, began pacing the room. “You can’t just throw everything up in the air, keep shopping around, just because you’re not waking up singing every morning. You’ve got to work at something, to stick at something in your life. That’s what life is like, Suze, it’s about persistence. About sticking with each other. And waiting for the happy times to come back. We’ve had a lot of them, Suzanna, and we will again. You’ve just got to have a little faith. Be realistic in your expectations.”
When she didn’t speak, he sat down again, and they were silent for some time. Outside, one of the neighbors slammed a car door and shouted an instruction at a child, then drove off.
“You’ll have your family, Neil,” she said quietly. “You’ve got loads of time, even if you think you don’t.”
Neil got up and walked over to her. He squatted down and took her hands in his. “Don’t do this, Suze. Please.” His blue eyes were pained and anxious. “Suze.”
She kept staring at her shoes.
“I love you. Doesn’t that mean anything? Ten years together?” He dipped his head, trying to see her face. “Suzanna?”
She lifted her face to his, her eyes steady. She shook her head. “It’s not enough, Neil.”
He looked back at her, evidently hearing the certainty in her voice and seeing something final in her expression, and let go of her hands. “Then nothing’s going to be enough for you, Suzanna.” His words were bitter, spat out in the realization that this was really it. “You’re after a fairy story. And it’s going to make you very unhappy.”