The Peacock Emporium(21)

The worst, however, were the couples who were clearly still in love and whose length of tenure together seemed to have deepened something, to have wound them more tightly around each other. She knew all the signs: the conversational “we,” the frequent touches to small of back, to hand or even cheek, the quiet smiles of attentive satisfaction when the other spoke. Sometimes even the combative argument punctuated by laughter, as if they could still flirt with each other. Then Suzanna would find herself staring, wondering what glue she and Neil were lacking; whether it was something she could still find to hold them together.

“I thought that went quite well,” said Neil, bravely, as he started the car. They had been the second to leave, perfectly acceptable. He had offered to drive so that she could drink; a conciliatory gesture, she knew, but somehow she didn’t feel generous enough to acknowledge it.

“They were okay.”

“But it’s good—I mean, getting to know our neighbors. And no one sacrificed a pig. Or threw their car keys into the middle of the room. I had been warned about these rural dinner parties.” She knew he was forcing himself to sound lighthearted.

Suzanna tried to quell the familiar irritation. “They’re hardly our neighbors. They’re almost twenty minutes away.”

“From our house, everyone’s twenty minutes away.” He paused. “It’s just good to see you making friends in the area.”

“You make it sound like my first day at school.”

He glanced at her, apparently assessing just how mulish she was determined to be. “I only meant that it’s good you’re . . . putting down a few roots.”

“I’ve got the roots, Neil. I’ve always had the bloody roots, as well you know. It’s just that I didn’t want to be planted here in the first place.”

Neil sighed. Rubbed his hand through his hair. “Let’s not do this tonight, Suzanna. Please?”

She was being horrible, she knew it, and it made her feel even more cross, as if it was his fault for making her behave in this way. She stared out of the window: hedge, hedge, tree, hedge. The never-ending punctuation of the countryside. The debt counselor had suggested couples therapy. Neil had looked receptive, as if he would go. “We don’t need that,” she had said bravely. “We’ve been together ten years.” As if that made them unbreakable.

“The kids were sweet, weren’t they?”

Oh, God, he was so predictable.

“I thought that little girl handing round the crisps was delightful. She was telling me all about her school play and how unfair it was that she got to be a sheep instead of a bluebell. I told her someone was obviously pulling the wool over—”

“I thought you said you didn’t want to start all this tonight?”

There was a short silence. Neil’s hands tightened on the steering-wheel. “I only said I thought the children were nice.” He glanced sideways at her. “It was a perfectly innocent remark. I was just trying to make conversation.”

“No, Neil, there’s no such thing as an innocent remark when it comes to you and kids.”

“That’s a bit unfair.”

“I know you. You’re completely transparent.”

“Oh, so what if I am? Is it really such a sin, Suzanna? It’s not like we’ve been married five minutes.”

“Why does that have to come into it? Since when was there a time limit on having kids? There’s no rule book that says, ‘You’ve been married for blah years, better get procreating.’”

“You know as well as I do that things get harder once you hit thirty-five.”

“Oh, don’t start on that again. And I’m not thirty-five.”

“Thirty-four. You’re thirty-four.”

“I know how bloody old I am.”

There was a kind of adrenaline rush within the car, as if being alone had liberated them from the constraints of having to appear happy.

“Is it because you’re frightened?”

“No! And don’t you dare bring my mother into this.”

“If you don’t want them, why can’t you just say so? At least then we’ll know where we stand—I’ll know where I stand.”

“I’m not saying I don’t want them.”

“Well, I’ve got no idea what you are saying. For the past five years every time I’ve brought the subject up you’ve jumped down my throat as if I’m suggesting some great horror. It’s only a baby.”

“For you. It would be my life. I’ve seen how it takes over people’s lives.”

“In a good way.”

“If you’re a man.” She took a deep breath. “Look, I’m not ready yet, okay? I haven’t done anything with my life, Neil. I can’t just go straight to having kids without having achieved anything. I’m not that kind of woman.” She crossed her legs. “To be honest, I find the whole prospect depressing.”

Neil shook his head. “I give up, Suzanna. I don’t know what I have to do to make you happy. I’m sorry we had to move back here, okay? I’m sorry we had to leave London, and I’m sorry you don’t like where we’re living, and you’re bored, and you don’t like the people. I’m sorry about tonight. I’m sorry that I’ve been such a bloody disappointment to you. But I don’t know what to say anymore that isn’t bloody wrong.”