One Day in December(81)

‘Jesus, Jack. Like? Nice? Just put her out of her misery and dump her already.’

I frown. ‘Just because I’m not rushing in and pinning a gold star on her chest and awarding her full marks?’

‘Yes.’ She looks at me, incredulous. ‘Or what’s it all been for?’

What’s it all been for? Her question renders me momentarily silent. ‘I guess I’m trying to work out if people need to start out at one hundred per cent or if they can start at, I don’t know, seventy, and work their way up.’

She shakes her head and sighs as if I ought to know the answer to that by now.

‘If I ask you a question, do you promise to answer honestly?’

Jesus. It really is ‘put Jack on the spot’ day. I get the feeling she’s going to ask me a question I’d rather not answer. ‘Go on then.’

She opens her mouth to speak, and then closes it again as if she’s deciding how to phrase it. ‘If you’d met Laurie instead of me, do you think she might have been your one hundred per cent?’

‘Whoa. Where the hell did that come from?’

‘I heard about your speech at the wedding.’

Ah. That damn speech again. ‘Someone had to step in, Sarah. I was just there.’

She nods, as if it’s a perfectly reasonable answer. ‘Way I heard it, you made every other woman in the room wish you were talking about her.’

I laugh softly. ‘You know me. I can talk myself out of anything.’

‘Not this time.’ Her voice cracks; I can’t look at her. ‘You stupid, stupid man. I wish I’d known. I wish I’d realized. I think a small part of me did, but I just didn’t want to. Why didn’t you tell me?’

I could pretend not to understand what she means, but what would be the point? ‘There would’ve been no use, Sar. And she’s married now. She’s happy. She stopped loving me years ago.’

‘Did you love her?’

I don’t know what to say to her. We sit side by side in silence. ‘I don’t know. Maybe for a second. I don’t know. This isn’t the movies, Sar.’

She sighs and leans against me.

‘But what if it was? If Oscar left, what would you do?’

I press a kiss against her hair. Some things are best left unsaid. ‘Let’s go inside. It’s too cold out here.’

We walk back towards the house hand in hand, then I make my excuses and head for the train station. It’s obvious that my presence is only doing damage here; I need to go home. Perhaps while I’m on the long train ride back to Edinburgh, I can work out if seventy can ever become a hundred.





2015




* * *





New Year’s Resolutions


I just read back over my resolutions from last year. I can’t believe how much I took for granted: spend more time with Mum and Dad. How I wish I could write that again this year. I miss my dad with indescribable ferocity.

I’m not in the mood to make any new resolutions for the year ahead. Instead, I’m just going to try to concentrate on looking after what’s really important. The people I love.





6 May


Laurie


‘But, Oscar, you know how important tonight is.’

I can’t keep the plaintive note from my voice. Oscar promised he’d come back a day early from Brussels this week to attend Sarah’s leaving dinner. I so rarely impact on his travel plans; I’m well aware that his diary is full and difficult to rearrange, but I thought just this once he’d be able to do what I needed him to do.

‘I know I did, and I wish there was something I could do, but my hands are tied,’ he says. ‘Brantman flew over this morning out of the blue, and between you and me I think there might be another promotion in the pipeline. How’s it going to look if I duck out early to go to a party?’

I sigh. Brantman is Oscar’s boss, the big cheese. ‘I see. It’s okay.’ I don’t especially see and it’s not really okay, but there’s nothing to achieve from arguing with him – I know he won’t change his mind. The huge commitment Oscar puts in for the bank compromises our marriage in a million ways, and it isn’t just any old party tonight. It’s a farewell dinner; the night I have to hug my best friend in the world goodbye and wish her well with her new life on the other side of the globe.

‘Maybe we could look at planning a trip out there to see her next year.’ He casts around for something mollifying to say, even though we both know there’s not even a chance of him taking a few weeks off to accommodate such a break, especially if this promotion happens. With the exception of our honeymoon, our holidays have been more like long weekends fitted around his working week in Belgium: a couple of days in Paris, a flying visit to Rome. On both occasions we’ve separated at the airport on Sunday evening and flown to different countries for work on Monday morning. Despite our best efforts to the contrary, our marriage is becoming exactly what we said it wouldn’t be – part-time.

‘I’ll see you tomorrow night, then,’ I say despondently.

‘You will,’ he says softly. ‘Sorry, Laurie.’

He rings off with an ‘I love you’ before I can say anything else.