Page 59 of A Midlife Marriage

Helen couldn’t speak. Her jaw dropped and her mouth gaped. ‘Like me?’ she gasped. ‘I took six weeks, Lawrence! That’s not even a quarter of a year. And now I’m back at work.’

‘I know.’ He nodded. ‘How is the job?’

‘The job?’ she echoed. Had he even heard her? Dazed, she pulled off her wrap and fell into a chair. ‘It’s shit if you must know. It’s boring and unfulfilling and …’ Pausing, Helen took a deep breath, watching for any sign that he had heard, that he understood. There was nothing. ‘I was only meant to be there a year,’ she said quietly. ‘I’ve been there ten.’

‘Ten?’ Lawrence pushed his lips together. ‘That long?’

‘Yes,’ Lawrence.Thatlong.’

‘Why?’

‘Why?’ She stared at him. ‘Why?’And before he could answer, she put her hands to her face and dropped forward on her elbows. ‘Let me see?’ she said, through her hands. ‘Howabout the fact that the hours worked with school? Or that it was close to school, in case one of the kids fell down a well and we were needed, and you weren’t around because you were climbing a mountain. Is thatwhyenough for you?’

‘Helly …’

‘Or’ she seethed as she turned to look at him. ‘How about the fact that it worked for you, because it meant I was around to make dinner and make sure homework was done and hair was washed and be a parent to our children.Ourchildren, Lawrence.’ Folding her wrap into an angry square, Helen stood up. ‘And by the way I want them.’

‘Helly!’ Lawrence raised his hands. ‘Want what?’

‘The curtains,’ she snapped. ‘Those lemon curtains in the front bedroom.’

‘You can have them.’

‘Good.’

‘Anything else?’

‘No!’ She turned to stuff the wrap into her handbag. It wouldn’t fit. ‘Yes,’ she cried, as she yanked it out again. ‘You can’t go on a gap year, Lawrence. You can’t!’

‘Why ever not?’ he said, a look of genuine confusion on his face.

‘Because …’ Helen threw her hands up. ‘Because,’ she started. ‘Because it’s not fair, Lawrence!’ And collapsing back into the chair, she slumped forward again, the feather of her fascinator, bowing in sympathy. ‘I’ve been offered a job in Bolivia.’

‘Bolivia?’ Lawrence drew his own chair out.

As he did, Helen looked up. ‘It’s a six-month contract.’

‘Helly!’ Lawrence smiled.

‘Very similar to what I do here,’ she said, sounding thoroughly miserable.

‘That’s marvellous.’

‘Is it?’

‘Isn’t it?’

‘No.’ Helen shook her head. ‘No, it isn’t, Lawrence. How can I go?’

Leaning back, Lawrence stretched his arms. ‘I’m not sure I see the problem,’ he said drumming his fingers on the table.

‘Libby is the problem,’ she said flatly.

Lawrence didn’t speak. Frowning, he pushed his chair back, went to the fridge and took out a bottle of champagne. ‘I had planned,’ he said as he poured two small glasses, ‘that we could have a tiny, tiny toast to Caro. But it sounds like we should have one for you as well.’

Numb, Helen looked at the glasses. ‘Did you even hear me?’ she said.

‘I did.’ He handed her a glass. ‘But you’re over-thinking this, Helly. You really are. Libby is fine. She has her own home now. She’s a young woman. A very capable one. She doesn’t need us. Cheers.’ He raised his glass.

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