Page 26 of Not Moving Out
‘It isn’t ideal, obviously, but we discussed it, and it’s only six months. Then once Dolly is gone, we can sell the house, and, you know, start our new lives.’
I said ‘new lives’ as if I had some sort of idea of what that might look like, but the truth was I had literally no idea. Although, I’m sure before Dad met Juliette, the idea of living in France had never once crossed his mind. In fact, I knew it hadn’t because he had never been there, thought baguettes were impractical for making sandwiches and, growing up, I remember him making several disparaging comments about the Channel Tunnel.
‘What if you want to bring a woman home?’ said Barney. ‘What is it, student-house rules? A sock on the bedroom door and music to drown out the moaning?’
‘Hardly, and I think the chances of me bringing a woman home are probably slimmer than you,’ I said to Barney. Man banter, it always kept things from getting too real. We were good friends, but discussing anything too personal, too deep, was strictly off limits, and we all knew it. Keep it light and surface-level only. It was like the opposite of therapy, but equally needed to keep me sane.
‘Actually, that’s where you’re wrong!’ said Barney suddenly and with a great deal of excitement. ‘I joined a new dating app, and I’ve been going great guns!’
‘You’re actually getting women back to your place?’ said Stuart, slightly disbelievingly.
‘I mean, define “back to your place”?’ replied Barney.
‘I think it’s quite clear,’ I said. ‘You’re getting women back to your flat for sex?’
‘Oh, Joe, you’re so base,’ said Barney. ‘The ladies I wine and dine aren’t into me just for the physical. We’re talking, debating, delicately navigating the early flushes of romance. It’s a dance, a whirlwind of the unknown, the familiar and yet the new. It’s complicated and yet simple. It’s—’
‘You’re not getting any, are you?’ said Stuart.
‘No, not yet, but you know, one day,’ said Barney, and we all laughed. ‘It’s all about PMA, gentlemen.’
‘PMA?’ I asked.
‘Positive mental attitude!’ said Barney as Stuart finished his pint and went to get another one, while Barney and I slowly finished ours.
It felt good getting outside and away from the house for a night. I needed the company of my friends to remind me that there was a life outside of my own. Stuart returned, and the conversation moved on from me and my marital issues, and Stuart told us about his boys and how well they were doing at cricket. The eldest, George, had been selected for his county, and Henry had just been made captain of the school team. Stuart was so proud of them, and then he spoke about Lucy’s cold water swimming club.
‘Lucy said that Freya had gone along to Cold Water Club.’
‘Oh, right, she didn’t mention it.’
‘Said she loved it, and was going back again,’ replied Stuart. ‘I went once. Never again. It was so cold I didn’t see my testicles for a week! Shocked into submission.’
‘Sounds awful,’ I said, wondering why Freya hadn’t mentioned it, and then it was clear. She was moving on. She had her own life now, separate from mine, and it was something I had to get used to. The tangled web of our lives and friendship groups unfortunately overlapped, so there was no getting away from her completely, unless perhaps I moved out of Brighton altogether. Although with my income, the only place I would be moving anytime soon was a shit one-bed flat in one of the less trendy parts of Brighton.
We were standing outside the pub, three hours and five pints later, and ready to head off home. We were each going in different directions.
‘I just hope you get yourself ready for the divorce,’ said Barney.
‘What do you mean?’ I asked.
‘Things can get ugly. An old buddy of mine in London just went through it. Absolute fucking nightmare. She wanted the house, there were custody issues with the kids, and it all got very ugly with solicitors on both sides, and they had to go to mediation, which sounded like bloody torture. Poor bugger almost had a complete breakdown, lost most of his money, and had to move to fucking Slough!’
‘I think we’ll be okay. Things aren’t bad with Freya. It’s amicable.’
‘Yes, now,’ said Barney. ‘But wait until it’s about deciding who gets what, how much money you each get, and how you disentangle your whole life. Plus, she’s already working with solicitors. You don’t think she’s already thinking about it? Plotting who will get what?’
‘Freya isn’t like that,’ I said, but even as I said it, I knew I didn’t sound utterly convincing.
‘I’m just saying, mate, get ready for it, that’s all,’ said Barney. ‘Because you never know.’
‘Okay, mate, I think that’s enough scaremongering for one day,’ said Stuart, jumping in. ‘See you both soon? I have a busy few weeks with work and family stuff, but maybe after that?’
‘Definitely,’ I replied, but already I was thinking about what Barney had said. Was he right? Was I being naive? Should I already be thinking about the divorce and solicitors? Was Freya already thinking about it? She worked for a firm of family and divorce solicitors, so surely it was already on her mind. She knew the law and what exactly she was entitled to, and I had no idea. What if my new sitcom was commissioned, did well, was sold to America, and then syndicated, and made millions? Would she want some of that money? Could I stop her? Would I even want to? Or perhaps worse, if it didn’t get commissioned and I had no income, I would need every penny of my share from the sale of the house, and what if she made that difficult? As I walked home, hundreds of questions were suddenly swirling in my mind, and I had to tell myself to stop it. Freya wasn’t like that. I wasn’t like that. We were still friends. Weren’t we? We were going to have an amicable divorce, and discuss everything like adults, and put Dolly first. It’s what Freya had always stressed. No, Barney was wrong, and everything was going to be just fine.
I walked up the stairs of the house towards my bedroom, definitely feeling a little tipsy. It was quiet downstairs, the lights were off, so I assumed everyone was upstairs, even though it wasn’t that late. I really wanted to talk to Freya. Barney had freaked me out talking about divorce, mediation, and that I needed to be careful. I had to know she wasn’t thinking like that. I walked up to her bedroom door, took a quick breath, knocked, and then opened the door.
‘Freya—’
