Page 45 of Where Do We Go From Here?
‘Itisdoing me good, darling. So don’t be… you know… dismissive. Anyway, enough of me, how are you? How’s everything back home?’
‘Oh fine,’ Fiona says. ‘Just boring day-to-day stuff, really. The shops are going full-on Christmas already, which is absolutely ridiculous. It gets earlier every year…’
Once the conversation has ended precisely ten minutes after it began, Wendy sits and thinks about Fiona’s eclectic selection of news, namely that: Poundland has closed again, Todd’s girlfriend has a genuine Ferragamo handbag and the latest opinionpolls say that no one is ever going to vote Conservative ever again. Ever.
Fiona, having never forgiven the Conservatives for taking away her dream of living in every country in Europe, seemed particularly thrilled about that one.
Wendy runs the whole conversation through her mind again, analysing it for tone, phrasing and hesitation in case she missed some clue, even a hint of a clue as to the one bit of news she’d really like to know, namely has Harry moved his new bit of fluff into the house? But there was nothing to even begin to interpret.
Perhaps she’ll ask him outright. He’d probably answer honestly. But is she ready to hear it?
She scrolls through her old text messages and sees that she hasn’t replied to her sister-in-law Sue who’d enquired a while back when she was going to France.
Why hasn’t she replied? Well, because she’s angry. Sue, of course, should know. Sue should be interested enough to have not forgotten.
She remembers before she introduced them, when Sue was still her best friend and her brother Neil was her other best friend. Who could have imagined that by putting them together they would merely cancel each other out? Best friend + best friend = sweet FA. By meddling, albeit with the best of intentions, she has managed to swap two wonderful relationships for none.
She will reply, though, to stop things getting worse. Because worse is always a possibility.
In the old days, she would have phoned Sue and told her everything – in fact, she would have hauled Sue over the coals for forgetting such an important date and they would have laughed about it together. But in the old days she wouldn’t have had to do any of those things. Sue would have known exactlywhen she was in France because back then Sue actually gave a damn.
She doesn’t want to feel too bitter, though. Feeling bitter towards her ex-best friend, now sister-in-law, hurts physically. There’s a sensation somewhere in the region of her heart that feels (she marvels at the perfection of the English language as she realises this) bitter. Bitterness feels bitter. How brilliant is that?
It’s amazing that people can change like that, though, isn’t it? Amazing that they can change each other so quickly and so profoundly.
She shoots off a text which she hopes is neither friendly nor unfriendly, merely informative.
Sorry, just got this. I am in France! Been here about three weeks. All is well. Hope you’re both OK. Wendy x
She wonders if she should have put more kisses, and then shrugs and lifts her gaze to the window. It’s dark outside now (when did that happen?) so she lowers the blinds and turns inwards to face the fire.
She wonders if she and Harry changed each other, too, and even before she has finished asking herself the question she knows the answer.
She’s way more uptight than she ever was pre-Harry, and Harry for his part is far less fun. He’d been funny when she met him. He’d been really funny, actually.
She wonders where that went and if it’s her fault. She’s aware of consciously refusing to find him funny these last few years, even though she’s not sure why she started to do that. To punish him for something, probably. At the beginning that was it, anyway. Later it was more of a habit. But yes, for years, Harry has been playing to the worst, least amusable audience in town. And that would do it, wouldn’t it? That would make anyone give up on their failing comedy act. Then again, perhaps it’s justthe inevitable result of spending so many years together, as a couple.
Uptight, irritable woman with dull un-funny husband. Lord, she’s known so many couples the description would apply to that it’s virtually a definition of middle age. She thinks back to her parents, who were very much that way. She thinks back to her parents’ friends and pictures the wives’ pinched expressions and nods to herself. Maybe the stale nature of her relationship with Harry is nothing more, nothing less than inevitable.
More from boredom than actual desire, she refills her glass. She adds a fresh log to the fire, and watches as it smokes and splutters before bursting into flames.
She thinks again of Sue and remembers that first fated holiday as a foursome – the Greek one where she’d thrown Sue and her brother together in the first place. My, that had been a great trip, hadn’t it? The beaches, the bars, those incredible sunsets – it had all been brochure-style perfection. She remembers Neil attempting to teach Sue to windsurf and almost laughs out loud at the memory of her endlessly falling off.
And then she’s holding her breath and feeling stressed again, because a different memory has popped up. After all, the beginning of the end had been present even during that first holiday.
The specific memory is: sitting with Harry in a posh restaurant and explaining to the waiter that the other two seats were going to remain empty after all.
Harry: I expect they’re shagging or something. Don’t let it get to you.
Wendy: But it’s rude. Don’t you think it’s rude, not turning up like this?
H: A bit, maybe. But, you know…
W: And anyway, they can’t be at it twenty-four/seven.They do have to come up for air sometimes. And food. Think of all the calories they’ll be burning.
H: I thought it was what you wanted. I thought that was why you invited them.
W: Just because Ithoughtit was what I wanted doesn’t necessarily mean it’s what I wanted.
