A Most Desirable Marriage (12 page)

‘But I never have before. It feels horrible.’

‘Not fair, is it? You and actor boy getting all cosied up, then in comes the gorgeous Cassie and scuppers your chances. I’d be distressed too. Can’t you call Matt and instruct him to come and fetch his wife back to the eco-prison pronto?’

‘Good plan.’

‘Or, Plan B, you could just get on and seduce him yourself.’

‘Under the beady eye of my daughter? I think not.’

Donna considered this. ‘Hmm . . . you may have a point.’ She paused, a small frown on her face. ‘OK, what about this? You invite Matt to stay, under the guise of helping them sort out their marriage.’ She looked pleased with herself. ‘And Travis backs off when faced with hubby in situ.’

‘One snag with that. Matt’ll never leave the farm for more than a day.’

‘Then you’ve got a problem. The only way round it is to pick a really, really bad fight with Cass until she ups and leaves. Then you hope Travis doesn’t go with her.’

Jo gave a tired laugh. ‘What am I like? Even thinking there was any mileage with Travis, or that he’d prefer a sixty-year-old to a girl of thirty-two. Bloody ridiculous.’

‘It’s not ridiculous. Does seem a bit fraught, though, when there’re lots of muscle-bound forty somethings out there you could have it off with
sans
hassle.’

‘I’m not talking about “having it off” with anyone.’

‘You’re not? Well what’s all the fuss about then?’

Jo didn’t answer. She knew she liked Travis a lot, but to jump to actually having full-on sex with him was too much to imagine. Any fantasies began and ended with a chaste kiss.

‘I’ve got so much to do. I haven’t written a word of the new book.’

‘So maybe you should. Immerse yourself in work and stop angsting about what actor boy and Cassie are up to. For all you know, he’s still pining for you. He’s just got caught up in your daughter’s seductive charms and doesn’t know how to extricate himself.’

‘I don’t think so . . . anyway, you’re right. I’ve just got to get on with life and forget about him. He’s my lodger, period.’

When she finally got home close to midnight, there was still no sign of Cassie or Travis.

*

‘The play was a bit shit,’ Cassie announced in a stage whisper when she came down the next day, her eyes darting upwards to where Travis still slept. ‘But Travis and Nicks were brilliant. The perfect double-act.’

‘Can’t wait to see Nicky onstage.’

‘Yeah, he was good.’

‘When you say the play was “a bit shit” . . .?’

‘Sort of pretentious? Poet-ish? Which is fair since it was written by one. Not sure you’ll like it, Mum. But the audience seemed to be lapping it up. And two cute guys in the lead roles always helps.’

‘Oh, dear. What did you say to them afterwards?’

‘That they were fantastic, which they were. I think they agree that the play’s a tad up itself . . . but obviously they can’t say it – or even think it. Not yet.’

She took the plate of toast Jo offered. ‘We had a drink at the theatre bar, then went for a Chinese. Amber, you’ll be staggered to hear, doesn’t eat Chinese – or, indeed, anything spicy, for future reference. Or anything at all – so they bailed after one drink. It was just me and Travis.’

‘You’re not getting too close, are you?’ Jo blurted it out without thinking, on a wave of hot, stabbing jealousy. ‘I mean, you seem to be seeing each other quite a lot. And with you and Matt . . .’ she added lamely. Her daughter looked horrified.

‘Christ, Mum! What are you accusing me of?’

‘I’m not accusing you of anything. I just think you should be focusing on sorting your marriage out before you leap into another relationship.’

Jo was ashamed of herself, knowing
what
she was saying was fair – this wasn’t her picking a fight, as Donna had suggested – but also that her motivation for saying it was definitely not.

Cassie continued to stare at her in amazement.

‘Mum, I’m not even
thinking
of a relationship with Travis, for God’s sake. I think he’s incredibly cute, who wouldn’t? But you know what? It’s
my
life. Even if we did get into something, it’s none of your bloody business.’

And with that her daughter stormed out of the kitchen and upstairs.

Jo had no time to make amends. She was going to Oxford to have lunch with a friend of hers, Rosie – they’d worked together at the BBC, way back. She’d put this visit off twice, and didn’t feel she could cancel again, but she was not looking forward to telling her friend about Lawrence and seeing the shock on her face. Rosie wasn’t judgemental exactly, just pretty conservative.

But in the event she didn’t have to. She was halfway there on the Oxford Tube when she got a text from Rosie saying she’d had to take John, her husband, to hospital to get stitches for a gash on his leg. Jo got off at Lewknor Turn and took the next bus back.

When she got home, there was no one about, only the remains of a meal on the kitchen table: two plates, two glasses, a half empty salad bowl and the nub end of a French loaf.

She was at the bottom of the stairs about to call out, when she heard voices coming from Cassie’s room – the first one on the landing to the right. Low voices, Travis’s nasal American tones, Cassie’s giggle. The door was firmly shut.

No! She stood stock still, hardly able to believe what she was thinking. Surely not? It went quiet for a minute, then she heard more giggles, a muffled exclamation from Travis.

Jo didn’t know what to do. The sounds turned her stomach, unwanted images flashed across her mind. If she called out, the thought of them emerging, red-faced and possibly half-naked from the bedroom was more than she could take. She quickly gathered up her bag from the hall table and opened the front door quietly. She would call her daughter from a café or somewhere and say she was on her way home.

As she hurried sheepishly, head down, away from her own house, towards the Shepherd’s Bush Road, jealousy and indignation bubbled in her gut. Was there any rational explanation for the two of them being shut in Cassie’s bedroom together? She couldn’t think of one. This must be payback for her accusation this morning. But did Matt mean so little to her daughter that she would cheat on him within days of leaving home? And would Travis, knowing Cassie was upset and all over the place about her relationship, really have taken advantage of her? He must be a real operator if he had. By the time she got to Café Rouge on the corner, she was furious. How dare they? Had they no shame?

With shaking hand she dialled her daughter’s mobile. Cassie answered it on the third ring.

‘Hey, Mum. What’s up?’

Jo tried very hard to control her voice.

‘Umm . . . John fell down some steps or something and had to go to hospital for stitches . . . so I came back.’

‘Bummer.’

‘I’ll be home in about fifteen minutes.’

‘OK, see you then.’

Cassie had sounded perfectly normal, cheerful even, no hint of any embarrassment.

*

When she got in, Travis was clearing the lunch. Cassie was nowhere to be seen. He turned and smiled at her.

‘Hi . . . wasted journey then?’

She nodded.

‘Can I get you some tea?’

‘Thanks, yes please.’ She’d only just finished a cup at the café, but she accepted without thinking. ‘Where’s Cassie?’

‘Taking a shower. She’s off out to meet a friend.’

The shower at two o’clock in the afternoon didn’t bode well, but Travis seemed completely at ease, Jo could detect no trace of guilt or lingering sexual ambiance. He handed her a mug. They both stood against the side, facing each other, tea in hand.

‘So,’ she affected a breezy tone, ‘what have you two been up to?’

Amusement was clear in his eyes. ‘We ate lunch, then I fixed the shelf in Cassie’s room. A tad challenging . . . it was listing to starboard, but I couldn’t get the damn thing off the wall to straighten it up.’

‘Which shelf?’

‘Small one – kind of a bookcase – on the wall behind the door. She has a bunch of china things on it.’

‘Oh, right. That’s been crooked for years.’

‘Not any more! Anyway, it fell on us at one point. D.I.Y. is so not my thing.’ Travis laughed, then his expression sobered, his voice dropped. ‘You know, talking to Cassie, she’s still convinced her father’ll come to his senses. That he’ll be back.’

Jo didn’t reply immediately. She felt slightly mad. So Travis and her daughter were not having steamy sex while she was on the Oxford Tube. He was mending her bookcase. The relief she felt, on all counts, was tempered by the fact that her life suddenly seemed to be sliding out from under her. Hiding in a café? Not trusting her daughter? Or Travis? Obsessing about them both. It had to stop.

‘He won’t,’ she replied, her heart finally beginning to harden towards Lawrence.

Travis was looking at her, unblinking.

‘What?’ she asked, almost snappishly. She wasn’t in the mood for pity and she was sure Cassie would have discussed her plight with Travis at some length. Said how worried she was about her mother, how old, how lonely she must be. How her father needed to come back to save her.

‘Miss our evenings, just you and me on the terrace,’ he said quietly.

She caught her breath.

‘That guy’s a nut-job . . . walking out on you.’

‘Maybe it’s me who’s the “nut-job”, as you so delicately put it.’

He grinned. ‘You did have a kinda crazy look in your eye when you came in.’

She didn’t laugh, just looked discomforted. Travis, seeing it, was puzzled.

‘OK . . . was it something—’

‘No . . . nothing,’ Jo interrupted his question, turning to put her mug in the sink. But she felt happy for the first time in days.

19 September 2013

‘Lawrence. What are you doing here?’ Jo stood at the front door, taken unawares by her husband there in the flesh. His familiarity, as usual, ambushed her heart.

‘Sorry to barge in on you,’ he said, making no move to come in, his stance apologetic as he waited on the path, his hands in his faded black chino pockets. ‘But Nicky said Cassie was staying, I thought I might catch her.’

Jo stood aside to let him in.

‘Did you tell her you were coming?’ Cassie hadn’t mentioned her father since she’d pitched up nearly a week ago. Whenever Jo tried to talk about him, she just held up her hand to silence her mother.

‘She won’t answer my calls. I’ve been calling and texting for weeks . . . months . . . and I get no response.’

‘So she doesn’t know you’re coming.’

Lawrence shook his head. ‘I thought if I told her – or you – she might go out.’ He sounded infinitely sad.

Jo pushed him through to the sitting room. Lowering her voice she told him, ‘Cassie’s not in a good way. She’s walked out on Matt and doesn’t seem to have any plan to go back.’

‘She’s actually left him? Nicky seemed to think she was just taking time out.’

‘I’ve really no idea. She won’t talk about it. You know how stubborn she is.’

‘And what does Matt say about all this?’

‘Nothing, as far as I know. She was adamant that he wouldn’t bother to contact her, but Travis told me that he’s called about ten times and Cassie hasn’t responded.’

‘Travis?’

‘The lodger. Nicky’s friend.’

Lawrence nodded acknowledgement. ‘So what’s your line with her?’

‘The obvious one, that she should talk it out with Matt. But she insists he won’t listen.’

It felt good to discuss their daughter with the only other person in the world who understood the situation as she did.

‘Should I try and persuade her?’

In the past it was always Lawrence who got through to Cassie, the designated peacemaker after one of their daughter’s bouts of hysteria. Now Jo gave him an amused look.

‘I think you’ve got enough ground to make up without dragging relationship counselling into it.’

Her husband gave her a sideways glance. Then he sighed.

‘I suppose I have. Do you think she’ll see me?’

‘She might, now you’re here. But go easy, you know how unpredictable she can be . . .’

‘He’s a good guy though, Matt. Isn’t he?’

‘He is. But I think he’s been neglecting her in pursuit of this bizarre personal nirvana of his.’

There was silence between them.

‘Easy to do,’ Lawrence said, and Jo wondered if he intended the remark to have a wider context. ‘So how are you getting on?’

‘I’m fine,’ she said firmly, her tone, she hoped, closing down the conversation. She had no desire for reciprocal disclosures and knew that any talk about her current situation would quickly come round to the house and when she was going to sell it.

‘She’s in her bedroom.’

‘OK. Should I go up?’

Perhaps he was waiting for her to do it for him, to go and prepare her daughter. No chance.

‘Your call.’

She moved into the kitchen, trying not to listen to what was going on upstairs. After five minutes she heard footsteps but it was only Travis.

‘Lawrence has dropped in to see Cassie.’

The American’s eyes widened. ‘Right. No idea that was on the agenda.’

‘It wasn’t. I’m hoping you heard sounds of rapprochement as you passed?’

‘Didn’t hear squat.’

Jo frowned. ‘Not good.’

‘I’d say not. Cassie can be wilful I imagine.’

‘She wouldn’t return his calls. I suppose he had no choice.’

He shrugged. ‘I’d have done the same . . . if it was my kid.’

They sat in silence as Jo poured some coffee for Travis, both unable to ignore the muffled voices now coming from upstairs, which rose and fell rhythmically. Initially Cassie’s was the dominant one, her tone angry and insistent. But as time passed, it was her husband’s deeper, conciliatory voice that came through.

‘Maybe I should take off? Don’t want to get in the way of family stuff,’ Travis suggested.

‘No need. Lawrence and I don’t have anything to say to each other.’

He must have heard the steeliness in her remark.

‘Still . . .’ he was about to get up as Lawrence came into the kitchen. He looked exhausted.

‘Phew,’ he said, rubbing his hands over his face. ‘Well, at least we’ve talked.’ He looked at Travis enquiringly, his eyes flitting over the coffee, the two of them sitting together.

Jo introduced the American. Odd, she thought, that Lawrence was now the guest in the house, the outsider, Travis the resident.

*

Jo breathed a sigh of relief to see the new theatre. She hadn’t been to the Bush since it moved from a poky, claustrophobic pub venue on the other side of the green, to this relatively palatial one – a conversion of the old library – round the corner on the Uxbridge Road. The seats were bench and padded, as in all London fringe theatres, but these were still new and comfortable, set in two tiers on opposite sides of the stage space, the bare brick walls lending an unpretentious, contemporary atmosphere. The set for this production was bleak and futuristic: steel cubes and pods, a bank of computer screens, distressed mesh partitions in rust and grey.

Jo secured herself a place on the end of a row, dreading the possibility of being crushed up tight in the middle and unable to breathe. It was hot, but mercifully only two thirds full. She had tried to drag Donna along with her, but her friend was going to a fundraising gala at the Royal Opera House with one of her walkers.

As she waited for
Soft Landings
to begin, she thought about Lawrence’s visit. He’d seemed nervy, a bit worn down, the easy charm, the self-assurance he’d shown since the day she’d met him strangely absent. What’s going on with Arkadius, she wondered. Wasn’t it working out as her husband had hoped?

‘She’s so angry with me,’ Lawrence had told her after Travis tactfully disappeared upstairs.

‘Angry with all of us. But you got through?’

‘Sort of. She ranted, I tried to calm her down . . . but what can I say?’

Jo didn’t reply.

‘I asked about Matt. She said she needed some “space”, whatever that means. She did insist she still loves him though.’

‘I’m sure she does. But it’s not always enough.’

Jo’s comment was not intentionally loaded, but Lawrence seemed to wince, his expression closing down. That was the problem these days. No exchange between her and her husband was taken at face value, everything – on both sides – was filtered through his betrayal.

‘Maybe she’s waiting for Matt to make a move.’ She talked to fill the silence. ‘Prove that she’s more important to him than his eco-world.’

Lawrence nodded wearily. ‘If she is . . .’

Jo
almost
felt sorry for him . . . almost. Whether he had worked it out and decided sacrificing his children’s love was a fair price to pay for Arkadius, or whether he had taken none of the fallout into account in his state of intoxication, she didn’t know. His look suggested the latter. But then perhaps it was worth it to him.

*

As Cassie had suggested, Jo found the play annoying, the dialogue deliberately heightened and obscure, the philosophy laboured. But Nicky and Travis saved the day, both acting from the heart, the spark between them rendering the trite construct at least watchable. And despite any shortcomings, she found she loved every minute. Loved being able, for once, to observe Travis at close quarters, unimpeded by manners and subterfuge. She had permission – indeed she was
required
– to stare at him. And her son of course. She felt a stab of guilt as the cast took a bow that she had spent so little time watching her son.

After the play they met up, as Cassie had, downstairs in the theatre bar. Nicky and Travis were high, loud, laughing and confident. It had been a good audience.

‘What did you think, Mum?’ Nicky gave her an ebullient hug.

‘I thought you were brilliant, both of you,’ she said. ‘Brought the stage alive. Interesting concept.’

Nicky beamed, but Travis’s grin was knowing. ‘Think maybe I detect some dissembling? Or am I being paranoid?’

She laughed. ‘Totally paranoid.’

‘What do you mean?’ Nicky asked, catching the glance between her and his friend.

‘Play’s not quite doing it for your mom,’ Travis explained. But Nicky wasn’t listening.

‘There she is.’ He was off towards the double doors of the library-turned-theatre, gathering up his sweetheart in a close embrace. Amber looked as beautiful as ever – many eyes turned at her entrance – and as vacant.

Travis groaned. ‘There’s a limit to the amount of coo-ing I can handle . . .’

‘I’ll suggest an Indian. She doesn’t do spicy.’

‘Yeah . . . do it.’

Nicky and Amber had a short, whispered exchange and then began making their way through the crowd to join them.

In the event Jo didn’t need to manipulate.

‘Amber’s not feeling so great,’ her son announced before they’d even had time to greet the girl – who offered them a wan smile but no further explanation. ‘I think we’ll head off home.’

Nicky cast a sideways glance at his mother as if he expected her to object. He was in no doubt that she hadn’t exactly warmed to his girlfriend. But his loyalties were crystal clear.

‘No problem, darling.’ Jo could afford to be gracious.

After the two had said goodbye, there was a sudden silence between her and Travis.

‘So were you serious about that Indian?’ Travis said, biting his lower lip as if he were nervous.

‘Absolutely . . . if you’re up for it. Or we could get a takeaway and sit outside? It’s so warm.’ Jo felt her body suddenly alive with nerves, as if someone had thrown a switch on a circuit board.

‘Sure, sounds perfect.’

Jo had been hungry earlier, but by the time they were seated at the wrought iron table on the terrace, the cartons of Tandoori chicken, tarka dal, sag aloo, rice and raita between them, each with a glass of wine, she found her stomach was balled so tight she could barely swallow, let alone eat.

They talked for a while with their usual ease, general subjects that avoided her having to be honest about the play. There was a lightness between them tonight, a lot of laughter. Maybe it was the wine, which seemed to have gone straight to her head, but Jo felt heady and reckless.

‘You’re a nightmare,’ she said as the first bottle of wine was set aside for the second.

Travis raised his eyebrows, his brown eyes lit up in the candlelight.

‘Moi? I sure hope you’re not blaming
me
for your alcohol intake.’

‘That . . . and for being so bloody disturbing.’ There, she’d said it. Her words stood solid, suspending the moment.

‘OK,’ the sound was drawn out, soft, almost a caress. ‘But hey, you must share
some
responsibility.’

They stared at each other. Jo felt unable to move or speak as Travis got up and came round the table. He put his hand beneath her elbow and pulled her gently to her feet, drawing her into his embrace. His body felt so deliciously warm and strong. She looked up at him. The hesitation in his eyes was only momentary, then his mouth was on hers, a soft, fluttering kiss, then another, testing her response. And when a small moan escaped her, his lips pressed hers more confidently, the kiss suddenly urgent and full of desire.

After a while, Jo, trembling, drew back. ‘This is mad. We can’t . . .’

He seemed amused. ‘Why not? Why can’t we? You and me . . . both free agents last I checked.’

Which was true, but she hadn’t got around to thinking of herself as free. She still felt tethered to Lawrence, or at least to his imprint on her life, now his shadow. But Lawrence Meadows had gone. She was, to all intents and purposes, free as a bird. She took a deep breath, sank back against Travis’s chest, inhaling the faint scent of nutmeg and lime on his skin, bringing her arms round his body to caress the small of his back, turning her face up to his for another kiss.

It was only the sound of the front door that tore them apart. Jo, brushing her hands across her face as if to erase all evidence of Travis’s kisses, shot back to her chair and began picking up the cartons – still mostly uneaten – from the table. Travis snatched up his wine glass and stood with his back to her, looking out on the dark garden.

‘Hey guys. Still up?’ Cassie sounded tired.

‘Yeah . . . had a takeaway after the show,’ Travis replied, which was lucky, as Jo wasn’t sure she could speak.

‘God, I’m knackered,’ Cassie said. ‘Jason is such an old bore. I don’t know why I bother.’ She peered at the curry in the candlelight, reaching over for a piece of chicken and dipping it in the raita. ‘Mmm . . . and we never actually got to eat. Just sat in the smelly pub with a bag of pork scratchings all evening.’

‘Do you want me to heat this up?’

Cassie shook her head. ‘Thanks Mum, but I’m not really hungry any more.’

Travis helped Jo collect the plates and glasses, taking them inside.

‘Tea, anyone?’ she asked. But they both shook their heads.

‘I guess I’ll go up,’ Travis said, smiling at Jo. ‘Thanks for the curry, Jo.’

‘A pleasure. Thanks for the play.’

He waved his hand at them both and disappeared upstairs.

Jo felt dazed, almost disorientated and was relieved that he was gone. She got a glass from the cupboard and ran the cold water.

‘So did you like it?’ Cassie asked in a whisper.

‘What?’

‘Doh . . . the play.’

‘Oh yes, the play. No, not really. You were right. But it was fun seeing them act.’

‘He’s a real talent, Travis. Don’t you think?’

Jo nodded. ‘Nicky’s really good too.’

‘Yeah, he is. But it wasn’t a big enough part to really stretch him. I think he owed a lot to Travis’s performance.’

‘That’s a bit mean.’

‘I didn’t say he wasn’t good. I just said you couldn’t really tell from that role.’

Jo wasn’t about to get involved in what sounded like sibling rivalry. She was barely keeping it together; her body was buzzing, her skin burning with the feel of Travis’s touch. Surely Cassie could see.