A Most Desirable Marriage (13 page)

‘How did you escape the silent Amber?’

‘She said she wasn’t well. Nicky took her home.’

‘Maybe she should eat occasionally, it helps,’ Cassie said waspishly, then gave her mother a broad grin. ‘I’m kind of enjoying seeing Nicks so besotted. Mr Cool finally meets his match!’

Jo waited till it went quiet upstairs, then she fetched the rug from the back of the sofa and drew it round her shoulders as she went outside again to sit in the darkness. There was a chill now, the day’s warmth giving way to the autumn night, but the blanket was cosy and soft as she hugged it to her body, preserving the intense pleasure she’d experienced with Travis, the darkness a cloak for her arousal. Questions flitted about her mind: what happens next? Now he’s kissed me, will he want to kiss me again? What if Cassie finds out? But she chose to ignore them and just savour the moment, remembering the desire in his eyes, the feel of his hand on her breast. It had been decades since anyone had looked at her that way.

There had been years of sensual enjoyment with Lawrence – they had been lucky she felt – but inevitably their physical relationship had been absorbed into the mundane flow of their life, the occasional peaks of intensity taken for granted along with other pleasures, such as the exchange of ideas between them, a good meal in the sunshine, a bike ride by the sea, the children. It was how it should be, she thought now. And had she died in her husband’s arms, she wouldn’t have felt cheated of another passion. But she would not die in Lawrence Meadows’ arms. Not now.

*

‘Coffee?’ She waved the cafetière at Travis as he came into the kitchen the following morning.

‘Sure, thanks.’ He hesitated for a split second, looked around, then came over, planting a soft kiss on her cheek, pausing, then kissing her again, this time on the mouth. He tasted deliciously of toothpaste, his skin smooth and faintly scented with shaving soap. ‘Good morning,’ he whispered, his face alight with mischief.

Jo found her own expression breaking into a delighted smile.

‘Good morning indeed.’

‘Did you sleep?’ he asked.

She shook her head. ‘Not a wink.’

‘Me neither.’

He took the cup she offered.

‘Travis . . .’

He held up his hand to stop her. ‘Please . . . don’t say it again. Don’t tell me we can’t, or we shouldn’t, or it’s wrong.’ He shrugged. ‘We’re not hurting anyone.’

‘Cassie and Nicky . . .’

‘What about them?’

‘Just . . .’

‘If you don’t want to, that’s different.’ His look was cautious, appraising. She felt her heart contract.

‘Want to?’ Her question was like an echo, it was all she could manage.

He put his mug down, laughed, a soft, musical sound, his hand running up and down her bare arm. ‘Well if you don’t know what I mean . . .’

For a reply she leaned forward and stroked her fingers gently across his mouth, his breath warm on her skin.

‘Oh, I definitely know what you mean.’

She heard a soft gasp. ‘God . . . don’t do that.’ He pulled her fiercely into his arms, but she heard Cassie’s door and moved quickly away, trying to control her breathing and still the ferocious pounding of her heart.

Trained actor that he was, Travis greeted Cassie with the utmost normality. Jo, meanwhile, took out the wholemeal loaf she’d made the day before – to pass the time – set it on the board and began vigorously slicing, her back to the room.

‘Hi, darling,’ she said, without looking round.

Cassie, already dressed, her hair freshly washed and shiny, plonked herself down at the table. Jo set the coffee pot in front of her with a mug.

‘I’m making toast.’

‘Thanks.’ Her daughter hesitated. ‘OK, guys . . . progress on the marital front. Matt and I talked last night and he’s coming up.’ She sounded nervous but Jo could tell she was also pleased. ‘He said he’d take an early train, so he should be here by midday.’

‘Is he coming here?’

‘That was the plan, but if you think it’d be awkward, we could meet somewhere else.’

Jo found it hard to focus her thoughts, drag them away from the man only inches away from her, calmly sipping his black coffee.

‘Umm . . . it’s up to you, darling. We can make ourselves scarce, can’t we?’ She glanced at Travis, who nodded.

‘Sure, I have to be in town to meet a guy about a job this morning. I’ll stay out until I get the all clear.’

Cassie gave him a vague smile, but didn’t say anything for a moment. ‘I suppose if we’re going to argue, it’d be better not to do it in public.’

‘Negative thinking. Not good,’ Travis said, coming to sit next to her. ‘See it as a chance to reconnect, not an opportunity to fight.’

Cassie stared at him. ‘You obviously haven’t met Matt.’

‘He’s right, though.’

‘Yeah, well, OK for you two to say. Of course I’m going to try and be positive, but he’s so bloody stubborn.’

Jo smiled. ‘Takes one to know one.’

Her daughter glared at her for a moment, then her face relaxed into a grin. ‘Maybe that’s the problem.’

‘At least he’s making the effort to come up and meet you, leave the farm for once. That must mean something.’

‘I suppose.’ She gave a long, drawn-out sigh.

*

Matt texted to say he was on his way just after half past eleven. Jo had been in her office, trying unsuccessfully to write and mostly Googling Travis, finding a number of publicity photos of him which she inspected with care. She had no idea what she would do while Matt was here, or if she should even stay to greet him. As she sat there at her computer, staring at a headshot of the American there was a ping from her mobile. A text from the man himself: ‘Lunch?’

She barely hesitated, ‘Where?’

They agreed to meet at a pub by the river in Chiswick. She’d been there once, years back, with Lawrence. She rushed into her bedroom to change, settling on black jeans, a pretty, dark-green vest top with a lacy edge, pumps and a soft, stone-coloured cardigan.

‘Wow, you look nice,’ Cassie, still at the kitchen table reading the newspaper, greeted her. ‘Where’re you off to?’

‘I thought I’d go into town and potter about. Do you want me to stay and say hello to Matt?’

‘Would you? If you’re not here, he might think you’re angry with him or something.’

*

Matt looked tired and out of place. He had made no effort to change out of his jeans, heavy boots and anorak – he looked as if he’d come to do the garden – although mercifully the hat was missing. If he’d arrived in the ‘stupid beanie’, as Cassie called it, Jo knew it would have been all over.

‘Hello.’ Jo went to hug him.

‘Hi, Jo.’ He put his backpack down.

Cassie got up and they gave each other a self-conscious hug.

‘Was your trip up OK?’ Jo asked.

‘Yeah . . . pretty much. Took ages. I left at six-thirty.’ He brushed his dark hair off his face, tucked it behind his ear and looked around slightly bemused, as if the environment of a normal house were totally alien to him. Jo was immediately aware that there was no recycling bin – although she did make an effort to recycle bottles and newspapers when she remembered.

‘I’ll make some tea,’ she suggested. Cassie hadn’t said a word, and the stubborn look on her face didn’t bode well.

‘No, Mum. I’ll do that. You get off.’ She turned to her husband. ‘Mum has a meeting in town.’

‘OK.’

‘I’ll be back later,’ Jo said, dying to get away from the strained atmosphere. It’ll be better when I’m gone, she thought, searching around for her keys as the silence continued behind her. ‘Text you when I’m on the way back,’ she said to Cassie as she gave her a kiss goodbye. ‘Eat anything in the fridge.’

She cringed as she let herself out, hoping Matt wouldn’t think the fridge reference was a deliberate dig.

*

The pub was ancient, the bar room tiny with an open fire. Travis had texted her to say he was outside, one of the few people to be so – it was quite chilly and looked like rain – seated at a table overlooking the river. Busy on his iPad, he leaped up as she approached.

‘Hi.’

‘Hello.’

‘Is outside OK? We can move if . . .’

‘It’s great.’ She sat down next to him.

‘You’re not cold?’

She smiled. ‘Not yet.’

‘This place is awesome.’ He waved towards the historic building. ‘You know Alec Guinness and Hemingway drank here?’

‘Really?’

He grinned. ‘You’re not impressed?’

‘No, I am. I just wonder what Hemingway was doing out this way?’ Jo almost shook with anticipation beside him. She talked, but she hardly knew what she was saying.

‘So how did the audition go?’

‘Hard to tell. The guy was super friendly, all over me. But that means nothing.’

‘What was it for?’

‘Experimental theatre group. They do weird things in warehouses with people wandering about in the dark.’

‘Grim. Hate all that. I’ve never recovered from a trendy audience-participation thing at the Roundhouse in the seventies. A chicken landed in my lap and I nearly died of fright.’

He laughed. She laughed. The formality dropped away.

‘Glad you could make it.’ He took her hand.

They ordered hamburger and chips, diet Cokes. Travis’s choice, but she went along with it – the menu was a step too far for her wandering concentration.

She knew only one thing. She wanted to kiss him, right then and there, in the open air, at the table by the river. Let everyone see them . . . from the passing boats, from the river walk, from the pub behind them. She held her breath.

‘You know this is bonkers.’

He nodded. ‘Sure.’

‘What should we do?’

‘Hmm . . . I know what I’d like to do right now.’

His arm went round her, pulling her towards him. The kiss was tender, drawn out. The flood of pleasure from his touch washed away any need to pin down the future. Life was short. She must savour every tiny, perfect moment she was being offered.

‘Did you see Matt?’ he asked, when the arrival of their lunch drew them apart.

‘Briefly. Not very promising.’

‘Was he angry?’ Travis picked up one of his hot, salty chips and took a tentative bite.

‘Not sure. He looked exhausted. And Cassie didn’t exactly welcome him with open arms.’

‘Oh dear.’

‘Surely they’ll work it out. They’ve only been married for ten minutes.’

Travis shrugged. ‘Doesn’t take long for a marriage to fuck up.’

‘Took me decades.’

‘Yeah, but
is
your marriage fucked? He’s having a moment, maybe you are too. Doesn’t have to be over.’

She stared at him. ‘I can’t think like that, it drives me mad.’

There was silence.

‘Hey . . . don’t look so sad.’

‘Sorry.’ She tried to smile.

‘You know you have incredibly beautiful eyes.’

Lawrence had said so, many times, but that didn’t diminish the intense pleasure she got from Travis’s quiet declaration.

‘I wish there was somewhere we could go,’ she whispered, her body on fire, absolutely bursting with pent-up desire. ‘Maybe Matt will whisk Cassie back to Devon . . .’

Travis didn’t reply.

It started to rain, just spitting at first, but the wind had got up, the clouds overhead dark and threatening. He held his hand out for hers.

‘I guess we oughta get undercover.’

25 September 2013

Travis passed his iPad across the kitchen table to Jo with a grin. The
Independent
’s review of the play – the first night had been yesterday – was displayed on the screen. It was respectful of the production over all, but a bit constrained in its praise, saying that the writing lacked ‘depth’. However, Travis had been singled out for his ‘vibrant’ performance.

‘Good, hey?’

‘Fantastic. I’m so pleased for you. Are there others?’

‘Yeah . . . a few so far. One said I was “worth watching”, another that mine and Nicky’s performances “outshone the dialogue” . . . all good for both of us.’

‘I’m glad he got a mention too.’

Travis had been absorbed by the play in the days since their lunch by the river, the first night hanging over his head, obsessing him, making him distracted and tense. Jo had welcomed the time to herself. She found the courtship overwhelming. Part of her wished it would end there, with a few sweet kisses, those magical moments of sexual desire that had woken her out of her lethargy, brought her back to life. But that part of her barely had a foothold. Travis was taking up all her waking thoughts, despite her knowing it could never have a future. Did she honestly have the willpower to stop it before it went any further?

And there was Cassie. It hadn’t gone well with Matt, as Jo had predicted. The day he’d visited, Jo had returned from the pub on her own to find her daughter lying sobbing on the sofa.

‘I don’t know what to do,’ she’d gasped out the words as soon as she saw her mother. ‘It was horrible.’

‘What was horrible? What did he say?’

Cassie had dragged herself upright, blowing her nose and wiping her eyes with a wet, crumpled tissue clasped in her hand.

‘It wasn’t so much what he said, but he was so cold . . . so judgemental. Basically he expects me to snap out of it, get my priorities straight.’

‘Snap out of what?’

‘My princess behaviour? Apparently it’s the only thing holding me back from my destiny by his side.’

‘What did you say to that?’

Cassie let out a long-suffering sigh. ‘I said I needed to know he still loves me. But Matt doesn’t talk about love very well. He sort of takes it for granted that we love each other. Thinks it’s childish that I have to keep asking.’

‘That’s not fair.’

‘Yeah, well, you’ve met his mother . . . touch of your
Mommie Dearest
. And maybe he’s right. Maybe I am a princess, a spoiled brat who’s missing out on the real world.’ She mumbled something that Jo didn’t catch and burst into tears again.

‘He wasn’t always like this was he?’ she asked, when Cassie had calmed down a bit. ‘That’s one of the things I liked about him, he really seemed to love you.’

Her daughter gave her a wan smile. ‘Perhaps the
only
thing you liked about him.’

‘No . . . I mean Matt’s always been a bit . . . serious . . . but Dad and I never doubted he was a good man.’

‘Doesn’t mean I can stay married to him.’

‘So how did you leave it?’

‘It was a bit of an impasse. Neither of us would really admit we were at fault. But we were sort of making a go of pretending things’d work out until he realized I wasn’t coming home with him. Then he just stormed out.’

‘Oh, dear.’ Jo felt sympathy for her daughter, but she was despairing of the outcome. She didn’t feel she had the energy right now to deal with Cassie moping about the house all day. And selfishly she wanted the place to herself.

‘So what are you going to do next?’

Cassie shrugged. ‘Get a job. Have some fun.’ She shot a glance at her mother. ‘Stay here for a bit . . . if that’s OK, Mum?’

‘I don’t think you can give up on Matt like this, darling. You told me you still love him.’

‘I
do
.’

‘Well, you can’t just throw in the towel after one row. Dad and I had millions of them over the years. You just have to work through it.’ Which was true, she and Lawrence had rowed. But the subjects had been petty, mostly the normal flashpoints between couples, such as use of money – Lawrence, the tight-wad, Jo, the spendthrift – childcare and whether one of them should have turned left or right at the last junction. They hadn’t even rowed about Arkadius.

Cassie raised her eyebrows. ‘But Dad loved you, Mum. It was totally obvious, even if he didn’t say it much.’

Jo just nodded. She hated Cassie’s use of the past tense.

They both heard the front door open.

‘Hi. How’s it going?’

Her daughter sat up straighter at the sound of Travis’s voice and brushed her rumpled hair back from her face.

*

‘To be honest, darling, I’m sort of over all this prevarication,’ Donna commented, not lifting her head from the pot on the wheel. They were once again in her studio hut, early in the morning. Jo had fallen into a pattern of not being able to sleep. She would drop off, then wake around three and just lie there, her mind whirling with thoughts of Travis. This morning she had given up on sleep as soon as she saw the lights on in the hut. Donna’s face was already streaked with dried grey-white clay, like a Native American, her hair sticking up at all angles, her apron tied over tartan cotton pyjamas. ‘Why can’t you and Travis just come clean about your relationship?’

‘It’s not a relationship,’ Jo objected.

Donna rolled her eyes. ‘Whatever. Look, neither of you is attached in any way. You’re not blood relatives. You don’t have an STD . . . as far as I know. So what’s the problem?’

‘I don’t know . . .’

Donna waited for her to continue.

‘Don’t get annoyed, but his age I suppose. It’s embarrassing. I couldn’t bear Cassie or Nicky finding out. They’d be disgusted.’

‘He’s not twelve, for God’s sake.’

‘I know, but it’s so undignified. And hitting on such a gorgeous man – way out of my league.’

‘No point in hitting on a man who
isn’t
gorgeous, darling. And he’s hardly objecting, is he? In fact from what you say, he’s the keen bean.’

Jo absentmindedly ran her finger along the wooden table, lifting the edge of the cotton duck cover. It wasn’t just Travis’s age that bothered her. It was something much more fundamental. Acknowledging her sexual feelings for the American cruelly reminded her of her own mother. Rampant and sexually indiscriminate throughout her marriage, Betty – Jo found out later in an excoriating denunciation by her father – had hit on anything that moved. As a child, Jo had been unaware of the cause of her parents’ continual fights. But as she reached teenage and began to notice the coy, flirtatious behaviour her mother exhibited towards the men who visited the house – from houseguests to Jo’s piano teacher to handymen or the gardener – the light dawned. It was the advent of the teenage boys from the correctional facility down the road, employed to help with the garden, which finally proved Betty’s undoing. Jo silently shuddered as she remembered that May morning. She’d never told anyone except Lawrence, not even Donna, what she’d found when she went out to take the Labrador, Duke, for a walk.

‘Now Cassie’s staying . . . there’s no chance we’ll be able to take it any further.’ She sighed, shaking off the past, her thoughts returning to Travis, the feel of his lips touching hers. Her body melted at the thought. ‘And maybe that’s for the best. Maybe he should hook up with her anyway. It’d be much more suitable.’

‘Suitable if he fancied her, which clearly he doesn’t.’

‘Not so sure. She’s such a beautiful girl.’

‘Sexual attraction isn’t to do with beauty though, is it? It’s to do with something indefinable . . . affinity . . . something.’

Jo didn’t reply.

‘Can’t you get rid of Cassie for a couple of days? Send her off to stay with a friend or something?’

‘How? And it’d probably be pointless . . . nothing’d necessarily happen.’

Donna yanked the wheel to a stop and shook her head at Jo, her face breaking into an amused grin. ‘Listen darling, if you’ve already made up your mind that you can’t have him, then so be it. Give up. It may be your only chance to have hot sex with a totally stunning guy you clearly fancy the pants off . . . but hey, your choice.’

Jo smiled back. ‘OK, get the message.’

‘Obviously it’s safer to sink into dignified old age. Obviously. But you may never meet someone you’re this attracted to again. Think of hens’ teeth . . . rare as . . .’

‘And the children?’

‘Why don’t you just bonk him and worry about the consequences later? That’s what Lawrence did and they’re still speaking to him.’

*

The Shepherd’s Bush house settled into a strange sort of rhythm. Ignoring Donna’s advice, Jo avoided Travis as much as possible. And if she did see him, made stalwart efforts to restrain herself from flirting, because she couldn’t deal with her own insecurity. He had his play to concentrate on, she reasoned, and she should be working too, making a proper start on the book.

Cassie was all over the place, crying hysterically at times, quietly manic at others as she made too many cupcakes or sanded every inch of rust off the garden table. She might stay out late with friends or sit morosely in front of a weepy rom-com nursing a glass of wine. But whatever she was doing, Jo couldn’t get through to her. At every attempt to discuss how Cassie was feeling, to find out what her plan was, she came up against a brick wall:

‘I’ll sort it, Mum. I will, promise.’

Instead her daughter poured out her heart to Travis whenever she got the chance. Jo would find them together at the kitchen table, heads bent close, Cassie in full flow about Matt and the iniquities of a sustainable life in Devon.

Jo cringed as she watched her daughter’s wide grey eyes become translucent with impending tears, Travis’s face a mask of concern. With every passing day she steeled herself, forced her feelings for the actor deeper inside, burying them beneath a practised rationality which had saved her in the past: It was over. It had been sweet while it lasted. She was a fool.

One Saturday night, Cassie was out at a concert with some of her old college friends. She knew Travis wouldn’t be back until late – Saturday being the night when he and Nicky and other friends who’d come to see the play would go drinking. Jo sat reading on the sofa. She must have dropped off momentarily, because the next thing she was aware of was Travis delivering a light kiss to her mouth. She hadn’t heard him come in.

Shaking herself, her heart jerking into a frantic rhythm, she looked up into his face as he leaned across the sofa back, his broad shoulders straining the washed out navy T-shirt. He had an uncertain expression on his face.

‘Hey,’ he said softly, his eyebrows raised in question. He came round and sat down beside her, gave her a quizzical look.

‘So is it over . . . you and me? Kinda got the impression you’d backed off this last week or so.’

Jo found she was tense, having him so close.

‘I suppose . . .’

He waited, his brown eyes unwavering. ‘It’s OK if—’

‘No. No, it’s true I’ve backed off. But not because my feelings have changed.’ She paused. ‘I thought, you’ve got the play . . . and Cassie being around . . .’

He looked puzzled. ‘So you and me are good?’

Didn’t he understand? she asked herself. He spoke as if their relationship were completely straightforward: you liked someone. Your feelings were reciprocated. End of.

‘I just find it impossible, living on the edge, seeing you every day, not being able to . . . you know . . . be with you . . . be open about what’s happening because of Cassie and Nicky.’ The words stumbled over each other in her desire to explain. ‘We never have time alone and we’re not likely to and it’s driving me mad. But even if we did, we’d always be looking over our shoulder in case they find out.’

Travis, as soon as she paused to draw breath, began to laugh.

‘Awesome . . . you’re awesome. All this churning around in your head and you don’t say zip to me? What’s that about?’

Jo was baffled at his laughter. ‘I didn’t know how to say it.’

‘So it’s not an “I’m-just-not-into-a-relationship-right-now” moment?’

She could tell he was teasing and she smiled.

‘OK, OK . . . this isn’t easy for me, you know,’ she said. ‘You’re all Californian about stuff . . . all “whatever” . . . but me, I’m old-style British with my feelings.’

He didn’t answer. He just pulled her into his arms and held her tight against him until she gave in and relaxed in his embrace, her head tucked into the crook of his neck.

‘I find you incredibly attractive,’ she heard him say. ‘And we are sort of alone . . .’

Jo caught her breath, swallowing hard.

‘We can’t . . . Cassie might come home any minute.’

Travis shrugged, playing with a strand of her hair. ‘The gig’s at the O2. Finishes around ten thirty, then she’ll hang out, have some beers, the journey home’ll take for ever. Midnight, earliest . . . which leaves us . . .’ he checked his phone, ‘An hour and a half.’ It was as if he’d worked it all out in advance.

He was already off the sofa, pulling her to her feet, his eyes suddenly shining and full of desire. ‘It’s now or never.’

The limited time slot drove them on. Without another word, they ran, light-footed, hand-in-hand upstairs. Her room, the bed, so exclusively the domain of her marriage to Lawrence – she still slept on ‘her’ side – looked different tonight. The coloured quilt, the pure white duvet and pillows appeared almost anonymous to Jo, just the perfect haven for their thwarted desire. And he gave her no chance to worry about her body, whether her breasts were firm enough, her skin soft enough.

‘Let me,’ Travis said, staying her hands as she began to undress, his fingers fumbling with the buttons on her shirt in his haste. Carried away on a wave of desire, every cell in her body aching for his touch, she let him. Then panic swept in. Revealing her body to him, surely then he would reject her, see her finally for what she was: an old woman.

She pushed his hands away, stood solid and shaking, almost in tears she wanted him so much, but at the same time felt she couldn’t possibly deserve him. Travis gave her a quizzical look, then pulled her to him, still clothed, his embrace so tender that the tears did well in her eyes.