A Perfect Marriage (11 page)

She stood staring down at the piece of paper. "You're renting it?"

"Yes. It's partly furnished."

So he could move straight in, she surmised.
Convenient.
Max said, "You'll be able to have your father with you, after all."

As if that could make up for losing her husband.
She didn't answer, afraid that if she opened her mouth it would be in an undignified howl of anger and hurt.

"Do you want me to say goodbye to him?" Max asked.

"No. I'll explain later."

"Right."
He hesitated a moment longer, then turned to pick up his bags. "I'm sorry, Celine."

"I know,
".
she
said. He was, and she knew that this wasn't easy for him, either. But it was his choice, and her happiness was the price he was willing to pay for his own ... and Kate Payne's.

"I couldn't have gone on pretending," he said. "I thought for a while that I could. I tried."

 
Yes, she supposed that he had.

"Sooner or later," he said, "this was inevitable... once I'd met Kate." He was telling her that her happiness couldn't have lasted, that she'd been living in a fool's paradise. Not for the first time, he'd picked up on her thoughts.

"You don't have to explain," she told him distantly.

He wanted her to understand. She didn't. They'd had something good, something worthwhile, solid,
loving
. It might not have been all moonlight and roses, but they'd had those, too, from time to time. And he was throwing it all away for the sake of some kind of emotional high.
Because he'd fallen in love.

Perhaps she should tell him she'd wait for it to blow over, that there was no need for him to leave. But even if her own emotions hadn't balked at the prospect of turning a blind eye while he conducted a raging affair, she knew that Max would never have accepted that. His sense of integrity wouldn't allow it.

"Let me know if you need anything," he said. "I'll always care for you, Celine. That won't alter. Only, this is ... different."

Tightly, she said, "I don't want to hear this, Max. It would be better if you'd just ... go!"

He bowed his head slightly. "If that's what you want. I'll be in touch."

If he kisses me, I will scream, Celine thought, clenching her hands at her sides.

His eyes searched hers, and she looked back at him stonyfaced. He nodded again, jerkily, and turned to the door.

Burdened as he was, he'd have to put down the bags to open it. Celine stepped in front of him and did it for him.

"Thanks," he said, not looking at her as he passed through. Watching him walk along the gallery and disappear down the stairs, she hoped her father wouldn't choose this moment to come out of the lounge where he was watching TV.

She heard Max's footfall on the marble floor. He must have left his car in front of the house, because he went out

  
 
the
front door. It snapped to behind him, and a few minutes later the car started and went off down the drive. She listened until the engine note died away, standing very still as though that would hold her together, her mind oddly blank,
her
emotions temporarily in a blessed limbo.

"Max gone out?"
Her father glanced up from the paper as she entered the lounge.

"Yes." She ought to tell him now, of course. But instead she sat down and pretended to be watching the television while he rattled through the paper, glancing up now and then to comment on what was on the screen.

She'd tell him tomorrow. She didn't think that tonight she could cope with questions, comments and helpful suggestions.

Once she might have looked to her father for comfort, but now their roles had reversed. She looked at him and saw how his cheeks had sunk inward below his cheekbones, and his eyes were dulled behind his spectacles. She saw the prominence of his wrist bones as he turned the pages of the newspaper, and watched him squinting to read the print, even though he wore his reading glasses. Maybe it was time for a new prescription. She remembered how he'd been when he was younger, when she'd thought him a big, strong man, although now he was scarcely taller than
herself
. Then, she'd known with utter conviction that her father would always look after her.

Everything changes, she thought sadly. Max had said there was no reason now why Ted shouldn't stay. She ought to be glad. Instead she felt an unutterable depression.

Chapter 6

Ted took the news, when she broke it to him after breakfast, surprisingly calmly. He was shocked, of course, but then he picked up her hand and held it, saying, "Poor Lina. I've been so wrapped up in my own troubles, I didn't realise things weren't going right for you:'

Grateful for the sympathy, she blinked away tears. She hadn't mentioned Kate Payne. That could come later. At least Max had given her time.

She hadn't asked Max if or when he would tell his famfly. Nancy or Michelle would have been her first confidante in any other crisis. But how could she talk to Max's mother or sister about his defection? With sudden dread, she wondered how they would react to her being Max's ex-wife. Surely they wouldn't exclude her? Their friendship was too long-standing for that.

But Max would want to introduce his new love to his family. She imagined the awkwardness that would result if she spent as much time with the Archers as she'd been used to, sharing their birthdays and celebrations, being invited to impromptu gatherings, sometimes popping in unexpect-

  
 
edly
for coffee or bringing a treat for lunch. Sooner or later she would find herself confronted with Kate hanging on Max's arm.

No, she would have to distance herself from his family. They'd probably be grateful.

Nancy phoned that evening. "Celine, dear, are you all right?"

"I'm fine," she answered steadily.

"Max has just been here."

"He's told you, then."

"I can't believe it!" Her mother-in-law sounded shellshocked. "You two are so right for each other. We thought you had A Perfect
Marriage
 
!"

I thought we did, too. But she'd been blind, fooling herself. She wondered if Max had confided the real reason to his family.

Nancy's next words dispelled that thought. "You're probably going through a bad patch," she said. "Everyone has them, you know. I tried to tell Max, but he said he doubted you'd have him back. Would you like to talk about it? I could come round, if you like."

So Max had put the blame on her? Made his mother believe it was Celine's idea? Anger clamped her fingers more strongly on the phone. "No," she said. "I can't talk about it yet.
Maybe... maybe later."

"Well ... any time. You know I'll always be here for you both."

Will you? Celine thought bleakly. What if Max divorces me to marry Kate? She didn't want Nancy to be torn between her loyalty to her son and to the daughter of her old friend. "Thank you," she said noncommittally. "I'm all right, really." She paused,
then
asked, "Did Max seem ... okay?"

"A bit strained," Nancy said. "I suppose you both are. A separation, he said. Well, that's not final, is it?"

Ask Max, Celine was tempted to say. But instead she said, "It will give us both some time to think."

"Yes." Relief entered Nancy's tone. "He made it seem so
. ..
definite
. When I see him again, can I tell him you're thinking about things?"

"No!" Celine bit her lip, trying to control her voice. "Let us work it out in our own way, please, Nancy. I'm sure Max
will ... will
keep you posted."

"I hope so. I don't want to interfere, but Celine, I think of you as a daughter, you know."

"Yes, and I'm grateful."

How would Nancy feel about being asked to think of Kate as a daughter?
she
wondered as she hung up.
As Max's wife?

She'd welcome the girl with open arms, Celine guessed, for her son's sake.

Michelle phoned the following day. Obviously the news had gone around the family. Michelle, probably primed by her mother, tried to express her dismay and bewilderment without prying or apportioning blame, but she finally said, "I can't believe that you and Max-I mean, you've known each other forever-you seem so ... well, perfect together! You're both so calm and sensible and-and strong."

So everyone thought, Celine supposed.
What a boring, predictable couple they must have appeared, even to their own families. "Maybe that was the problem," she said aloud. "Max wanted something different."

"Max?" There was a blank silence. "I thought that you-"

"No." Why should I take the blame? Celine decided rebelliously. His family, at least, could know the truth.
Or a part of it.
"It was Max's idea," she said, "to separate. I... went along with it."

"Oh. Oh, Celine, I'm so sorry!"

Celine winced. Pity was the last thing she needed. Maybe she should have let well enough alone.

Michelle rushed on. "What's the matter with him?"

"I think he's ... bored. He wants a bit of freedom, I suppose.

"Freedom?
Bored? Max?" "Lots of men do it."

"Yes, but Max?
And to do it to you! How could he, the pig! Next time I see my brother, I'll put a flea in his ear!" "Michelle-"

"How dare
he
!"

"Michelle-"

"Doesn't he know how lucky he is? Men! I could kill him."

"Michelle, please!" Half laughing, but fighting tears, Celine broke into the diatribe. "Don't!" she begged. "I don't need you to fight my battles for me.
Truly.
We... we're working it out. The last thing I want is a rift between Max and his family."

Michelle sighed. "I suppose the two of you just sat down and had a calm discussion and decided to part? You wouldn't even have a row about that, would you?"

Celine admitted, "I guess it was something like that." She recalled Max formally thanking her for taking it so well. At least she'd kept some dignity.

Michelle said darkly, "I'd box Tony's ears if he did it to me."

Celine couldn't help a little laugh. "I know you would. But I'm not you, and Max isn't Tony. I'm sure that Tony wouldn't-" He adored Michelle, a fact that was obvious to everyone. They quarrelled sometimes, often noisily on Michelle's part, but the sparks soon died.

"He'd better not," Michelle said grimly. "I don't know what's come over my brother! Celine-"

Dreading the question, Celine took a deep breath.

"-it's not another woman, is it?"

Celine closed her eyes, letting the breath out. "Ask Max," she said.

"You don't know?" Michelle guessed sceptically. "I don't suppose he'd tell me if there was," she added.

She'll find out in due time, Celine thought. But that was up to Max.

He called her two days later. "If it wouldn't inconvenience you," he said, "I'd like to collect some books and
a
 
few
other things this evening." He was talking like a lawyer.

Celine said graciously that it wouldn't inconvenience her. "In case we're not here," she said, "you still have your keys, don't you?"

Of course he did. "When I've removed the rest of my stuff," he promised, "I'll hand the keys over to you."

"The house is still half yours."

"Yes, but-well, we can sort that out when the time comes," he said. "I can make over my half into your name."

What would Kate think of that?
she
speculated. But Kate, of course, had a well-paid job of her own. Celine suspected that Max imagined her interior design business was a source of no more than pin money. He'd never enquired how much she earned from it. If she took it on full-time, she supposed she'd be able to support herself adequately.

She asked her father if he'd care to go to a film. Ted shook his head,
then
seemed to think better of it. "Do you want to go out?" he asked, suddenly alert. "Shall we find out what's on, then?"

He made a show of studying the entertainment pages of the paper in his hands, and asking her what she wanted to see. Touched, she chose a film at random. At least she didn't have to tell him that Max was coming round and she simply wanted to avoid meeting him.

The film wasn't what she'd have chosen if she'd been thinking about it. It was a thriller concerning a jealous woman who stalked and killed her husband's lover. Celine found herself in some sympathy with the villainess.

The film was over earlier than she'd expected. When they came home Max's car was parked in the drive. She edged hers past it and into the garage, which seemed enormous with only one car in it. Ted said, "That's
Max,
isn't it? Do you think he's-er-"

"He's just collecting some of his things," Celine said. "I thought he'd be gone by now."

"Oh-ah-I see."
Her father shot her a sympathetic glance. Once they were inside, he hovered uncertainly in the hall. "Well," he said, "um-I'll go up to bed, unless you-"

Unless she needed his moral support, she supposed. She smiled at him. "I'll just make myself a hot drink first. You go on up." He didn't like to drink anything this late because it meant he'd need to get up in the night.

She made coffee, taking her time and doing it properly in the percolator. The study was almost directly over the kitchen, and she heard one or two subdued thumps on the ceiling as she waited.

She poured herself a cup of the brew, realising that she'd unthinkingly made too much for one. After a moment she took another cup from the cupboard and filled it, spooning in sugar, and carried them both upstairs.

The door of the study was ajar, a wedge of light shining onto the gallery carpet. Celine pushed it open with her shoulder and stepped inside.

Max had been emptying his bookshelves into several large cartons on the floor. Stooped over a box, he straightened to look at her as she paused in the doorway.