Coming Down (21 page)

22

The morning of the gala arrives with a fierce rainstorm. It rattles the windows and makes me wake with a panic, wondering if the hotel has enough umbrellas or if there’s somewhere I can hire some. By six a.m. I’m in the kitchen, sipping at a mug of coffee and searching the web for rain canopies we can set up from the entrance to the road.

I
’ve been growing increasingly edgy. My sang-froid of a week ago has boiled away, leaving behind a mixture of angst and anticipation that kills my appetite. Wisely, Simon’s been spending most of his time at the office, avoiding the rather crazy, soon-to-be ex-wife who’s haunting his townhouse.

When he pops his head around the
kitchen door each night, announcing he’s heading for bed, I silently promise him that as soon as this gala is out of the way, I’ll be room hunting like nobody’s business. He already has one twenty-something daughter. If I don’t put some space between us, I’m in danger of becoming his second.

For the most part he
’s been lovely. Courteous when asking how it’s going, sweet when inquiring if we should still be going together—to which the answer is, of course, yes. He paid for the table, after all, and it will be his friends filling the seats. I don’t want to embarrass him by leaving an empty chair beside him. I know I’m making it sound easier than it actually is—after all, how comfortable can it be sharing a house with someone you no longer wish to be married to—but after the pain we’ve been through, this stage seems almost easy in comparison.

By the time he gets up on Saturday, I
’ve already arranged for a rain canopy, checked in with the caterers and have showered and dressed ready to head to the hotel. My gown is hanging from the doorway in a garment bag, because I won’t have time to come back and change. I watch as he slowly pours himself a coffee, a rolled
Times
clasped in his other hand. He turns to smile at me.

“
Are you okay? I could hear you tossing and turning last night.”

For some reason that makes me blush. His attention seems almost too intimate.

“Did I keep you awake? I’m sorry...”

“
Not at all. I just want to make sure you’re all right.”

“
Ask me at seven this evening. If I’m still alive, that is.”

This time he smiles.
“Do you want me to get there early?”

“
No, it’s fine. You don’t want to see me pulling my hair out. Just get there after seven and I promise not to bite your head off.”

Simon walks forward and ruffles my hair. It
’s a simple gesture, yet I find myself wanting to pull back, as if his touch is inappropriate. I don’t know if he notices the discomfort on my face, but he steps away, going back to his coffee and his crossword.

I stand there for too long,
while he fills in the tiny squares with his neat writing. When he takes a sip from his cup I feel a sense of nostalgia wash over me. Everything’s changing. I won’t be here for many more Saturday mornings. I won’t watch him filling in the crossword or flinching when I add too much cream to my coffee. He’ll be here and I’ll be somewhere else and life will still go on. The thought makes me wistful.

“
I guess I’d better go.”

The day is spent in organised mayhem. I manage to miscount the number of guests, misplace two different auction items and lose my rag with the executive chef when he tells me there isn
’t enough chicken to go around. Each time I manage to solve one mini-crisis, the next one bares its teeth and laughs at my ineptitude. By the time I head up to a bedroom to shower and change, the only thing I’m confident about is that everything that can go wrong has gone wrong.

Lara arrives a few minutes after I get out of the shower, and the hairdresser half an hour after that. We
’re offered champagne but neither of us accepts—Lara because she can’t and me because I daren’t.

“
When do you start house hunting?”

“
Room hunting,” I correct, because that’s all I can afford. “Next week. I said I’d do it as soon as the gala was over.”

“
And you’re still okay with that? It must be hard, leaving that beautiful house...”

W
e both know she isn’t talking about bricks and mortar. “It isn’t easy,” I admit. “But it’s right. I can’t stay somewhere just because it’s the easy thing to do.”

An hour later, guests are starting to spill into the hotel. I
’m vibrating with anxiety as I watch them check their coats in at the cloakroom and mingle around the bar area, where staff offer them glasses of champagne. I wander from group to group, shaking hands, smiling where required, though my laughter seems off even to me. By this point I should be relaxing, but there seems no end in sight for my frazzled nerves. The next time a waiter passes, I grab a champagne glass and guzzle it down, willing to do anything to stop the trembling in my hands.

Simon arrives with some old friends
. Though they smile at me I can tell he’s told them about our situation. It’s in their eyes when they talk to me, the way their gazes wash down from my face to my dress, as if they’re judging me for wearing clothes he’s bought me.

O
nly when Elise enters do I realise the real source of my anxiety. Niall’s standing next to her, wearing a black dinner jacket and tie. When he catches my eye my mouth suddenly turns dry, and I have to take another glass of champagne. I turn my head away, trying not to stare at the way Niall holds himself, or how his dinner suit makes him look. But even when I’m not looking, I can still feel his stare.

“
This looks magnificent, darling,” Simon whispers in my ear. His hand presses on the small of my back in a way that seems proprietorial. By this time I don’t know if I’m reading into things that aren’t there, or if he’s making a point. My judgement seems so
off
.

“
Thank you,” I murmur. “It all came together in the end, thank God.”

Why didn
’t I think about this before? The fact I was going to be in one room with these two men. Though they could both be classified as exes, my entanglements with them don’t feel like that. It just feels awkward and cruel—to them, to me, to everybody. No wonder I’ve been so anxious; my subconscious must have been having a field day.

It
’s almost a relief when the chair of the clinic trust arrives and pulls me aside to discuss her speech. I switch back into work mode and discuss the agenda for the evening, highlighting our biggest donors and talking through the auction catalogue with her. The night gets even better when I run into Alex, propping up the bar. He’s rocking a midnight-blue skinny tuxedo with a pencil-thin tie. His hair is slicked back with gel, his tattoos peeking past the collar and cuffs of his shirt.

Lara is to his left, talking to one of our more prestigious donors. She waves at me, then turns and gives a tinkling laugh. We’re all on our best behaviour tonight.

“Hello, gorgeous.” Alex pulls me in for a hug and I squeeze him back enthusiastically.

“
You look amazing.” I tug at his satin lapel. “Where did you find this?”

“
It was my uncle’s. I’m the only nephew thin enough to fit in it.”

“
Never put on any weight,” I tell him. “This one’s a keeper.”

“
How are you doing anyway? Lara told me about you and Simon.”

She mouths a “sorry” and then turns away. I stifle a smile. She’s so nosy sometimes.

“Bearing up.” I’m offered another glass of champagne but shake my head at the waiter. I’m already buzzing. “It’s better now we’ve agreed to separate.”

Of course
we both choose that moment to glance over at Simon, who’s still with his group of friends. He’s looking over at us, and for some reason the lack of expression on his face makes me want to shiver.

“
When are you moving out?” Alex asks.

I can almost see Lara’s ears flapping.

“I haven’t had a chance to find anywhere yet. I’ve been too caught up with the gala arrangements. I’m going to start looking on Monday.”

“
Oh.”

“
What?”

Alex shrugs.
“I dunno. It just sends out a weird message to a guy.
I’m leaving you but I’m still living with you
.”

Lara kicks his shin with her red patent shoe.

“Simon’s fine with it. He knows why it’s taking me so long. Hopefully it won’t take forever for me to find somewhere. I’ll be out of his hair soon.”

“
Of course he’s fine with it.” Alex laughs. “If he doesn’t want you to leave.”

“
What do you mean?”

Lara gives up on her conversation and joins us. “Yeah, what
do
you mean?”

“
For all his money, Simon’s still a bloke and we’re fairly simple creatures. You want to leave, you leave. You want to stay, you stay.”

“
You think he’s happy because I’m still living with him?” The thought hadn’t occurred to me.

“Of course he isn’t,” Lara says.

“All I’m saying is if he wants you to stay, then a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush. Maybe he has a false sense of hope.” Alex shrugs, and drinks his beer.

“
Oh God, you think I’m leading him on?”

“Alex, for God’s sake,” Lara huffs. She looks as anxious as I feel. “Not now, please.”

Alex notices my white face and gently rubs my arm. “I’m not saying you’re leading him on at all. I’m just saying he doesn’t look like a man who’s ready to let go. The sooner you move out, the faster you can both move on.” He gives me a small smile. “You know, there’s always the sofa at our place. I’ve missed seeing your ugly mug in the mornings.”

“I bet she hasn’t missed seeing yours,” Lara jokes. I smile, trying not to feel too down.

“It won’t come to that,” I say. “I’m sure I’ll find somewhere pretty soon.”

When we sit down to dinner, I
’m still thinking about Alex’s comment. Everything Simon does is ripe for analysis, from the way he pulls my chair out before I sit, to his constant attention with the wine bottle. He’s always been a gentleman—the type to stand when a lady does—but there’s a fine line between kindness and flirtation. He’s starting to step across it.

“
More wine, sweetheart?” He brushes my hand with his finger.

“
I’m fine.” When I look over at Elise’s table I see Niall staring at me. His eyes narrow as Simon leans across and whispers in my ear.

“
Relax, it’s all going so well.”

After dinner has been cleared away, Millicent Clancy-Jones stands up to make her speech. I barely hear any of it, and don
’t even realise she’s thanked me until I see everybody staring at me, clapping their hands wildly. Embarrassed, I give a small wave and a tight smile before looking down at the napkin laid across my lap. This evening is starting to resemble a nightmare.

The auction follows, and I sit back and allow myself to relax a little. Only a
couple of hours to go and we’ll be able to shut up shop for another year, claim the gala as a success and run the clinic outreach program on the proceeds. Everybody will go home happy, feeling they’ve given to a good cause, and I can start looking for somewhere else to live.

I take a moment to wonder where I
’ll be this time next year. Not sitting on Simon’s table, I suppose. Will it feel weird to be just me again? I’ve become used to being part of ‘Beth and Simon’. Yet there’s a flash of excitement, too, when stepping into the unknown. It’s that feeling I try to embrace when I think of everything that’s ahead of me: moving out, splitting possessions, having to get used to a new space.

This is what I wanted, I remind myself.

Later, I’m on the dance floor with Simon, my hand clasped in his as he leads us across the floor. There’s an awkwardness in our hold. I’m avoiding resting my cheek on his shoulder, not letting our torsos touch. It reminds me of the way children learn to ballroom dance, holding each other at arm’s length. When Simon tries to pull me close I stumble over my toe, almost barrelling into him.

“
Sorry.” I laugh to hide my embarrassment. I can feel his hand pressing into the small of my back, pulling me closer still.

He laughs too.
“My lucky day.”

I
’m reminded again of Alex’s words. “I’m planning to start looking at rooms on Monday,” I say. “I promise I’ll be moving out soon.”

“
I wish you’d let me help you get a flat at least. I can’t bear to think of you sharing a house with strangers.”

“
It’s fine. I think I’d rather share.” We’ve had this discussion before. He wants to buy me a place, offer it as part of any settlement. But if we go down that route he’ll never let go. It isn’t fair on either of us. I want to make this first step on my own, and let the lawyers sort out the rest. Anything else seems too personal.