Love Is a State of Mind: Nobody's Life is Perfect (35 page)

That’s the trouble with Facebook, you can read so much into one photo – who knows what it really means?

I’m so engrossed in my phone, that I don’t notice Ben approach.  He gently taps me on the shoulder and whispers in my ear, laughing, “You’re always on your bloody phone!”

He makes me jump and perhaps it’s the combination of feeling exhausted and thinking about the boys, I don’t know, but I stare at him for a second, hardly able to speak.

“Ben!  Sorry, I was …”

He stops me in mid-sentence, by putting his lips on mine.  We kiss for a long time, his arms are tightly round me and I relax into him.  When we stop, he says, “God, I’ve missed you.  I didn’t realise quite how much, until then.”  Putting his hands on my shoulders, he kisses my forehead.  “It feels like months since I saw you.  It’s probably different for you – do you feel as if you’ve only just left?”

I think about it for a while.  “Yes … and no.  So much has happened, I feel like a different person, somehow.”

“Does this new person still want to be with a boring painter and decorator from Bath?” he says, as he lifts my case off the trolley and begins to wheel it to the exit.  He looks at me out of the side of his eyes, a grin dancing on his lips.  “You didn’t meet some Aussie macho man?”

“No, I didn’t … well, I
did,
but that’s another story.  I don’t know any boring men … I do know this attractive, younger bloke who picked me up in a pub …” I say. 

He reaches across with his spare hand and takes mine … and it feels the most natural thing in the world.

*

As we drive back down the M4, I try to stay awake.  Ben is chatting away, telling me all his news, but my mind is thick with sleep and eventually I fall unconscious, lulled by the windscreen wipers’ gentle rhythm and the quiet background music, coming from the radio.

I dream I’m in the car with David, not Ben.  We’re driving to Cornwall, I don’t know how I know this, but we are; the kids are in the back seat, arguing about something.  David is glancing at me, smiling his lovely smile and he reaches for my hand.  He often steers one-handed, his spare hand either resting on my knee or holding my hand, occasionally squeezing it.  I can feel the warmth of his skin next to mine and I squeeze his hand back.  We are staring at each other … and then, like a freeze-frame,  I’m aware of him not looking where he’s going.

“David!” I shout, but nothing comes out.  I open my lips again, but there’s no noise.  I try again, “David,” I scream.  I can hear screeching brakes, feel the thud of metal on metal, the heat of tyres, leaving rubber on the road.

I wake myself up, whimpering.  Little sounds are rising up from deep within me, bringing me back from my deep sleep.  “Anna, darling … are you okay?  You were having a bad dream, my love.”  I feel his hand holding mine, squeezing it.

“That was … that was horrible.  I dreamt we were in a car crash, David and me and the children.  It was so real …”

“You’re just exhausted … you’ll be fine, once you’ve had a good night’s sleep.”

“Why did I dream that?  The children were little …”

“You’re okay, Anna.  You’re with me now.  The children are fine.  Try to go back to sleep, we’ve got at least another hour to go.”

I close my eyes.  The immediacy of the dream jumps into my head again.  I open my eyes, not wanting to see and feel the crash again.  I squeeze Ben’s hand and taking his eyes off the road for a second, we smile at each other through the darkness.

*

He pulls up outside the flat.  “Home at last,” he says and jumps out to get my case from the boot.

I’m so weary I can hardly be bothered to get out of the car, but I haul myself up and stand staring at what is now my home.  The thousands of miles I’ve travelled suddenly disappear and I’m back where I should be. 

Ben goes ahead of me and unlocks the door; he goes in and stands aside as I come through.  I go into the flat, put my bag down, take my jacket off and stare around me.  I see the picture I bought in Cornwall – ‘The Dawning of a New Day’ – and vaguely realise its significance.

I go into the kitchen where, rather like a zombie, I fill the kettle and turn it on.

“Let me do that.  You go and have a shower and get into bed.  I’ll bring you a cup of tea.  Do you want anything to eat?  I could whip up some scrambled eggs or something …”

“No … just tea.  I’ll go and shower.”  I shamble through to the bathroom, undress and stand impassively below the rushing water.  Even that doesn’t rouse me from my stupor and I emerge from it, to dry myself half-heartedly.  Still slightly wet, I put on the only pyjamas I can find and throw back the duvet.  I flop onto the bed and momentarily I’m aware of the familiar sounds of Bath around me.

I’m home, I say to myself, before I fall immediately asleep.

*

“Good morning, Lovely,” says Ben.  “The tea’s gone cold, I’m afraid.  I’ll go and get you another one.  You were completely unconscious when I came in with it, last night.”

“Sorry Ben.  That was rude of me to fall asleep like that.”

“Don’t worry, I didn’t take it personally,” and with that, he’s out of bed and off to the kitchen.

He’s soon back with two mugs of tea.  He’s wearing nothing but boxer shorts and even through my sleepy haze, I can admire his physique.  “What service,” I say, as he hands me a mug.

“I’ve taken the morning off, so I can be with you,” he says, as he gets back into bed.  “Put your tea down, come here and give me a cuddle.  I’ve missed you.”

I take a quick sip of tea and put it back on the bedside table.  Turning to him, I shuffle my body closer to his; we feel like two jig-saw pieces, inter-locking and fitting together.

“How are you now?  Less tired?”

“So much better.  I couldn’t function last night at all.  I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t worry.  I wasn’t expecting you to be full of beans.  I’ve never flown that far, but it must be exhausting.  I think it’s worse coming back this way, than going out, isn’t it?”

“Well, it certainly felt like it.  I was tired when I got there, but at least I could
speak
,” I grin.

“But … it was worth it, wasn’t it?  Was it everything you’d hoped for?”  He puts his lips on mine and we kiss for a long time before I answer.

“It was amazing.  There was one big downside, though …”

“Really?” he says.

“Yes … I missed you, Ben.  I kept wishing you were with me.  I’ve missed this …”

“I love you, Anna,” he says.  “I realised that, when you were away.  I’m sorry I haven’t said it before, but love is such an over-used word and I wanted to be sure.  I couldn’t believe after my disastrous relationship with Grace that I’d found someone else … someone who felt so right.”

“I love you, too Ben.  I
never
thought I’d find someone else, either.  David leaving me was the worst thing that has ever happened to me and it made me feel sad, inadequate and old, all rolled into one … I don’t know why I decided to go into the pub that night, it was completely out of character, but if Gaz and I hadn’t gone in … well, I hate to think what would’ve happened.  But dear old Gaz introduced me to you … we have
him
to thank.” 

Both of his arms are tight around me now and we kiss as if our life depends on it.  The dream I had in the car flashes into my mind – I see David’s smile and feel his hand holding mine, but I block it out.  My marriage is gone.  Perhaps it had gone a long time before I realised it.  The dreamlike car crash was waiting to happen.  I loved David but now it’s time to move on and love the man in my arms. 

My phone beeps and vibrates on the bedside table, but this time, I ignore it.  Whoever it is will ring again – or text or Facebook message me – if it’s important.

Everyone can wait … it’s time for me and Ben, now.

*

A few days later, I’m in M and S, trying to find something nice to wear on our long weekend in Devon we’ve planned, but failing miserably.  My phone vibrates and pings.

Message from Ben:
Hey, I’ve got an hour between jobs today.  Can you meet me in the park for a picnic?  You bring the sandwiches, I’ll get a bottle of wine.  Ben x

This strikes me as odd as, usually, Ben doesn’t take time off for lunch and he certainly doesn’t drink wine when he’s working.  I wonder what’s going on, but I text back:

That’ll be lovely.  Need a distraction – can’t find ANYTHING I like!  Will make some tuna sandwiches.  May even treat you to a bar of chocolate.  Love you, Anna xx

It’s so lovely to write
Love You
.  I do love him.  I know for sure now.

I walk quickly home, pleased to get away from shopping dilemmas.  I make the sandwiches and wrap them in foil, find a couple of chocolate bars and two apples and put them all in a bag.  It’s a bit early to leave, but I set off, with camera in hand.  When I get to the park, I take some arty shots of flowers and trees for a while and then sit on a bench, waiting for Ben.

I text him: 
I’m here!  On bench, by the pond.  See you soon, I hope! xx

He doesn't respond straightaway and I while away the time, reading articles from the BBC and Huffington Post on my phone.  Then, it pings. 

Message from Ben: 
If you raise your head from that f***ing phone, you’ll see me!

I look up and for a minute, I can’t see him. 
He
can obviously see me, so he must be near.  Then, I see him – only he’s not alone.

Bouncing by his side, eating its lead and generally being naughty, is a black labrador puppy.

Ben waves to me and as he tries to walk towards me (he keeps having to lean down and sort out the lead) I can see a broad grin on his face.

I slowly stand up, leaving everything on the bench and walk towards them.  My heart is beating faster than normal and I can’t stop smiling.  “Oh my God, Ben … who’s this?”  I bend down to stroke the puppy’s head – it immediately puts its front paws on my legs and tries to bite my fingers.  “What are you?  A boy or a girl?”  I bend to inspect and say, “Ah, a boy.  You’re gorgeous, aren’t you?  Is he yours, Ben?”

“No, he’s not.”

“How come you’ve got him, then?”

“Well … he’s yours … a present from me to you … if you want him, that is?”

He picks him up and the puppy starts to lick his face.  Ben wrestles with him and laughs, saying, “Go and do that to your Mum …” and hands him over to me.  He licks me too, but then settles into my arms and quietens down.

“There, you see, you have the magic touch.  Well … what do you think?  Do you want him?  I can always take him back …”

“NO … don’t do that!  I love him already.”  I hold him up to my face again and breathe in the soft, puppy smell of him.  I kiss the round top of his head, between his ears.  “That’s just so … so … thoughtful of you, Ben.  I’ve wanted another dog so badly, but somehow … felt guilty.  I didn’t want to ‘replace’ Gaz.  But you’ve taken the initiative – how can I possibly resist now?” I laugh.  I go up to him and kiss him, the puppy squeezed between us.

“So … you don’t want me to take him back, then?”

“No, I definitely don’t.  Where did you find him, anyway?”

“Well, when you were away, I went to a client’s house and there, in the kitchen, was a basketful of black lab pups.  I saw it as a sign.  I said to the owner that I wanted a boy and there was one left who hadn’t been sold … this little fella.  I didn’t say anything to you, as I wanted to do this surprise.  I’ve been so excited … I’ve been dying to tell you, ever since.  He’s eight weeks old and he’s had all the jabs he needs.  He’s yours, my darling Anna, for keeps.”

We go back and sit on the bench.  The puppy has settled into the crook of my arm and we sit together, me gently stroking the puppy’s back, Ben with his arm round my shoulders, the sandwiches forgotten, at my side.

“What shall I call him?”

“I don’t know … your choice.  I’m guessing you don’t want to call him Gaz?”

“No, no … there will only ever be one Gaz.  But maybe something along the same lines … with a football connotation?”

“Wayne?” laughs Ben.

“Definitely not … I don’t think I could call out ‘Wayne’ in the park and keep a straight face.  Rooney would be quite cool, though.”

“Alan?” says Ben, smirking.  “After Alan Shearer, of course.  I’ve always wanted to call a dog  Alan … or Keith … or Brian?”

“Hold on … what about Becks?  Are you a Becks?” I whisper in the puppy’s ear.  “Maybe one day, we could get you a Posh …”

“Yea, I like Becks.  It suits him.”

“Okay … Becks, it is.  I think he’s fallen asleep completely now.  He’s passed out, like I did after the flight.  It’s all this excitement …”

I extricate my arm and Becks sleeps contentedly on my lap, while we eat my rather uninteresting sandwiches and drink wine from plastic cups.

“Here’s to Becks,” I say to Ben, as we touch cups.  “And here’s to us.  You realise he’s going to become our surrogate child, don’t you?”

“Yea … I’d thought that.  Two old idiots, spoiling a dog … but who cares?  We’re happy, that’s the main thing!”