The Other Half (22 page)

“My thoughts exactly. Because neither, my dear girl, are you.”

“Maybe…” Next to Maggie, Chloë had felt loud and gauche.

“So, what was her work like? Was it as boring as you thought it would be?”

The night before Chloë had stayed late at the office, Googling Maggie to get an idea of her talent and, with the occasional exception, had found to her relief that most of her articles online were more conventional in approach than she wanted for
All Woman
.

“No, it was much better.” Chloë sat down heavily at the kitchen table. “Seeing her portfolio convinced me she’s a more interesting writer than I’d realized.”

“Ouch.” Rob wrinkled his nose. “Here. This might help.” He handed her a glass of wine.

“Thanks,” said Chloë, taking more of a swig than a sip.

It was Maggie’s portfolio, paradoxically, that had made Chloë resent her the most. She’d been taken aback by having to meet her so soon after her trip to New York, yet had prepared herself to deal with the face-to-face encounter. At the start of the meeting she’d been charming and friendly, because she’d been convinced that Maggie wasn’t going to have anything to offer her. In the first few minutes she’d decided that James’s wife was beautiful and polite, a bit shy, and surprisingly sweet. But that only underlines how different we are, she’d thought at the time. Everything that James had said previously had led Chloë to believe this, and she’d not wanted to challenge it. Thus Maggie wasn’t right for James, and she certainly wasn’t going to be right to work on
her
magazine.

But when Maggie had said,
“women’s magazines have got stuck in a bit of a rut … and I’d like to move them on in some way,”
Chloë heard echoes of herself in Maggie’s words. We’ve got a similar take on work, she’d realized. This had made her question her assumptions and left her doubtful of her analysis of Maggie’s relationship with James, and very unsure of herself. So I was horrid, she recalled. Then I felt guilty for being mean, and briefly, before I said good-bye, was more pleasant to her again. Not that my being pleasant would count for anything if Maggie realized I was having an affair with her husband.

“Hello … Chloë?” Rob waved a hand in front of her face. “You’re miles away. Come ba-ack…”

“Sorry.”

“Anyway, bet she can’t be such a go-getter as you—you’re poised to launch your own magazine.”

Bless him, thought Chloë. The great thing about Rob is that although I know he thinks my affair with James is a mistake, he’s always on my side.

“You’re not going to commission her, are you?”

“Oh, no. I managed to get out of it.”

Rob chuckled. “Thank God! Not even you could cope with that.”

“What do you mean, ‘not even me’?”

“Aw, c’mon, love, you tend to seek out messy situations, don’t you?”

Chloë began to chew her lip as she often did when she was uncomfortable. “Do you think so?”

“Yes, honey, I do.”

Rob always uses terms like “honey” or “love” when he’s saying something I won’t want to hear, thought Chloë. I guess he’s trying to soften the blow.

“It’s the drama queen in you. Still, it sounds as if you handled the situation remarkably well.”

“I suppose I did, in some ways. I certainly don’t think she had the faintest idea about me and James, and I didn’t give anything away.”

“And you didn’t cause any terrible scenes. Some women in your shoes would have spilled the beans to get things out in the open. Fantastic opportunity, after all, a one-to-one with his wife.”

Maybe Rob thinks I’m capable of that, thought Chloë, but I’d never stoop so low. Not in front of my colleagues. Anyway, I’m not that stupid: it might mean I’d lose James forever.

Rob began to set the table. “Shift.”

Chloë, who’d been propping her chin mournfully in her hands, lifted her elbows.

“In fact, what with so many crises in one week, I’m quite proud of you.” He laughed; clearly he was trying to buoy her. “I mean, it’s not every woman I know who could cope with having a lover who’s her boss.”

“He’s not my boss!”

“Okay, a lover who’s got some influence over her career, then.”

“Not much.”

“But you get my point. James gives the go-ahead to your pet project—”

“That was up to Vanessa, not him.”

“Okay, okay. Let me finish, anyway. So you resign from your job and secretly go away on a business trip together. Meanwhile your ex-editor is his wife’s best friend and you bump into her in Bloomingdale’s when you’re not supposed to be there, and then she unwittingly suggests you work with the wife, so you end up interviewing the Mrs. to work on your pet project.” He paused for breath. “It makes the plotlines of Albert Square look positively mundane! And my point is not everyone could handle that lot as well as you.”

“I see what you mean,” acknowledged Chloë. Summarized, it sounded a great deal to manage, and she had to agree she’d surpassed herself so far. Yet was this an achievement she should be proud of?
Really?
Was it because she believed in the strength of her relationship with James, or was she in danger of being hurt if she continued putting her emotions through the wringer like this? Should she stick with things in the hope they would get better, or try to get the hell out, if—and it was a very big “if”—she still could? She didn’t know the answers, and clearly Rob didn’t, either.

There’s only one person who can sort this out, she decided, and that’s James.

30

Maggie was back from UK Magazines earlier than expected. She had half an hour before Nathan finished school so she decided to see if Georgie was home. As luck would have it, her new friend answered the door and beamed.

“Hi!”

“I wasn’t sure you’d be in.”

“You must have gotten a psychic vibe. I often have Wednesdays off because I work Saturdays. Come in. Coffee?”

“Lovely.” Maggie stepped into the tiny hallway, which seemed even smaller thanks to numerous watercolors smothering the walls, and followed Georgie into the kitchen. “I hope I’m not interrupting?” she asked, seeing books and papers piled high on the table.

“Oh, no! It’s always like this. I’m very bad at leaving work at the shop.” Georgie reached for a jar of instant. Maggie flinched, but was too polite to say she’d changed her mind and ask for tea. “And I’ve been trying to keep myself busy—shift my focus.” She launched straight into the situation on which Maggie was keen for an update. “Alex split up with me last week.” She sighed.

“I’m sorry,” said Maggie; she sensed the pain of troubled romance all too keenly at the moment. “Are you okay?”

“I guess.” Georgie held her unruly hair off her face and frowned. “It’s not as if it had been that long or anything. It’s only, when you get to my age … Sometimes I wish something would work out. He was very decent about it.”

Maggie nodded to herself. Typical Alex, she thought. Nonetheless she could see that Georgie looked paler than usual, she appeared tired, less bouncy. She tried to offer comfort. “He only parted from his wife a few months ago. Maybe it was a bit soon.”

“Maybe…” Georgie nodded. Then she added, “I just want to meet a nice man who appreciates me. A chap like Jamie, perhaps. I mean, you two seem happy, well suited. How did you do it?”

Maggie was unsure what to say. Her inclination was to respond with something noncommittal, although being frank might make not just Georgie feel better, but herself too. “It’s not that great always, you know, being married. Jamie’s not quite as wonderful as you might think.”

“Really?”

“No. In fact, we’ve been having a bit of a difficult time recently. Hopefully we’ll get over it, but still … It’s ironic, isn’t it—sometimes I envy women like you who have their freedom, who can do what they want, who only have to answer to themselves. Believe me, our relationship is far from one long mutual appreciation society.”

“Oh.” Georgie appeared taken aback. Then she smiled. “Isn’t it funny? We always think everyone else is so sorted, and once you get to know them better, you often find that they’re pretty vulnerable, too.”

“Indeed.” Maggie remembered how she’d come to a similar conclusion when talking to Fran. She laughed with a touch of sorrow. “I’ve certainly been feeling pretty vulnerable lately.”

“You surprise me.”

“As you say, people aren’t always as resilient as they seem.”

Georgie’s expression exuded understanding and she said, “Well, I know one person who definitely appreciates you.”

“Who’s that?”

“Alex.”

“Alex!”

“Oh, yes.” Georgie leaned back against the counter, more relaxed now. “If you ask me, never mind his ex-wife, I think he’s still a mite in love with you.”

“Surely not?”

“I might be wrong … but whenever he talks about you he sounds so fond of you.”

“Oh!” It was Maggie’s turn to be taken aback. Yet she was comforted too.

“There you go.” Georgie took a large gulp of coffee. “You remember that. I doubt any of my exes still carry a torch for me after fifteen years, or whatever it’s been.”

I
am
flattered, thought Maggie. But however nice it is to hear my old boyfriend continues to hold me in high regard, the man I really want to appreciate me is Jamie.

*   *   *

As he ran to greet her in the playground, fair hair catching the sun, socks around his ankles, Maggie observed that Nathan had Band-Aids on both knees and both elbows, whereas that morning he’d had only two.

“How did you get these?” she asked, examining his latest wounds.

“Soccer. I scored a goal!” His love of the game never seemed tempered by tripping over, she thought tenderly. He was carrying a large roll of paper. “Here,” he said, handing it to her. “This is for you.”

“Thank you. I’ll have a look in a moment.” Maggie tucked the picture under her arm and they set off, Nathan chatting away about his day. They stopped en route to feed the ducks, a frequent ritual. Maggie often had crusts left over from creating breadcrumb toppings for her recipes; she’d brought some in an old Waitrose carrier bag.

“I want to do it,” he said, so she gave him the bag and took a seat under the weeping willows by the river. While Nathan busied himself throwing the crusts as far as he could to test whether the white ducks were quicker than the mallards, she unrolled the painting and held it at arm’s length.

Mummy
, it said, and was signed, with some letters back to front,
Nathan Slater
. She caught her breath. She’d seen Nathan’s interpretation of herself many, many times—blond hair the same bright shade of powder-paint yellow, triangular dress, big circular hands with digits carefully attached like rays of the sun, long legs, giant feet. But this picture was different. Normally Nathan painted her with her mouth upturned in a happy semicircle. Here her mouth was unmistakably turned down.

It didn’t take Nathan long to learn that all ducks were equally fast when motivated by food and return to her side.

“But I look so sad in this!” she protested, holding out the painting.

“You
are
sad.”

“Oh dear,” said Maggie, rolling up the picture. “Do you think so?”

“Mm.” Nathan looked down and scuffed his shoes on the path. Clearly he didn’t like talking about it.

“Well, we’ll have to do something to solve that, then.” Maggie slapped her thighs cheerily and got to her feet. “I’ve an idea what’ll make me a happy mummy again. Shall we pop into Nell’s Country Kitchen and buy some of their delicious homemade fudge?”

“Ooh, yes!”

Nell’s was the tearoom close by on Middle Street. They pushed open the door with a merry tinkle of the bell, and Nathan cantered over to the baskets on the pine dresser where he knew the fudge was displayed.

“Now, let’s see,” said Maggie, picking through the different flavors. “Which one of these is special magic fudge with Cheer-up Mummy potion in it?”

“This one!” Nathan selected the vanilla and nut.

“That’ll
definitely
make a happy mummy,” agreed Maggie. She handed over the exact change and they went home and had it for tea.

*   *   *

That does it, Maggie decided, once she’d put Nathan to bed and sat down in the living room with her feet up and a gin and tonic to await her husband’s return from work. Nathan’s image of a sad mummy is worrying. Evidently he’s aware things aren’t right, and it’ll be affecting him. And if I’m at the stage of confiding in my neighbors, obviously they’re affecting me hugely too. I’ve got to talk to Jamie tonight.

She took a sip of her drink and braced herself. Just then, an idea came to her.

I know what would cheer me up and give me strength, she thought: a chat with Alex. Get the lowdown on him and Georgie.

“It’s me,” she said when he picked up.

“Mags! I was meaning to call you. How are you?”

“I’m okay.” She didn’t want to talk about herself. “More to the point, how are
you
?”

“I’m good.”

“I’ve just seen Georgie,” Maggie prompted.

“Oh.” Alex sounded worried. “Is she okay?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Maggie didn’t want to be disloyal to Georgie. “Or, at least, she will be soon, I guess.”

“I feel a bit bad,” Alex confessed.

“Oh?”

“It’s never easy, finishing things, is it?”

Momentarily Maggie flashed back to when she and Alex had split up. She’d just started working in magazines and, consumed by her new job, was unwilling to settle down so soon after graduating, though Alex had wanted to. But she’d never been sure she was making the right decision ending it, which meant, for once in her life, she’d been a little heartless.

“No,” she said.

“Probably Georgie was a bit of a rebound thing—you know, after Stella.”

“Do you think?”

“Now I do, yes.” Alex was always straight with Maggie. “We had a lot of fun, and she’s a lovely woman, but I don’t feel she’s quite right for me. You won’t ever say that to her though, will you? I’ve tried to part from her on reasonable terms, though that’s often easier said than done.”

“Of course I won’t!” Maggie wouldn’t dream of being so tactless.