The Perils of Skinny-Dipping (21 page)

As Abbey sat contemplating, a middle-aged woman shuffled past her and sat down on the other end of the bench. Abbey tried not to stare directly at her, but her shabby appearance drew her attention. The woman was dressed in old, worn clothes with at least three scarves wrapped around her face and head. Her dirty fingers poked through the end of her gloves and her shoes were caked in mud. Wisps of grey hair fell out of the scarves and framed her tired face. Abbey detected a slight odour of urine as she passed by.

‘
Want a shot?’ she said, holding out a gin bottle to Abbey.

‘
Got any tonic to go with that?’

‘
Sorry dear,’ replied the woman. ‘Gave the tonic up some time ago. It kept drowning the gin.’

Now it was the woman surveying Abbey, staring right at her. ‘What’s your name?’

‘
Abbey. What’s yours?’

‘
Mary, Mary Jenkins,’ said the woman in a very articulate voice.

‘
Pleased to meet you Mary,’ said Abbey, holding out her hand. The woman seemed surprised at Abbey’s willingness to interact with her.

‘
Why are you sitting here, on my bench, in the rain, looking sorry for yourself?’ asked Mary.

Abbey winced at her directness. ‘Is it that obvious?’

‘
Guess it’s got something to do with a man?’ persisted Mary. ‘It usually has. Are you married?’

‘
I hope so. I mean yes, I’m married.’

‘
Has he left you?’

‘
No!’

‘
Have you left him?’

‘
No, not really. We live in Botswana at the moment and I’ve come back over to sell my house. That’s all.’

‘
So why the glum face?’

Abbey hesitated for a moment, trying to decide whether she should give out personal information to this complete stranger, who had obviously made a complete and utter mess of her own life. She decided it couldn’t do any harm and tried to explain, as simply and as briefly as she could, the strain that Anna’s presence had brought on the relationship over the last few weeks.

‘
It isn’t a solid marriage then?’ continued Mary.

‘
Yes, of course it is,’ said Abbey, slightly taken aback. ‘I love him, he’s my whole world.’

‘
OK, so you don’t trust him then?’

Abbey paused and thought for a moment. ‘Yes I do, I think. No, I do, completely.’

‘
Does he know that?’

‘
No. I mean, I don’t know.’

Abbey thought back to the letter she had left. Yes, she had said that she loved him but at no time had she indicated that she totally trusted him, which might have been a good idea, given she had questioned his connection with Anna. She did believe his account that Anna had been a one-night stand; she just hadn’t relayed that information to him. Abbey started to feel very uncomfortable and decided to change the focus of the conversation onto Mary.

‘
So, what about you then?’ asked Abbey. ‘Why are you sitting here in the rain?’

‘
Oh, mine’s a sad old tale,’ laughed Mary, taking another swig of her gin.

‘
Well, go on, tell me. There must be quite a tale, given your accent is what we would call posh!’ Abbey was starting to feel more at ease now and was quite taken with her newfound friend.

‘
Well, I used to work in London, for a large financial services company. In fact, I ran it. I was the Managing Director for over seven years. We sold mortgages and unsecured loans, and to begin with it was a solid, failsafe business. Our share prices shot through the roof. But, as well as inheriting large profits, we also acquired an inherent complacency about our success. We thought we couldn’t go wrong and the risks we took were as big as the loans we handed out. Then, one by one, each debtor defaulted, creditors were down our throat and the business was hanging by a thread.’

Abbey listened in amazement to Mary’s tale.

‘
Was it your fault?’

‘
Fault wasn’t the issue. The shareholders wanted blood, an execution, and it was my head on the block.’

‘
Did anyone else get fired?’

‘
Strangely no, just the woman at the top. The Board of Directors all kept their positions, and their pensions.’

‘
So why are you are here now, like this? Couldn’t you get another job?’

Mary laughed. ‘No, my name was blacklisted and no one would touch me. I lost my huge salary, my annual bonus and they somehow managed to wangle my pension down to a pittance. I also lost my house, my husband and everything I knew and was familiar with.’

‘
Why your husband?’ asked Abbey, now totally absorbed in the conversation.

‘
We worked together at the same company. He didn’t lose his job and, rather than deal with the initial embarrassment of being married to an ex boss, he exchanged me for a younger model.’

‘
What about your house? Didn’t you make money out of that when it was sold?’

‘
We should have done, but we took out a second mortgage to pay for our exuberant lifestyle. Believe me, my dear, when I say that our expenses account was nearly as big as our salaries! By the time the house was sold, property prices had dropped in London and we made exactly fifteen thousand pounds, divided by two! So, I came back here to my hometown to try and rebuild my life. Only, I’m just not quite sure how to start.’ At this statement, her voice quietened and softened slightly.

Neither woman spoke for a couple of minutes, content just to watch the dogs around the park enthusiastically chase each other around. It was Mary who broke the silence.

‘
You say you adore your husband and he is your whole world?’

Abbey nodded at her. ‘Yes.’

‘
What was your world like before you met him? How did you view yourself?’

Abbey thought carefully before answering the question. ‘I viewed myself as an independent woman - financially, anyway.’

‘
How do you view yourself now?’ pushed Mary.

Abbey started to feel that uncomfortable feeling in the pit of her stomach again. ‘I’m not sure anymore. I no longer have a house or a successful career.’

‘
Do you blame your husband for that?’

‘
Not really, although I did it for him,’ she replied. ‘For our marriage, our future.’

‘
You haven’t answered my question. Did he write your resignation or instruct the sale of your house?’

‘
No, he did neither of those things. He told me on both occasions it was my decision to make.’

‘
So, why did you do it? Were you trying to make him love you more by sacrificing these things?’

Abbey’s mouth dropped. She had never considered this line of thought before. She immediately thought about her father. She remembered buying expensive birthday gifts for him in a bid to impress him and gain his approval. Is this what she had subconsciously done with Darren? Had she sacrificed what she had in an effort to secure his attention, even though he smothered her with love and affection? Was it still not enough?

Eventually Abbey spoke.

‘
I’ve been a bloody idiot. I’ve been so preoccupied with my own feelings, my needs, that I haven’t once stopped to consider his. And all the time he’s done his best to make me happy and to say and do the right thing.’ She thought for another minute. ‘You know, I think I’ve programmed myself to expect failure in all my relationships, instead of building on success. And despite everything, we are a success.
I know
we are. That’s why I did it!’

She stood up abruptly, felt in her pocket and took out a fifty pound note.

‘
Here, treat yourself to a B&B tonight on me, Mary. Oh, and if you ever move on from this bench, you know where to find me.’

Mary smiled and nodded her head. ‘I might take you up on that,’ she called after Abbey, who was now sprinting back towards the house, Boris racing behind her, his ears flapping in the wind.

Chapter Twenty-Two

When Abbey got home, she made two phone calls. The first was to the landline at the bungalow in Kasane. She let the phone ring for a few minutes before hanging up. She checked her watch. It would be five o’clock in the afternoon in Botswana, so it was still pretty early for Darren to be home. She called his mobile and recorded a voicemail.

‘
Hi, Darren, just ringing to check you’re OK. Don’t know if you’ve been home yet, but I’ve had to fly back to England to finalise the house. I’ll be back next week. I miss you. Ring me when you get this message.’

The next call was to Phil. ‘Hi, listen, change of plan. I need your help to empty this bloody house. Can you come over here, tonight?’

‘
Of course I can,’ replied Phil. ‘I’ll meet you at Piccadilly Station, in about two hours?’

Abbey grabbed the car keys to her mother’s car and drove into the centre of town. She stood by the railings on the platform, waiting for Phil to disembark. She smiled warmly when he came into view, rucksack on his back, walking towards the turnstiles. He smiled back and soon she was hugging him tightly.

‘
God, I’ve missed you,’ she shouted over the noise of the station. Phil grinned and took her arm as they walked to the car.

‘
So,’ he said rubbing his hands together. ‘Come on, I want to know everything.’

Abbey explained on the drive home why she had decided to stay on in Kasane, and the business problems Darren had encountered, hence the sale of her house.

‘
Hell hun, you must really love this guy to give up everything?’

Abbey twitched slightly, the conversation with Mary still fresh in her mind. ‘I do love him Phil, but I think I might have fucked up.’

Phil shook his head. ‘Nah, from what I know of Darren he wouldn’t have anything to do with this Anna woman again. She really doesn’t sound his type. I reckon this is a one-way attraction, and if your nerve breaks she’ll strike even harder.’

Abbey nodded her head in silent agreement.

‘
I just wish he’d told me about sleeping with Anna. I feel that she’s had one over on me all this time, knowing that I didn’t know they had a past, brief as it was. And he doesn’t exactly push her away, if you know what I mean.’

‘
Maybe,’ continued Phil, ‘his one night stand with Anna meant so little that he thought it wasn’t relevant, and that she caused no threat to his future with you. Listen Abbey, for fuck’s sake, he’s a bloke and she’s a good-looking woman. Being in love with you is not going to kill off his ultra male ego! He’s still capable of being flattered, you know.’

‘
Since when did you become Mr Bloody Sensible?’ she laughed.

‘
I always have been,’ smirked Phil. ‘You’ve just never appreciated my qualities before!’

They both laughed and Abbey felt calmer.

‘
If I’m perfectly honest, Abbey,’ continued Phil, ‘I reckon it’s you that’s creating a situation that could threaten your relationship with Darren, not Anna.’

Those words reverberated around Abbey’s head, as that is exactly what Darren had implied the night before he had left, without saying goodbye.

They spent the evening at Abbey’s parents’ house watching DVDs and eating Chinese takeaway. Phil introduced himself to both her parents, putting on the most well-to-do voice he could muster. Abbey stood behind them, trying not to laugh. She thought Phil looked well enough, although she noticed he had lost a little bit of weight off his face.

‘
Are you expecting a call?’ he asked, snatching the prawn crackers from her lap, as she checked her mobile for the umpteenth time.

‘
Yeah, I left a message on Darren’s mobile. He’s supposed to call me.’

‘
Maybe he’s still out of range? You know how dodgy those signals can be over there. One minute you have one, next you don’t!’

‘
I know, I’m just a bit tense still, that’s all, and I really want to talk to him. You’re right though, I’m sure he’ll ring as soon as he can. Anyway, I’ve just remembered - didn’t you want to talk to me about something you couldn’t mention over the phone?’

‘
It’s nothing - or rather, I don’t want to talk about it. Not sure it would do any good, anyway. What’s done is done.’

Abbey looked at him, a confused look on her face. ‘Is that it? Aren’t you going to tell me anymore?’

‘
Your parents seem nice folk,’ commented Phil, trying to change the subject.

‘
Oh yeah, they’re nice enough. Just emotionally dysfunctional.’

‘
What do you mean?’

‘
Well, I’ve been home for a whole day, sat and ate lunch with them both, and not once have they asked me what it’s like in Botswana, where I live, what my job’s like and, more to the point, they haven’t even mentioned the fact that I have a husband! It’s as though I’ve been living down the road, and the last sixteen months never happened. I got a better welcome from the bloody dog!’

‘
Maybe they just find it hard to talk to you.’

‘
Maybe they just shouldn’t have had a child,’ replied Abbey with an echo of sorrow in her voice.

‘
I think being a parent is probably the hardest job in the world,’ said Phil wistfully.

‘
And you would know, hey?’ laughed Abbey, startled at his remark.