Women of a Dangerous Age. Fanny Blake
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time she spent on her own to think of little else, planning and plotting their life together. How disappointing to realise that he obviously hadn’t done the same. There was so much ahead of them that he hadn’t even considered.
‘And if I get pregnant?’ The words slipped out without her having time to stop and think. Watching his face darken, she would have given anything in the world to be able to retract them.
‘Pregnant!’ He sat down as if he’d been winded, the wine tipping in his glass. He saved it just in time. ‘Are you serious?’
‘Why not? Why are you looking at me like that? Wouldn’t it be wonderful? We’d be a family.’ She wished she could erase the need from her voice.
‘Family,’ he echoed, so quietly that Ali could barely hear him. But she didn’t need to, to know that she had just made a huge mistake. She began to backtrack as fast as she could.
‘Not that I mind if we don’t, of course. I can understand that you might not want any more.’ She stopped, not knowing what else she could say, at the same time feeling sadness engulf her as her dream foundered.
‘But you’ve never mentioned anything about wanting children.’ He seemed perplexed. ‘That was never part of the deal.’
‘Because they were never an option. But when you asked me to live with you, I couldn’t help thinking. I want more out of my life now than I’ve ever dared to admit to myself. You’ve presented me with a chance …’ She wanted to explain, to persuade, for him to take her in his arms and assure her everything would be all right. But that was not going to happen.
He’d put down his drink and crossed his arms over his chest, wearing an expression that was new to her: distant, calculating.
‘But of course, I was being stupid,’ she went on, desperate to rewind the whole conversation and start again. ‘It was a silly fantasy. I shouldn’t have said anything.’
‘I would’ve thought I’d done my bit towards populating the world. I’d never imagined us …’ Words failed him as he tried to imagine. ‘And, well, aren’t you a bit …’ He paused, searching for a kinder way of putting it and failing. ‘… too old?’
He had no idea how hearing him say that hurt. Fired up by his insensitivity, she retorted, ‘Women can have babies any time before the menopause. It just gets more difficult.’ To her fury, she felt her chin wobble, and her voice began to crack. ‘Just forget it. Please. I shouldn’t have said anything.’ She went to pour herself a glass of wine. She took a big gulp before turning to look at him. He had emptied his own glass and returned to stare out of the window. Something had happened to make this evening go way off track. He’d arrived in the wrong mood and she had only made it worse. Much worse. But why should she make it easy for him? A few weeks ago, he had been desperate for them to be together. What had changed? Perhaps she had gone a bit too far, but she didn’t deserve to be knocked back so cruelly. She sat down again, and waited, dreading whatever he was building up to say.
Eventually he turned, but his face was hidden as he concentrated on his right thumb, pushing at the cuticle of his left. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘So sorry.’
‘So am I.’ A sigh of relief escaped her. They would sort out their differences and things would be all right after all. ‘I got far too carried away. Of course we can live here – to start with, anyway. Whatever you like.’ She plumped up the deep red cushion beside her and rested it against the back of the sofa, making a space for him, but he made no move to join her.
Instead, he murmured, almost as if he was talking to himself, ‘It’s too late.’
Nervousness churned in the pit of her stomach. ‘For what? We’ve got plenty of time.’
He seemed to summon all his energy, lifting his shoulders and closing his eyes. ‘I didn’t mean to tell you this today, but …’
‘But what?’
‘I’ve met someone else.’ His shoulders dropped with the evident relief at having got it off his chest.
‘Someone else? I don’t understand.’ The shock took her breath away for a moment. ‘But I’ve only been away for two weeks. How can you have?’
At least he had the grace to look shamefaced before he spoke again. ‘She’s someone at work who I’ve known for months. Then, at one of the Christmas parties …’
‘At one of the Christmas parties,’ she repeated. ‘But that can only have been weeks, days after we agreed we were going to live together.’
‘I know. But you’ve been so busy we’ve hardly seen each other over the last month or two.’ He shifted from one foot to the other, his thumb worrying at the cuticle.
‘And you couldn’t wait?’ Her outrage was mixed with a profound sense of injustice. She had trusted him. ‘For God’s sake, Ian. You sprang the idea of living together on me. I had to work every hour God sent to complete my Christmas orders. It’s my busiest time of the year. We agreed. I offered to cancel India, but you said I should go while you sorted everything out.’
There was a long pause. An unpleasant thought wormed its way into her head. ‘Have you just come here from her?’
An even longer pause.
His thumbs were still as he stared at his feet and nodded.
She shook her head. ‘I loved you.’ The three words were laced with recrimination, regret and sorrow as she realised how little she knew him.
‘I know.’ He crossed the room to stroke her head with a gesture that, only hours ago, would have made her shiver with pleasure.
‘Don’t,’ she said, shrugging him off, as he went on.
‘Surely you understand that I can’t provide the sort of commitment you’re asking. I’d no idea that’s what you wanted. Yes, my wife and I are separating but we’ve still a lot to work through. I can’t take on the responsibility of a new house and I certainly don’t want a baby.’
‘So, what exactly were you planning?’ she spat, knowing the answer. ‘You were going to live with me and have another mistress on the side. Same pattern all over again?’
‘I hadn’t planned anything. It’s just the way …’
‘I thought so much more of you. You should go.’
There was nothing else to be said. She went to get his coat, her eyes blurring with tears that she refused to shed until he had gone. Suddenly, all she wanted was Ian out of her home with the minimum fuss and with her dignity intact. Then she would allow herself to absorb what had happened between them.
He pulled on his coat. ‘Thank you for being so understanding.’ He leaned forward to kiss her but she jerked out of reach. ‘Perhaps in a week or two, we could have a drink or something.’
She looked at him, astonished by his nerve. Eyes burning, she opened the door and stood back to let him pass. ‘I don’t think that would be a good idea.’
‘Ali, you can’t …’
She silenced him with a look as he edged by her, then shut him out of her life for good.
For the next half-hour, she moved around the flat taking down her Christmas decorations. She wrenched off the balls hanging from the twisted arrangement of willow, breaking their threads and stuffing them disorganised into their box. Cards with new addresses were saved while the others were ripped and thrown away, the lid of the recycling bin snapping loudly every time. Her shock and hurt alternated with fury. She had let down her guard, fallen in love, and been completely screwed over as a result. Other relationships had broken up and she’d recovered, but none of them had been with a man who had led her to expect so much. Most of them went home to their wives, their marriages sometimes reinvigorated by the liaison with Ali. Others drifted away, found someone else. She had believed Ian was different. How could she have been so stupid?
Ali