The month after their conversation, Arthur booked them a minibreak in a spa hotel in Scarborough—much more civilized than London. He paid extra for an en suite room and there had been chocolate digestives on the bedside table. On the evening of their anniversary he had taken Miriam to see an Alan Ayckbourn play, which she very much enjoyed. They bought chips afterward and walked on the beach with their scarves wrapped around their heads to fend off the wind.
It had been idyllic. Well, to him, anyway. He wondered now if it had been a comedown for his wife. Had she been thinking about De Chauffant when she had suggested the trip to London? Had she hoped for a glimpse of her ex-lover?
Jealousy wasn’t an emotion that he was used to. He hated how it seemed to dig him in his side, made his stomach churn and sniggered at him. He had been wrong to laugh at Miriam. She was right. He was wrong.
He spent the day being a tourist, doing what he and Miriam should have done. He stood and gaped at the famous landmarks of London—the London Eye, the Houses of Parliament, Big Ben—and he loved the experience. He got on and off the red open-top tourist buses and walked where he could. Adrenaline coursed through his veins. He felt as if the city embraced him. He had expected it to be through fear of the unknown, but it was through exhilaration.
He bought a red bus fridge magnet and a pencil with a gold plastic Tower of London on top. He stopped for lunch at the Pearly Queen café, which had stainless steel tables that sat wonkily on the pavement. A man joined him without asking. He wore a gray pin-striped suit with a pink handkerchief poking out of the pocket. His face was red, as if he had been running or something had angered him. Sitting with his legs splayed open, his knees almost touched Arthur’s. Arthur squeezed his out of the way and tried to look straight ahead. But when the man ordered a bacon and cheddar panini he made eye contact and nodded. “All right?”
“Fine, thank you.”
“You married?”
“Yes.” He automatically reached out and twisted his wedding ring around his finger.
“How long for?”
“Over forty years.”
“Jesus. You get less for murder.” The man grinned.
Arthur did not smile. He hadn’t wanted this man to join him. All he wanted was a quiet cup of tea and a bacon sandwich before he carried on his sightseeing, building himself up for going to find Fran?ois De Chauffant’s house. He looked over the man’s shoulder to catch the eye of the waitress who had taken his order. He ordered his cup of tea ten minutes ago and it still hadn’t arrived.
“Sorry, mate,” the man said, his expression changed. “Just my little joke. You don’t hear of many long marriages these days. It must be nice, huh, having someone waiting at home for you?”
“It was nice, yes.”
“You said was?”
Arthur swallowed. “My wife died a year ago.” He finally caught the waitress’s attention with a wave. She immediately mouthed, Sorry, and brought over his tea.
“Apologies, my darlink. I’m rushed off my feet,” she said. Her pink dress hung off her shoulder revealing a purple bra strap. “I will bring you an extralarge sandwich.”
“The small one that I ordered is adequate.”
“But it will be the same price.” She had a Polish accent and long fingers like sticks of chalk.
“It is very kind of you.”
She nodded and gave a curtsy.
“I don’t have a very big appetite,” Arthur said to the man. “But I think she would have been offended if I had insisted on the small sandwich.”
The man’s eyes followed the waitress as she went behind the counter and started to make a hot chocolate. “She’s a babe,” he said. “Dark eyes, dark hair. I like that.”
Arthur poured milk into his tea and sipped it. He felt uncomfortable at the man’s confidence, how his legs invaded his space, how he was eyeing up the waitress.
“Do you mind me asking you something, yeah?” the man said, leaning forward. He didn’t wait for Arthur to agree. “I’m thinking of getting married, too. You look like you’d be good at offering advice, yeah? You know, you’ve been around a while. You’ve done things, seen things... A man of the world.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Arthur said cautiously.
“Okay.” The man reached in his pocket and pulled out a small notebook. “I’ve been writing stuff down and trying to clear my head, so that I can decide. I read my notes before I go to sleep.”
“It’s a big decision to get married.”
“Tell me about it. How did you know that your wife was the one?”
“I met her and I knew she was the woman I wanted to marry.”
“Yeah? Go on...”
“When I was with her I didn’t want to be with anyone else. I never considered if she was the one because there was no one else. I liked the simplicity of life with her. We met when I was twenty-six and she was a year younger. We held hands, we walked, we kissed. All the time I thought of just her. I never looked at anyone else. We got engaged and then got married less than two years after we met. It was like I was following an invisible path that had already been laid out for me. There were other paths leading off it in different directions but I never wondered where they went. I just kept on heading forward.”
“Hmm. That sounds simple. I wish I had that.”
Arthur sipped his tea.
“Were you faithful?”
It was a fair question from someone who was thinking of committing himself to another for life. “Yes, I was.”
“Did you ever wonder what it would be like with someone else? You know. Did you look at other women and wonder...? I hope you don’t think I’m being too obtrusive.”
Arthur thought that. Yes, the man was being very nosy; however, he didn’t detect any salaciousness, only curiosity in relation to his own situation. “I did wonder, because that’s human nature. But I had no desire to pursue anything. I might see another woman and think she was pretty or had a nice smile. But I knew what I could lose, so I just put thoughts out of my mind.”
“You’re very sensible. I wish it was as easy as that. I wish I could compartmentalize my thoughts. I have two women, you see.”
“Oh.”
“I kind of love them both. I’m thirty-five. I want to get married soon and have kids.”
“By the time I was thirty-three we had the two kids.”
“I want to buy a house and do the family thing.” The man bent his head forward and drew a circle with his finger. “I’m getting a bald spot. See it? It’s time that I got a shed and went for walks in the country with my wife and kids. But I’m torn. May I tell you about both the girls? You’ll be able to advise me. I can tell by your face.”
The waitress brought over their food. Arthur’s bacon sandwich was the same size as the plate it sat on. “Good, yes?” she said.
“Very good.” Arthur gave a thumbs-up.
The man bit into his panini. A string of cheese dribbled and stuck to his chin. “One of them is my girlfriend. We’ve been together for three years. She’s really lovely. I saw her sitting in the window of a teashop. And I walked past and went in to buy a cake just because I fancied her. I headed straight for her and asked her out, told her I’d take her to a flash restaurant. She said no at first. I liked that. She was a challenge. I worked at it, though. I gave her my card when I left. I bought a bunch of flowers and waited outside for her. There was something about her that drew me to her, like you said about your wife. I wore her down. I made her friend laugh. Finally she said yes and we went to see some Hugh Grant film at the flicks. It was a lovely night. We held hands like teenagers. And she didn’t want a fancy restaurant afterward, just a burger. Donna’s a lovely girl, works really hard as a hairdresser.” He took out his wallet and showed Arthur a photograph. A girl with a heart-shaped face and a red scarf tied in her hair smiled back.
“She’s a pretty girl.”
“The other one I see, though... Manda.” He blew on his fingers as if they were on fire and he was putting it out. “She’s hot stuff. She lets me do things to her, you know?”