What Goes Around

chapter TWENTY TWO

Gloria

I tell Paul what happened between Noel and Lucy.

Not straight away.

For days I keep it in, but it’s there churning and black inside of me.

I had no intention of telling Paul, I never discuss things like that, I just keep it all in. I hardly know him after all. Though I did go for coffee with him after slimming club last week and, when it was time for my daughters to go back to Australia, he offered to take us to the airport, as he’s got a seven seater, and he arranged a baby seat.

Noel’s moved out and Eleanor’s moved home and I’m left holding the baby.

We drive back from the airport after Alice, Hugh and Bonny leave and the house is quiet and it’s over now. Only, it will never be over – I learnt that a long time ago but at least it’s over for now.

After I settle Daisy down for the night, he offers to make me a cup of tea, but I tell him I’d prefer a glass of wine.

‘Do you really want that glass of wine, Gloria?’

It’s an in-joke between us; something Beryl from the slimming club says that we should ask ourselves.

‘Yes,’ I say. ‘I really want that glass of wine.’

‘So do I.’

He pours us both a glass and it’s nice to sit down on the sofa with him and know it’s just us.

Nice to sit and, for a little while, not have to get up.

‘How’s Eleanor?’

‘Supposedly sorting herself out.’

I’m cross with Eleanor. I’m trying to separate what I saw with Noel and Lucy. I’m trying to go to a cupboard marked only Eleanor and not busy it with everything else – and I am cross with Eleanor. I know you can’t help depression and everything, but I also believe, if Noel had been Daisy’s father then everything would be fine now. It would all have been brushed under the carpet. More than that, I think had Eleanor’s lover been white, he wouldn’t even have left. It’s that they can’t escape the fact that they’ve had problems in their marriage, that they can’t just pretend it away, is what is finishing them.

Eleanor’s looking after Daniel and Laura, which I should be grateful for I guess, but I think they’re spending an awful lot of time at Noel’s and his parents.

Poor Daisy is left with me.

We don’t just talk about Eleanor though.

Paul doesn't ask any questions at first, instead that's me. I want to know why his marriage ended. I can see he's uncomfortable but I really need to know, because I do think I could like him. I mean, now he’s not huge he’s a good-looking man, he really is. I know that sounds fattist but I'm sure he probably thinks the same about me. I’ve sort of watched him emerge from within himself as he’s lost weight- his work told him to apparently but now he's glad that they did.

Anyway, we really don't know that much about each other and, before we do, this bit I need to know, because I can’t be with another man who cheats.

I can’t.

‘She had an affair,’ Paul says and I swallow my wine and I feel relief first and then sympathy follows, because I know what that's like. ‘With another woman.’

Oh!

‘It’s disgusting,’ he says.

My face burns.

I actually feel a bit sick for a moment but I can’t tell him why.

Embarrassment floods every pore.

I don’t know what to say and so I breathe for a moment until I do. ‘Alice’s best friend is gay,’ I tell him. ‘She didn't want to be - she did everything she could to make her marriage work but Roz always knew she was gay.’

‘Then why did she marry him in the first place?’ Paul asks and tonight’s the only time I've ever heard him bitter.

‘Things were different then,’ I answer and Beryl’s not going to be pleased, because, yes I do want that second glass. It’s so nice to relax and to just sit talking, to have someone listen. ‘The same as me, she got pregnant and felt that she had to get married.’

It’s so nice not to have a full house.

I check on Daisy and she’s sound asleep.

When I get back downstairs we talk some more. I tell him a bit about me, about my marriage and my divorce and about the woman who took him from me. I tell him about Lucy, and her posh house and how gorgeous she is. It's my turn to be bitter, because I may be working towards forgiving him, but I've got my work cut out forgiving her. I tell him what I saw after the funeral, I tell him what she did, I tell him what I know I can never share with my daughter.

‘That’s her stepdaughter’s husband…’ Spite tightens my lips and I can hear my own hate. ‘What sort of woman is she?’ I ask. I’m on a roll now. ‘Aside from that, her husband had only been dead a week. What sort of woman would do that?’ I want him to agree with me, to tell me she’s the worst sort of woman but instead he goes really quiet for a while and then he takes my hand. He tells me that maybe I don't know what she's going through, that maybe his leaving her, was as hard for Lucy, as it was, at the time, for me.

‘Lucy?’ How can it be as hard for Lucy? It’s not as if he walked out, it’s not as if he simply turned his back on his family and left! She could have anyone – and that includes my son-in-law. She’s gorgeous; she takes care of herself, her home, her body. I’m furious with him for not supporting me. ‘Why would you defend her?’ I feel this surge of loathing, not towards Lucy; instead it’s devoted entirely to me. It comes up now and then, not so often these days, but when it does, I feel as if I’m going to choke.

‘I’m not defending her, Gloria.’ I hear his voice and he’s calm when I’m not. ‘I just…’ he goes quiet, it’s as if he wants to say something but has changed his mind. I won’t let her ruin this too, I will not let Lucy, and my hate for her, ruin another thing in my life. I take deep breaths, I pour cool water, I can’t explain it here. I just pour cool water on the hate inside and then I look down and it’s his hand I’m holding. Paul’s hand. It’s warm and it’s holding mine back and I’m not alone with my fear. For the first time, I don’t feel so alone.

We’re on the second bottle by the time he kisses me but I know it isn't the wine that has lowered our inhibitions, it's the conversation, it's the trust – it's finding another person who gets you. For the first time in my life I feel wrapped in understanding.

The wine certainly helped in the bedroom though!

You try getting your kit off for the first time with a new man, when you’re in your fifties – I defy anyone to do it sober.

I’m not telling you about that though!