I find a suitably sunny spot where I’m not in the way and lie back on the grass, dozing. This is the most relaxed I’ve felt in a long time. In my half-dreaming state, I pick over the wreckage of my marriage as I do when I’ve got nothing else crowding my mind. To my surprise, I start to feel small strands of contentment weaving their way in. I’ve been hurting for so long that I began to worry that it would never stop.
Sometimes, I find myself dwelling on what Simon might be doing now. Are he and the Crystal Queen still loved-up? Good luck to them if they are. I truly believe that I could have done nothing more to save our relationship. I was a good wife. I kept the house clean and tried to make it a home. We ate nice meals. Not so much in the week as we were both busy, but I cooked something special every Saturday night and Friday night we’d get a takeaway and open a bottle. I knew exactly how he liked his steak cooked. Not the high-life, I grant you, but isn’t this what makes couples tick? I watched one of the Sex and the City films again recently – which I love – and Carrie Bradshaw was ticked off and in fear of her marriage because Big didn’t want to go out to dinner every night. That’s not real life, is it? Well, perhaps it is in Manhattan, but it’s certainly not in Costa del Keynes. Marriage is rubbing along very nicely together, isn’t it? Snuggling up on the sofa, sharing a bar of Cadbury’s, having sex twice a week if there’s nothing better on the telly and being each other’s best friend. Or am I missing the point?
What did Joe’s wife want from her marriage, I wonder? What has she found with her new man that’s made her want to walk out on her husband – who looks pretty good on paper – and her lovely kids? Had they just got into a rut together or was it something more? Perhaps marriage is always more of a struggle than floating on a cloud of romance. I wonder what she found that she didn’t have with Joe? He looks pretty perfect to me. Then I chide myself. I must not think that way.
I’m footloose and fancy-free and he very much isn’t.
Chapter Seventeen
When Joe eventually comes back, he looks happy and that makes me smile.
‘That was great,’ he says as he shrugs off his tanks. ‘Nothing like coming nose-to-nose with a monster pike to sharpen the senses.’
‘I have watched Jaws, Jaws 2, Jaws 3-D and Jaws: The Revenge,’ I tell him. ‘I am suitably impressed.’
‘I’m impressed that you could sit through all of that nonsense.’
‘Jaws was a classic,’ I protest. Though, in fairness, it was all a bit downhill from there.
‘I’m a man who’s sat through more Disney films than you can shake a stick at,’ he says. ‘So I’m not really in a position to throw stones.’
‘Did you see anything else down there?’
‘The tug was fun to go through even though I’ve done it a dozen times before.’
And this is the thing with diving – do I really want to be crawling through what is essentially wreckage? And mixing it up with pike? I’m pretty sure they have sharp, bitey teeth and evil eyes. My vision of diving was more akin towards Finding Nemo or The Little Mermaid. I decide against mentioning that.
Joe goes off to get changed so I help some of the guys with their gear again and generally hang around until he appears, freshly showered and changed. He smells of citrus aftershave and not of murky pond water.
‘Ready for something to eat?’
I’ve hardly worked up an appetite, but I never knowingly turn down food. We head across to the pub with the rest of the group and enjoy a convivial meal with much banter and fun. I watch Joe, surreptitiously, as I eat my fish and chips. I like the way he acts in a group. He looks after everyone and he’s clearly popular as a result of it.
His phone pings and he checks a text. He sighs and a world of frustration is expressed in it. Then he turns to me. ‘I need to get back for the kids,’ he says.
‘Is everything OK?’
‘Gina wants to drop them off early. There’s a surprise.’ He’s keeping a lid on his temper, but I suspect he’s seething. ‘I can get someone else to take you back, if you’re not ready to leave.’
‘No,’ I say. ‘That’s fine.’ A night in front of the telly won’t do me any harm even though I’m supposed to be searching for the new party-party life.
So we load up and drive home. This time Brandon Flowers keeps us company and I notice that Joe is a bit quieter on the drive. An hour or so later, we pull up outside my granny annexe.
‘Do you want a quick cuppa?’ I ask.
Joe checks his watch. ‘I’d better get back. Gina will be dropping them off shortly and I don’t like to leave them alone for long otherwise they start to kill each other.’
‘Thanks for a great day. I’ve really enjoyed it.’ Even though I didn’t actually have to trouble myself with the business end of diving.
‘See you at your lesson this week?’
‘Looking forward to it already.’
I go to open the car door and he puts a hand on my arm. ‘You’re a great girl, Ruby. We’ve had a good laugh today and you’re easy company.’
I’m glad he added the word ‘company’ to the end of that sentence.
‘I have to put my kids first though,’ he says. ‘Above everything.’
‘I know. It’s what dads do.’
‘I’d like us to be friends.’
‘We are, aren’t we?’ What on earth is he on about? Then the penny drops and, once again, it sounds as if he’s trying to warn me off. WTF? Well, there’s really no need. ‘I like you, Joe. But I’m only recently divorced myself and I’m not looking for commitment. I’m not looking at all,’ I stress. ‘If I were, I’d want someone with more freedom.’ And fewer children, but I don’t think I need to spell that out. We both know exactly what I mean.
‘I just didn’t want you thinking there could be more.’
‘You should be so lucky,’ I quip and we both force a laugh. But, in truth, that stings. We hardly know each other. I don’t feel that there’s any need to put a stake in the ground so soon. He’s the one who asked me to go to the pub, the one who invited me to the dive day. I’ve done nothing to indicate that I’m interested in him.
‘I should go.’ I jump out of the car before this conversation can become any more embarrassing.
‘See you, Ruby,’ he shouts after me, but I don’t reply.
I climb the staircase to my granny annexe, fiddling with the keys, as Joe sits there for a second too long before he turns round and drives off. I don’t even watch him go which I hope shows him how very unconcerned I am.
Then, with the rest of the evening to myself and the world at my feet, I dump my stuff, pour myself a big glass of wine and fall into the sofa. I watch Ant and Dec’s Saturday Night Takeaway and while the perky duo do their best to be hilariously entertaining, I lie and wonder whether I’ll actually go to my dive lesson this week. I’m never going to be able to afford the Caribbean and I certainly don’t want to go and play among the pike in a gravel pit every weekend.
I don’t think that diving is really me after all. Probably best if I try another kind of hobby. Wonder if I’d be any good at cake baking?
Chapter Eighteen