And so instead of shifting Leo into my world, I moved here, into his world – and then we set about turning his space into our space. By painting and replacing the furniture, we have gradually turned Leo’s somewhat dark bachelor pad into a beautiful, fresh space where I can feel at home too. But Leo does not remember all of the careful negotiation that went into making this new look happen, and I am suddenly nervous. He is looking around, taking it all in, but he’s guarding his reaction so closely that I know he’s not pleased.
‘I promise, Leo. You really were on-board with all of this,’ I tell him. ‘There’s no change here that you didn’t approve.’
‘Approve?’ he repeats, then he laughs. ‘From what I remember of you, I’m finding it hard to imagine that you’re a well-behaved, submissive wife.’
I laugh too. ‘But I mean – we worked on all of this together. You even helped me pick the shade of white on the walls.’
‘There are shades of white?’
‘There are actually hundreds of whites to choose from when it comes to painting. It was kind of fun – you picked your favourite five and I picked mine, and then the next weekend we painted patches of them onto the walls and finally we agreed on this one. I think this was called something like “True White”.’
‘So you’re telling me we spent several weeks trying to decide on a white, and in the end we went with white?’
‘When you put it like that…’
‘Did I tell you I was having fun? Because, I hate to break it to you, I was probably lying if I did. That sounds like my worst nightmare.’
Leo speaks absent-mindedly and I know he’s only making one of those wry jokes that he throws out all of the time and he doesn’t mean anything by what he has said – but even the idea that he might not have enjoyed those weekends has shocked me.
I am stunned to realise that the only part of the entire renovation that he’d actively participated in was the paint selection, and if my memory serves me correctly, we were actually part way painting those samples onto the wall when we had a minor squabble about the spacing between them. Leo painted a streak of paint onto my cheek, and when I squealed in protest, he rubbed his face all over mine – inadvertently getting paint all through his beard. I remember that playful encounter ended with us making love on the drop sheet. But now that I really think about it, I can’t remember if Leo actually helped make the final decision at all.
‘Don’t you like the house like this, Leo?’ I ask him suddenly.
‘I don’t not like it,’ he says, unhelpfully. ‘I mean – it’s beautiful. I’m sure I told you how hard I had to save for this place, and when I moved in here, I felt like I’d made it. Although, looking at what you’ve done with it now, I realise it was a pretty dingy sort of shoebox back then. Anyway, I’m sure I’ll get used to it again, it just doesn’t feel like my home anymore. Not yet, anyway.’
God! What if he’d always felt like that? I thought I was the hero of our relationship when we negotiated our living arrangements. I thought I had done all of the compromising – all of the peacekeeping. For the first time ever, I wonder if what I actually did was agree to the geography, then force my home onto him anyway.
What if he never felt at home here after I changed it? Had that been part of the reason why he never seemed to want to come back here to me?
‘What would you do differently?’ I ask him. He had been staring at the new television, but his eyes sweep back to me.
‘I don’t hate it, Molly,’ he says. ‘I told you, it’s beautiful. I’ll adjust.’
‘Do you remember anything here yet?’ I desperately want him to reassure me with some very positive memories of loving the changes we made. I’m disappointed when he shakes his head.
‘I thought today would be like yesterday at the Quay when the memories just reappeared easily. But today – maybe I’m trying too hard. I can’t remember ever being here with you, let alone renovating it.’
Something about this statement reminds me that I was going to try to keep his focus on the rest of his life, other than me, and I sigh a little as I realise how badly I am failing at that task.
‘Can you remember anything else of the last few years here? I mean – do you remember working on any of your articles here? Your office is virtually the same as it was when I moved in – you weren’t so keen for me to change that space.’
‘I wish I could get up there, maybe that would help.’
‘I’ve already ordered chairlifts,’ I tell him. ‘Once you can move yourself in and out of the wheelchair, you’ll be able to get up and down the floors. They’ll be installed next week.’
‘Thank you – that’s wonderful – but how will I get from the first flight of stairs to the second? Will I need a wheelchair on each floor?’
‘Oh no, they’re going to install the rail so that it goes all the way from the bottom to the top and if you want to go to the bedroom, you’ll just stop it there. And you’ll fold the wheelchair up and hook it to the side so it goes with you.’
Leo tilts his head to the side and I see the faintest smile hover on his lips. ‘You really do love me, don’t you, Molly Torrington?’
‘Molly Stephens,’ I correct him automatically, but then I think about what he has said.